#wipes my brow . I DID THIS TODAY . I usually draw my pieces a day before I post them but

[duskstars]

mizuan week 2024 day 1: sleepover / accessories 👻

[riahlynn101]

"Unravel."

Summary: Mike takes the first step in confessing his feelings. It goes as well as you'd expected. (ft. Abby being adorable, baking cookies, and drawing pictures).

Thank you, guys, for all the support these one shots have been getting. I appreciate all of it <3 You guys are the best!

--

There are few things Mike loves more than spending quality time with his little sister. It’s harder now that mom’s gone. Money’s tight, and he knows that he isn’t as present as he used to be. A lot of the things they used to do together cost money.

Thankfully, their favorite activity, doodling random pictures while seated next to each other, is free (free, because Abby guilted Aunt Jane into buying her an art set for Christmas). 

“Keith pulled my hair today,” his sister says, shading in the sun she’s drawn. 

“Did you kick him in the-”

Abby cuts him off. “No. Rachel saw him do it and told the teacher.”

Mike hums. “So, he got in trouble?”

“Ms. Arbor said that he did it, because he likes me.”

“That’s a lie,” Mike says without skipping a beat. “Kyle’s a fu- freaking… uh…not a nice person.”

His sister gives a long-suffering sigh. “His name is Keith.”

Teasing his sister is Mike’s other favorite pastime. “That’s what I said,” he says in an exasperated voice. “ Kyler.”

Abby giggles, shaking her head. “No, Keith.”

“Kevin?” He raises an eyebrow. 

“Keith.”

“Kayden?”

“Keith.”

“Abracadabra?” 

His sister laughs, wiping at the tears in her eyes. “You’re being silly, Mike. That’s not even a name.”

There are few sounds more precious to Mike than his sister’s laughter. It’s a rare sound nowadays. 

He pretends to pout, crossing his arms. “It could be.”

“Nuh, uh,” she says. 

“Yeah, huh,” Mike shoots back. 

Suddenly, their doorbell rings. 

“Who is it?” Abby asks

“I don’t know.”

The person rings the doorbell again. 

Mike pats his sister’s head. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

Creeping to the door, he goes through every single person that could possibly be bothering them. Uncle Hank and Maxine have been missing for a couple weeks now. Aunt Jane usually calls before she comes over (usually). Social services maybe? 

It wouldn’t surprise him, but Mike would rather not deal with them today. They always upset Abby with their questions, and she’s in a really good mood today. 

He peeks out the window, trying his best to be discreet. 

Vanessa makes eye contact with him. She waves at him, smiling sunnily. 

He opens the front door. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“What are you doing here?” Mike asks, genuinely curious. 

“Well….I had the day off, and I was in the neighborhood…” she trails off, 

Wait. Does she want to spend time with him (and Abby)? That can’t be the case, right? Right? Mike tries not to get his hopes up. 

“Oh,” he says, blinking, “come inside. Abby and I are coloring right now.” He steps aside, letting her come in. 

Abby runs over to Vanessa, a piece of paper in her hands. She bounces up and down. “I drew this for you.”

Mike takes Vanessa’s jacket, watching as she engages Abby in excited conversation. Her face lights up when she looks at the paper. 

“For me?” She asks.

“Yeah,” Abby says, timidly. 

The paper has three figures. One with short dark hair, a slightly shorter one with shoulder length dark hair, and one that’s taller than both of them with a yellow ponytail. All three of them wear matching smiles. A sun sits in the corner of the paper and other, more animalistic figures stand behind the three figures. 

“Is that…”

“Foxy, Bonnie, Freddy, Chica, and Fredbear.”

“Fredbear…?” She quirks a brow. 

Mike’s heart seizes in his chest. The name feels hauntingly familiar. Vanessa looks at him, and he somehow manages to keep a neutral face. He shrugs. 

“Yeah, he’s my friend.” Abby places the paper off to the side. She takes Vanessa by the hand. “Do you want to make cookies?”

“Abby,” Mike starts, not wanting to his sister to scare off Vanessa, “she-”

“I would love to.” 

Abby squeals, pulling her to the kitchen. Vanessa looks back at him, winking. 

It takes Mike’s brain a solid minute to process what just happened. “Did she just….”

He chases after them.

-x-x-x-

“It says we need to pour ¾ cup of water into the bowl,” Abby reads from the book. Flour sticks to her face, hair, and hands. 

Vanessa nods, filling up the measuring cup with water. She hands it to Abby who dumps it into the bowl. 

“Cool, now we need three eggs.”

Mike carefully cracks the eggs, making sure none of the shells fall into the batter. As much as he trusts his sister, he’s also sure none of them want eggshell-flavored cookies. He passes the bowl back to her, and goes to the sink to wash his hands off. 

Vanessa takes his place, making sure Abby reads the recipe correctly (and also making sure she doesn’t fall off the chair.) A grin breaks across his face, watching the exchange. A sudden thought pops into his head. 

“I have to grab something, stay here,” Mike says. 

“Was planning on it,” Abby sasses. Vanessa hides her laughter behind her hand. 

“Yeah, yeah.”

He returns five minutes later, camera in hand. His mom used to take pictures of everything. They have entire boxes full of Garrett, his, and Abby’s baby pictures. Mike never saw the appeal of taking photos, it annoyed him to no end having to stand still. But now that’s she gone….

Mike lifts the camera. “Smile,” he says.

Vanessa and Abby turn to look at him, smiling for the camera. He snaps a quick picture. 

“Your turn,” Vanessa tells him, reaching out for the camera.  

“My turn?’ 

Abby nods. “You need to be in the picture too. It’s not the same without you.”

“Okay, okay.” He laughs, situating himself between his two favorite people Vanessa and Abby. 

Vanessa snaps a photo of all three of them crammed together. Messy with flour and batter staining their hair, faces, and clothes. Abby has an arm slung over both of their shoulders, and a wide grin across her face, and Mike and Vanessa both look like they’re trying not to laugh. 

Mike already knows he’s going to frame it. 

-x-x-x-

Later after they’re done with baking, and Abby’s been sent off to bed, Vanessa starts wiping down the counters. 

“That was fun,” she says.

“Mhm,” Mike agrees, scrubbing a pan. “Though, I could do without the cleanup part.”

Vanessa snickers. “And miss all the fun?”

“Yeah, so much fun.”

They fall into a comfortable silence, cleaning the kitchen. 

“Thank you,” Mike says, breaking the quiet. 

“For?” Vanessa throws the dirty rag she’d been using in a corner. 

“For….I dunno.” Mike shrugs. His eyes remain fixated on the sink in front of him. 

“You….don’t know…?”

“I mean…I like having you around. You’re nice.”

“I’m nice?”

“Yes.” He shakes his head. “No. I mean, yes. God why is this so difficult?”

A hand rests on his shoulder. Warm and comforting. “Mike….? Is everything okay?”

Mike turns to face her, wiping the soapy water clinging to his hands on his pants. “I wanted to say, thank you for hanging out with Abby and me. It’s been a long time since anyone’s gone out of their way to do that. And you keep doing it. The tea party last week, the diner you took us to the week before that. It….means a lot to us. To me.”

Vanessa shifts in her spot, arms crossed. An unreadable expression crosses her face, but her eyes look like they’re misting up. “Uh…I like hanging out with you guys too.” Her voice sounds strained, like she’s struggling not to cry. 

Mike’s eyes widened. “Oh, shit!  I didn’t mean to make you cry. Are you okay? I can-”

“No, you’re okay. I just…need to go home.” She starts for the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow night at Freddy’s. Thanks for the cookies, and tell Abby that I said, ‘bye.’” 

“Are you sure you’re okay? I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Yeah…I’m okay. Just a little tired. See you later, Mike.”

Before he can get another word in, she’s gone. 

Resting his head in his hands, Mike groans. “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” he mutters under his breath. 

-x-x-x-

“I want out,” Vanessa hisses into the phone. 

“How come?” 

“My priorities have changed.”

“Meaning?”

She grips the phone tighter, imagining it’s her boss’ neck instead. “ Meaning, that I don’t want to work for you anymore.”

“You like him.” 

She scoffs. “No, I just-”

“You know what you’re giving up if you go against me, don’t you?”

“I’m not going against you. I haven’t told him anything. I just can’t go against him either. I’m….” Vanessa trails off, trying to choose her words carefully. “ Fond of him. Besides, he’s kind of cute.”

“Cute, eh?” Her boss says, annoyance clear in his tone. “Cute enough to abandon your brother?”

She deflates a little. “I’m…I’m not-”

“Are you fond of him enough to leave your brother all alone?”

“Stop it,” Vanessa grits out, tightening her grip. “He has nothing to do with that.”

“Well, if you’re ready to give that all up….then, I’m sure Cassidy would understand.”

Tears slide down her face. Her breath comes out shuddery, as she fights the urge to cry. “Stop. I- I don’t want to leave my brother. Don’t make me give that up.”

“Oh, my dear, I’m not making you do anything. You’re doing it all by yourself.”

“I’m sorry. I change my mind.”

“Good,” her boss says, pleased. “Then, I expect you’ll have no problems this upcoming week.”

“Of course not.”

The phone line goes dead. Her grip on the phone is slack, and it falls from her hand. Sobs wrack her body, as Vanessa curls up on her couch. 

She never wanted this. 

[creamsickle-writes]

Sanji x F!Reader: Things Money Can't Buy (Part 3)

Tags: nsfw, reader is a sex worker, dirty talk, oral sex, anal fingering, penetrative sex, and creampies

Sanji chewed on his pen as he sat in his boring lecture class. He already knew plenty about nutrition, so this class was a total waste. 

Still, the professor didn’t ask questions; it was purely lecturing, so he used the time to think about what he’d say to you. 

He swallowed as he wondered what he should say and how to approach this. He wanted to express his love for you, but how? Maybe he should just be straightforward? 

God, it was hard to say what he should do. 

He had been avoiding you for a few days, plotting just how he was supposed to bring up this whole situation. He never responded to the video over the chat log….

But when class is dismissed, he’s booking it outside, waiting for you to meet him at your usual spot. 

He adjusts his tie and checks his watch. Looks like you were kept late again in class. 

And his suspicions are correct when you bolt from the door, panting just as you had the other day. 

“Hey.” You pant, hands on your knees as you hunch forward, trying to catch your breath. 

“Do you always have to run out of class?” He chuckles, stuffing his hands into his pants pockets.

You huff, finally standing up straight. “Haven’t seen you for a few days! Have you been avoiding me or something?”

When you pout, Sanji’s heart aches. He didn’t want to avoid you, but he wasn’t sure how he could face you after that.

“Guess I was just really busy lately. But don’t worry, Princess, promise it won’t happen again.”

“At least text me next time you disappear like that!”

“Alright, alright…”

Sanji’s lips curl into a smile as he looks you over. You were still cute, even when you were frazzled like this.

But then the video from last night flashes through his mind, and his hands turn to fists in his pockets. Instinctively, he asks: “Hey, do you wanna hang out at my place today?”

His heart beats like a drum in his chest as you answer: “Yeah, as long as you make us some snacks or something. I’m starving!”

Sanji gives a smirk. 

He could work with that.

_____

“Thanks, Sanji!” You chirp, happily munching away at the array of finger sandwiches he made for you. 

He wipes his brow before sitting next to you at the table, taking a sandwich half for himself. 

The air is only filled with the quiet sounds of you chewing, and Sanji contemplates his next move carefully.

“So,” he starts, “How did that project with Zoro turn out?”

“Hm?” You look up at him, and suddenly you remember, swallowing before responding, “It went well!”

“That’s good…” he trails off, “So, you never told me what it was?”

You giggle, leaning in, “You saw it already!”

Sanji straightens at that. He did? He furrows his brows, trying to remember anything you showed him recently involving Zoro, but his mind is drawing a blank.

“I don’t-?”

You scoot your chair even closer and bat your lashes, causing Sanji’s chest to grow tight: “You left a comment on it the other day… Just last week, actually.”

The pieces finally connect in his head, and he goes slack-jawed. You offer that innocent-sounding giggle once more, your cheeks flushed pink.

“That was- you and him-?”

You nod, “I told him about my side job, and he wanted to help out.”

You flash a grin at Sanji, and suddenly he feels his pants tighten. God, he can’t believe he got off to Zoro fucking you. But… he still stands by the fact that it was a fantastic video.

“Did you…” Sanji spoke in a whisper, “Did you like that?”

“Like what?” You chirp, smiling innocently and tilting your head.

God, your innocence, mixed with that sultry tone you used in your videos, drove him insane. You were mixing two sides of yourself at once, and somehow, someway, it worked so well.

“Getting uhm…” The blond clears his throat, his face growing flushed, “B-Being treated like that. So roughly, I mean.”

You hum, tapping your chin in mock thought before answering, “Yes…. Why do you ask?”

You tease, placing your hand on his thigh, running your palm along the fabric.

Sanji’s left blabbering, unable to respond as you inched up his leg. He inhaled through his nose, chest tight as you finally reached his half-hard cock. You let out a soft “ooh” as you palm it, looking up at him through lidded eyes, waiting for his answer.

“I-I-“ Sanji finally stammers, “I can treat you like that if you want.”

You giggle, “Is that right?”

“O-Or you can do whatever you want to me-“ he bites his lip as your hand begins stroking along his length through his slacks, “Fuck, just don’t stop touching me, please-“

You laugh and reach for his pants’ zipper, carefully pulling it along the track. Sanji stops you for just a moment.

“Wait,” He says, “I just… need to know….”

He bites his lip, looking at you with a desperate look in his eye.

“Your attraction towards me … is it only sexual?”

Your smile widens, and you lean in, “Of course not. I’ve always liked you more than that.” 

His heart soars, and he can’t help the lovestruck smile that overtakes his features.

“But… I’d really like to be intimate with you if you reciprocate my romantic feelings, Sanji.”

“I-Okay-“ He breathes out, “Okay- I just- I wanted to be sure…”

He smiles softly as god, that weight was finally off his chest. He wanted nothing more than to touch you but fuck, he didn’t know if he could do it without the romantic connection. He was old-fashioned in that way, he supposed. 

“And I have a question for you.” You shoot back, and he perks up.

“I really like my side job, and I don’t want to quit it…” 

“Yeah?”

“And my last video with Zoro was really popular…”

Sanji nods.

“So, I’m either going to have to have you in my videos or start inviting other men to work with me. Which would you prefer?”

“Why not both?”

Sanji flushes darker as he says it, and you perk up at that answer.

“You wouldn’t mind me having sex with other guys?”

He shakes his head, looking away from you, “I’m finding out that it’s… it’s actually really hot- thinking about you being, um, touched by other men and coming to me afterward…”

You purr, excited by his words, “Yeah? How do you imagine it?”

Your hand is back on task, pulling at his slacks and underwear. He lifts his hips, assisting you in stripping him down. Sanji unbuttons his shirt as he talks.

“I think about… you coming back to my apartment…” he bites his lip as his cock springs out from its confines, your hands wrapped around the base, “And kissing you after your mouth has been all over some other guy’s cock-“

He licks his lips as he really starts to envision it, your sweet mouth tasting salty after your recording with this nonexistent other man, “Fuck, and I…. I bend you over the couch and slide your panties to the side and see his cum dripping out of you.”

You hum, beginning to stroke his cock slowly as he explains his fantasy.

“And I… shit- I fuck you, using the other guy’s cum as lube- and it feels so good-”

You giggle, and he thrusts into your hand, babbling incoherently.

“So,” he hisses, “Please, keep seeing other guys for your videos. Don’t stop on my account.”

You smile, pleased with his answer. Of course, you wouldn’t have minded if he asked you to stop seeing other men, but the fact that he gets off to it? You could use that.

“Why don’t we move this somewhere more comfortable, okay?” You whisper in the blond’s ear, and he’s quick on his feet, guiding you to his room. You look around the familiar environment, sitting on the bed before him.

“So,” You give a cheeky grin, “What are you going to do to me, Sanji?” You smile, unzipping the front of your dress slowly, peeling off the skimpy dress you purposely wore to seduce him. He groans softly, admiring the physique he had long lusted for. Sanji quickly sits before you, looking over your figure as you strip yourself down.

His chest grows tight, “I’m going to do whatever you want me to.”

You pout, “That’s such a boring answer, don’t you think? C’mon…”

You then move to straddle him, his cock poking against your thigh.

“Tell me what you want, honey.”

His breath is knocked out of his lungs when you say it, your lips nibbling at his exposed neck. The blond groans deeply, his hands gripping your waist as you sit atop him.

“Want you to ride me-” He gasps as you move to his earlobe, gently sucking, “Want you to say dirty things the way you do in your videos, please-”

You hum happily, more content with that answer. So, he wanted you to take a more dominant role. That could be arranged.

You take his cheeks into your hands and kiss him passionately, tilting your head slightly. He moans and grips your waist tighter, his thumbs circling the sides of your hips. You peek your tongue out from your lips, swiping over his soft bottom lip. He parts his mouth, allowing you to dance with his own tongue. You tasted sweet, just like he had always imagined, and he tasted of smoke and the sandwiches you both ate not so long ago. 

And when you feel him twitch from the kiss, you take the opportunity to tease him.

“Aw, you’re so cute,” You giggle, “You’re so excited for me…”

“Yes-” He hisses out, slightly bucking his hips so that his cock grinds against your thigh, “Want to be inside soon, please?”

You cup his face with your hands before kissing his nose, “I have one request first…”

“Anything-”

Your eyes sparkle at that. He was so eager to please…

“Eat me out first.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He says, and you gasp when he flips you over, laying you out on his bed as he descends upon you like a hungry wolf. 

Sanji takes your panties and tugs them off your body, flinging them behind himself. With soft thumbs, he parts your lips, exposing your clit to him. He licks his lips quickly before looking up at you, flicking his tongue over your clit. You gasped and reached for his hair, pulling him forward.

“That’s it,” you moan, “Good boy.”

That awakens something in Sanji, and he quickly scoops your ass into his hands, bringing your pussy even closer to his face, his nose pressed against your mound. Your eyes roll back as he eats you like a man possessed, wanting nothing more than to taste you. 

Sanji moaned into your pussy, your wet sounds accompanying the obscene slurping that also came from his mouth. Your eyes flutter shut as he works you over, fingers gripping your hips. Your toes curl as he pleasures you in the most sinful of ways.

Sanji gets an idea, though, remembering one of your previous videos, the one where Zoro fucked you. As much as he hated to admit it, that moss head got many lovely sounds out of you, so maybe he could perfect his shitty technique.

So, one of his hands spreads your thighs apart even wider. You glance down at him for a moment to see him licking and sucking at his own fingers. When he’s satisfied with how they’re lubricated, he prods against your asshole. The blond looks up at you, silently asking for permission, and you nod, smiling softly. 

He presses in his first finger slowly, your hole sucking him in eagerly. You moan softly as he reaches the knuckle, delicately twisting his middle finger inside of you. Unlike that barbaric meathead, he would be more calculated with how he finger-fucked you.

You bite your lip when he slides his ring finger in beside his middle one. His slender fingers reached all the best spots inside you, especially once he slowly slid them in and out.

And you squeal when he does that as he resumes eating your pussy. You throw your head back at the double stimulation, your chest growing tight as his ministrations never let up.

Before you know it, your legs begin to shake, and Sanji knows this means you are close.

He wants to guide you and say that you shouldn’t worry about making a mess of his sheets, but he knows better than to disrupt the flow when you are so close to the edge.

So when that band of restraint snaps inside you, it’s glorious. 

“Sanji-!” You gasp out his name so beautifully that he wants to shove himself inside you then and there, but he continues fucking you on his fingers, his tongue lazily swirling around your clit.

When you come down from your high, Sanji slowly slides his fingers out of your ass, looking up at you from between your legs. Your heart skips a beat when he kisses the inside of your thighs, spoiling you rotten.

“Lay down for me, honey.” You drawl, and he obeys you, situating his head on his pillows as you crawl atop him. 

His cock was painfully erect, throbbing as it poked at your lips, hovering above him.

“Princess,” He shakily moans, “Please, I know I said I want you on top, but I’ll do the work. I want nothing more than to pleasure you-“

“Easy there, Mr. Service Bottom.” You giggle, “Let me pleasure you for a bit first, okay?”

Sanji hesitantly hums, “Okay… but I’m not a bottom. I’m a switch.”

“Whatever you like to tell yourself, Sanji.”

Before he can offer a rebuttal, you sink down onto him, his cock stretching your hole. You let out a shaky sigh as you sat atop his lap, his cock deep within you.

Sanji, meanwhile, has ascended into Heaven. The way you two fit together is perfect, like two puzzle pieces. His eyes roll back as your walls clench and throb around him.

God, it felt so much better than that stupid toy. 

“Fuck…” He groans, looking at where your bodies connect, “Never thought I’d see this view.”

You laugh a bit, “Well, it’s one you’ll see often from now on.”

And with that, you move. 

Sanji keens at the feeling of your soft walls sliding along his shaft, your slick sticking to his cock. He whimpers quietly, gripping your hips as you move, your breasts slightly jiggling with each bounce downwards. 

“You’re so big,” You purr, “And I love hearing you make those sweet sounds for me.”

“Princess-“ He strains, looking up at you with creased brows as his mouth hangs open. 

You chuckle, “Yeah, exactly like that, Sanji.”

His bottom lip quivers as you ride him, his cock head slamming against your cervix with each thrust downward. Your toes curled at the feeling. 

“Your voice is so pretty that I want to hear you ask to cum when you’re close,” you lean forward, nibbling against his neck, “I want you to beg for me.”

“Y-Yes, Princess. I’ll do anything you want me to- “

“Good boy.” You smirk when you see his eyes flutter shut at the praise.

“Been thinking about this ever since I sent you that video, Sanji.” You start, rolling your hips effortlessly, “Been unable to stop touching myself thinking about you being inside of me.”

Drool dribbles from Sanji’s mouth as you grind your hips above him, your clit sliding over his pelvis. His back arches as your nails rake over his chest. Sanji whimpers as your pussy throbs, tightening around his shaft with each thrust. 

“C’mon, Sanji,” you purr into his ear, “Let me milk you dry.”

“Oh-!” He chokes out, his voice airy and desperate, “D-Don’t say that-“

“Why?” You giggle, “Does thinking about you cumming in me get you close? You wanna fill up my pussy?”

“Shit-“his eyes flutter shut, and before you can tease him, you feel his warmth spread within you. You gasp sharply, and Sanji’s cum begins to fill you more and more with each spurt.

You give a satisfied smile and rock your hips, attempting to drain every drop from his balls.

“Feels so good…” you moan, your voice like a sultry succubus in Sanji’s ears.

You’re about to get off his lap, but Sanji grabs your hips.

“Not… done..” he pants out, weakly thrusting his hips upwards as his toes curl, “Need more…”

The atmosphere shifts as you realize he’s completely pleasure drunk. It’s like a switch has been flipped within him.

“Sanji-“ you’re cut off as he pushes you backward, situating himself between your legs once again. He shoves himself inside in a manner that is rougher than you would expect from him.

When you gasp at the intrusion, you look at Sanji’s face. His expression is overtaken with lust, his eyes dazed over as his brows creased together.

“More, please-!” He whimpers, and with that, he rams his cock inside, fucking you recklessly. You reach around his shoulders and dig your nails in deep, your legs wrapping around his waist. 

Your bottom lip quivers and desperate, needy moans escape you as he bottoms out each time, his balls smacking against your ass as he fucked his cum into your hole.

“Shit-“ he whines, “So fucking sensitive- fuck-“

Your mouth hangs open, “Sanji! This angle- it’s so deep-!”

“Need to be deeper-!” He moans and takes your legs, pushing them, so your feet are near your head, “Wanna fuck you just like this-“

Drool drips from your lips as his cock reaches places previously untouched. You go cross-eyed in pleasure as Sanji fucks you, your soul escaping your body.

“I-Is it good?” He asks, “Does my cock feel good, Princess? Please say it feels amazing-!”

“Yes!” You cry out, your legs beginning to seize, “Keep going!”

Sanji huffs as his hips desperately pound into yours. The bed squeaks under the force of his movement, but it’s barely audible over the sounds you two make. For a moment, you feel bad for whoever lives next door, but fuck it, it felt too good for your mind to wander off too much.

“Not gonna last-!” He warns, taking his thumb and furiously rubbing your clit, “L-Let’s cum together this time- please-!”

“Mn-!” The sound is drawn from your throat as Sanji stimulates you internally and externally. You can’t help it when you gush around his cock, your fluids squirting all over him. 

The display drives Sanji crazy, a broken moan coming from his lips as he cums again, weak spurts escaping his cock.

He slows his hips, tossing his head back as he looks to the heavens, thanking whatever god exists for allowing him to experience this pleasure.

Eventually, he pulls out, your mixture connecting your sexes. 

Your chest heaves as you watch him similarly try to catch his breath.

“I’ll-“ he huffs, “I’ll get you a towel.”

Slowly, he inches out of bed, making his way out the door. At that moment, you smile softly to yourself; at least he was a gentleman, even in times like this.

When he returns, he wipes you off first, gently gliding the once-clean washcloth over your most sensitive parts.

“You were so… feral.” You giggle, holding your hand to your mouth.

“Ah,” he cracks a nervous smile, “Sorry, was I too aggressive?”

“No, no,” you insist, “it was a pleasant surprise. I enjoyed myself.”

Sanji laughs a bit, “Me too.”

The blond then takes his own shaft in hand, using the washcloth to clean himself. 

“You know,” you speak up, “Next time, I’d love you to do whatever you want to me.”

“Whatever… I want?”

His Adam’s apple bobs alongside his once again hardening cock, and you giggle.

“Unless you’d like to try it now…?”

Sanji stutters a bit, “N-No, no, you’re probably sore and-“

“Sanji,” you laugh, “I’m offering.”

The young man licks his lips and crawls above you, his dark eyes blown wide, “Well, I can’t say no to a lady’s invitation…”

[bubblesuga]

Mahina || Part 1

Summary: Jungkook couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was something drawing him to you. Like the moon tugs at the tides, he needed to be beside you. genre: smut, fluff, angst word count: 4,626 tags: idol!au, fantasy!au

When Jungkook awoke this morning, something was... different.

He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but the air in his room seemed to have shifted slightly. He felt lighter on his feet, a sudden bounce to his step while he pulled himself off of the bed and towards the bathroom.

He brushes his teeth as usual, carefully scrubbing his tongue and admiring his reflection in the mirror. The eyebrow piercing was a good edition, he thinks. It accentuates his high brow and sparkles underneath even the dimmest light. Spritzing himself with cologne, he opens the bathroom door just in time.

"Jungkook, I made breakfast! Hurry up!"

Smiling to himself, he trots down the stairs of the far too large penthouse he and his band mates bought a couple years ago. He doesn't mind sharing with 6 other people, though. Having grown up with no siblings, he enjoys the dynamics at play when he speaks to the members. They're all his brothers, co-workers, family... He couldn't have asked for a better turn out when it came to finding a career path.

Yoongi is standing in the kitchen when Jungkook walks in, the smell of pork and kimchi filling his nose. Thanking his hyung, he grabs a bowl and starts filling up.

"You seem happy this morning," Yoongi raises an eyebrow, "what's going on?"

"I don't know," Jungkook shrugs, "I just woke up in a really good mood. I feel like--" he takes a bit of his food, then speaks with his mouth full, "--something amazing is going to happen today."

"We just have rehearsals?" Yoongi's statement comes off as more of a question.

"Exactly." Jungkook says, continuing to munch on his food. Yoongi looks at the younger man and shakes his head, continuing to fry meat for the rest of the members.

"Hey, did Namjoon come home last night?" Seokjin asks as he walks into the kitchen. He takes a spot beside Jungkook on the counter, reaching into his bowl and grabbing a piece of pork belly. Jungkook attempts to push his hand away but Seokjin smacks it and grabs the meat anyway.

Yoongi shakes his head again, "Nah. He stayed at the studio last night, said something about a last minute inspiration."

Jungkook has noticed Namjoon's lack of attentiveness recently. It seems as though his head is always filled with potential themes and lyrics and beats, much more so than even in the early days of the band. He's curious about his inspiration as of late but Namjoon doesn't seem to want to give away his methods any time soon.

"He's been doing that a lot lately." Jungkook thinks outloud.

"More power to him," Seokjin says, "man works his ass off and it benefits all of us."

Yeah, it definitely does.

~*~*~

"5, 6, 7-"

Hoseok's counting is cut off by the music blasting again. It's the third run through of the new choreography, Jungkook is center and carefully watches the rest of his hyungs in the mirror. He moves to the left, following Hoseok's lead and smiling as he notices a mis-step on Jimin's part. Jimin throws his head back and yells, lifting his shirt up and wiping some of the sweat that's accumulated on his brow.

"It's okay, Jiminie," Hoseok sings, "this shit is hard."

Seokjin nods in agreement, "Yeah, what the hell happened to a laid back choreography for this come back?"

"It's the last one of the year. We gotta go out with a bang." Jungkook turns back to look at Namjoon, who chugs water in the corner of the room. "Speaking of big come backs, are you working on your mixtape?"

Namjoon laughs, "Nah, definitely not. I'm trying to get a couple more songs for the album."

"Don't we have like 14 tracks?" Taehyung speaks for the first time since rehearsal started.

"16 is better than 14." Namjoon smiles, listening to Hoseok as he calls everyone over again.

"One more time. 5, 6-"

It's then that the doors burst open and Hyun enters in. "And this is the rehearsal room containing the 7 men you will be photographing."

Jungkook's eyes travel to the person his manager is talking to, and he has to hold back a gasp. He feels the way his jaw drops, but he's unable to close his mouth while he looks at you. God, you're gorgeous. Your hair cascades down your back and your clothes cling to your body in all the right ways. Jungkook struggles to tear his eyes away, but once he sees your smile he realizes there's no way he can turn away. You're literally glowing, with god-like shining eyes. Who are you?

"Boys, this is _____. She's in charge of photography and will be around to film Bangtan Bombs, behind the scenes, or anything you all want filmed and made into content."

Jungkook repeats your name in his head five times. He whispers it to himself once while everyone else heads to you to shake your hand. Jungkook stands back, finally blinking his eyes.

You step forward after having shook the hands of everyone else, "And you're Jungkook," you smile again, "I like your tattoos. Glad you're finally willing to show them."

"T- tattoos..." Jungkook mutters pathetically as he takes your outstretched hand. You giggle, shaking his hand enthusiastically.

"Well, anyway. It was nice to meet you all. I'm excited to work closely with every one of you." your words are met with a chorus of 'same!' from everyone except for Jungkook.

Hyun puts a hand on your shoulder and leads you out of the room, continuing on the tour of the HYBE building. Jungkook stares after you, the doorway now long empty but he couldn't look away. You were, by far, the most beautiful woman he has ever come across. With your simple torn jeans and black t-shirt, he feels you could pull off anything you put on your body.

It's not until Yoongi speaks does Jungkook finally tear his eyes away, "Could you have been any creepier?"

"What?"

Jimin bursts into laughter, his frustration with the choreography long gone, "You were-" he takes a deep breath in between laughter, "you were staring at her like she was the last woman on the planet!"

"W- what?" Jungkook stammers.

Jimin doesn't respond, only laughing louder as he falls to the ground. Jungkook can see the hidden smirks of the rest of the members, turning his to look at everyone, "What the fuck just happened?"

"Love at first sight?" Taehyung suggests.

"More like love at first drool." Seokjin begins laughing before he even finishes his sentence, causing the rest of the members to groan at his joke.

Jungkook doesn't react to Seokjin though, as he turns to look back at the empty doorway. If love at first sight is a real thing, Jungkook just experienced it to the fullest extent.

~*~*~

Jungkook manages to continue the rest of rehearsal without a problem, except for the way his mind kept traveling back to you. Saying your name in his head again, he washes up in the gym showers. He thinks back to the way your skin seemed to be literally glowing to him, and your bright white teeth hypnotizing him.

Never in his life has he had such a short conversation with someone that had such an impact. He wants to learn everything about you, your passions, the music you like, the books you read. He hopes that you enjoy some of the same things he does, so he has an excuse to talk to you.

Though his interest in you is certainly piqued, he has to keep in mind that you are, essentially, his employee, and fantasizing about your employee is more than inappropriate.

Fantasizing might not be the right word, but he can't help and imagine conversations between the two of you. Your voice is so pretty, it's light but carries through the room. You make sure your presence is known, though with the way you shine you didn't have to try hard. He smiles to himself, closing his eyes and rinsing off the conditioner from hair. Then, he wonders what your hair looks like when it's wet.

Okay, Jungkook. That's enough.

He shakes the water off his head and wraps a towel around his body. Exiting the shower, he realizes he forgot his bag in the dance room and sighs. Checking the time on his phone, he realizes that it's after 9 pm. The odds of anyone other than the members being here is pretty slim so he can just walk his way to the rehearsal room and change in there, right?

Right.

Tightening the towel around his waist, he walks out of the gym bathroom and strolls down the hall. He scrolls through his phone while he walks, rounding the corner and hearing your voice.

"Thank you, Mr. Lee. I'm very excited to properly start tomorrow."

"We're excited to have you," Jungkook peeks his head around the corner and watches Hyun bow to you, "your work is incredible and I know Taehyung in particular loves your shooting style."

What? Taehyung knows her? Jungkook must have missed that earlier when he couldn't stop staring at you.

"Yeah! It still blows my mind that one of the bangtan boys followed my work," you let out a small, somewhat embarrassed giggle, "thank god for Instagram."

You and Hyun share a laugh, followed by a goodbye. Jungkook gasps as he sees you turn in his direction, rushing to a small doorway and pushing himself up against the wall. You can't see him like this, not already. He's nearly naked and he knows this towel isn't big enough to cover himself as well as he should in front of a stranger, so he holds his breath as your foot steps become closer... and closer... and-

"Hey Jungkook."

Fuck.

Jungkook exhales a breath and moves to tighten the towel around his waist even more. You're eyes are not scanning his body like he thought you would be. Of course, Jungkook knows that sounds cocky of him to say but he can't help but assume that that would be the outcome of this situation. Either way, his face still burns when your eyes meet his. Those gorgeous, glowing eyes.

"Were ya hiding?" you laugh, tilting your head to the side, and Jungkook realizes that he's still pressed up against the wall.

"I- I, uh-" come on Jungkook, get it together, "Sorry. I didn't want you to see me naked."

"Oh please. When humans are naked, they're at their purest forms. It's natural, there's nothing to be embarrassed about." you smile brightly, moving a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

Jungkook raises an eyebrow. Your phrasing is odd, but he doesn't question it. Instead, he swallows, "You're right, but I'm sure you wouldn't have been okay with my dick just hangin' out. Neither would the security watching the cameras."

You laugh, a proper laugh that doesn't seem to be masked by something else, and Jungkook realizes it's melodic. A fine tune singing into his ears as one of the most beautiful songs he has ever heard. It's soft, breathy, and makes him want to make you laugh for the rest of eternity.

"Either way," you say after a moment, the hint of humor still in your voice, "nothing to be ashamed of. I'll see you tomorrow, Jungkook."

Jungkook tilts his head, watching you wave and waving back as you carry your feet towards the elevators.

~*~*~

The air was even lighter this morning, and Jungkook can't help but think you play a part in his bright mood.

Following the conversation yesterday, Jungkook walked with a grin on his face to grab his clothes. You're incredibly charismatic, an stark difference to Jungkook's usual shy and laid back personality. Despite your conversations together being minimal, Jungkook feels you and him are going to be close.

Jungkook hops out of bed and styles his hair carefully. Checking his phone as he brushes his teeth, he's received a text from Taehyung apologizing because he had already left. The house sounds still, he remembers Yoongi and Seokjin opted at staying at their respective apartments tonight, wanting to be a little closer to home. Namjoon probably stayed at the studio again and Jimin and Hoseok more than likely left with Taehyung. He shrugs, making a quick protein shake and grabbing a banana before heading out of the door.

As he drives to work, he makes note at how much more productive the members have been these days. Not that they never were, but the usual slump of exhaustion that follows months of continuous promotions, rehearsals, and recording doesn't seem to be hitting anyone this time around. Surely, the explanation is the high everyone is riding from the success of Butter and Permission To dance in the west. It's motivated everyone, including Jungkook himself.

He pulls into the parking garage, rides the elevator up to the 13th floor, and steps off only to be stopped by Hoseok.

"Jungkookie!" Hoseok wraps his arms around Jungkook's neck and squeezes him tight.

"Hoseokie!" Jungkook mocks, giving a pat to the older one's back. Hoseok pulls away with a chuckle, "I guess _____ is doing behind the scene shoots today. Something about wanting to catch us in our element."

"Oh? Like individual shoots?"

"Yeah," he smiles, "she's with Yoongi in his studio right now. She told me to tell everyone to choose a thing they do on a daily basis that might be interesting to see for ARMY."

"Should I work out?" Jungkook smirks. Hoseok rolls his eyes, patting Jungkook's pecs,

"You work out enough." Smiling, he begin walking towards the commons area,

"I'm almost to where I want to be." "Whatever Jungkook, you bully us enough already." Hoseok pats Jungkook's head and walks away, leaving Jungkook to sit on the couches for a moment.

He picks up his phone and scrolls through Weverse and Twitter for a moment. Despite not being as active as people wish he could be, he does keep up with what everyone is talking about. Currently he sees excitement about their online concert from last year coming to DVD, and "JUNGKOOK'S ABS" is trending.

Yeah, he's definitely going to work out for his behind the scenes.

Holding his phone up, he snaps a quick selfie and posts it to Twitter. Once a month seems to be a good formula.

"Jungkook?" Yoongi's voice enters the room, "She's gonna shoot with Namjoon then you."

"Ah," Jungkook stands, "time to get nice and sweaty for ARMY."

"You're such a freak." Yoongi laughs, watching Jungkook leave the room.

Jungkook begins on the treadmill, listening to music and trying not to think about the fact that you're going to be photographing him while he's working out. He feels somewhat dumb, being so incredibly invested in your opinions of him already, but like yesterday proved, there was something about you that drew him in.

He speeds up the treadmill, his calves burning and his breathing quickening while he runs. It's incredible, the feeling of absolute bliss he feels after a run. When his muscles ache and his chest feels clear, he feels most at peace. Though, peace isn't difficult to come across these days. Even with the sadness of not being able to perform live like he wants to, it's not as looming as it was before. It's incredibly exhilarating to wake up not feeling like the end is near. It happened so suddenly, he's not sure what changed.

At the beginning, when they had to cancel the tour and stay in Korea, Jungkook felt as though life was never going to be the same. It was dark for everyone. He remembers Jimin crying in the bathroom after the cancellation, which caused Jungkook to start crying as well. He scrolled through social media for hours, reading the anger and frustration at those who had to return their tickets. It pained him, to see such a bleak view of the fans he adored.

Now that it's been close to 2 years, Jungkook has learned to-- for lack of a better term-- live with it. He wakes up every day and tries his hardest to live, and that's all you can do when your passion in life is ripped away from you due to an ongoing worldwide pandemic.

The gym doors slide open and Jungkook looks in the mirror to see you.

You have a camera around your neck, Jungkook recognizes it as a Canon. You close the door behind you and stop him as Jungkook starts to slow down the treadmill.

"Pretend like I'm not even here." you nearly whisper, and Jungkook has to stop himself from choking on his spit. Your voice sounded almost sultry. He can't tell if that was his imagination or if it was intentional on your part.

Jungkook shakes his head, turning up the speed just a little bit more.

He hears the shutter on your camera clicking, the action setting in full effect as he runs. You move around him, being sure not to get yourself in the mirror of the shots. The only noises in the room are his breathing and the sounds of his feet hitting the runway. It's rough, his chest heaving the more he pushes himself, but he's more interested in the way you seem to float around the room, or the fact that your hands seem dwarfed by the large camera.

It makes him wonder what your hands would look like on him.

A necklace dangles from your neck, it's gold and shines under the lights of the gym. It falls gently into the crevice of your chest, what looks like a golden moon on the end of the chain.

Again, he wonders what your skin would feel like against his.

"You gotta stop looking at the camera." you giggle.

He didn't even realize his eyes were following you. Suddenly, it's like a wave of confidence washes over him. Confidence that he was not ready for.

He swallows, taking a deep breath, "I'm not looking at the camera." Why is he saying this?

"Yes you are," you grin, "I have like 7 pictures in a row of you looking directly at the camera."

"No," he shakes his head, "I'm looking at the person holding the camera." Shut up, Jungkook. Stop talking!

"Oh?" you laugh, "what's catching your eye?"

"The necklace." what the fuck? He basically admitted to staring at your tits!

"The necklace that's right in between my tits?"

He laughs, you snap a picture.

"I guess so, I'm sorry." The usual nervousness that he would feel at an admission like that is non-existent. He feels comfortable enough to talk to you like this, and judging by the way you smile, you're comfortable with it too.

"No need to be sorry," you snap another picture, "I know they draw attention."

Jungkook nods, "They certainly do."

"What do you like about them?"

The question throws Jungkook for a loop but he doesn't let that show.

"They're perky," he explains, stopping the treadmill, "and your shirts show off the perfect amount to leave some to the imagination."

"Ah, so you're imagining my tits?"

"Yes."

You smirk, walking away. For a moment, Jungkook is scared he said too much, but it's very quickly washed away by the sound of the lock turning. "So," you begin, "you're saying that if I took off my shirt, you wouldn't be opposed to looking at me?"

Jungkook shakes his head, "I also wouldn't be opposed to touching you."

"Well," you slip off your shirt, "I'm ready."

Jungkook feels his cock twitch in his gym shorts at the sight of your bra. Of your fucking bra.

Despite the blood rushing to his cock, he shakes his head, "Oh come on, darling. You know that's not enough for me."

"Your shirt first, buddy." your eyes follow Jungkook as he grips the hem of his shirt and pulls it off. Now that there's verbal consent, your eyes roam all over his torso. He's ripped, Jungkook knows this, but under your gaze he feels like a meal. Like he's about to get devoured by you, and he can't say he's not enjoying the idea.

You reach behind you, unhooking your bra and allowing it to fall to the ground.

Jungkook's eyes widen at sight, stepping closer to you and falling to his knees. He places his nose against your torso, inhaling your scent. The sensuality of the small gasp that left your mouth fueled Jungkook. He grabs your hands and pulls you down to his level, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your lips.

It's rough and heated, all teeth and tongue. He's not used to being this way, to feeling almost primal in his movements. He gnaws at your bottom lip, eliciting another moan from you. It's high pitched and nearly whiny, proving that you're suddenly filled with as much need as he is.

"I'm gonna fuck you," Jungkook states, "right here. Right now."

"Please." you toss your head back, falling onto the padded floors of the gym. Jungkook follows suit, kissing his way down your body until he reaches your navel. Again, he presses his nose into you and inhales, you smell so damn good.

He keeps smelling, inhaling your scent as he undoes the buttons of your jeans. The less clothing there, the stronger your scent becomes. He feels insatiable, nearly ripping off your panties to get to your center.

"Fuck, you're so wet already," Jungkook groans, his voice deep with want, with need. Taking a single finger up your slit, he draws it back and sucks your juices clean, "and you taste as good as you smell."

You stare up at him with hooded eyes, holding yourself up on your elbows and spreading your legs as wide as you can. "Now that you've had a taste you might as well finish it."

Jungkook doesn't need to be told twice, diving into your soaked folds with his tongue. He moves fast but also meticulously, being sure to take note of all the places that make you moan a little louder, sink a little deeper into him. Your hand reaches down and snakes its way through his hair, tugging at the roots.

At that point, Jungkook begins to kick off his shorts without pulling away.

"Fuck, I've always wanted to fuck you," you moan in between words, "you always look so good everywhere you go."

"Yeah?" Jungkook chuckles, "did you imagine fucking me before you got hired here?"

You nod, "I couldn't help it, I knew you'd be good."

As Jungkook manages to get his shorts off, he grips ahold of his aching member. Pulling up to his knees, his thumb doesn't stop rubbing harsh circles against your clit.

"That's hot," Jungkook breathes, "I've been wanting to take you since I first saw you."

"Then do it." you demand, and a flip switches in Jungkook's brain.

He pulls his fingers away from you and leans forward, "Taste yourself."

You don't hesitate to take his fingers into your mouth, Jungkook feeling your tongue dance across the pads of his fingers. Feeling himself twitch, he strokes himself for a little bit of relief while you suck.

"Taste good?" He questions.

"Delicious."

"Good girl." He murmurs, leaning down and connecting your lips with his again. As he does so, he runs the head of his cock against your slit, enjoying the gasp you let out every time he brushes against your clit. You feel so warm, so inviting. He can taste you so well, he wants nothing more than to dive in.

So he does.

Pressing into you slowly, he feels your warmth envelope him. Your legs wrap around his hips and guide him in all the way. When he slips all the way in, you both pull away for a moan.

"So fucking good. So tight." He moves his hips achingly slow, enjoying the noises of content leaving your lips. Your moans spur him on as your tightness engulfs him yet again. He leans down and presses a kiss to your neck, your hot skin nearly burning his lips, "I don't want to hurt you."

You shake your head, "You can't hurt me. I promise."

Jungkook isn't sure what takes over him at this point, but he feels his lips begin to thrust harshly into you. He doesn't process the rest of the world, the only thing that's certain is you. You're everything that he needs to focus on now, your whines, your moans, the feeling of your legs guiding him in and out of you. He wants to take you here over and over again until the end of time, and he's never felt that about anyone before in his life.

Your lips are beginning to bruise from the rough kisses he's been laying on you, so he takes a gentle approach and sucks on your jawline. Every few thrusts, he rests his forehead against yours. Then he moves again. Then rests.

"Tell me how good I feel." you whisper against his lips, breathy.

"Baby," Jungkook's brows knit together in pleasure, "you feel so good around me. So warm. I want to cum in you and fill you up so bad. Do-n't stop squeezing- fuck."

Jungkook abandons the pace he tried to keep and slams into you, pulling you on top of him and lifting you up and down on his cock. You let out a scream as he reaches a point he hasn't touched before, your cunt tightening exponentially around him.

He latches his mouth onto your nipples, the sensitive peaks hardening against his tongue. Your nails rake down his chest while you grind against him, your ass smacking against his thighs while he begins thrusting upward.

His hands grip your hips harshly, sure enough to leave bruises by his fingertips. He feels his orgasm approaching quickly, but he needs you to cum first. He need to feel you cum around him. "Fuck," he growls through clenched teeth, "cum. I need you to cum. Cum around me, please please please!"

"I'm gonna- I'm-" your sentence is cut off by your orgasm taking over, clenching deliciously around Jungkook and pushing him over the edge. His hips stutter and he releases into you, your warmth mixing with his as he collapses onto the ground. You're both silent for a while, your chests heaving as you try to calm down. Jungkook leans up, keeping you in a hug as your knees move to either side of his hips. Neither of you make a move to pull apart, Jungkook softening inside of you but the sensitivity feels so good.

He rests his chin on your shoulder, glancing behind you and towards the mirrors. On the inner edge of each of your shoulder blades, lay two large scars. They're old, pink in color now. Jungkook reaches a finger up to trace the scars but is stopped by a knock on the door.

"Hey, I'm ready when you are _____!" Jimin's voice sounds through the gym, muffled by the door.

"Shit." You whisper, "shit, shit, shit!"

You quickly pull off of him, beginning to slip your panties and bra back on.

Jungkook flinches at the sudden loss of warmth around him, looking down at his cock and seeing a mixture of his and your cum coating his thighs. "Don't you need to clean up?" he whispers.

"I'll stop by the bathroom on the way." you murmur, now fully dressed, "thank you for that, by the way." you wink, grabbing the back of his neck and pressing a hard kiss against him. Then, you're out the door.

Jungkook is left naked on the floor, confused, and wanting to ask why exactly you have asymmetrical scars on your back.

[ahatintimepieces]

Fabric Hearts

Remember the first part of that build-a-bear au I wrote for @smieska-draws? It’s back! But now the au name makes sense! Imagine!

Luka, known as the Snatcher to most of the mall locals, runs the Kraft-a-Kid while his daughter, Hattie, runs around with her friends. There’s definitely nothing suspicious about Luka. The rumors that he snatches the souls of children and stuffs them into the dolls are completely unfounded. Probably. Most likely. Don’t worry about it, I’m sure it’s fine.

This is, of course, another au that Smieska and I both developed and like to swap ideas for SO send her your love and adulation because I couldn’t have written this without her ;o; <333 Here’s the link to the piece she did for first part if you haven’t seen it yet (which u should because it’s fabulous and incredible). Without further ado, here it is!

Words: 4,131

The door squeaked open as Luka recorded the number of tiny, elastic collars with bright bells in the back.

“Dimitri can’t make it today,” he warned without looking up from his clipboard. His golden gaze flickered up towards the boxes filled with cotton stuffing and he quickly counted them as footsteps approached. “If you get a sudden influx of customers, come grab me.”

“It’s me, Dad,” Hattie’s voice came from right beside him.

“Did I stutter?” He glanced down without missing a beat. She gave him a deadpan stare as he grinned. His sharp canines glinted in the unnaturally bright florescent lights. “Come on, kiddo. How about you help me with my business endeavors instead of frittering away your summer romping around the mall?”

She readjusted the brim of the top hat she made from her millinery lessons at the fabric store. Why his child fixated on hat-making out of everything she could have taken an interest in was beyond him but even he had to admit her royal purple top hat was well crafted.

“I’m going with Belle and the others to get lunch at the food court,” she said, ignoring his jesting. “Can I have money?”

“You know if you had a job you wouldn’t need to be asking me,” he lamented dramatically before wedging the clipboard between his arm and side. He reached for his wallet in the back pocket of his slacks.

“I’m not even twelve.” She blinked up at him with large blue eyes. “There are child labor laws.”

“Excellent.” He nodded, opening his wallet. “Don’t let anyone in the mall convince you otherwise. But,” he slipped out a bill and gave her a pointed look, “if you accept this, you have to do me a favor.”

“I already cleaned the bathrooms last weekend,” she whined.

His grin widened.

“Tough luck, kiddo.” He twisted the bill in the air, watching her nose scrunch as she seriously weighed her options. After a second of letting her think that she was going to have to do her least favorite chore, he extended the bill towards her. “Just bring me back a coffee and I’ll consider us even.”

Relief instantly flooded her features as she took the bill.

“I can do that! Your usual?” She headed towards the door.

“That’ll work,” he said, tucking away his wallet and grabbing the clipboard again.

“Thanks, Dad!” she chirped before moving to open the door.

Just as she reached for it, the door swung open, and she stumbled back. Luka immediately dropped the clipboard and slipped behind her with the speed of shadows dodging the light. She smacked into his legs, and he placed a steadying hand on her shoulder as Alex walked in with wide eyes.

“I’m so sorry, kid! I didn’t see you there.” Alex winced, looking from Hattie to Luka’s hard glare.

“I’m fine!” Hattie promised, giving a bright smile until she placed her hand over Luka’s fingers. She jolted and twisted around. “Dad, are you okay? You’re really warm.”

“It is hot in here.” Alex tugged at their collar, wincing.

“The thermostat dial was probably nudged,” Luka dismissed, pulling away and stooping to grab the clipboard. “I’ll take a look.”

“Should I get you water?” Hattie asked.

“I have water. Now go have fun.” He shooed her towards the door. “The sooner you leave the sooner you can run my errand.”

Hattie hesitated but when he returned to his task of recording inventory, he heard her retreating footsteps.

“Sorry,” Alex muttered as they crossed over to the table for the employees. They dropped their backpack before grabbing the light purple apron with their nametag.

“Let’s just be careful with how forcefully we open doors, hm? I don’t want to deal with any workplace liability cases. They’re a pain.” Luka shot the teen a toothy grin. Glancing back down to the clipboard, he added in a more monotone cadence, “Anyway, Dimitri can’t come today, so once Ember leaves, it’ll just be you and me for the rest of the day. If it gets too crowded on the floor and I’m not around, come find me.”

“Right.” They nodded firmly. While wiping back their bangs and smearing the beads of sweat on their brow, they hurried out. Once the door closed behind them and Luka was alone, he let out a sigh.

The flame that had flared when Hattie nearly got hit crackled noisily in his otherwise empty chest. Luka placed one of his pale hands over the flame and counted out the seconds between metered inhales and exhales. The snap and pop of embers faded and when he glanced towards the thermostat, the temperature in the room lowered back to a comfortable range.

Not that he was bothered by the heat, but he didn’t need his employees passing out.

Ember’s shift ended as he got to counting the unstuffed plush shells. As she hung her apron over the hook, she informed him that two separate groups had just entered the store. Luka nodded, finishing his current count before getting ready to help Alex on the floor.

He brushed back his long, spiky hair into a ponytail. Stray strands the color of soot fluttered against his cheek, and he tucked them behind his ear.

They reflected a warm violet when they caught the light.

With his hair as contained as he could manage, he grabbed his own amethyst apron with the Kraft-a-Kid’s signature logo; a stylized baby goat and parent goat waving a friendly greeting. After draping it over his black suit and making sure it didn’t displace his dark purple tie, he tied the apron with nimble fingers, clawed at the tips. He double-checked that the pocket had extra thread and a compact sewing kit before he clipped on his name tag and headed out into the workshop.

Alex snapped their head up from one of the stuffing stations, looking relieved when they spotted Luka rounding the counter. Alex returned their full attention to the small girl and her mother while Luka smiled at the two teens with a younger child hovering by the bins of unstuffed shells by the entrance.

While he didn’t know them personally, he recognized Brooke and her younger sister Hali, who worked (or in Hali’s case just hovered around in the back when not at daycare) at their uncle’s travel agency, and then Makoto, who worked at the jewelry store. Judging from their uniforms, the teens were probably using their breaks to accompany Hali. Since he often heard good things about their work ethic and Hali’s sweet nature from Mari, he assumed he had an easy session ahead. He waved them over.

Brooke and Makoto shared a nervous look while Hali bounded over with a bright smile.

“Why, hello there!” Luka pasted on his most vibrant customer service smile as he lowered onto the seat by the stuffing station. Cotton and soft fibers filled the glass tank decorated to look like hearty trees and branches climbed around the edges. The machine itself matched the lilac walls and brown and bronze gears that decorated them. The bins and shelves that held the merchandise throughout the store were all structured to look like spools of golden thread.

Holding an unstuffed goat with dark brown fuzz and silver horns, Hali shyly smiled up at Luka as Brooke and Makoto slowly joined.

“I see you’ve picked your new friend!” Luka held out his hands and Hali gingerly lowered the flat goat into his palms. “Before we bring them to life, how stuffed do you want them to be?”

“Um?” Hali tilted her head with a blank expression.

“Do you want them to be firm or squishy?” Luka clarified, fitting the goat around the nozzle and getting his foot ready over the pedal.

“Fiwm, pwease!” Hali declared in a cutesy voice.

“Excellent choice!” Luka set to work, pumping the pedal as he filled out the head of the goat plush. The machine roared to life, blowing air and fluff with the force of a vacuum. Though, his ears perked when he caught Brooke and Makoto in an intense discussion as they remained a couple steps back. What he couldn’t hear over the machine, he pieced together easily enough.

He knew the rumors and could guess what was on their mind when they mentioned the Snatcher and stolen souls.

Luka smirked as he pulled his foot from the pedal and the machine hushed.

“Now it’s time for my favorite part.” He beamed, pulling off the firmly stuffed goat and then reaching for a bucket full of small felt hearts. “The soul ceremony! Go ahead and pick the heart that most resonates with you.”

“If it’s just a heart, why is it called a soul ceremony?” Brooke asked, her voice quivering as she pressed closer to Makoto.

Hali, meanwhile, was completely enraptured with picking out the right fabric heart.

“Hearts, souls, same thing, really,” Luka soothed with a toothy grin, giving the teens a considering look.

Makoto’s gaze flickered down to his fangs. She lifted her chin, trying to project an air of confidence. But her furrowed brows wavered.

“Souws awe heawts?” Hali gasped, looking up with awe.

“Absolutely!” Luka kept his voice cheerful, gesturing to the bucket. “It’s what gives your new friend life! I imagine without one, they would feel pretty empty and hollow.” Keeping his chin tilted down, he lifted his eyes towards the teens and lowered his voice just a touch. “Wouldn’t you feel pretty soulless without a heart?”

The two stiffened.

“Pwobabwy!” Hali chirped, completely unaware of their increasing unease. She dug around the hearts and pursed her lips. “How do woo know which heawt is the best?”

“That’s up to you!” Luka bounced effortlessly back into an upbeat cadence. He pinched a heart with a checkerboard pattern in red and white. “The nice thing about these hearts is that they’re blank slates. They’ll be filled with whatever you put into them. But don’t put in too much!” he added with a chuckle. “Wouldn’t want your new friend to be more you than you!”

Brooke squeaked in fright and his grin stretched.

“I wiwl take this one, then!” Hali held up a solid red heart.

“Great! Hold on to it, now.” Luka placed the tub back down. “First, why don’t you rub the heart on your hair so your little buddy will always have soft fur!”

Hali beamed at that and rubbed the fabric heart on her hair. When she pulled it back down, some of the blond strands followed the heart while the strands too far away stuck up from the lingering static.

“Well done! Now, rub it against your funny bone so your friend has a sense of humor.” Luka tapped his elbow when Hali crinkled her nose for a moment. Her eyes lit up in understanding and once the heart was granted good humor, Luka added, “and why don’t you strike a superhero pose, so that your pal will hold courage.”

Hali giggled as she placed her hands on her hips and preened.

“Fantastic. Lastly, I want you to rub the heart between your palms!” Luka motioned for her to mimic him as he demonstrated. “Now, when it’s nice and warm, give it a clap to start its heartbeat!”

The clap resounded through the workshop and the teens jolted behind her.

“That should do it,” Luka praised, holding out his palm. Hali handed the heart over, and he slipped it into the goat, tucking it snuggly away in the cotton and fluff.

He then set to filling out the rest of the plush. Once it was stiff and sturdy, he handed it to her, asking if she was content with it. When he received an enthusiastic nod, he took it back and sealed the hole. He snipped the extra thread with the scissors in his apron and then passed the goat back to Hali.

“Here’s your new friend! Be sure to visit our shop in the back! We have plenty of accessories and outfits for the newest member of your family,” Luka recited the same sales pitch as always. “Once you’re ready, head over to an open kiosk so you can fill out the adoption papers. If you need any help, Alex or I will be overjoyed to assist.”

“Thank woo!” Hali hurried over to the accessories, hugging the goat to her chest.

Luka clasped his hands and turned to the teens. When his gaze flickered to the floppy hooded doll in Makoto’s arms, her embrace tightened.

“Ready?” He motioned for her to hand it over so that he could stuff it.

She looked to Brooke, who shrugged with uncertainty. Makoto stepped forward.  

Keeping his tone light, he went through the same script as always. He asked if she wanted the doll to be firm or squishy and, in an effort to loosen her up a bit, offered to add any fun sound boxes or scents to the plush. She remained on edge until he asked about the nametag on her uniform as the machine roared to life again. She explained how her boss liked to give everyone themed nicknames and she was saddled with “Makoneko.” When he asked if she appreciated the nickname, she pointedly rolled her eyes as he removed his foot from the machine pedal again. Her shoulders relaxed when he chuckled.

“Your turn to pick a heart,” Luka twittered in an overly cheerful voice as he held out the bucket.

“Do I have to do the ceremony?” Makoto hesitated, plucking the first heart she saw. Rather than scared, her bored expression mirrored that of many teens who wanted to skip the step.

Perfect.

“I wouldn’t recommend it.” He shrugged casually. “What is a heart without a heartbeat? A soul without a person behind the personality?”

“What?” She faltered, shoulders slowly stiffening again as Brooke’s eyes widened.

“I only mean it’ll be a sorry existence for this little friend.” Luka waved the stubby hands of the purple plush toy. “And you get out what you put in.” Her brows dipped in slight confusion, and he smirked. “You have to at least start its heartbeat. You don’t want to bring a ghost home, do you?”  

“Just do the ceremony!” Brooke hissed through clenched teeth.

“F-fine,” Makoto said, slowly lifting the heart to her long black locks. “So, hair for soft fur?”

“Does it look like this one has fur?” Luka gestured to the doll with the yellow spiral in its hood. He scoffed, turning up his nose. “Of course not! No. First, why don’t you rub the heart against your belly so that it’s full of laughter.”

“I thought that was the elbow.” Makoto crinkled her nose. Though she rubbed the heart against her stomach, eager to get it over with.

“There is a difference between telling good jokes and laughing at them, kiddo,” Luka offered with a smirk. “Now, how about you jump up and down a few times? I’m sure your friend would love to share some of your energy.”

“What does that mean?” She jolted.

“Just that exercise keeps the heart healthy,” Luka said placidly.

Her eyes narrowed but she eventually gave a sluggish skip.  

“Then, rub it against your ear, so it will always listen.” He smiled brightly, being sure to bare his teeth. Once she complied, he clasped his hands together. “I’m sure you know what to do now! Warm it between your palms and then clap to start the heartbeat!”

She let out the breath that she had been holding, relieved it was finally over. She gave a small clap before passing the heart back. He slipped it into the doll.

“Any names in mind for your friend?” Luka prompted as his foot tapped the pedal.

“I don’t know,” she mumbled curtly, purposefully trying to let the whirling air in the stuffing machine drown out her answer.

“How’s this feel?” he asked a few seconds later when the machine hushed again. He pulled the doll from the nozzle and passed it back to her.

“Good.” She returned it after assessing the squishiness.

“If you haven’t got any names, I always thought these particular dolls looked like minions,” he prattled, closing the seam. When she didn’t respond, he continued lightly, “so Minion might be a good name.” He glanced up to meet her gaze and lowered his tone. “You did make sure it’ll listen. It’ll be an obedient little kiddo.”

Her breath hitched.

“Obedient to who?” she challenged, maintaining a fragile glare.

“All done!” Luka snapped upright after snipping the excess thread, pretending he hadn’t heard her question. “Welcome your friend into the world!”

Makoto accepted the doll, her gaze flickering between it and Luka with uncertainty.

“Same as always,” he droned in his peppy, customer service voice. “Browse to your contentment. My daughter recommends the plush purple cherries. You want to keep your buddy happy and fed! Make sure to finalize the adoption and meet Alex or I by the counter.” He glanced over to find the other young girl with her mother already at the cash register. “Looks like it’ll be Alex!”

Makoto nodded numbly as Brooke stepped forward and looped her arm through hers, rescuing Makoto by tugging her away.

“One more thing,” Luka began, keeping his eyes on his clean-up routine. The teens’ footsteps paused as they hovered. Though his smile laced his voice, his enunciation was sharp. “I’m sure the Snatcher doesn’t have to tell you but be sure to treat your new friend as you would yourself. You put your soul into bringing them to life, after all.”

The teens gasped.

“Have a good day, kids.” Laughter laced his voice.

They rushed away as he chuckled.

While he finished cleaning up, Hattie returned with her friends. As soon as she spotted him behind the stuffing machine, she rushed across the tiles decorated to look vaguely like a forest path.

“Here’s your coffee,” she chirped, holding up the cup.

“Any plans for the rest of the day?” he asked, pushing to his feet and picking stray fluff from his apron. Once he was as clean as he was going to get, he accepted the drink. He held it towards his lips, pausing to quirk a brow at young Muriel and Timmy as they passed the stuffing machines to check out all the colorful outfits. Belle, meanwhile, joined Hattie with her azure bow bouncing in her dark coils.

“We’re going to head to the bookstore.” Hattie shrugged. “Tim’s friend is hosting a card game tournament.”

“Remember to be back by six,” he instructed. “Don’t go snacking after four or you’ll spoil your dinner.”

“I know, Dad,” she huffed dramatically.

“Also, Mom says hi, Mr. Kingsley,” Belle pipped in.

“Tell Mari I return the sentiment. Now get your friends to stop loitering.” He turned back towards Hattie and rose his voice so Timmy and Mu could hear. “They scare away customers.”

“Says the Snatcher,” Timmy whispered to Mu.

Luka covered his smirk with the coffee cup. His gaze shifted over Hattie and Belle and he watched as Makoto and Brooke fled the store at a brisk pace. Hali struggled to keep up, but she managed to meet his eyes and offered a cheerful wave.

“Fine,” Hattie sighed. “Come on, guys!”

“I need to stop by Mom’s before we head to the bookstore,” Belle mentioned as she and Hattie turned to leave. “I left my cards with my backpack.”

As the girls left, Luka turned to head back towards the counter, taking a sip of his coffee. He immediately winced.

“Ugh, tepid,” he grumbled as Timmy and Mu ran past, hurrying out to follow Hattie and Belle.

After making sure the kids all had their backs turned and Alex was busy with something on the counter, Luka summoned a gentle ember to his hand. While the flame harmlessly licked the cup, the coffee warmed inside until steam wafted from the hole in the lid. He took a tentative sip and swallowed the scalding liquid.

The flames in his chest crackled and popped, and the knots in his shoulders eased.

He snuffed out the ember in his hand as he lowered the cup. Mist trailed from the lid as the coffee maintained its heat.

“I think you scarred those two for life,” Alex muttered as Luka returned to the counter.

“Which two?” he asked, mind still on Hattie and her friends.

“Brooke and Makoto.” Alex glanced up, shaking their head with a scolding expression.

“I didn’t do anything out of the ordinary,” Luka said calmly. He leaned against the counter, sipping his coffee during his momentary break. “If those hooligans are letting their imaginations run wild, it’s not on my conscience.”

“Uh-huh.” Alex gave him an unimpressed look. “Also, I think we’re running low on the beach ball accessories.”

“I noticed,” Luka muttered, swirling his cup pensively. “Those aren’t particularly popular, and we are getting near the end of the season…”

While they discussed whether they needed to send out an order or if they would make it until the fall selection came out, Hattie rolled on the balls of her feet as she, Timmy, and Mu waited for Belle to return from her mom’s flower shop just across from Kraft-a-Kid. Hattie idly watched all the mallgoers, thoughts blank, but Timmy and Mu had their eyes locked on Kraft-a-Kid, thoughts whirling noisier than the stuffing machines.

“Okay, I’m ready!” Belle announced as she bounced out with her deck of cards.

“Hattie.” Timmy whirled around. “Your dad’s magic!”

“Timmy, he doesn’t steal souls, we’ve been over this,” Hattie whined, crossing her arms.

“If he doesn’t steal souls, then what’s with his coffee?” Mu snapped, nodding her head towards the display window where Luka could be seen leaning against the counter inside the workshop.

Hattie squinted, trying to figure out what was out of place with the steaming coffee cup. After a moment, she turned to Belle, who shrugged.

“It’s hot!” Mu gestured wildly, causing her blond mustache to bob with her movement. “Look at that steam!”

Hattie blinked in disbelief.

“Yeah,” Belle supplied dryly. “Because Hattie ordered it hot.”

“But he said it was tepid!” Timmy argued. “We heard him!”

“He probably thinks it is,” Hattie said, knitting her brows together. “He likes his coffee hot enough to burn his tastebuds.”

“You aren’t getting it!” Mu huffed. “It wasn’t steaming when he said it was cold!”

“Okay, but even if he somehow heated it up, that didn’t have anything to do with stealing souls,” Belle appeased.

“That’s what we mean!” Timmy urged. “If he can use one type of magic, he can use others!”

“I regret the day I told you about those rumors,” Hattie grumbled.

It didn’t matter as much when strangers said it, but instead of laughing with Hattie when she told them that people thought her dad was some kind of heartless, soul-snatching monster, Mu and Timmy had latched onto the conspiracy and ever since refused to let go. She couldn’t talk about new product plushies or designs around them anymore because they would just start a debate about which shell would best hold the souls of children.

“Look can we just get going?” She started walking in the direction of the bookstore and Belle matched her pace. Mu hurried to catch up as Timmy trailed behind, keeping a watchful eye on Kraft-a-Kid.

“Are you sure you haven’t seen anything weird?” Mu insisted. “Heard any screams of children he caught? Seen any dolls move in the corner of your eye?”

“You know he laughs like a cartoon villain?” Timmy added.

“The store is literally called Kraft-a-Kid!” Mu continued. “Open your eyes, Hattie!”

“Kid is just another word for baby goat!” Belle argued. “It’s cute!”

“We aren’t talking about this anymore!” Hattie snapped, tugging down on the brim of her hat. She turned away from them and focused on Belle. “So, what deck are you using? The one with fairy types? Or your cat themed one?”

“Both!” She grinned mischievously as she happily helped to redirect the conversation. “I combined them because I wanted to use all my favorites. How about you?”

“Going with the forest deck.” Hattie glanced up, where her deck was safely tucked away in the hidden compartment she stitched into the top hat.

Timmy and Mu huffed, letting their argument go as they pipped in with talking about their own decks. But it was only a matter of time before they started back on their theories about her dad’s supposed magic. Trying not to deflate too much, she kept her eyes forward. She swallowed her frustration and focused on the upcoming tournament.

Besides, even if her dad did have magic and only used it for heating up coffee, it hardly seemed something a heartless monster would do.

Right?

[ill-skillsgard]

Anything faust!valter

I usually don't enjoy vague requests like this, but I was writing a Faust!V piece anyway. So, I'll just put this here.

+

Warning: 18+ smut, mature language, anti-religious themes. **In this part: consensual sleep sex, family conflict, angst.**

Summary: Faust and Faith get caught in the act, propelling Faith to do the one thing she never thought herself capable: defy her father.

- Not based on Lords of Chaos. I use Faust!Valter’s likeness only as inspiration.

Read more Faust x Faith here [x]

A warm prodding awakened Faith in the early hours. Faust was pressed against her naked back, chest and stomach soft and contoured to her spine. Lower down, he nudged her with a growing erection. It twitched across her tailbone once, twice, and so on, in reflection with the man's heartbeat. He felt enormous behind her. Drawing his knees up, his thighs balled her and squeezed.

His breath spread over the back of her neck, followed by a crawling moan. Faust curled his hips under hers, seeking out the sleek warmth between her legs. They had fallen asleep with the TV on, and the same non-stop pornographic advertisements played with the volume low. The ruddy morning glow swirled up the moans, tenderizing the bedded bodies in low heat.

Faust whispered through strands of hair, "can I be inside of you?"

Faith raised her right leg, providing him access which he took with a slow but forceful stab. He trusted her whimpers and went along with each one, finding a steady rhythm guided by her noises. Sleep still licked at his eyelids, teaming with comfort to lead Faust back into a restful embrace. Even her enclosing wetness wasn't enough to keep his eyes open.

This process repeated. Faust fought lazily to stay awake, to stay hard inside of her. Faith didn't seem to mind the five-minute doses of lovemaking with a reprieve to doze. Car alarms, porn trailers and a gentle buzzing went off, ignored by the sleepy couple.

Faust picked up the pace eventually and lifted Faith's leg for less resistance. He slammed into her, wrapping one long arm around her midriff to keep her from bouncing across the bed. Anchored, Faith let the stretch soothe her to the core. Having him inside, muted and reserved to the pleasure and not the filth, was a rarity she longed to savour. Too often, Faust spent their time together teasing, making her feel like the hungry one, the desperate one. Now, he was the one who couldn't hold back.

"Faith... I'm gonna come soon."

Before she replied, he angled her face to smother her mouth with a kiss. His lips devoured her moans, tongue licking hers. He sent his hand down to her groin and pressed his index and middle finger together to create the perfect cushion for her clit.

"Does that feel good?" He asked.

"Yes," she smiled. "Yes, that's amazing."

"Mm, good. I need you to come at the same time as me."

The request struck Faith softer than his usual demands. Faust always told her exactly what to do, at the precise time, through clenched teeth, and if she failed to meet his expectations, he hissed and scolded her. Not this time. Faust paused his movements to get her up to speed.

"Mm, more, please," Faith said.

He fed her half his length. Anything more, and she would clench and mewl. Faust didn't want that kind of thing today. Working her clit with his fingers and pumping himself into her with care, Faust forgot everything.

Faith's cell phone continued to rumble. The first few rounds of vibrations had gone unnoticed, but now Faith was starting to worry. It broke her concentration, robbed Faust's caresses of poignancy. It was Sunday morning, and she hadn't checked in with her parents in a few days. By the shade of light filtering through the rust-coloured drapes, she deduced it couldn't be later than noon.

"Faust...I should answer my phone."

"No, baby. Just stay here. Get close with me."

"I can't," she said. "What if it's..."

"Don't answer. What's more important? Me, or him? You're a big girl. Make your own decisions."

Faith closed her eyes and waited for the vibrations to cease. Faust had not stopped slowly easing his cock inside of her, then out and back in. He delivered one stroke that was harder than the others and hooked her attention back to him.

"Come on, beautiful. Help me come."

It was another hour before Faust came to his shuddering end and spilled a shocking amount of cum both inside Faith and between her thighs. It dripped onto the bed, soaked the sheets and continued dribbling from her cunt even as he climbed down the bed to position his face there. He licked her from hole to clit, over and over until she moaned animatedly.

"Oh my god, Faust."

"You like that, baby? Let me lick that cum-soaked pussy for you."

Faust pinched the sensitive crest, revealing her clit and applying pressure. He used the months he'd spent eating her out to pull out all the tricks. He teased her opening with his middle finger, flicking her clit periodically to make her nerves jump.

"So much fucking cum in there. Oh, it's so nice watching it all dripping out of that perfect hole."

Again, the commotions of the outside world faded into obscurity while they played in their private bubble. Not even the indecency on the TV screen compared to Faust's green eyes watching her reactions while a perfect pair of lips toyed with every inch of her womanhood. She stroked his long hair back, but the black tresses fell over his face until he shouldered them out of the way.

"Are you ready to come for me, Faith?"

"Mm, yes. I'm ready."

"Yeah? What do you want? My fingers a bit harder? Suck your clit?"

"Both," she gasped.

Faust served two equally measured stimulations, enhanced by the slippery sound of his tongue. The peak fell into line, nudged forward by the mix of incentives working together to tickle her beyond pleasure. The noise delighted Faith, filled her with arousal, and she twisted and writhed as her climax approached. Matched with Faust's deep moans, the television and cars passing by on the street faded into obscurity. All thoughts of her neglected cell phone disappeared.

All of this smashed against an invisible wall and shattered before realization. There was a temperamental rapping at the door, followed by the boom of Faith's name from the other side. Faith shot up and away from Faust, clutching for a pillow to block her nudity.

"Faith! You better get out here, girl!"

"Daddy?"

"Oh, shit," said Faust. "Go to the bathroom. Now. Go on!"

Faith scrambled off the bed and grabbed her shredded panties from where Faust threw them the night before. In her haste, she missed her top and only brought her skirt into the washroom for coverage.

Faust wiped his glistening mouth, let the pounding at the door go unanswered until he caught his breath and climbed into his boxers. Prepared to face Stan, he wrenched open the door and found the man fuming, ready to throw his fists.

"Where is she?" Stan asked, bowling through the door and into the motel room where pornography still flashed on the TV.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Faith! Get out here now."

"You need to get the fuck out, right now. Faith's not here."

"Bullshit! Her phone's right there on the table."

Stan went to the bathroom door and banged hard enough the wood jumped from its frame. Faust hauled the man away from the door and met swift resistance.

"You can't be in here!"

"Don't tell me what I can't do. You have my daughter!"

"Daddy, please stop!" Faith cried from the other side of the bathroom door.

Stan glared at Faust with heat snapping behind his eyes. Not one to succumb to intimidation, Faust planted his feet and motioned for the man to leave.

"Don't make this violent, Stan. Faith's with me. She's a fucking adult."

The father noticed the television and spat on the carpet.

"She will never see you again if I have anything to do with it."

"That's just it... There's nothing you can do. So, I suggest you get the fuck out of here before something bad happens."

Stan ignored Faust and knocked on the door again.

"Faith, get dressed. You're coming with me."

"Daddy, you have to leave. I don't have any clothes."

"You son of a bitch," Stan hissed. "What the fuck have you done to my daughter? First, you don't answer calls, then I find you in here fornicating with this scumbag? What the hell is wrong with you, Faith?"

"Look, man, she doesn't have any clothes. Get the fuck out so she can at least get dressed. Or do you plan on dressing her yourself?"

Stan ignored Faust's comments with a sneer. "Have you forgotten your phone's tracking? How did you think this would end, Faith? Your mother and I thought you were taken! Get dressed right now, young lady. You are in for the punishment of your life!"

Faust followed Stan outside and watched the preacher thrash his fists. He recognized the car in front and smirked. The father's anger spread, fuelling Faust's urge to retaliate.

"You'll never keep her away from me," said Faust with a laugh.

"Shut your mouth."

"Can't handle the truth, can you? You hate that she loves me. You hate the thought of someone like me with her."

Stan whipped a warning look at Faust. The air outside was cool and raised goosebumps over his bare skin, but inside, his guts boiled. Faust longed for a more violent reaction. He wanted fire and destruction.

"I fucked her. You've no idea how many times I've fucked her."

Faith made it outside in time to witness her father advance on Faust. She shrieked as Stan's fist made contact with Faust's jaw and sent him reeling backward. He clenched the side of his chin and laughed, blood already coating his teeth.

"Oh, nice shot, big man. Come on. Beat the shit out of me. Show your daughter how a man handles things."

"Get in the car, Faith," Stan pointed.

"No, Daddy. I'm not leaving."

"Faith! I said get in the car!"

"No, Daddy! I won't go with you!"

Faith ran to Faust and threw herself around him, burying her face under his arm. Faust popped his brows and snickered.

"It's okay, babe. I'm fine. It was a good punch, though. Enough for an assault charge."

Faust kissed the top of Faith's head, eyes pinned to Stan while he licked his teeth.

"Get over it, preacher. She's mine."

"Stop it! Both of you stop, right now!" Faith pushed off Faust and stood in the middle of them. "Daddy, you have to go. I'm not a baby, and I'm not going to church. You can move the whole family across the country if you want to, but I'm staying and going to school."

"You are not missing church," Stan said.

"I'm old enough to make my own decisions. And I'm disabling my phone's tracker. This is an invasion of my privacy. And Faust... You keep quiet, too! Both of you."

The manager of the motel stepped out of the office, interested in the source of the commotion but not concerned enough to call the police. Fights broke out on the property all the time. Drapes pulled back, and anonymous eyes surveyed the scene as well. Faith suddenly felt far too exposed to the possibility a gust of wind might lift her skirt and reveal her nakedness. She reserved to make a point to Faust to stop ruining her underwear, but that would have to wait.

"Get in your car, drive back home, and maybe I won't press charges, old man," Faust negotiated.

"I'm not leaving without my daughter."

"Fine. You can stay here and explain to the cops why you punched me in the face and how you're trying to abduct an adult who has already stated multiple times that she doesn't want to leave. I'm sure that will all sound really nice to your congregation."

"Faith... You have one more chance. Get in, or else," Stan opened the car door.

She shook her head while disbelief of her actions sickened her stomach. Not once had she ever defied her father. Before the morning's incident, she didn't believe she had it in her to refuse him. The sky didn't turn red, and the earth refused to break open and swallow her. Faith understood what Faust had been saying; she didn't have to listen to anyone but herself.

Defeated, Stan got into the family car, staring at his daughter through the windshield. His oldest daughter, who he barely recognized, returned the stare until he drove off. Once the car turned the corner and was out of sight, Faust began to laugh.

"Stop laughing! Why do you think this is funny?" Faith asked.

"I dunno. It just is."

"No, it's not! Do you understand the trouble I'm in? You don't know what my dad will do. I'll have to move! I can't afford my own place working part-time."

"Baby, don't worry. You're not moving away from me. I won't let you."

Faith's delayed reaction hit all at once, like a storm cloud bursting above her head. Fiery tears stung her eyes as panic erupted from within her ribcage.

"So, what? You're gonna let me move in with you? Live in your tiny room with your weird roommate, who you hate? Because I highly doubt Mister Solitary will want me around twenty-four seven. You already can't handle more than a couple of days around me at once."

"Faith...Baby, come on. Don't say that kind of shit. We'll find our own place, obviously."

"You don't have a job anymore! You quit your band!"

"Doesn't matter. Just trust me. Stop crying, and trust me, okay? I'll get it all worked out. You have two more months at school before we have to make any moves. Have I ever given you a reason to doubt me?"

"No," Faith peeped. "I guess not."

"I got this, Faith. Stop worrying. You're with me, and that's all that matters, right?"

She nodded. Faust pulled her into his chest and wrapped his arms around her tightly.

"Everything's gonna be fine. I promise."

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The Sacrifice: Part 7 (Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader)

wc: 1.3k

tw: none

masterlist

You cannot touch the meal until Yuta is done, despite the tantalizing smell of kamuth invading your nostrils. And you cannot leave the table either. But by the fourth day of your patience training, you had the skill down.

Ignore the rumbling of your belly, you tell yourself. If he says something off-color, answer with “yes, of course” or “you’re absolutely right”.

“Besides, what good is a servant if they don’t have two legs to serve? You might as well be like the rest of the street urchins and crawl along, hoping for scraps.”

“Yes, of course,” you reply, hands in your lap, itching to eat the delicacy and then wring Yuta’s throat.

“I’m done.” Yuta stands, tossing down his napkin and walking out of the room without so much as a goodnight. But this was the signal. As soon as the doors close to the room, you practically inhale the meal, swallowing the wine down greedily. You’re much too busy eating to hear Gojo land in the room with your daily letter, but when a hand reaches around your shoulder to snatch the egg tart off your plate, you sigh.

“If you want the letter, you know what you need to fork over.” You let him take the treat, and he hands you the folded paper immediately. “He was working hard on this one today. Got him all in a huff. Please don’t ask me to read anything,” Gojo moans, walking toward the window to eat his stolen goods in peace.

My love,

You’re working so hard, and I am so proud of you. I know Yuta can be a demanding person, and your growth in only a few days is remarkable.

“Re...mark...able…” you sound out to yourself before continuing.

Gojo will not tell you this piece of news, but I will. Toji is on the prowl for you. I know he will not be able to slip past Yuta without him being aware of the issue, but keep your eyes open for anything amiss. There are only a few days left until our reunion. I love you and will love you until every star in the sky goes dark.

Stay safe.

Suguru

“Pen and paper,” you demand, and Gojo presents it to you without hesitation before you scribble your response. When you hand the paper back to him, he grunts once, then climbs out of the window and descends into the depths below. You don’t watch him, instead choosing to swallow the rest of your wine and wipe your hands on the napkin, leaving the plates and glasses where they are.

When you make it back to your room, you see an attendant has drawn a bath for you, and you undress then climb into the warm water, sighing in pleasure. You’d asked for privacy during these moments, desiring to wind down instead of chatting with anyone. As the sky darkens outside, you hear the whistling of the wind and close your eyes, wishing Suguru would come sweeping in and comfort you. You imagine that he would massage your shoulders first, whispering about how well you’re doing and how proud he is of you.

You feel an actual set of hands on your shoulders, and you jolt upright, but they clamp down hard, pushing you back down in the tub.

“Don’t. Move. Scream, and I’ll make sure it’s the last thing you do.” Your breath wheezes out of you at the sound of Toji Fushiguro’s voice. You freeze in the tub, facing away from him, but captured under his grip. “I have to admit, getting to you was a lot harder than I expected. But you’re well-protected. Too bad Yuta’s barriers aren’t working as well as they used to.”

“I--”

“Hush, human. I have some questions for you, and if you lie to me, I’ll kill you right here. If you tell me the truth, I’ll let you live for a little while longer. Understand?”

“Yes,” you breathe, suddenly feeling a bit weaker than before, like life is draining from your bones as you spend time under Toji’s grip.

“Why are you not immortal yet?”

“I-I couldn’t read the contract,” you whisper shakily as lightheadedness sets in, and Toji huffs a laugh.

“And why is Geto keeping illiterate human scum in his Temple?”

“Because he loves me,” you reply. The fingers on your shoulders tighten and you wince, hoping he wouldn’t prod further.

“He’s been fucking you, hasn’t he?” You don’t have to reply for Toji to understand. “Tsk, tsk. Not something that’s usually allowed… A god and a sacrifice? Unholy, I would venture to say.”

“Will he get in trouble?” you wonder suddenly, your stomach twisting into knots and your vision blurring slightly as you weaken.

“You’re in no position to ask me any questions, sacrifice.” Toji’s mouth draws closer to your ear. “What’s your name?”

“Y/n.” At the sound of your name, he drops his hands from your shoulders and the sapping sensation leaves you slowly as your body regains control over itself.

“Y/n, I look forward to seeing you soon. Next time, tell Geto to dress you up nicely for me. And have Cly bring you with her after you become immortal. I’m sure you’d enjoy our nights of… fun. If Geto can have his little playthings, I should enjoy them as well.” You turn to face the God of Death, but he’s vanished completely, not leaving a trace of his presence.

You consider informing Yuta of Toji’s appearance, but as you towel off and drag yourself to the bed, you realize it would do nothing but worry Yuta and possibly worry Geto. You had to finish your lessons first, then you would tell Yuta.

As you climb into bed, you still feel the weakness in your body. The power of the God of Death is nothing to trifle with, you think to yourself, and now you fully realize why everyone is terrified of him. If he could render you weak in seconds, imagine what he could do to a god if given an eternity?

_____________________________________________________________

“Sleeping until noon is unusual for her,” you hear as you fade back into the land of the conscious. When you open your eyes, Yuta is hovering over you, flanked by Gojo on the left. Gojo’s eyes run over you worriedly, and you rub your own, looking up at Yuta’s confused expression.

“Did you stay up late?” Gojo wonders, flipping the letter in his hands around and around.

“Y-yes,” you lie, shaking your head. “Sorry to worry you.” When you look up at Yuta’s dark blue gaze, however, you notice that he’s squinting at you. But he seems to leave his suspicions when he backs up and crosses his arms over his chest.

“We have news. Toji’s been spotted nearby and I’m afraid he’s going to try to get to you soon. I need to teach you how to defend yourself. I had hoped we would get to this later, but it seems like the threat is real enough for us to speed past patience and straight to combat.”

“Combat?” You swallow hard, but Yuta shrugs your trepidation off.

“We’ll have Nobara come by after you eat so she can help you with your weapons handling. And you’ll be practicing hand to hand combat with me,” Gojo announces, thumbing at himself with pride before handing you the letter and walking out of your room. Yuta walks to the door, then turns around, looking at you with a stern expression.

“You didn’t happen to encounter Toji yesterday, did you, y/n?” He raises his brow at you, but you immediately reply,

“No.” Yuta seals his lips, then walks out of the room, closing your doors behind you.

When you open the seal on the letter, a slip of fabric falls out. When you examine the fabric, you realize it was taken from the outfit you wore to dinner the night before, and you read the words on the page slowly, then again, and again, and again; fear racing down your spine.

Toji left this for me on our bed.

Did he hurt you?

_____________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @sunfloweroranges @jibe-gajima @jotazinha @brownskinnedgirll @leanne-tamashi @vabybizzle @amaris9 @fuegy-fuegy @ambiguous-something @kontentious@missbonekitty @fyotituti @honouredsatoru @sandyscastle @flare-on @sasahime @ggotgame @just4readingfics

[vesuvianmess]

Popsicles?

Art by @jilljoycearts Drexxel is @vesuvianmess Vell is @deathbyarcana

A short fic recounting how these two met, pulled (with some edits) directly from a currently running roleplay.

Quick Warning: Contains mentions of stalking and harassment

"You are very welcome, have a good rest of your day!" He waved the group off with a smile. "Hiya, what can I get you?" He asked another.

Flitting back and forth from group to group, he greeted every single person with a genuine smile. There was nothing more satisfying than seeing others light up with joy. He’d taken up working at the bakery part time to help with some expenses of running his own shop. And he had to admit, the smell of fresh baked bread may have influenced that choice. The job was never boring as the market was always flooded with people, locals and travelers alike, all looking for something. Still, he only worked with Selasi during the mornings and early afternoons. When he’d had his fill, he would return home to open the doors to his own little business.

But today, he had something a little different in mind. Instead of selling little animal pelts, herbs, bits, and bobbles, he was in and out again in a flash. Having changed into something much more comfortable for the heat, he pulled a wheeled cart behind him to the town square. Near the fountain, he’d found the perfect spot and pulled the cover off the cart. It would take him a little time to set everything up, but once it was done, he noticed people already beginning to gather around. Some faces he'd seen many, many times before. Others, much more new. Taking a seat on an overturned wooden bucket, he twirled a pair of drumsticks between his fingers. 

“Hello Vesuvia, I’m bringing you a special late afternoon show! Now then," he sat up a little, the line of his back straightening. "For those of you new to my show, we have fun here! Here's how this goes!" making a grand sweeping gesture to the gathered crowd, he continued on. "You may request a song but there is no guarantee I will play it. I will not tolerate pushing, shoving, or otherwise harmful activity during my shows. And, as always, tips are appreciated but not required, come stay for awhile and feel the beat of the sound! I'm Drexxel Volkov, and may luck be forever in your favor!" 

It started with a small metallic chime, a shortstop of little taps on the rims of the set. But before long the square was alight with the beating of drums. His whole body moved in time with each beat almost as if he were dancing along to his own song. Small children bounced and tugged at their parents' sleeves, urging them to get closer. New comers stood with delighted expressions, some even getting a little antsy standing in one place, others giving way to bouncing their bodies to the rhythm. 

There was nothing better than this, looking out into the crowd as he thrummed away the minutes, flipping the sticks and singing along even though nobody could hear him over the heartbeat he'd created. 

The crowd was thick as usual but new faces stuck out easy to him. Even with the prick of sweat beginning to roll down his forehead, he was able to focus enough to make everyone feel included in his performance. One face in particular he stopped at for more than a split second. A taller man with vivid blue hair, dark skin, and a sort of shaken demeanor. He looked….out of place perhaps amid the crowd, like he could bolt at any moment. Drexel found himself stealing glances at the man throughout his show, a dizzying knot of butterflies in his gut as he saw the man start to meld into the hum around him. The thrill of the performance carried him through like a tidal wave crashing against the shore, his fiery passion shining through clear as day. Every movement felt natural, every breath felt like a whole new beginning. Drexxel never came from a background that favored this sort of thing, rather it was something he'd picked up on his own time. He had the extra energy to spare and needed an outlet to help with it. Besides, he always did like seeing people smile and what better way to do that then get them moving? 

Into the second song now and he felt a wave of static run through him. Someone in the crowd was a magician. He could feel it. Even through the loud beating of drums and the crashing of cymbals the low electrical humming filled his body. He was sure of it. But was this magician able to sense him as well? That he did not know. He wasn’t sure precisely where the feeling was coming from, but he was determined to draw it out. With it toying at his mind, he decided it was time to show off just a little more. After all, using magic was a good way to lure out another magician. 

Drexxel simply waited as he beat along in time to find the perfect moment to really show off his moves. Normally he would have saved this bit for later in the evening, but he just had to do it now. After feeling that little pang of magic, he knew he had to show whoever was producing it, that they weren't the only one with fancy magic at their fingertips. Just a moment longer....

When the final chorus of the song hit, he let it loose. His drumsticks sparked and crackled to life, enveloped in searing hot flames. With his sticks now burning with intense heat, he slammed away at his drums with more grandeur and energy than before. With each hit fire roared from the contact point, creating a dazzling display of towers of fire in varying sizes. If anything were to draw this other magician out, it would be this. 

By the end of the show, much to his dismay, this fellow kin had not revealed themselves. It was a bit of a shame really, he would have loved to have someone join in his performance. What a dazzling display that would have been. He could only imagine what kind of magic would have complimented his own.

"Thank you all for joining me this afternoon!" He gave a bow, his hair falling a bit loose from his bun. "It's a hot one out today so make sure to stay hydrated and get some good food in your belly!" 

 He stood and lifted his arms over his head in a long stretch before using the rad cloth tied to his side to wipe away the sweat that cling to his skin. The show was over, but people still lingered in the area, some tossing coins into an open bowl near the drum set, others approaching Drexxel with questions. He was small for his age of twenty-five, standing at mere chest (or just below) level with most other adult’s that spoke with him. He had a thin, but decently sturdy frame with most of his strength apparent in his legs. Most people would know him for a scar that ran along his right cheek. Whenever asked about it he would simply tell them he didn’t remember where it came from but knew he’d had it most of his life. 

The town square was still bustling with people as he began to pack up his things. Above it all though, he could hear footsteps approaching him. He paused a moment then spun on his heel to come face to face with a regular to his shows. The man was leagues taller than himself and had a strange look to his eyes. He was holding a piece of paper, crumpled and damp with sweat in his hands. Drexxel heard the man speak but didn’t quite catch the words. 

“I’m sorry?” He responded back, urging the man to repeat himself. When he did, a chill ran down his spine. “...Go out with me. Dinner.” He pushed the paper into Drexxel’s hands. “You’re so pretty.” 

The smaller pulled the note apart just enough to read it. In shaken scrawl it read:

‘Don’t make a scene. I’ve been planning this. You and I belong together.’

He’d seen this sort of thing before in books and screenplays. Some secret admirer gets too confident and goes after someone who isn’t interested and it becomes a problem. Problem being a kind way to put it. Harassment was a better word for it. Bold of him to make the attempt in broad daylight, let alone a busy square. In the kindest way possible, Drexel looked up at the man and spoke.

“I’d love to, but I have plans this evening. Another show I mean.” 

He felt the prickle of magic in the air again, but it wasn’t coming from the man in front of him. The magician was still in the area. 

"Excuse me, I'm talking to you." the man's voice broke him from his thoughts. "I'll be picking you up this evening."

Drexxel's brow furrowed, the energy around him shifting like hissing smoke trying to catch on damp wood. 

"I'm really sorry, I mean it." He offered a sincerely looking apologetic smile. "But I really must be getting home." He made a move to leave but was stopped when the man caught his wrist. 

"You're not going anywhere short-stack." 

This....could be bad. As much as the crowd had dissipated, there were still people lingering about. Too much of a risk to cause a scene. But every fiber of Drexxel's being was telling him to flee. He needed an out. In the most...nonchalant way possible, he attempted to wriggle his wrist free. 

"Your performance really spoke to me Drexxy. It's like you were composing a symphony just for me." As he was caught in his own little moment, Drexxel pulled his wrist free. But it only lasted a second.

He felt a pull against his skin before he heard a small snap. The man had missed when reaching for Drexxel's wrist and instead caught the beaded double bracelet on his wrist. Beads had gone flying haphazardly in every direction, landing on the stones below like pellets. In that moment he felt the pull of magic much closer than before. This other magician was close. Very close. 

Drexxel was unfortunately used to people approaching him with much more....fervor than he anticipated. However, this particular instance was something else. He'd never had someone so adamant on taking him home. If this were to go on for a moment longer, he was sure to lose his composer. He may be a pretty upbeat guy but he also had a notoriously short fuse. 

That hissing aura was rapidly kindling itself from a crackling campfire to a firestorm. When his bracelet snapped, he felt something in him switch. Rage bubbled up under his skin like pot boiling over on a stove set too high. His fist clenched and a growl escaped him. 

But then, out of nowhere, everything around him stopped. He was about to throw a fiery punch but stopped short when he saw another man between him and his new 'friend'. It was the man he saw in the crowd! He said he was there to help just now. But what was he doing here and how did he…

"How--?" Then it hit him like a hard slap to the face. "So you're the magician I was picking up on!" His anger flickered back to amusement and joy. "I knew I wasn't imagining it! Oh! The helping thing, yes." 

Drexxel offered the newest stranger a warm, bright smile. Without hesitation, he grabbed his hand and shook it furiously. 

"Nice to meet you, I'm Drexxel! What do you say we blow this popsicle stand and get somewhere far away from this creep?"

The other man seemed to freeze up, like he expected a much worse response. His whole arm wobbled when Drexxel shook it. His eyes were wide and his lips parted in shock. It took him a minute to process what the smaller man had said to him. 

“Oh, I…that is….popcicles?” The man felt his face go hot, blood rushing to his cheeks. He was sure the smaller man would mistake him for a tomato. 

Drexxel watched him curiously. It was like watching the gears of a clock turning, the way this man seemed to be having an inner monologue with himself about whether or not he’d made the right call to get involved. He could feel how shaken up the man was, his hand trembling. Not very good at keeping his cool was he? Finally he spoke again. 

“It’s localized. My….my magic…it…I mean I…no, it. It will wear off when we get a distance away. He could follow? I- who, well…popsicles?”

Drexxel had always been good at making new friends and getting people to laugh and smile. He was small, yes, but he made up for his size with seemingly boundless energy. It was nearly impossible to not like the guy. But, he could tell, he kind of took this one by surprise. But it wasn't the first time someone had responded this way. Not often he got to see someone turn that red before though!

Whoever this new guy was, Drexxel had never seen his face in Vesuvia before. And he’dbeen in the city for quite some time now. It'd been since he was about nineteen. He knew almost every face in Vesuvia, even if a good handful of them were only in passing. But this one, this one he wanted to know more about. Consider his interest piqued. 

When time came back and this new magician struggled to make a clear sentence, it was all Drexxel could do to hold in a laugh. Localized magic though, not sure he'd heard of that one before. He completely skipped over the popsicle schtick.

"Localized huh? Hey, think you could use your magic with mine? I'm thinking....a wall of fire!" He still hadn't let go of the stranger's hand. "I could put a wall of fire around him, just tall enough to trip him up of course. You could stop time around it until we get far enough away that your....localization wears off!" Mossy green eyes brimmed with excitement. He gave the hand in his a squeeze. 

"I bet we'll make a great team!"

He could see the man trying to process the words coming out of Drexxel’s mouth. He’ll admit, he was a bit of a fast talker when he was excited. 

“Wall of fire…” He repeated Drexxel’s words, more to himself than the other, considering the idea. Not terribly flawed, he thought. A quick fix but not long lasting. “Worth…worth a shot.” an unsteady voice. “Wait - a team?” Vell had barely gotten the words out before the air thrummed with magical energy and, just as promised, fire sprung to life around the note wielding creep. If the situation weren’t as it was, he might have taken time to admire the flames.

"That's what I said isn't it? A team!" He mused, giving this new friend a wink. 

When time did in fact stop around his flames, the passion in his eyes burned that much brighter. He beamed at this new stranger. 

"Talk about a cool party trick. Come on, let's get out of here." Still gripping that hand, he took off. Hopefully this new friend could keep up with him. 

They took off out of the square, rushing past pedestrians and shopping stalls in a race to escape the area. Drexxel had taken the lead, ducking and diving under obstacles like it was as easy as breathing. He felt his new found companion trip up a few times but he managed to keep up the pace. He was new to Vesuvia and hadn’t the slightest idea where the two of them were headed. Drexxel looked back to check on his new friend at just the wrong moment. The edge of his sandal caught on uneven stone, sending him tumbling into an unattended fruit cart, scattering oranges along the alley. He’d never let go of this new companion’s hand, and in turn, the two of them fell together. The other man now had him pinned, a leg on either side of him. 

“I-- We-- uh…” The stranger fought to find the right words, feeling like a tea kettle ready to whistle. “We fell.” 

Drexxel could feel his own face burning a bright shade. He would have been able to laugh it off if it weren’t for his immediate attraction to this man. Impulse guiding him, he offered the man a toying smirk. “You know, I think this might be fate.” He winked. “And I don’t even know your name.” 

“M-my name?” The other man stuttered.

He tried to stand, pulling on Drexxel’s hands to pull him up as well, only to lose his footing. He fell back onto the stone, the smaller of the two now sitting perched on his abdomen. The look in his eyes was….entrancing. Intoxicating even. He couldn’t look away. “I’m Vell.” 

“Vell…” Drexxel liked the way the name felt when he said it. He let his hands drift to the other man’s chest, watching him with bright eager eyes.

Now, what was that saying about playing with fire?

[brittledame]

Pairing: Semi Eita x Reader

Warnings: Explicit, A/B/O-verse, Knotting, Creampie, Biting, Marking, Scenting, Blow jobs, locker room sex

Word Count: 7k

Summary: Semi's temper got the best of him during practice when Shirabu almost accidentally serves a ball straight into their manager. Both you and the team are worried about the older setter, but don't know what's going on with him. Unknowingly, you stumble upon Semi after his shower whilst doing chores in the empty change rooms. Semi shows you exactly what has been driving him crazy the past week. Unknowingly, you stumble upon Semi after his shower whilst doing chores in the empty change rooms. Semi shows you exactly what has been driving him crazy the past week.

Series: Part 1 of 2 (Part 2 here)

Now, you were not known for being over-dramatic, nor were you known for over exaggerating things. So, when you say aloud, “Semi has been very moody lately…” The team were beyond the point of pulling hair out in pure frustration over said male.

Safe to say, Eita is known to be a little hot headed, but when it came to anything involving Shirabu, he seemed to devolve into the human equivalent of a hair-pin trigger. Prior to whatever had triggered Eita’s down-right nasty attitude, any off-hand comments from the younger setter would at most elicit a scowl and a quick-fire jab in return.

Now though? You watched in abject horror as the situation unraveled faster than a poorly tied rope. Just as the coach had stepped out to get more paperwork for you to look over and discuss the advancements the boys have made over the past week, a ball ricocheted over in your direction, close enough for you to feel a breeze caress your cheeks.

“What in the ever-loving fuck Shirabu? I know that you have more control over your piss-poor serves than that!” Semi seethed as he marched over towards the partially stunned brunette.

Shirabu’s usually placid façade quickly evaporated into thin air as the distance between them rapidly shortened, instead it was replaced with a scowl that even had Goshiki widen his eyes and beat a hasty retreat.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Shirabu sarcastically replies, “I’ve just been a little distracted that someone has been riding my ass for the past week, so I’m sorry that I’m not performing at my best.”

Before Semi could place his hands on the shorter male, Reon and Tendou intercepted him. The latter male chucked a gangly arm across the seething setter’s shoulders, much to Semi’s evident annoyance. Reon placed a calming hand on Shirabu’s shoulder and you were relieved to see the second year’s shoulders relax slightly at the comforting touch.

“Now, now! I hardly think throwing hands with a second year is going to help whatever is going with you Eita,” Tendou wagged his finger in the air as he continued chiding Semi. “You’ll scare off poor ol’ Manager-chan if you keep up your snarling.”

You tensed up at the mention of your role. You hadn’t moved a muscle since the ball came flying your way, which honestly is a normal hazard of being manager to a power-house team. If you couldn’t handle a misfired ball here-and-there then how could you honestly function working with the rambunctious volleyball team?

You slide your eyes over to Semi, only to find he was already staring at you with dark eyes. A spark shoots down your spine, making your fingertips tingle at the sensation. You quickly break eye contact and look over to the left where Shirabu was standing quietly sulking.

“It’s fine Shirabu, it didn’t hit me, and besides,” you grin at him, “even if it did hit me, it would never trump that one time Ushijima spiked one straight into my face.”

Chuckles broke out across the group of boys, thankfully shattering the tense atmosphere. Forever missing the point, Ushijima bows and gives another apology to you while you wave him off and laugh at his serious expression. Meanwhile, Tendou steered Semi off to the side, well away from the boys now playfully teasing the ever stoic Wakatoshi.

“Honestly though dude, you’ve been stinking up the place lately. Are you really alright? And don’t brush me off again.” Tendou’s light tone turned serious, revealing to Semi just how badly his badly managed temper has effected those around him.  “Is this an alpha issue or…?”

Semi rubbed at his eyes and sighed heavily .

“I’m-I’m dealing with it. I’m sorry that I’ve been a bit aggressive lately,” he said tiredly. Maybe his rut was coming a week sooner than he had anticipated, he’s never felt so on edge, especially when you were in the vicinity.

A sharp whistle cut through the air, causing a few of the younger years to wince, with the third years sighed at the loss of their short break. Practice goes back into full swing, the scene quickly forgotten as Washijou barks out commands and demands laps as retribution when they fail to satisfy him. You yourself couldn’t ruminate any longer on Semi’s apparent bad temper lately as you rush to fill in the sheets Washijou handed you and keep up with the team’s moves.

All too soon, practice was called to an end. A few whoops from the more energetic boys sounded at the whistle, but it seemed like most of the boys were exhausted from this particular practice session. The heavy mix of sweat and pheromones was enough to make you wrinkle your nose. Even after all these years you’d think that you would get used to the smell of a couple dozen alphas and betas and the occasional omega stinking up the enclosed area.

As per usual, all the members gathered around the coaches and waited for the hazing critiques coach Washijou was sure to dish out. It seemed that poor Goshiki suffered the brunt of the harsh comments, looking for all the world like he was trying not to cry. Reon and Yamagata moved closer to the first year and gave a few encouraging pats on the back, once Washijou had moved onto his next victim. Shirabu shook his head at the scene. Guiltily, you kind of understood the sentiment.

One had to be able weather all sorts of scathing critiques and comments to last long on this team. There’s a reason most omega’s don’t stay long on the team, most pushed to tears and dropping off the team before they could make a whole term. You were the longest standing omega team member and that was purely driven by spite to prove to Washijou that you weren’t a “waste of space” as he once so kindly called you.

Sliding your eyes over to Semi, you were shocked to find the dark-tipped ash blonde male already staring at you with burning eyes. Locking eyes for all of a second, he quickly looked down at the floor, tightly clutching at his towel. He was still wiping the sweat off of his brow, chest heaving as he tries to draw cool air into his tired lungs. Trying to be subtle, you scent the air, trying to locate Semi’s unique musk under the many layers of scents in the gym, but like always you couldn’t push past the reek of teenager’s sweat.

After the short intermission, he really threw himself into his serves and sets. The force he hit every ball caused a knot of something to settle in your abdomen. You couldn’t help but wonder what it’d feel like if he’d used that same force on your –

“ – and that’s all for today. I expect you all to improve on those points within the next week or you will be riding pine for however long I desire. Understand?” You gulped as you were ripped out of your dirty thoughts for a guy that wouldn’t even give you a second glance.

A resounding “Yes!” signaled the end of another day’s worth of work. Everyone started filing off towards the showers, hoping to get one of the few stalls that had decent water pressure. Thankfully, hot water was a non-issue with the mountain-load of funding appointed to the high-ranking team, otherwise it’d be a blood bath.

Steeling your nerves, you sought Semi out. You spot him standing near the entrance of the hallway leading to the locker rooms, talking animatedly to a smiling Reon. You really didn’t want to interrupt the conversation between the two alphas but you needed to talk to Semi about his attitude problem. Anymore days like today and you’re not sure if Washijou will hesitate to chuck Semi to the curb, irregardless of the power the setter brought to the court.

Thankfully you didn’t have to awkwardly catch Semi’s attention. You caught Reon’s eye and gave him an awkward wave, he nodded at you and said his goodbye to the bewildered setter. You always did love Reon’s fatherly nature, you’d have to treat him to his favourite meal of mackerel cooked in miso as a thank you sometime soon.

Semi froze when he met your eyes and you tried to not show any hesitance as you addressed him.

“Hey, I just wanted to ask about what’s up with you lately. I know it’s not exactly easy to talk about that kind of stuff to the team but…” Semi watches as you nervously tug at a piece of your hair. “You can talk to me if you want, I’d be more than happy to at least listen to anything that’s been on your mind lately.”

Semi bit his lip, eyes cast off to the side in (what you hope is) contemplation. His eyebrows furrow as you notice him scent the air, obviously displeased with what he smells, as his entire face tightens.

“I’m fine. Thanks for the offer though.” He says in clipped tones, turning away from you.

Panicking, you grab his wrist to stop him. This turned out to be the worst possible choice, as Semi’s entire body freezes. You hold your breath, not wanting to fuck up this situation more so than you already have. A short eternity passes before he brusquely shakes off your loosened grip and stalks off towards the lockers, not breathing another word to you.

Hurt, you twist your hands together. Wow, you managed to piss off one of the hottest guys in your year in less than a minute, that has to be new record. Shit, maybe he was disgusted that an unmated omega near her heat touched him? No, that wasn’t likely. Semi wasn’t one of those uptight pretentious alphas that dominated Shiratorizawa's halls, in fact he was quite sociable and friendly when he was off the court.

On the court he had a one-track mind and an itch to show the team that just because he was benched doesn’t mean he had nothing to bring to the table. It was something you greatly admired about the male, asides from his jaw-dropping physique that you had the pleasure of viewing a handful of times during the hottest days in the summer.

Still spiraling into your self-made pit of despair, you listlessly set off to complete the rest of the chores assigned to you before it got too late. You usually were the last to leave for the night, so you had the keys for lock up jingling noisily in your pocket as you drop off your annotated charts and completed stats to coach Washijou’s office. On the way back, you drop by the laundry room and sort out some of the player bibs and towels needing to be washed from the ones needing to be folded up for use the next day.

Usually you can find some enjoyment in these menial tasks, as it allows you to ruminate in your thoughts or hum a new song that’s stuck in your head, but today you finish your chores in silence. You fail to not over-analyse Semi’s new apparent distaste for your presence this past week. He was usually more than amicable towards you, popping up to offer a helping hand at random times, and offering to help carry some heavy course material when he spots you struggling in the hallways.

Sighing, you set down the last folded towel on top of the pile needing to be delivered to the locker room. You have no idea what’s gotten into him recently, but it has nothing to do with anything alpha-related, as you’ve spent many times together in the days leading up to his rut and he’s never been this adverse to your touch before.

Physically shaking the thought from your head, you straighten yourself up and check the time. Great, it was late enough that none of the boys should still be in the locker room, so you could deliver the pile of towels, go back to your dorm and sulk for the rest of the night.

The hallways were empty and silent now that the boys were more than likely filed up for dinner. Cautious, you give a precautionary knock just in case someone was loitering around instead of rushing out like the others. At the lack of response, you swing open the door and begin to place the towels around the room and sort the dirty laundry into the right washing bins.

Lost in the monotony of your everyday motions, you missed the padding footfalls leaving the showers. Eita stood there in shock when he saw your figure bent over the washing bins, left to the lockers. He cursed his luck (his misfortune, he corrects) of having the one person in the school that Eita couldn't bare to lose control around alone with him. Already he could feel his tenuous grasp on his self-restraint slipping as he observes your clueless form sort out laundry.

Sniffing at the air, Eita could scent nothing but you in the air now that there was no one else around and he could feel his dick twitch at the thought. For fuck’s sake he already went above and beyond to avoid you today and the team after that disastrous practice. He even stayed behind to rub a quick one out in the empty showers, thinking about your soft skin against his.

As Eita stood behind you, lost in his turbulent thoughts, you stand up and turn around, meeting the half-naked setter's eyes. He looks just as shocked as you, eyes wide and mouth slightly parted, failing to say anything.

You can’t help your eyes as they take in his almost nude form, feeling almost envious at the white fluffy towel hiding his modesty from your view. Water droplets fall from his partially dried, tousled hair onto his pectorals and trace translucent trails down his tight abdomen and disappearing into the towel. Your mouth dries at the sight Semi makes before you, a casual sort of attractiveness that models strive to perfect.

Amused, Eita watches you rake your eyes over his form. He’s humble enough to know he looks pretty damn good for an eighteen year old, but he still preens under your appreciative look. Licking your lips unconsciously, you once again meet his eyes, fire clashing with fire.

'Oh god, keep it in your pants!' You admonished yourself. 'The poor guy is just trying to get dressed and here you are eye fucking him, for shame!'

Blushing heavily, you turn your gaze downwards. Eita gnaws at the inside of his cheeks at the sight of your embarrassed form. If this goes down the same track Eita’s illicit thoughts had journeyed down not that long ago, Eita is going to make an embarrassment of himself.

Throwing all caution to the wind, Eita mumbles a rough “fuck it” as he marches towards your prone form. Refusing to look up at him, you petulantly turn your head away from him. Semi huffs at the act and instead draws your head up with a crooked finger under your chin. You forgot how to breathe for a moment as you met his heated gaze. God, that look alone was enough to make you shiver and feel slick start gathering in your panties.

Eita chuckled at the wide-eyed expression on your face. “Don’t look so surprised. You’re the one person who could make me lose my mind like this, and you’re all alone with me at the worst possible moment.”

It’s at that moment that you’re hit with a wall of pure alpha scent, unsullied by any of the other’s pheromones or sweat. The smell of coconut body wash mixed with his natural musk, along with sharp undertones of bergamot, overwhelmed your senses. You whimpered at connotation of such a scent, Semi was interested in you – very interested.

‘Maybe he’s close to a rut, that’s why he’s acting like this. Of course he’d be like this around an unmated omega.’ The thought was sobering and practically kills your mood.

Drawing away from the stunning male, you shake your head. “No, you’re close to a rut, that's why you're acting like this. You just want an omega to warm your bed. Any omega will do.”

You had too much self-respect to waste any time or emotion trying to play into your number one fantasy of Semi actually reciprocating your feelings and wanting to fuck you, only to find out he was just looking to get his dick wet for the night.

“That’s not true and you know it,” Semi spits out between clenched teeth, drawing you back into him. “I’ve wanted to be with you romantically since first year. You’d have to have been blind to miss it.”

Offended, you rear up and scowl at him. “I’m not getting into bed with you because your horny mouth spits out some flattery. I know for a fact you don’t see me in that way, the past few days is proof of that!”

“Have you listened to a single word I’ve said? I've been dealing with so much sexual frustration lately because all I can think about is all the different positions I could fuck you in and mark up that soft skin of yours.” A flush of heat rolls through your body at his words.

“Lately, I’ve felt so out of control around you. I really don’t want to fuck up and lose our friendship.” He finishes, whispering the words into your hair.

Okay, so Semi has also been struggling with the same feelings you’ve been fighting back with a stick since first year, that's relieving. It’s sweet that Semi regarded your friendship so highly that he wouldn’t risk a potential mishap like this to fuck it up. The thought warms you in a way different to before.

“We’re such idiots,” you huff, burying your face into his chest. “I’ve liked you for awhile now as well. I just thought you'd always regard me in a platonic way. Kind of funny now that I think about it.” You slowly inhale, drawing in his soothing scent, as Semi wrapped his arms around you.

“Satori once commented that if there was anymore sexual tension between us, he expected us to spontaneously start fucking on the floor like animals.” Semi chuckled, tightening his grip minutely.

You hum thoughtfully. “Nah, I always imagined our first time either in one of our dorms or against the lockers.”

Looking up, you had the pleasure of watching a delicious-looking blush coat Semi’s cheeks at your teasing tone. Bring his hand up, he cups your cheeks and swipes his thumb gently under your eye, while the other draws circles over your hip. You tip your head back and relish in the feeling of his soft touches.

“Oh, really now?” He lowly teased back. “Why don’t we try it then?”

Semi releases your cheek, winds his arms around your waist and picks you up, walking you towards the very same lockers that had a starring role in your midnight fantasies. You have no idea who initiated the kiss, but your lips collided together just before your back was pressed against the cold metal.

You didn’t feel fireworks going off in the background, nor little birds start singing at your first kiss, but good god, did he make you feel light as a feather and make your heart all fluttery. Without thinking, you hook your legs around his torso and wind your fingers through his still-damp hair.

His lips were surprisingly soft and so very plush, you could easily get addicted to kissing Semi. You waited until the last possible second before you drew back for breath, panting against his lips for a moment, before diving right back in.

Out of nowhere, Semi roughly nips at your bottom lip and you gasp in response. He doesn't hesitate as he slides his tongue between the seam of your pink lips and entangle your tongues together. Moaning, you draw your trimmed nails down his naked back, blindly taking in each ridge and ripple of muscle of his toned physique. Semi's body trembles at the sensation.

This time Semi was the one to pull back with a gasp, burying his head in the crook of your neck, panting heavily.

“Do that again and I’ll really lose it.” His growl shot straight down to your core. You decide to tempt fate and really push Semi’s buttons, excited to see how far he’ll take it. You grind down onto his growing erection, while simultaneously raking your nails down his back hard enough to leave pink trails of irritated skin.

Semi almost immediately bucked up into up and moaned aloud. That moan alone was enough for slick to start pouring out of you, not to mention the dark look the alpha gives you.

“I warned you.” He says lowly, tone heavy with a dark promise.

Without letting you catch your breath, he dives back down to your mouth, kissing and nipping you with fervour that left you dizzy. Without thinking, you grind onto him, your core clenching on nothing as it grinds against Semi’s rigid length.

You couldn’t wait to see Semi’s cock, you had your guesses on what it might look like, maybe it was average size with above average girth, or maybe it was a little on the longer side, enough so that it could reach depths unexplored by your wondering fingers.

Well you always were the one to take advantage of any situation you were placed in and this one was no different to any other. Disconnecting your lips, a thin string of saliva connects the two of you snaps as you draw away and unhook your legs from around his back. Gliding out of his grasp, you slide your back down the lockers.

“Whoa, what are you doi-?” Grabbing his hips, you swing him so that his back was flat against the lockers and swiftly removed the infernal piece of fabric. The sight before you was drool-worthy, a cause to rub your thighs together to try and relieve the itch to just grab his dick and just cram it up inside of you – prep be damned. Instead, you just gawk at his dick, watching it twitch up against his stomach as Semi gives you a curious look.

It was of average thickness, but the length? That was well above average. The sight of a throbbing vein on along the right side of his cock caught your attention and god would that feel absolutely heavenly inside of you. If you were on the fence before, you now decided not to leave this room until you get the dicking down you deserve from putting up with his hormonal bullshit for the past week.

Licking your lips, you make eye contact with Semi as you grasp his dick and place the tip at the seam of your mouth. You absolutely adore the passionate heat in his gaze, giving him a slight smirk as you deliver a few small kitten licks to his tip.

“Stop playing around, gorgeous. I know exactly how skilled that tongue is.” Shivering at the demand, you close your eyes as you slowly make your way down his shaft. While you don’t regret showing the boys your odd talent of tying cherry stems with just your tongue, it seems to have come back to bite you in ass.

Unsurprisingly, you’re not able to fit the entirety of his cock in your mouth before you draw back for a moment before starting a faster pace. It only took a few tries before you could fit his entire length in your mouth, moaning when you feel it hit your oesophagus. You were eternally grateful for your lack of gag reflex, you would hate to ruin this life changing moment by chucking up on the poor guy.

Remembering the vein, you seek it out with your tongue and rub against it, appreciating the fact that you could literally feel how fast Semi’s heart was beating.

Groaning, he threaded a calloused hand through your loose locks and gave an occasional tug whenever you did something exceptional. You increase the sucking pressure and encouraged Semi to thrust up into you mouth by pressing his hips towards you. Receiving the message loud and clear, Semi set up his own fast pace, rolling his hips back and forth, almost overwhelming you.

Wanting to get back some control, you gently scrape your teeth down his shaft as he pulls out. Semi’s body immediately started trembling as he groaned aloud. Pulling at your hair, he tries to suppress the orgasm building quickly up in his abdomen. He would rather die than have a premature orgasm, he’s waited so long to have you like this, and he’ll be damned if your sinfully skilled tongue pushes him of the edge a lot sooner than he’d like.

Pulling your mouth off his slick dick by your hair, you whine at the loss, while he pants slightly. “I am not cumming in that pretty mouth of yours before I get to fuck you properly.”

Not even a moment later, Semi had you by the waist and splayed out on the – thankfully – cushioned bench. He stands there for a moment, committing to memory the sight of your pink cheeks, spit-slick chin and heaving chest.

“It’s not really fair that I’m naked and here you are all modest.” Bending over you, Semi tugs at your shirt. “Be a good girl and take this off for me?”

Your mind filled with static at his words, a wave of heat burning through you at the nickname the alpha gave you. Without thinking, you quickly strip out of your managerial clothes, not even trying to be sexy as you rush to slip off the maroon polo shirt and black shorts. Once you reach your undergarments, you pause, looking up at the alpha.

‘Thank god I wore a matching set today.’ You belatedly think. A quick glance at your plain black cotton bra and panties, with a tasteful amount of lace covering the fabric and peeking over the side. You judge it adequate enough for tonight. Not that you left your room this morning thinking anyone was going to see them, but still grateful for the choice, nonetheless.

He grins at the slight sign of submission, his inner alpha pleased at the silent question. Semi’s eyes swept over your nearly bare form, teeth buried in his lip as he takes in smooth skin that seems to go on endlessly, eyes pausing over the strips of black fabric covering your modesty.

Sitting on the bench, he gestured you over to him, watching intensely as you move towards him and throw a leg over his lap to straddle his thick thighs. He runs his fingertips from your throat, through the valley of your breasts, and stopped them just at the edge of your panties, fiddling with the lace there.

“Do you have anything on tomorrow?” He asks mildly, catching you off guard. You gave him a confused look and shake your head. Tomorrow was Saturday, the one day that was safe from coach Washijou’s back-breaking fitness regime, and no one had anything school-related to do tomorrow either.

Pleased Semi ducks down and hums in your ear. “Then I don’t suppose you’d mind if I mark you up a bit, right?” You felt your breath rush out of your lungs, failing to return.

“Go ahead.” You said breathlessly. You could feel the alpha chuckle from where he was pressed up against you.

“Good.”

You grasp at his biceps as he starts to suck a mark just under your ear, pausing to inspect it before giving a pleased hum and moving to suck another one along the column of your unblemished neck. He pays special attention to the major scent gland based just a few centimetres down from your ear. Sharp canines scrape across the sensitive skin and the feeling leaves your knees weak and slick start accumulating in your panties.

He buries his nose in the spot, taking in the rich scent of dark cherries and sugared plums. Single-minded, he noses the delicate area until it was swollen and imbued with his own scent. A rumble tears through his chest at the pleasing smell of your intermingled scents, part of him being simultaneously calmed yet exhilarated.

“Fuck you smell so damn good.” He breaths. You groan as he continues to brush up against the sensitive skin.

At your noise, he leaves the abused gland, clearly feeling accomplished. Semi thought if any more blood rushed down to his erection he’d pass out, but the sight of the marks he made littering your neck, looking like a beautiful abstract painting of purple lilacs, he could feel his blood begin to boil.

Making his way southwards, Semi continues to leave physical reminders of his love in ardent lavender and rose-pink marks. Slowly, he tilts you back until your back once again meets the cold bench, causing you to shiver. It definitely wasn’t from the scandalous sight of Semi situated between your legs; lips tantalizingly close – but not close enough – to your clothed core. No sir.

An immoral part of you wants to watch as Semi, hopefully, goes down on you, so you prop yourself up on your elbows. On a second thought, you also remove your bra, thankfully getting it off without any major mishaps, flinging it off to the side. Looking down at him, you wriggle your eyebrows out him.

“Like what you see?”

“Yeah, more than you could ever know.” He grins up at you, a devious glint in his eye. “So let me show you how much I appreciate you.”

Obviously fed up with waiting around, Eita goes straight for gold. His thick tongue licks a hot stripe over your clothed core, tasting the slick-soaked material. You gasp, grabbing for his head, threading your fingers through his soft ash-coloured hair. After a few long strokes, he eventually bores of that and hooks his thumbs into the elastic band of your panties and slowly drags them down your legs.

You wordlessly keen as Semi’s hands come back and dig into the fleshy part of your thighs, separating them to bare your naked core to him. Breath hastening as he views your glistening hole, you feel some slick trickle out at thought of what was about to go down – quite literally.

His eyes flash up towards yours as he slowly descends upon you, not breaking eye contact as you finally feel his tongue against your bare folds.

Back arched, you clutch his hair harder as you tilt your hips to match his movements, encouraging his tongue to reach deeper. Unlike you, he doesn’t hesitate to jump straight in, tongue breaching your hole with such ease, you’d think he’s done it a hundred times.

Wet, sloppy sounds fill the air as he starts to vehemently eat you out, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you feel the warm muscle dip in and out, and best of all, curl inside of you.

Eita savours the flavour of your arousal, a greedy part of him wanting more and more until he’s had his fill of you. With the faces you’re making, he knew that day would never come around, he’s already addicted to the feeling and taste of you.

Hands tightening their grip on fleshy part of your thighs, keeping your thighs apart to prevent them from crushing Semi’s head, you knew there's going be bruises there tomorrow. He chuckles when you moan at one particular tongue flick. The vibrations of him causes another moan to rip through you.

Long, calloused fingers soon join the fray, Semi apparently tiring of using just his tongue. Although you’re pretty sure his tongue alone would bring you to orgasm, but oh well, he can save that move for a rainy day.

Semi was a very skilled setter and musician, long and pretty fingers pair with amazing hand-eye coordination help with that, but this? His fingers felt phenomenal as callouses created the perfect amount of friction rubbing against your walls.

It wasn’t long between the synchronous actions between his skilled fingers and tongue that you felt your orgasm building up, hot and tingling. The thumb rubbing at your clitoris left you seeing literal stars, as you fail to keep your breathing under control.

Eita noted your arching back and trembling thighs and concluded that your orgasm was close. He paused his actions for a short second as he weighed his options. He could either continue and let you orgasm then fuck your brains out, or he could stop and watch you orgasm for the first time when he’s buried in you.

He resumed his movements for all of a second before your sharp shout of his name tore him from his thoughts. It seems that you spared him from making that hard decision, he mused.

To you, the orgasm seemingly came out of nowhere. It crested and washed throughout your entire body, filling it with an electrical zapping sensation, leaving your ears ringing. Mind filled with static, you could vaguely feel your body slip back onto the bench as your arms gave out on you.

Eita watched with glee as you came on his tongue and fingers, covering them with your juices. He removed his tongue and thickly swallowed at the sight of you splayed out in front of him with a blissed-out expression on your flushed face. It was so dirty, but so fucking hot. Eita knew the sight before him will help him through many a lonely night when he makes good use of his right hand.

When you come back to your senses, you have the pleasure of seeing Semi’s slick-slick face. He must not have been bothered enough to clean it off. Arms flexing, he props himself onto his elbows, lips only a breath away from yours.

Mouths meeting, you taste each other’s essence on your tongues. You never thought the taste of yourself on his tongue would be so hot, but you’re glad to be proven wrong in such a manner.

Legs parted around his body, Semi’s hand grabs your right leg and wraps it around his hips, not breaking the kiss. Tongues clashing, you grind up into him, relishing the feeling of his stiff dick pressing hard against where you wanted him the most.

Just half an hour ago you were stressing about Semi despising you and now here you were, spreading your legs like a seasoned whore for said male.

Smirking, his hips pin yours to the bench, his hard dick resting teasingly between your slick folds. Breaking the kiss, he smirks down at you, eyes filled with the promise of wrecking you. You could feel hot anticipation lick down your spine and coil tightly in your abdomen despite cumming only moments ago.

“Are you sure about this? I’m scared that once I start I won’t be able to stop myself.” He admits.

Reaching up, you brush the hair out of his face and tuck it behind his ear.

“I’ve been thinking about this moment for the past two years, I don’t think I could wait another second.”

You tense slightly as you feel his tip nudge at your entrance, forcibly trying to relax your muscles before he entered, otherwise the experience wouldn’t be enjoyable if you were too tight to enter.

Your teeth dig into your cheek as he slowly, but surely, enters you. Semi has to pause half-way through to gather his wits, with clenched teeth he reigns in his thoughts of just thrusting all the way home and ripping everything from you, tooth and nail.

A short eternity later, he’s finally seated fully inside of you. Testing yourself, you flutter your walls around the foreign body and feel warmth bubble up in your chest at the way Semi groans deeply in your ear.

“You feel so fucking good, you know that?” He slowly rolls his hips up into you, hoping you’ll give him the go ahead. Moaning at the sensation of his throbbing member buried deep inside of you, you quickly get used the feeling and start unthinkingly grinding up into him, giving him the nonverbal signal to start.

It’s only then that Eita starts fucking you exactly how you always imagined he’d take a lover, with ardent intensity and a single-minded determination to get you off before he finishes. The thought of what sweet expression you’ll have when you take his knot comes unbidden, making his dick twitch inside of you.

He hastens his pace, mouth latching on to the side of you neck once again, biting hard enough to make you gasp and tighten around him, setting him off and causing him bite down even harder. You could’ve sworn he drew blood, but honestly didn’t have the higher brain function to worry much about how you would go about trying to hide his marks for the next two weeks.

Digging your nails into Semi’s shoulder, you throw your head back in ecstasy as he miraculously hits your G-spot three times in a row. Toes-curling, you felt your orgasm swelling up within you, molten and mind-frazzling.

“Don’t – fuck – Don’t stop. Right there!” You gasp into the cool night air, hoping that his dick will go back to abusing the bundle of nerves.

Like a piston, he rapidly thrust his hips back and forth, watching as his dick gets swallowed up by your greedy wet hole. Slick pours out of you and drips onto his dick, smearing onto his sharp hip bones and the backs of your thighs every time he slams up into you.

“You feel so good, I want to stay buried in you forever. You’d let me do that, wouldn’t you baby?” He pants into the crook of your neck, hot breath washing over sensitive skin.

Groaning at the words, you clench around his length, nails digging into his shoulders as his pace starts to speed up again.

“You’d be so good for me; I mean look at you now. You look so pretty taking my cock like this, and your not even in a heat.”

You swear you could feel your soul ascend to the next dimension as he blows your mind – and back – out with his heaven-sent dick.  Pulling him down you repay him in kind by biting and sucking a few marks of your own into his neck, the purples and pinks looking so pretty on his sun-tanned skin.

“I haven’t even started my rut yet, but you’re here you are about to get my knot. Look at what you’ve done to me, baby girl.” He groans, swapping out hard and fast thrust for long and deep ones.

Sure enough, you could feel the base of his dick swell with a pre-rut knot. Well damn. While it wasn’t unusual for that to happen out of a rut, it was uncommon enough for it to swell as large when not in a rut, so you grind even harder on him, hoping for it to catch.

Semi reaches down, blindly searching for your clit and rubbing it fervently once he located it, causing you to tighten considerably around him. Eita hisses at the vice-like grip you have on him, speeding up the short strokes of his thumb, hoping to push you over the edge before his already roiling orgasm crashes down on him.

His rutting hips don’t falter when the hot ball of liquid arousal exploded inside you. Another orgasm rushed through you, this time stealing your breath and causing you to see stars behind your eyelids, with your extremities going numb from the overwhelming sensation.

You come with his name on your lips, your walls constricting around his dick, slick gushing out around his dick, causing his hips to stutter as he hurriedly thrust back up into you with enough force for his knot to finally catch on your hole, swelling to lock the two of you together.

Eita comes with a feral shout, arms locking as he unloads inside of you, the residual fluttering of your walls from your orgasm milking his knot for all it had. He groaned at his prolonged orgasm, having never ejaculated for so long, he slumps his tired body over your prone body, nose buried in your soft hair.

Coming down from your high, you start blinking the dark spots out of your vision. The heavy weight of Semi resting on your chest becoming more apparent, as does the knot still inside of you, weakly pulsing out some more cum.

You shiver at the feeling of being so full. Fuck, you really could get used to this, knot pushed deep inside you, Semi snuggled up into you, skin flushed from exertion and painted in perspiration.

Waiting for the knot to go down, you brush a hand through his hair, while Semi draws spirals onto your bare shoulder.

“You’re so lucky I’m on the pill or we would have a huge issue on our hands.” You tug at his hair, admonishing him for his reckless actions. You had a plan after high school and it certainly didn’t involve a baby. While Semi has swept in and ruined most of those plans in one fell swoop, you refuse to let him saddle the both of you with that extra responsibility.

He props himself up and gives you the cutest little pout you’ve ever seen, looking very out of place on the usually severe-looking face.

“I knew you were on the pill. You were complaining the other month that it was making you gain weight ‘like super crazy easy’ if I remember right.” He teases, poking at your puffed-out cheeks.

“Well it’s fucking true! Why don’t you try taking some hormone drugs and see what it does to your metabolism.” You huff, ignoring his chuckling at your petulant tone. “Besides, that doesn’t really excuse the fact that we did it raw straight off the bat.”

Eita purses his lips. “True. I’m sorry, I could’ve taken the extra second to get a condom out of my bag.”

You pause, taking in his words. “It’s fine, that’s kinda on both of us. Also, why the hell are you carrying a condom around in your bag like it’s a pack of tissues?” He laughs at you, not even bothering to answer the question, much to your dismay.

The scent of a sated alpha flooded the room, pleasing a deep and primal part of you, leading you to give a pleased hum, changing the subject.

“Oh god, it stinks in here. We’re gonna have to open the windows to let some of it out.” You groan, throwing an arm across your eyes. The last thing you wanted to think about after coming twice in less than an hour was cleaning up the evidence of your tryst, so that the team didn’t find out.

Eita’s deep laughter fills the room, chasing away any insecurities you had about any regrets he may have had about tonight. Smiling, you wrap your arms around his snatched waist and lean up to scent him, rubbing your nose back and forth until your scent had taken root.

Satisfied, you leant back and admired your handy work. His scent gland was swollen and tinged pink, and most importantly, he smelt of you.

Eita’s eyes glint with humour as he closely regards your happy, sated expression.

“Probably not the right time to say this, but I really do love you, you know?” You could feel your heart flip within your chest, squeezing painfully at his soft, smitten tone.

“You’re right, probably not the best time to say it for the first time with your cum inside me, but I love you too, you idiot.” Blushing, Semi looks down at the mess  between where your bodies met. Judging his knot was finished, he carefully pulled out. You shiver at the sensation of his cum slowly drizzling out of you, feeling weirdly empty now that he’s not inside you.

Getting up, he rushes over to the pile of clean towels you brought in, came back and started gently cleaning the both of you up.

After trading a couple dozen stolen kisses between cleaning up the bodily fluids off of the bench and yourselves, laughing at Semi’s comment of never being able to look at that bench ever again without getting a boner. You have never so light and elated in your life.

Notes: I was originally planning on Semi dragging reader to his room and having his wicked wicked way with her for the whole weekend, to ride out his rut but then I thought that you can never go wrong with good ol' locker room sex. Critiques, comments and notes are always appreciated!!

[oh-for-fic-sake]

Geeking Out

Masterlist

You work onset of the witcher as the resident handy girl there to repair the props onset rather then them being sent off to be fixed, when working on Geralt’s sword Henry comes across you and with one slip of the tongue your inner geeks collide.

Warnings: Fluff, Swearing

A/N: Had this on my mind for a while just a cute little fluff piece hope you enjoy XX

Taglist: @havenoffandoms​ @iloveyouyen​ @angelofthor​ @thatgirly81​

Incredible text dividers are from @writeyourmindaway​ I suggest you go check out her others they are soo usefull xx.

You hummed quietly managing to secure yourself a table in one of the busy tents just off set, you moved quickly furiously mixing the epoxy trying to combine the two parts with the lolly stick. Your task? you were trying to fix Geralt’s sword there had been a small mishap during a scene renfri's brooch had been hit in one of the takes and had come off. Your job was to put it back on and make sure its stays on , so this time you were forgoing the original glue and using a tiny amount of epoxy it was stronger and once it cured that little brooch wasn't coming off for love nor money. Your job was maintenance on the props ,you were kept onset with a small arsenal of tools to fix anything that gets damaged quick and skilled repair jobs anything from the horse tack to props jewellery the only things you didn't touch was wardrobe because...Fuck no. Textiles was not your thing.

You moved fast wanting to have it mixed thoroughly. This particular resin cured fast...very fast well for resin anyway, so it was always a rush to combine it. You moved a syringe and pulled the plunger up then dotted the resin on the hilt of the sword swiftly applying the brooch then looked around for the clamp. Shit. It was to far you couldn't reach it. You tried stretching down into your bag for it but it was no use suddenly someone was behind you.

"Need help?" You nodded to the slim clamp in the bag

"Yeah could you pass me the clamp forgot to get it out just got this bloody thing central and can't risk it slipping" you focused on your work holding the brooch steady as the person hummed leaning down then handed it to you.

"Cheers lovey" you thanked them and leaned down with one final check that everything was positioned correctly nodding you placed a rag across it protecting it and clamped it securely.

"Sorry about that... Misjudged the angle and hit it to hard I'm afraid" you froze looking up seeing Henry in full wardrobe bar his contacts smiling sheepishly. Even tho you'd been onset this whole time you'd never actually spoke to any of the cast there was no need. You quickly swallowed your shock and laughed.

"Don’t matter to me, keeps me in a job so go nuts!" you both laughed he looked over the things you had out across the table, you followed his gaze. Noting how he then moved to stare at you intently, you felt a flush creep across your chest but cleared your throat nodding to the prop.

"I've used epoxy on it ...It should be a lot stronger." He hummed not really paying attention.

"Anyway its not your fault they used a mid strength glue last time.. I don't think they had a clue how much of a beating it was gonna take" he hummed then peeked over the cup that had a small amount of resin in it still.

"So I can go to town on it?" You nodded wiping your hands down and smirked at him.

"Knock yourself out muscles! I doubt even you will be able to snap that off again....And that's not a challenge either" he rubbed the back of his head smirking at you as you moved dumping the cup with the left overs in a bag then in a small bucket with sand in it that was used as an ashtray for the crew on set. He looked at you questioning. You nodded to it.

"Get's hot when curing so I will leave it there to be safe then take it out when its set..." he hummed in agreement  then moved with you helping to pack up your things.

"So how long will it take to be finished then?" You froze wide eyed

"Why do they need it now?" You panicked they had said it wasn't needed today so you could work on it... did they change their mind? he quickly held his hands up

"No no we are done with it for today...I just wondered was all.." you stopped and flushed at him, you felt a little embarrassed as you had begun to cuss him out in your head thinking he was being rude trying to rush you.

"About an hour...Well I hope an hour it really depends, if there is any leakage  then I will have to sand it with my dremel...and to do a proper job of that I'd need to go through a few different grits and but if theres no leakage  or any nastiness then we should be done in about half an hour....This epoxy cures in ten to twelve  minutes but to be sure I'd want to leave it around twenty to twenty five ish but either way by the end of the day you sir will have your sword back." He looked between you and his prop wilth a huge smile.

"Sounds like a plan! .....Still feel bad tho I'm sure you have tonnes to do already...nevermind me adding to it." You waved him of with a wide grin

"Your kidding! Been waiting to get my hands on this baby since day one! Needed to see the details for my -" you stopped yourself before you said to much not wanting to 'geek out' in front of him he tilted his head sharply.

"Your what? You making a replica or something?" You flushed at him bobbing your head side to side a little.

"Well yes and no...not a full scale one I'm gonna make a mini..." his face lit up and you could see him become excited.

"You make mini's? Like wow and stuff?" He asked buzzing in the way all geeks do when they find a fellow nerd to speak geek with. You giggled an nodded.

"Yes I can't paint them to save my life but I draw and make them on the pc for people to download and use on their 3d printers....I'm more into scenery dioramas...I make tabletop boards" he grinned at you practically vibrating on the spot.

"Seriously? That’s soo cool...Do you have any pictures of them?" You smiled and nodded just as you got your phone out you both heard it Henry's name was called by Joey he sighed and gave a small chuckle.

"Looks like I'm needed...I will be back later to see them and collect my sword...If not hold on to it for me?" You gave him a funny look as he stayed for a moment giving you his best puppy eyes. You laughed and nodded to him, he grinned and quickly left. You stood dumbfounded as he stole a few glances over his shoulder at you before disappearing around the corner. Well that was weird, normally the props were picked up by...well anyone to be stored the cast never did hence why you'd never seen them. You shrugged it off and continued placing your stuff away zipping up your bag.

That was the first time you met the man, later that day he did indeed return and spent nearly two hours geeking out looking at your collection of dioramas, he specifically liked the ones base on Lord of the rings and the few marvel and dc ones you'd done. All of which were centered around villains. It wasn't long before it became a habit that between takes he would seek you out, sometimes bringing Joey along. Soon you found yourselves together all the time, they seemed fascinated by your work and hobby always asking questions, to the point you'd snapped at them when they wouldn't shut up when you tried fixing a particularly fiddly jewellery piece . Even then they stayed sitting either side of you staring as you maneuvered the tiny gems and links back into place.

By the time the production came to a end you had all become close friends each of you exchanging numbers and always texting in a group chat. You couldn't help harboring a little crush on Henry, and you had tried but he was just so...him and maybe he liked you back? You wasn't sure but he seemed to be touchy...Not in a bad way god no! But he was a hugger and holder. When ever he was around you he always seemed to be touching you in some way holding your hand or arm as he dragged you about set,slinging an arm around your shoulders or waist at lunch or when you was working stuff like that. Maybe you were just reading into things to much but it felt like there might be something there. Or at least you hoped there might be, he was sweet funny and dorky but still mature and masculine he was basically your dream man, and then some!

You sulked today was your final day on set you were looking forward to returning home and just relaxing but at the same time you'd miss the guys. You'd all clicked with one another and were so used to them popping up whenever. You tilted your head as you ran your pen across the sketch in you book. It was a close up of Jaskier’s lute details you'd been working on. You were trying to take your mind off things you were scared of them forgetting about you, it wasn't often you managed to click with people let alone men, you supposed you were anxious usually you were fine alone but you found yourself craving company since hanging around them. You glanced up when you heard them before you saw them as they approached you . Sitting up you quickly shook off your sadness as they both made their way across to you.

"Hey bitches" they chuckled at you taking seats at the table the three of you had claimed for the past months.

"God I can't believe its over...I cant wait to see it!" Joey said enthusiastically make you and Henry nod.

"Me neither its gonna be incredible! Its gonna be big you know that don't you? After the great flop of game of thrones their fanbase are gonna be lost and looking for something similar" Joey blinked he hadn't thought of that.

"Really? Didn't think of it like that." You smiled at him and wriggled your eyebrows "And you sir are never escaping that fucking song either so be prepared" he furrowed his brows

"How’d you know about that?" You smirked

"It was one of the few scenes I was allowed to watch them film...and it was stuck in my head for a fucking week the worst bit? I couldn't go and download it from youtube either it was hell!" He chuckled at your frown and leaned over you his eyes caught the page you were working on it was the first time he'd caught a glimpse at your artwork.

"Oh shit! That’s cool" you looked down alarmed then went to cover your image but he had already pulled it from under your nose.

"Henry look!" You flushed a not wanting them to see your sketches. He smiled and flicked a few pages. He looked up through his lashes at you.

"These are really good y/n super detailed... They for your mini's?" You nodded at him sheepishly as you noticed he had found your Geralt cheat sheet. He smirked seeing the page full of his Geralt pulling various faces then skipped a few pages to Joey's Jaskier.  He past it back to him.

"Here there's yours" Joey gasped at them

"Holy shit...Did you do all the cast? Are you gonna 3d print em?" You nodded to him

"I did the main cast once I get home I’m gonna start putting them into the computer but yes eventually they will be printed for people to use...After I sort them out  I’m gonna be making a witcher diorama to display them." Henry smiled at you

"Can you teach me to make one?" You blinked at him not sure you’d heard him right

"What?" He nodded to your book.

"Id like a set for my collection and small a diorama for them...I have always wanted to try it but it seems expensive to get the stuff if I’m crap at it...And it would be fun to make one with you...If you wanted to that is?" You flushed at him gaping.

"Err Ive never done a collaboration before but sure we could give it a go...Could do a witcher one for you to display these mini's...I wont be painting them tho not good at it, sketching is fine but I can't do detail paint....scenery is more forgiving... " he nodded enthusiastically at you like a kid on Christmas.

"Really! Fuck Absolutely! I always wanted to try scenery that would be brilliant." He flushed a little as Joey snorted at him and received a sharp look. It had become common knowledge that he had a thing for you. Everyone seemed to have caught on to it and had all told him to go for it but he was shy...He was nervous what if he had read you wrong? And you didn't like him back? He would be quite embarrassed  and torn up if he asked you out and you shot him down...so no he would settle for being friends.You smiled at him missing their exchange between them.

"Err sure just let me know when your free...I’m not that far from You in London right? Just give me a heads up when you wanna come round" Henry looked ecstatic, it was true he had found out a few weeks ago you was literally Fifteen minutes away from his place in London. He realized you had caught him staring blushing he moved directing his attention back to your drawings again. Joey noticed the awkward moment and swiftly poked your side.

"I want some too! A perfect mini me! Just what everyone needs" You scoffed

"A mini you sounds like a threat! god help us all!" You all laughed spending the remaining time reminiscing on the last few weeks until finally it was time for you to leave. You pouted hugging both of them.

"Gonna miss you two have fun on the promotion tour and stay in touch okay guys" they smiled hugging you back Henry squeezed you tight pulling you up off of the floor making you whine at him.

"I will definitely call and will probably be round September October time" you nodded and finally wriggled away from him leaving the hotel heading home.

Once home you quickly got to work uploading and designing your mini's on the pc you had been speaking to the boys a bit but as time went on you heard less and less from Henry until finally six weeks later all conversation had stopped. Which really didn't surprise you, he was busy...Well that's what you told yourself, it was a shitty excuse you were saying to keep yourself from getting upset. you had found yourself enjoying his company to much. You liked him like liked him, it was fun talking to him,  he was interested in the same things as you and was funny and you had brilliant banter you wasn't constantly worried about how you acted around him because he just got you, you thought you’d both got on well and could remain friends. Somewhere in the back of your mind you stupidly had hoped something would come of it ....But that was a silly childish fantasy. Still you asked Joey a few times and he said that Henry was dealing with some stuff and would come around eventually but it did nothing to cheer you up. You resigned yourself to the fact that he was bored and needed someone to talk to on set that was it. You and Joey still spoke at least once a week even if it was just a quick 'hi how are you?'. You could kick yourself as even when you realized Henry wasn't going to meet up with you, you still began his diorama... Some silly little hope that he might still show but it was unlikely so the diorama was now yours ,you'd planned to make one using your new Netfilx witcher mini's the base was done and you were building up the Styrofoam. The design was going to be a small woodland area with a tiny waterfall running into a stream next to the witchers camp in which the four main characters would sit...Well five including roach. You sighed looking at the blocks of Styrofoam they had been glued down and are now ready to be carved. It had been ready for two weeks but... You suppose it was a little hope that if you didn't start it he would come around like he said. But when Christmas came and went you finally realized he wasn't coming.

Just as you moved to the wall socket and turned on your hot wire cutter you heard the doorbell go frowning you got up dragging your feet as you walked through the kitchen to the hall, as you got closer you could see a huge frame through the frosted glance. It looked a lot like..

"Henry? What are you?" He smiled sheepishly down at you. He chuckled nervously.

"Ah hi y/n...Long time no see?" You crossed you arms at him making him gulp.

"What can I do for you?" You tried keeping your voice even tho inside you were a a quivering mess of irritation anxiety and my god you felt weak in The knees and all the man was doing was standing there!how you even formed words you don't know. Henry the man you'd been pining over was here. He was on your doorstep. And you hadn't let him in what the fuck? why hadn't you invited him in yet?. Pride was the answer, you didn't want to seem desperate. he just straight up ignored you...for months!. You were intent on being angry with him, wanting to give him a piece of your mind. just as you rose your gaze to his you froze.Shit. you gulped eyes softening as you took in his appearance, he looked so anxious and guilty? even then he took your breath away, as gorgeous as you remembered him. he stood a little less confident to what you remembered shoulders slouched his eyes darting around almost as if he was fearful of your reaction, you took a deep breath gripping your front door in a white knuckle grip.He looked to you neighbors door step seeing the nosey old women Mrs Hamlin standing there staring outright, then turned to you going a little red twisting his coat pockets in his hands sighing, sucking it up and started talking.

"Hey I know we haven't been talking its just I ah...well I got a little caught up with the promo tour and that then had to negotiate season two and on the way to the final stop I lost my phone-well I destroyed it really dropped a fucking dumbbell on the thing in the gym..Then Christmas was hectic...Anyway that’s not the point...The point is by the time I got a new phone and found Joeys number and had him send me yours it...I felt like I had left it to long to reply... I wasn't sure if you'd be angry thinking I was ignoring you..." you blinked up at him stunned. That’s why he suddenly stopped he broke his phone and lost you number? You took a step back feeling incredibly stupid. You’d honestly began thinking the worst of him. You felt so bad.

"So...instead of phoning or texting you thought you'd just...come round?" He winced at you tone

"I wanted to talk in person...I wanted you to know I was genuinely sorry...I am sorry I let my anxiety get the better of me...I-I should go" you panicked as he began to turn around and quickly grabbed his arm

"Thank you Henry...You don't owe me anything but you coming here to speak to me means a lot ...I just assumed you were busy...I'll admit I did get a little upset when time went on and you still didn't reply...But now I understand why, we waited for each other to start a conversation again, like a couple  of school kids...Would you like to come in for a coffee?" He grinned wide and nodded glancing to the side eyeing your neighbor who had continued staring at him. You followed his gaze she was really giving him the evil eye.

"What er what is wrong with your neighbor? I mean I knocked on the wrong house but she is kind of freaking me out." You glanced at her and smiled waving

"Morning Mrs Hamlin" she hissed out a pleasant 'go fuck yourself' at you and entered slamming her door. You laughed at Henry's shocked face.

"She's just not a people person...Any way come in your letting all my heat out" you moved to the side letting him enter the small hall closing the door behind him.

"Hang your coat up and I will get some tea on" he did as you asked and followed you to the kitchen then spied your hobby room.

"Is that where you do all your bits?" You smiled nodding as you made the tea

"Yep! Here come in I was just about to start on the witcher one you can help carve, here I'll show you" he followed like a lost puppy paying attention as you began to guide him through the steps letting him carve out the shapes you wanted smiling ear to ear the whole time as you showed him your plan for the scene.

It took a week but finally the diorama was finished, Henry bless him had found some of the steps tricky resulting in a few cuts and burns from the hot wire cutter but he had enjoyed every second of it.Today was the last day working on the project everything was done and you both looked at it.

"Wow its a lot of steps but...It look so realistic...I loved doing the water ripples using the airgun tho it was genius!" You smiled looking at it then jumped up.

"Not finished yet tho here, I printed them last night." You moved over to a small tub with your Netflix Witcher cast mini's and roach in it, they were in isopropyl  alcohol to clean them up after printing. You'd spent some time re-scaling them to fit the scene you'd just finished. His eye went wide as he saw them.

"Wow...these are from your drawings...How'd you get so much detail...May I?" You nodded to him as he carefully moved them from the tub and inspected them. He was fascinated.

"Thank you so much! Their great...perfect even...I've had so much fun this week" you patted his arm

"Me to big guy, its been nice having someone around to talk to, your really good with a bit more work you’ll be making your own in no time" he moved placing the mini's on the finished diorama then stood back.

"That’s a bit of a stretch don't you think...I'm dreading painting it tho.." you laughed holding your hands up.

"Hey don't look at me I print em you paint em that Mr Cavill was the deal" he rolled his eyes biting his lip. The last week had been above and beyond what he had hoped for. He couldn't help wanting more from you tho, he in a way felt a little selfish he wanted you to himself. He stood tall in front of you contemplating his next move.Should he?. Could he? He knew he wanted to try and pursue you but he still had doubts. You blinked and gulped seeing a heated glint in his eyes that was clouded with anxiety.

"Hen-henry?" He hummed in response his heart just about jumping out of his chest as he moved in slowly noticing you leaning towards him to...Did you want him to kiss you? You looked like you wanted to kiss him... Should he let you kiss him first? Or was he reading this all wrong. Fuck. He couldn't take it his nerves and thoughts buzzing he panicked momentarily and just went for it. Dipping his head quickly he connected his lips to yours tilting his head he moved closer shuffling his feet forward. It took you a few seconds to realize what he was doing but when the shock finally disappeared you moaned into him moving to cup the back of his neck. He grunted pulling back for air taking one large gulp then wrapped himself around you pinning you to between himself and the table, clutching you to his front cradling you against him as you accepted him into your mouth groaning as he was quick to explore, dragging your tongue to dance around his moaning and teasing you letting his hands fall to cup your bottom grabbing the full cheeks rolling them around lightly then pulled back from your mouth. He looked down through half lidded eyes and smiled seeing your dazed expression.

"Well...That was, a long time coming and definitely worth the wait...Hopefully i wont have to wait as long for the next one?" you glowed red at that and wriggled a little freezing noticing he still had a firm grip on your ass. You nodded shyly at him.

"Y-you waited to do that?" He nodded moving his hands up from your ass to your sides smoothing his thumbs across your ribs lightly not willing to let you go for a second.

"Yes..For a long time the others were pestering me but I was shy...Wasn't sure if you'd like me or not...Didn't want to ruin our friendship..." you stuttered looking up into his sparkling eyes seeing him flustered and shy made you feel a little better

"Of course I do!...Had a crush on you for...well a long time but just like you I didn't want to rock the boat" he looked at you shocked then laughed loudly.

"Well now that we both know where we stand would you like to order in we could get your favorite?"

"You know what my favorite food is?" he tilting his head down to yours with a knowing grin taking a deep breath he started listing off a few of you favorite's.

"Of course I do, Chinese is your top sweet and sour chicken chow mein and hors d'oeuvres namely seaweed and prawn toast and Japanese is a close second wagamama's if I remember correctly , your favorite chocolate is Lindor and favorite drink of all time is apple juice" you gaped at him, he had remembered all that.

"Wow I'm impressed you listened to my nervous rambling let alone took anything from it" "I love listening to you, you get so passionate about everything you love its cute..Hard not to pay attention...what do you mean nervous?" you felt all giddy when you realized he had been paying attention as you rambled on about what you thought was random uninteresting things.

"Well I'm always a little nervous around you...I do have a crush on you." he chuckled pulling you closer pressing a sweet kiss to your lips.

"That makes two of us, any way Chinese? My treat?" you jumped up nodding at him definitely up for some take out.

"Absolutely! but I warn you I can eat...Like I EAT." he chuckled moving down to give you one more kiss then pulled away from you to grab his phone to order online.

"And we can watch Netflix" you faltered and smiled up at him impishly causing him to raise a brow.

"I-I err don't have Netflix..." he gaped at you blinking as if you had a second head

"What? how could you not- you worked for them..Have you even watched the witcher yet babe?" you flushed at the pet name...And the embarrassing truth of why you'd avoided watching the show.

"W-Well you see that err...No I haven't...Kind of avoided it to be honest.." he frowned at you, you were so excited about seeing it yet you had...Avoided it?

"Why?" you squirmed under his gaze, the blues peering down you could feel them seeing through you.

"W-Well I...It was hard I really really liked you and then you just stopped talking to me...I was upset and each time I saw you it made me worse...Like I’d been punched in the chest there was no way I was gonna get through episode one with out getting really upset so I didn't watch it..." he swore dropping his phone to the table and wrapped his arms around you tight

"Shit...I'm so so sorry love...I promise not to do that to you again! come here... I've got Netflix I will give you my log in and you can watch it ....Not when I'm around tho not too keen on watching myself much" you grinned at him as he rocked slowly with you

"Okay then deal..Is watching yourself on tv like re-watching old family videos then i take it?" he laughed pulling away nodding

"Yes almost...Maybe not as cringe tho...Now come on go get the tv on I will be in there in a second just need to order this then we can get settled and pick a film" you smiled leaving him with a quick peck then ran down the hall to the sitting room barely containing yourself as it sunk in that he liked you back and this might just be the relationship of a lifetime.

[boxoftheskyking]

Pick Up Every Piece, Part Five

In which we have a scene at the bar

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

--

Early November 2000

When Jiang Cheng comes to the bar on his own, he lets Wei Ying watch his back. Which is to say, he sits at the bar and doesn’t spend the whole time half-turned to keep an eye on the door. When Jin Zixuan joins them, he hangs by the corner of the bar by the weird old poker machine that hasn’t worked in years, and he mostly avoids eye contact.

“Hey Zixuan,” Wei Ying says, grinning. “How’s your cousin?”

“Hm?” He’s so polite, always, in a snobby kind of way. Like he knows he’s better than you, but he’s far too well-bred to admit it. Wei Ying sometimes wonders if he got that from his mother. Wei Ying has never really spoken to Mrs. Jin outside of an awkward few minutes at the wedding, but what he knows of the rest of the family is far more in the “knows they’re better than you and will tell you to your face” camp.

“Your cousin, you know.” He winks at Jiang Cheng. “It’s the liiiiiife of the Jin!”

Jiang Cheng joins in, “What’s going down in Lanling—”

“Cut it out!” Zixuan reaches out like he’s going to cover Jiang Cheng’s mouth, but he doesn’t. 

“It’s catchy!” Jiang Cheng giggles. It’s a gratifying sight.

“That show should be outlawed,” Zixuan says darkly.

“It’s genius,” Wei Ying argues, drinking in the two of them there, together. “Nie Huaisang is a visionary.”

“I’m going to have him imprisoned. He’s a curse.”

“He’s a genius. It’s a totally new art form.”

Jiang Cheng snorts. “Art form. It’s boring. I like seeing Jin Zixun humiliated as much as anyone, but it’s just rich people sitting around being stupid and rich.”

“It’s reality, but also pure escapism. It’s brilliant.”

“It’s a threat to national security,” Zixuan says. Wei Ying cackles.

Jiang Cheng makes a face. “There’s no story! There’s no, like, script.”

“There is a story! It’s all how Huaisang edits it.” Wei Ying hasn’t actually talked to Nie Huaisang in years, so he’s not that personally invested, but he can’t resist the chance to disagree with both Jiang Cheng and Jin Zixuan at the same time.

Zixuan slides his glass over for a refill. “Zixun is never going to get a real job. He has no skills, he can’t do anything useful, so he sits around and has cameras follow him? It’s a disgrace.”

“It’s the most watched show in the country. I watch it every week.”

Jiang Cheng intercepts Zixuan’s glass to steal a sip. “That’s because you also don’t have a real job.”

“Serve yourself then, asshole.”

“We don’t watch reality TV, we work. We’re civil servants.”

“I’ve written six columns on The Life of Jin, I’ll have you know. So it is my job. And I’m more of a civil servant than you, I barely make any money.” It earns him a pair of eyerolls, but they won’t insult the paper to his face. Not anymore. “I can’t believe they made you both work today.” It’s the wrong thing to say, and Wei Ying covers his wince to fill a row of pints.

“Yeah, well.” Zixuan scratches the back of his neck. He keeps his hair a bit long, like Jiang Cheng does, but on him it feels like a memorial. “Five years. I guess I can’t keep getting time off forever.”

Jiang Cheng is drumming his fingers on the bar, looking away.

“Five years to the day, though,” Wei Ying offers. He leans in, almost wanting to touch . . . something, then twirls away to ring someone up. He feels like a bird, a swallow, dipping and soaring and coming in close for a moment before getting scared back up to a tree top.

When he comes back the tension has receded.

“Dad wants me to move over to the business side of things,” Zixuan is saying.

“Leave intelligence?” Jiang Cheng’s brow furrows, clearly already imagining following his brother-in-law over to the corporate hellhole of Jin Industries.

“Yeah. He keeps talking about the CEO gig, as if I’m qualified.”

“No offense,” Wei Ying says, “but your dad has never been big on qualified.”

“What about Guangyao?” Jiang Cheng asks.

“He’s not the face Dad wants for the company. I don’t know, it’s like during the war, he’s staying back in his lab and his back office, tinkering with stuff. Dad wants a stupid— A face. You know, dynasty bullshit.”

“Like those propaganda posters.” Wei Ying grins at him. “That noble profile. I had one on my bedroom wall.”

“Don’t be creepy.” Jiang Cheng goes to smack him, but he ducks away. “You did not.”

“It wasn’t propaganda.” Zixuan sighs, having lost this argument before.

“It was good propaganda,” Jiang Cheng argues.

Wei Ying keeps his thoughts to himself, for once. He doesn’t comment on Jin Guangyao, either, though he could. A drunk girl yells at him from the other side of the bar, which helps.

“But like—” Zixuan takes a long gulp, spinning his fingers in frustration, looking for the words. “This is what I trained for. I joined the army at eighteen. I was in the army when it was just prison security and diplomatic escorts. My degree is decoration, and he knows that. It’s an art piece on the office wall, it doesn’t mean anything. I don’t know how I’m supposed to just become this business guy. It’s like— He doesn’t actually know me, who I am, what I’m good at. He just expects me to work wherever he plugs me in, to just be the best at whatever he thinks I should be the best at. I’m already the best at something. Right? I’m too old to be the best at something else.”

Wei Ying shrugs in sympathy. “Welcome to your thirties, eh?”

Jiang Cheng drains his glass, his third already. “He wants you to be a liquid.”

“What?”

“He thinks you’re a liquid. Your dad. Fit the shape of your container.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m not a fucking liquid.”

Jiang Cheng points at him. “That’s right. You’re not a fucking liquid.”

“I’m a solid.”

“You’re solid as shit, man.” Jiang Cheng pounds on Zixuan’s chest, and he winces slightly.

It’s nine o’clock, so Wei Ying decides he gets to pour himself a whiskey. He puts an orange slice in it, for vitamins.

Jin Zixuan looks into his own glass, thoughtfully. “Although, I mean. What’s a liquid without a container? Just a puddle, right?”

“Or a river,” Jiang Cheng says. They pause to contemplate rivers.

“What kind of liquid would you be?” Wei Ying asks, watching the gold of his liquor swirl around the melting ice cubes and the orange peel.

Zixuan huffs a laugh. “I don’t know. What do you think?”

“Vegetable soup,” Wei Ying says, then winces again.

“Soup,” Jiang Cheng agrees, quietly.

“Yeah,” Zixuan says. “Soup.”

They stare down into their glasses, drink.

“That reminds me,” Zixuan says, rallying after a long moment and pulling his fancy silver business card holder out of his breast pocket. “I got a new number.”

He hands Wei Ying a classy white card. It’s not his government one, just his phone number and his new email. Of course Jin Zixuan would have a personal business card, printed up by a printing company somewhere.

“Did you get rid of the old phone?” Wei Ying asks, carefully. Jiang Cheng looks between them, also careful, saying nothing.

“No, I just had to— I moved it to the basement. I can’t keep . . . The answering machine is still hooked up to the old one. I’ll still wipe the tape, so you can call—”

“Thanks.” We don’t talk about it. Let’s keep not talking about it. Wei Ying rinses a glass that’s already clean.

“If you want. It’s not a problem. I just can’t keep—”

“Yeah.” He wipes the glass, too quickly, the damp microfiber squeaks a little.

“A-Ling gets confused. He hears you say her name, you say ‘Jiejie,’ and he—”

“Yeah, I get it, no problem.” Wei Ying rinses the glass again.

“You can call me, though.” Jin Zixuan is looking at him, which he rarely actually does right in the face, horribly earnest. “You know that. You can call the new number and talk to him, or to me.”

“I know. I will.” He probably won’t. He looks over at Jiang Cheng, who’s chewing on his lip. Yanli would scold him for that, say that’s why it keeps chapping, worse now that it’s getting colder. He doesn’t leave her messages, Wei Ying doesn’t think. He doesn’t need crutches like that, he straps the anger onto himself like steel braces and gets on with things, limping.

Wei Ying would like to be angry, especially today on the five year anniversary. Five full years without her. That would be a comfort, such a relief, to be angry. But he doesn’t get to be angry when Jiang Cheng is around.

Jiang Cheng clears his throat. “I can’t believe your dad allows Zixun to do that show.”

Zixuan draws himself up, sucking in a breath like he’s coming out of water. “He must get something from it. Like some kind of PR or something.”

Wei Ying goes into the back and carries out a case of wine and a case of cider, loads them into the cooler. It takes a while, he has to pull things out so the warm bottles go in the back. He can vaguely hear his brothers insulting Jin Zixun and the state of modern television, keeping it light. He stares at the label on a bottle of cider—it’s an apple with a face, one of those unnerving cartoon faces where all the teeth are the same size and shape. No one’s teeth look like that.

He shuts the cooler and returns.

“If Zixun looks like a fool,” Wei Ying says thoughtfully, interrupting them like he’s supposed to, “then he’s mostly harmless. He’s a goofball. It must be useful for the great and powerful Jin to have a goofball side. It makes you look less, I don’t know . . .” He could say a lot of things. He could say things like tyrannical or despotic or calculating or morally questionable. He doesn’t say any of it, just waves his hands around.

Zixuan looks like he hears the words anyway, and as usual, he stares out across the bar. “He’s a sacrifice, I suppose. Zixun. He’s always been the spare.”

“Do you think he knows he’s being played?” Jiang Cheng asks. “Would he keep doing it if he knew?”

“My dad,” Zixuan says slowly. “Doesn’t play Go. Metaphorically speaking. Not like A-Yao does. But he does play poker. Zixun—” he spins the glass between his hands. “Zixun plays hopscotch. Badly.”

Wei Ying snorts, and it feels nice.

“I guess I don’t like the show so much anymore,” he says, pouting.

“Good,” Jiang Cheng reaches out and flicks his ear. Wei Ying lets him.

“Why does everything have to be nefarious?” Wei Ying whines, meaning reality TV but also Jiang Cheng and his mean fingers “Can’t we have something that’s just dumb? Aren’t we there, as a country, where we can just have stupid shit that’s stupid and doesn’t mean anything?”

“You mean besides you, and also your face?” Jiang Cheng asks. Zixuan sighs at them in a judgmental way.

Wei Ying taps his chin. “Although, there’s a column there. The insidious political machinations of so-called reality.” He hits the button to roll out some receipt paper and makes a few notes.

“I just don’t get why he does it,” Jiang Cheng muses. “He has to know he looks bad. Right? Like, he has to.” As if everyone is as pathologically obsessed with their public appearance as you are, which is something Wei Ying does not say. “It’s not like he needs the money.”

As always, that’s its own flavor of uncomfortable. Zixuan makes more money than Jiang Cheng, and has a trust fund on top of it. He keeps trying to make it up by buying expensive presents and starting a tab wherever they go, but Jiang Cheng won’t take it. He used to, back when Zixuan was just their shitty rich brother-in-law, or Yanli’s shitty rich boyfriend. He used to call it “Yanli’s dowry” when he’d leave his birthday dinner with a new stereo or a nice watch. Now that they’re friends, though, he gets pissed off. He’ll get mad if Zixuan buys him a hardcover instead of a paperback, now that they’re friends. He’s a complicated man. So is Zixuan, in his way.

That’s probably why they get along so well, and why Wei Ying is always a half a step off of their weird masculine choreography. Wei Ying fancies himself a complicated man, but it’s different. He’s in control in a way they don’t seem to be, not of his life but of his face and his voice and his sentence structure. It makes him a good reporter.

They, on the other hand, have always been good soldiers.

Wei Ying had cried when Jiang Cheng enlisted, mid-’93. 

“You watch too many war movies,” he’d said, looking down at this lap, twisting his hands together, face hot and heart racing. “It won’t be like that, A-Cheng, there’s not any glory in it, it’ll just be horrible—”

“It’s the right thing to do.” Jiang Cheng had been stubborn as always, chin jutting out. “Wen Chao’s last attack—I can’t just sit here.”

Yanli hadn’t cried at all, she’d just looked between them, silent.

“Why don’t you come too?”Jian Cheng had asked him, eyes like a six-year-old. “You’d be good at it. We could do it together.”

“No, I gotta— Someone’s gotta report on all your heroics, right?” Wei Ying had been sweating, panicked, chills running down his arms, blowing his nose again and again. “Maybe I’ll get an assignment so I can follow you around and sing about your adventures. Like something out of those ancient poems, right?”

He’d been wrong about his role in the war, but more right than he’d be able to guess about ancient poetry. Because cultivation was real. Magic was real, and his brother was somehow mixed up in it.

He got drunk with Yanli the week after the first cultivator battle. The first battle with the new cultivator corps. Zixuan, Jiang Cheng, Lan Zhan, Mianmian, and the others.

“You husband is a wizard,” Wei Ying had said, slurring.

“Your brother is a wizard.” Yanli had flicked a sunflower seed into his lap. 

That was her secret: when Yanli got drunk she could go through two bags of sunflower seeds by herself. She got the cheap ones from the gas station on the corner and split them with her teeth, scattering shells everywhere like a little disaster zone. She’d clean up all the evidence in the morning, before anyone woke up. She was almost never hungover. 

Wei Ying loved that about her, the evidence she left, her secret messiness. He’d catch a stray shell in the corner, behind a potted plant or caught in the fringe of an area rug, and he’d get so rocked with love—violent, breathless love for her—that his vision would go spotty. 

Or maybe that’s just how he remembers it, now that she’s gone.

“Actually, he’s your brother too,” Wei Ying had said at the time, poking her nose. “Your husband and your brother are both wizards. So what does that make you?”

“Well, there’s Lan Zhan. You’re blushing, see, you’re blushing. And Mianmian. They’re your—”

“Friends.”

“Yeah, but you kissed both of them.”

Wei Ying had stuck out his tongue at her, or done something equally childish.

She’d cracked a sunflower seed and popped it into her mouth. “We could be wizards if we wanted to.”

“Oh, yeah, definitely”

“We just aren’t.”

“We’re busy.”

“We are busy people.”

Wei Ying is shaken out of the memory by a pint glass slamming down on the bar, just missing Jiang Cheng’s elbow. It’s Li Wangcheng, youngest son of his usual source, Li Riseung.

“Fill ‘er up, asshole,” Li Wangcheng says, listing into his buddies on either side. Jiang Cheng and Jin Zixuan are both looking at him with equally disdainful nose wrinkles. “Chop chop.”

Wei Ying sighs. “Sorry, Wangcheng, you’re cut off. I already over-served you, and I promised your dad and your brother I wouldn’t.”

“Fuck you.”

“Your liver can’t take it. Here, have some water and go sit down.”

“Fuck you, Wei Ying. Fuck you.” He’s pushing off his friends, leaning over the bar with his tobacco-stained teeth and his mix-of-alcohol breath.

“Yeah, yeah,” Wei Ying moves away, wiping down the counter, and Wangcheng follows.

“I’ll fucking kill you. You watch your back, bitch, I’ll fucking find you, and I’ll kill you.”

Wei Ying puts up his hands. “Okay, man, take it easy.”

“I know where you live. I know where you park your bike. Your stupid little fucking— Your stupid bike.”

His two biggest friends start pulling at his elbow, pulling him away. He shakes them off.

“Don’t think I won’t. Don’t think I won’t find you, motherfucker.”

Jiang Cheng is off his stool, now, and Zixuan is moving around behind him, coming in to engage. Wei Ying waves them off, desperately. Wen Ning is leaving his spot by the door.

“When you leave tonight, you better—”

“The fuck did you say?” Jiang Cheng is up in his face, now, and Wei Ying has to come out from behind the bar. He hates leaving the bar, it’s his comfortable place to be.

“Leave it. A-Cheng, A-Xuan, leave it, leave it.” He gets himself between them all, holding his brother back. Wen Ning has a good hold on Wangcheng’s shoulders.

“Fuck you.” That sprays a bit in his face, the plosive. “Everything was fine before you came here. Yiling was fine before you came here, and then everything went to shit.”

“That’s not—” Jiang Cheng tries to butt in, but Wei Ying sticks an elbow in his gut.

“I said, leave it.”

“Fucking worthless,” Wangcheng spits at him, and Wen Ning and his friends haul him back towards the door. “Fucking demon. You’re a fucking demon, Wei Ying! Fucking cursed!”

Wen Ning throws them out, and the silence following is awkward, no one looking at each other. Wei Ying wipes his face, straightens Jiang Cheng’s shirt collar, and goes back to work. There’s a short woman standing there, frozen, holding out her empty glass. He gets her another gin and cranberry, pleased that he remembered, and she gives him a pitying kind of smile. He hides his hands down by his sides, but he knows she’s seen them. Everyone can see them; he doesn’t cover them.

“Holy shit,” Jiang Cheng says, still staring back at the door.

“Yeah. Never mind.” Wei Ying readjusts his t-shirt.

“Never mind? That was a death threat. For what, cutting him off?”

“Forget about it.”

“For cutting him off? What the fuck?”

“A-Cheng, forget it.”

“I’m not gonna forget it, that guy knows where you live.”

“It’s fine, it happens. Leave it. Please? Leave it.”

Jiang Cheng sits down. Zixuan says nothing, looking between Jaing Cheng and the door.

“Does it happen a lot?” Jiang Cheng is interrogating, intelligence-mode.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Wei Ying, does it happen a lot?”

“I mean, a bit. Okay?”

“For cutting—?”

“It’s not about cutting him off. It’s not about that. It’s not about me. Calm down.”

“Sure sounded like it’s about you. ‘Demon,’ really—”

“If it wasn’t me it would be someone else. Wen Ning. His friends. His dad.” Wei Ying chops more limes than he needs to, calmed by the sharpness of the knife. “He’s dying. Actually dying, everyone knows it. His liver is shot. He’s been laid off for months, and he can’t pay for any more treatment. His dad’s broke, mom died in the war. He’s lashing out.”

“But that’s not your—”

“You can’t swing at the clouds forever. Right? He’s not the only one. People feel good here, they feel comfortable here, and so they can hit someone here if they need to. You get beaten down and beaten down for year after year, eventually you have to fight back. Right? Otherwise what are you?” What am I? he doesn’t ask.

Zixuan clears his throat, still not looking at him. “What’s the use of fighting you? You’re not—”

Wei Ying laughs at him, mean. “What’s he gonna do, fight your dad? The whole fucking government? Who can he hit? After a while, you have to hit something or you’ll go mad. You have to make contact. Right?” He chops another lime. “You have to have an effect on something. You have to hit someone and see the bruise, or yell at someone and see them flinch. Otherwise it’s like you don’t exist at all. You’re already dead.”

“Wei Ying,” Zixuan says it, which is a surprise. He almost never says his name.

“Somewhere like this, somewhere like Yiling, all you can reach is the guy next to you. Once they put the crabs in the bucket, they put the lid on.”

The chatter in the bar is back, which is nice since there’s an awkward silence between the three of them. Wei Ying puts the chopped limes into the cooler and washes the cutting board, washes the knife. He replaces a drink at the other end of the bar earlier than he normally would—the guy is only halfway through, but he nods a thanks.

“What about—” Zixuan starts, hesitant. “Wei Ying, what about police?”

“Ha!” Wei Ying snaps it at him, not a laugh, not at all. “Don’t you— You don’t come here, into my bar, talking about police.”

“I didn’t come in talking about police, I’m just saying—”

“No cops in Yiling.” He shuts a cooler with his heel, a satisfying slam. “Cops are military, and the military hates Yiling.”

Zixuan bristles. “No, we don’t.”

He always does this. It’s one of the things Wei Ying can’t process about him, and one of the reasons they’ve never been close and probably never will be. It’s always “we.” The Jins, the government, the military. Wei Ying can like him if he doesn’t see Jin Guangshan, if he doesn’t see Jin Guangyao, if he doesn’t see the war when he looks at him. But then he comes in with the “we.”

It’s probably sad, actually, how long he’s been a soldier. How much of him is wrapped up in being his dad’s perfect soldier.

Wei Ying bites his tongue, takes a breath. “Of course you do. Everyone in charge hates Yiling.”

“I don’t hate Yiling.” Zixuan is getting stubborn. He looks like A-Ling, almost a pout. “It’s where you live, and you’re my family.”

Wei Ying blinks at him. “I don’t know how to talk to you when you get like this.”

“Like what?”

“Sincere. All, you know—” he waves an empty bottle around in Zixuan’s face. “Sincere.”

The pout becomes more of a pout. “I’m always sincere.

“Yeah, that’s why we don’t talk.”

Jiang Cheng leans across the bar and snags the rail whiskey bottle to top off his own glass.

“I can beat you up later, if you like,” Zixuan offers.

“Yeah.” Wei Ying doesn’t want to smile, but he does anyway. “Maybe.”

The silence isn’t awkward this time. Wei Ying takes the whiskey bottle back from Jiang Cheng and makes a show of wiping it off with the bleach rag. Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes.

After a while, Jiang Cheng asks, “Is there something happening here this month? For the five years? Like a memorial or something?” He’s looking away, all careful again.

“Is Lanling doing something?” They look at Zixuan, only slightly accusing on Wei Ying’s part.

“No. I mean December 3 there will be a whole . . . Armistice anniversary.”

“But nothing for Sunshot. Nothing for the massacre I mean,” Wei Ying says.

“I mean, not specifically.” Zixuan licks his lips. “I’m sure it’ll be mentioned.”

“Nothing here, though?” Jiang Cheng asks again.

“Trust me, people around here aren’t the ones that need reminding what you’re— what Lanling is capable of.” 

“That’s not fair,” Zixuan says.

Wei Ying looks down at his hands, the mottled brown of them. Flies, flies and dirt and flies and chemicals and flies. “Don’t talk about fair. Not about this.”

Zixuan opens his mouth, but Jiang Cheng shakes his head, violently.

“A-Cheng, it’s not—”

“Stop it.” Jiang Cheng is glaring at him now, the kind of look Wei Ying gets all the time, but Zixuan doesn’t see so much. It makes him stop.

Wei Ying goes to the back and grabs the broom. Jiang Cheng reaches over for the gin bottle and tops off Zixuan’s glass. Wei Ying pretends he doesn’t see it and starts at the far end of the bar. It’s getting slower, people heading out for the night to more exciting places.

A song comes on, something from his college days. He remembers recording it onto a cassette tape from the radio, keeping it in his backpack. Lan Zhan didn’t really like it, but he let Wei Ying play it all the time on his cheap little dorm room stereo.

Wei Ying sings along under his breath as he sweeps. “And if I lied, would you forgive me. Whoa-oh-oh. Fit to be tied, but you still live with me. Oh, whoa-oh-oh.”

“This song,” Zixuan says, smiling a little. “We used to— We used to fight a lot. A-Li and I. Stupid stuff. I was late for dinner. My mom would get so overbearing and we’d fight about that. Her mom would— Well, you know. We’d fight about that. Baby stuff. We didn’t know what to do about baby stuff, so she bought out the whole section of the book store and said we’d divide and conquer. But every book was different, so we’d argue. Dr. Po says this. Well, Dr. Wen says that. She could be so— You’re all so stubborn. Stupid stuff. And we’d be so pissed off we stopped speaking to each other. But I bought her this CD once, not for a birthday or anything, just because. She loved them from way back. And she’d put it on, and we’d dance, and we wouldn’t be mad anymore.”

“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng said, clearing his throat. “She liked that sappy shit.”

“Do you play it for A-Ling?” Wei Ying asks.

Zixuan shakes his head. “It makes me sad to hear it. I spend most of my time trying not to be sad around A-Ling.”

Jiang Cheng moves like he’s going to touch him, his arm, his shoulder. He aborts the move and grabs his glass instead, slides it over to tap against Zixuan’s. 

“You’re doing good,” he says.

Zixuan looks down, blinking seriously.

“You are,” Wei Ying agrees. “You’re doing good. And you know it pains me to say it.”

Zixuan gives him an echo of a laugh.

“A-Ling is lucky.”

“He’d be luckier if his uncles would visit. Both of them.”

“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng and Wei Ying say in unison.

“You want me to change the song?” Wei Ying asks.

“No, leave it. It’s good. It’s a nice song.”

An old woman leans on the bar—she’s familiar but Wei Ying can’t remember her name. “Hey, hey, Wei Ying!”

“Yeah, auntie?” he smiles charmingly at her.

“You know my daughter’s coming home soon. December 21.”

“Cheers to that!” he gives her a half-salute.

“I’ll set you up, once she’s home. Just you wait, she’s the prettiest, even now.”

“I’m sure she is.”

“She makes that jumpsuit look like runway fashion. Still has her figure, even with the prison food.”

“Can’t wait,” Wei Ying says politely.

“December 21,” the old woman waves her finger at him and heads for the door. 

“Invite me to the wedding,” Jiang Cheng teases.

“December 21,” Wei Ying rolls it around in his mouth. “The Wens are coming home.”

Zixuan straightens up. “Really?”

“That’s what we’re celebrating. We don’t celebrate the Massacre, but innocent people coming home? That’s worth it.”

“Innocent is—”

“Zixuan, think about where you are.”

Zixuan nods.

All of the Wens who’d been scooped up post-Sunshot, post-war, those related to rebels or in the wrong place at the wrong time, they’d all been sentenced to five years in prison. “Just to be safe.” The majority came from Yiling, Dafan, other small towns in the West. People who couldn’t afford to run to Lanling, to Gusu, somewhere safe during the worst of the fighting. People who wouldn’t turn their backs on brothers and aunts and cousins in Nightless City. 

But five years have almost passed, and the Wens are coming home.

“It’ll be weird, won’t it?” Jiang Cheng asks, diplomatic in his insensitivity.

“A hundred and forty-three people,” Wei Ying says. “At least, that’s how many went in. I’m sure a couple fucked up inside, got their sentences extended.”

“But still.”

“But still,” he agrees.

“Are you going to do something for it? In December?” Jiang Cheng asks him.

“Dunno. I should stock up though, shouldn’t I? I’ll make a note.”

Later, after Jiang Cheng and Zixuan leave for Jiang Cheng’s Yiling sublet—a two bedroom so Zixuan doesn’t have to get his own place in town—Wei Ying sweeps up while Wen Ning flips chairs up on the tables.  

“Have you ever gotten over something?” Wei Ying asks him.

“Like what?” Wen Ning stops working and looks at him. He always does that—Wei Ying has always wondered if he had hearing loss as a kid. If he’s talking to you, he always has to stop whatever he’s doing and look at you right in the face.

“I don’t know. But have you ever stood there a second and realized you were over something? Or through something. You know, on the other side?”

Wen Ning thinks for a while, and Wei Ying sweeps around his feet. “School, I guess.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

“What about you?”

Wei Ying leans down with the dust pan. “I don’t think I’ve ever come out the other side of anything. I think maybe if you stay in something long enough you adapt. Grow gills or whatever, so you can breathe. So you can survive when the world turns unlivable around you. And maybe you aren’t living at all, maybe you’re a stone, or you’re a dead fish with rotten eyes, washed up on the bank of a river that dried up years and years ago.” 

Wen Ning still looks at him, eyebrows furrowed, but he doesn’t ask Wei Ying to make sense. It’s what Wei Ying appreciates the most about him. 

“So maybe you’re dead, or maybe you’re evolving. Like, maybe that’s just what the world is now, and what you would have previously defined as dead, what you’d look at ten years ago and say that’s a dead thing, maybe that’s just what life looks like now. Evolution.” 

Wen Ning nods and picks up a chair. “I think . . . I might be remembering wrong, but I think evolution takes a long time. Like many generations. So maybe you should look at the kids.”

“The kids?” 

“Yeah, see if the kids have gills. Or whatever. Whatever you said.”

Wei Ying leans his chin on his broom and watches Wen Ning go table by table, strong and methodical. He sets the chairs so gently on the tabletops that it doesn’t make any noise. He flips them with complete control and lines up the seats.

“Maybe,” Wei Ying says. He goes back behind the bar and turns up the music. There’s work to do before heading home

[atiny-ahgase]

Will You Let Me?

Author’s Note: I’ve been really soft for Yunho recently and this is a result of that. I poured my heart into this one so I hope you enjoy it. - Gabby.

Summary: You’re saved from an altercation with your ex by a friendly bartender. Does he just want to be friends though?

Pairing: Yunho x Female reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Genre: Fluff

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The blaring ringing of your phone for what felt like the 50th time today makes you groan into your pillow, kicking and screaming like a toddler throwing a tantrum. Now some might ask what’s the big issue here? Someone is just calling you and usually, that would be fine, granted you’re not the most social person in the world but you do receive the typical phone call every now and again. It becomes an issue when you don’t even need to answer the phone or even look at the screen to know who was calling.

It was your stupid ex, you’ve broken things off last week because something just felt off in the relationship. Things were fine in the beginning but as things started to progress you began seeing sides of him that you didn’t like, he kept on saying that he would change and at first you believed him. But after months of being stuck in the same toxic routine, you finally built up the nerve to break up with him. And that decision is what has left you in your current predicament. 

Apparently, he can’t let go. In the spans of one-week, you’ve received hundreds of text messages and calls not only to your cell phone but also your work phone. This is starting to get ridiculous. It’s come to the point where you’ve even changed your number and blocked this number, but he always seems to get in contact with you. You’ve made the mistake of answering one of the calls earlier in the week and it was probably the dumbest thing you’ve ever done. He just went on and on about how he’s a better person with you and he’s never felt like this before and he needs you in his life. Soon after realizing that his sweet words weren’t affecting you, he went on to threaten you. You’ve filed a report about it but in all honesty, it wasn’t helping much.

The ringing had stopped, and you finally sighed, enjoying the moment of quiet before it rang again. Anger began to run through your veins. “This is beyond ridiculous why can’t he just get the message!” you yelled before grabbing your phone and letting the caller have a piece of your mind. Once you were done with your outburst you laid on your bed, the phone still in hand and pressed up against your ear. “You seem like your stressed,” you hear your best friend’s voice. Oh no, you just cursed out your best friend thinking it was your ex. You whined deeply as you apologized, “I’m so sorry. It goes without saying that I didn’t know it was you”. 

She quickly laughed it off before changing the subject. “Since you’re stressed and I’m the amazing friend that you know I am, get dressed and meet me in the lobby in half an hour,” she basically demands not leaving room for you to decline. She didn’t even tell you where you were going so how are you supposed to know what to wear? You climbed off pf your bed with a groan before walking across your room to your wardrobe. Pulling the double door open you begin to rummage through your belongings. It wasn’t long before your eyes spotted a glimmering silver fabric at the back of your top draw. Taking it out to have a better look, you realize that it’s a skirt. You’ve actually never worn it before, opting to save it for a special occasion.

Blowing that idea off, you throw it in the direction of your bed before looking for a top to match. After about ten minutes you’ve finally made a decision. Your outfit consisted of a black leather cropped jacket with a simple white band t-shirt and the silver sequin skirt. Looking over at your shoes you grabbed your pair of black suede booties and some skin coloured stockings because it’s been getting colder these days. 

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

Throwing your jacket over your shoulder, you give yourself one final look over in your full-length mirror before heading to the lobby. You spotted your best friend almost immediately. She wore a pair of fitted black jeans with an off the shoulder top and a pair of high heeled combat boots. “You look so cute!” she exclaims before pulling you into a hug. You smiled fondly before holding her tightly. Once you had broken apart you both began walking to the taxi which was waiting for you both outside. 

Apparently, you were both going to this club that ‘everyone’ has been talking about. So, in conclusion, you’ve been living under a rock cause you’ve never heard of it. It’s also been the talk of the town with all the girls because they have some gorgeous bartenders. You weren’t really in the mood for drinking but that didn’t mean that you wouldn’t enjoy yourself. You also weren’t really in the mood to start dating anyone either but that didn’t mean that you couldn’t look at the handsome workers… No harm in that right?

After the taxi pulled up at the place, your friend paid before you both thanked the driver and started making your way to the entrance. It didn’t take too long before you both were let in, almost immediately bumping into drunken sweaty bodies as you tried to get through. To say that the club was packed would be an understatement, beads of sweat already beginning to form at your brow with the immense heat radiating from the dancing bodies around you. A tugging on your arm pulls you from your thoughts as your friend basically drags you to the bar, the force almost slamming you into the counter. Okay, I think someone is a little too excited to start drinking.

You chuckle to yourself, palms resting on the cool surface of the counter as you study the marble pattern decorating its surface. Not realizing that someone had come to take your orders, you trace the surface with your fingertips. A cheerful voice pulling you back to reality. “And what will you be having beautiful?” you hear the bartender ask, your eyes shooting up to be greeted by the richest chocolate orbs that you’ve ever seen. You felt like you could see the galaxy in his eyes, they were soft, sincere, dare you say angelic. The deafening club music vanishing as the only sound you hear is the sweet melody that your heart plays as you get pulled deeper into his eyes.

He laughs, causing his eyes to crinkle. His laughter being the only thing that forces you to tear away from his eyes. Your happy that you did because the girls weren’t lying. He’s gorgeous. He towered over you, standing at maybe 6 feet, his soft cheeks only exaggerate his gentle smile. The white shirt that he wore had the first two buttons undone and the sleeves where rolled up to his forearm allowing you a full view of his veiny arm. “She’ll have what I’m having,” you hear your friend reply. You make the mental note to thank her for that before you lower your head in a futile attempt to hide your blushing cheeks.

“I’m gonna need a form of ID,” he states directing all of his attention to you. With nervous hands, you open your purse retrieving the item in question. You attempt to place it on the counter, not trusting your shaky hands to place the ID into his hands. To your surprise he meets you halfway, engulfing your hands with his, you’ve never considered your hands to be small but the size of his has yours looking like that of a child; almost completely covering yours. Startled by this action you take in a quick breath before moving your eyes to where both of your hands connected. From an outsider’s perspective, this would look like a normal exchange and you try your best to logically tell yourself that that is all it is. But you’re not sure if it’s the rapid heating of your heart or the way his fingertips gently graze your hand as he takes the ID that is clouding your judgement,

He looks the card over before returning it to you, “Thank you y/n”. He smiles. You didn’t know that your name could sound that sweet. You blush while placing your ID back into your purse. You hear your friend attempt to tease you about your earlier behaviour, but her words are unclear as your eyes are fixated with the bartender in front of you, not wanting to miss a single movement. Not the way the veins in his arm protrudes when he grips the bottle, not the way his muscle flexes as he raises his arm to wipe away the perspiration building up on his forehead and certainly not the way the pink tint of his cheeks deepen when he notices you looking at him. He places your drinks on the counter, takes the payment then briefly glances at his watch. You see him whisper something to an adjacent bartender before retreating to the back. Awww is his shift over already?

After finishing your drink, you are dragged to the dance-floor. You both sway to the music for a short while before you excuse yourself to go to the restroom. She offers to go with you, but you convince her that you’ll be fine on your own. You enter the restroom, finish up and attempt to make your way back to your friend’s side when you are pulled rather harshly against an adjacent wall. Your eyes shut momentarily as you finch due to the impact. As you open your eyes a cold chill runs over your entire body. It was your ex. “Good to see you’re doing well y/n”, he begins while looking you up and down with an expression you just can’t place. “I was sure that you were sick seeing as you never pick up my calls or respond to my texts,” he continues on while taking a step towards you. Your body begins to shake, and a look of fear is clearing painted all over your face.

You want to push him off, but you know that he’s too strong, so your mind continues to race with possible ways to escape from this scary and uncomfortable situation. His grip on your forearm has you wincing in pain as you calculate your next move. “Y/n!” you hear a voice over the thumping of the club music and your heart. It wasn’t your friend, it was a male voice, a voice that you knew you wouldn’t be forgetting anytime soon. A voice that calms you down even when you’re in this frightening situation even though you don’t know the name of its owner. You look over your ex’s shoulder to see the bartender from earlier walking towards you. He’s now standing beside you both, his body easily towering over that of your ex’s. His eyes shift down to where your forearm in being held before he makes eye contact with your ex.

“Hey, I’m Yunho,” he states, his voice dropping octaves lower than what you had previously heard, causing him to appear a lot more threatening than before. It was as though all off his boyish charm was gone, the glint in his warm eyes nowhere to be seen. Yunho offers his hand to your ex for a handshake. You feel the grip on your arm begin to loosen as they both shake hands and you take this as your best chance to escape his hold. Yanking your arm out with such a force that causes your body to bounce into Yunho’s, who skilfully stops you from colliding with the floor. His arm drapes over your shoulder protectively as he never takes his eyes off of the man in front of him.

“Did you need something from y/n? Cause we were actually just about to head home,” Yunho says before pulling your body even closer to his. You know that you shouldn’t be so close to a guy that you don’t even know but you would rather take your chance with the bright-eyed giant than your monster of an ex. So, you do the only thing that makes sense to you at that moment, you wrap your arms around his torso placing your cheek on his chest. You feel his body tense momentarily due to your actions before he relaxes under your touch.

“We were having a private discussion,” replies your ex “, so if you don’t mind,” he continues as he stretches his arm towards you. 

He doesn’t reach very far before Yunho has his hand in his grasp. “I do mind. So, could you please keep your hands off my girlfriend,” he responds. Your heart jumped at his words. Girlfriend. You were sure that Yunho could feel your cheek heating up against his chest. You also had no idea that his voice could get that deep. You looked at his hand as he gripped your ex tightly, veins protruding as he asserts his dominance in the situation. He eyed down your ex like he was about to strike at any moment. Realizing that things could end up very bad if this altercation develops any further, you try your best to end it early.

You grip unto the front of Yunho’s shirt tugging at it gently. He looks down at you, eyes softening as they look into yours. “Yunho,” you whine softly but still loud enough to be heard by your ex, “I wanna go home,” you continue while pouting and hopping slightly to feign impatience. He releases his grip on you ex while pushing him back slightly. He uses his newly freed hand to cup your cheek gently, bringing his face closer to yours. You know that this is all just an act but that doesn’t stop your breath from hitching or your heart rate from racing. Yunho looks into your eyes, “Do you have all your things Baby?” he asks. There he goes again with that sweet voice of his. You nod gently completely forgetting that your ex was even there, your only focus was on Yunho. 

He removes his hand from your face while lowering the other to your waist. He glances over at your ex, pure annoyance in his face before speaking, “You two will have to finish your discussion some other time. My Baby is ready to leave.” With that he’s gone, holding you at his side while he shoves your ex out of the way. 

No words are exchanged until you exit the club safely, you both releasing a sigh of relief. “Are you okay?” Yunho asks while using the hand which previously held your waist to caress the area which had been held captive by your ex. You wince, a shock of pain radiating from your forearm. Startled by the sound Yunho pulls his hand away while looking at you, a look of worry on his face. You feel your heart sink due to the loss of contact. In the few moments that you’ve spent together, you’ve already become so comfortable at his side. You didn’t want it to be over yet.

He’s done so much already for a person that he doesn’t even know. No stranger has ever been that kind to you for no reason, they always want something or have some sort of ulterior motive but not him. You could see by his aura, by the look in his eyes, that he acted out of concern and deep down you knew that he would have done the same for someone else. That thought alone makes water start to well up into your eyes. He helped you because you needed it and you are grateful but some tiny sliver in your heart just hoped that that wasn’t the only reason. That there was some level of attraction that he felt for you, a spark in his heart that makes him want to protect you. To hold you. To keep you by his side.

Your tears begin to fall as realization hits you. You like him, a lot, and he doesn’t feel the same way. Your tears don’t reach far before they were being soaked up by the cotton of Yunho’s shirt. You didn’t even realize that he had pulled you into a hug, gently rocking from side to side as one hand rubs soothing circles on your back while the other cradles your head. “You shouldn’t cry over jerks like that,” he speaks almost in a whisper, his voice going back to the sweet tone that you remember from the bar. That’s not why you’re crying.

“You’re way too smart and way too kind and way too pretty to let a guy like that hurt you,” he continues while tightening his hold on you almost like he wanted to keep you close; to protect you. You calm down, you’ve realized that you feel at peace in his arms. His breath tickles you as he nuzzles his face into the neck. “You should only give your time to guys who will protect you,” he speaks into your ear causing goosebumps to rise all over your body. “Guys who will tell you how amazing you are every day, who will hold you in their arms like you’re the most precious thing in the world because you are,” he says gently.

You knew that you both had basically just met and logically there was no way that he could be talking about himself, but you really hoped that he was. Deciding to throw logic out of the window you replied softly,“The only guy I know like that is you.” Your heart raced as you waited for a response, already bracing yourself for the oncoming rejection. You feel his lips twist into a smile on your neck before he pulls you even closer. There is no space left between your bodies and you were definitely not going to complain. The aching in your forearm being drowned out by the singing in your heart.

After a few moments of resting in each other's embrace, he raises his head, pulling back to look you in the eyes. He smiles gently at you making his eyes sparkle brighter than any star you’ve ever seen. “And you’re the only person I’ve ever met that I wanna protect and cherish,” he speaks as he moves his hand to wipe away a stray tear; hand remaining to cup your cheek “, will you let me?” Not trusting your voice, you nod slowly, silently hoping that this is not a dream. His smile widens before you pull you into his arms once more, holding you like you were his entire world.

[downwiththeficness]

In the Bond-Chapter 2

Summary: Lilah often wished she’d never said yes to working with the Gecko brothers—usually while dodging gunfire. At no time was she regretting that decision more than when she’s hanging upside down from the ceiling, staring down a group of hungry culebras and one (1) extremely powerful sun god.

Word Count: ~2,300

Warnings: None

A/N: This is an AU of my Story In the Blood, which can be read here. Basically, this fic explores what would have happened if Lilah had met up with Geckos before she met Brasa.

Taglist: @symbiont13

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Lilah slid into a chair and regarded the lovers. Kate was sitting in Richie’s lap, rolling her eyes as he pressed intermittent kisses on her cheeks and neck. She’d grown used to their easy affection since the brothers had saved Kate from Amaru. For the first few days, Richie had hardly let go of Kate’s hand, would go where she went, snarling at anyone who came a little too close. Even now, he didn’t go very long without touching her, no matter the situation—a hand on her thigh, a the small of her back, toying with her hair. Kate seemed to take it all in stride, a soft smile that somehow made her look impossibly young.

It was Kate’s eyes that Lilah noticed first when she’d stepped through the doors of Jackknife Jed’s.  They flashed with gloom, aging her in a way that in no way reflected in her actual face. Looking at her made Lilah feel so disjointed that she still struggled to hold the younger woman’s gaze. Still, despite the unease, Lilah liked Kate. She certainly made dealing with the ever-arguing brothers just a little bit easier. Lilah couldn’t so easily be out-voted any more, and that was worth the disquiet she sometimes felt in Kate’s presence.

The door to the office flung open, Seth barreling through with no regard for how it hit the shelf behind it, a few of Richie’s knickknacks shaking in their stands. He was wiping sweat from his brow, his ever present frown just a little deeper than normal. Lilah’s eyes narrowed as she watched him come closer.

“Hey, watch the merchandise,” Richie called out, one hand lifting from around Kate’s middle to gesture broadly at the memorabilia.

Fandom was the one thing that Lilah and Richie really agreed on. They’d spent a lot of time on stake outs talking Star Trek, and then Firefly, followed by a whole host of niche geeky topics. He was surprisingly insightful about the little details that made each show unique. And, Lilah had spent a lot of time in hotels watching old B horror movies to be able to hold her own when he went down a rabbit hole.  It made the fact that she disagreed with him about the tenants of Jedi life acceptable, in his mind.

“We’ve got bigger problems than Obi Wan’s lightsaber, Richie.”

Seth was definitely in a mood. He might not understand Richie’s interests, and he might roll his eyes when his brother went on a tangent about canon timelines, but he at least respected Richie’s belongings enough that he didn’t intentionally screw around with them. This, whatever it was, was serious. Lilah eyed him narrowly, waiting.

Eyes vaguely betrayed, Richie muttered, “Its Mace Windu.”

Kate patted Richie’s arm lightly, saying, “What’s the problem?”

Rounding his desk, Seth sat heavily. After a deep sigh, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, tossing it on the desk in front of him. It bounced, making a soft ‘shhh’ sound as it slid across the pressed wood of the tabletop.

“We got a message today,” he explained, “And I don’t know what to make of it.”

Lilah leaned forward and plucked it up with two fingers. The paper was a heavy vellum, thick woven. She unfolded it, curious. The ink was a deep red, the lettering thick. As she brought it closer to read, Lilah caught a fragrance that had followed her in the weeks since their last failed mission.

Oh, no.

The letter was meticulously worded. The writing thick and bold, swirling softly around the crosses. Formal. Elegant. Commanding. Brasa.

Lilah read and re-read it, “He’s asking for peace.”

She looked at Seth, brows lifted in surprise. Then, she stood, stepped to Richie’s desk, and handed it to the younger brother. All the while, she tried to keep her face as neutral as possible. Lilah was grateful that Seth never bothered with the overhead lights, that only the lamps on either desk illuminated the room.  Her face was hot, her hands shaking. She didn’t know how to stand so as to draw no attention to herself while she internally panicked.

“He’s playing a game,” Seth said as he opened a drawer in his desk, pulling out a bottle, yanking out the stopper, and drinking straight from it. “Its a trap.”

Richie took a few moments to read the letter before Kate took it from him. She stood and read it, as well. Lilah watched her face, trying to discern her reaction. Kate chewed her thumbnail as her eyes flicked over the page, her brows together. A shadow passed over her expression.

“No,” Kate uttered so low that Lilah almost didn’t hear it, “He’s really asking for peace.”

Lilah didn’t have the time to think about how she might know that, or the implications. Or, how she might feel about those implications.

Seth scoffed, “How the fuck do you know that?”

Setting the letter down on Richie’s desk, Kate shrugged, “I spent a lot of time with him when I was...when she was inside me.” She sniffed, “Even though Amaru thought they were bullshit, he obeys the old laws. This is a formal call for peace talks. He’s written it in his own blood.”

Lilah felt her eyes widen, shocked that Kate could tell whose blood was on the paper. Shocked even further that someone would write a letter in their literal blood. Shocked still further that she cared how he might have procured his own blood in enough supply to write such a letter.

There were a few side effects from Kate’s possession, little quirks that Kate would sometimes display without really thinking. She’d stand up way too fast, know who might walk through the door next, hear conversations from the next room. Lilah did her best to just roll with it, but this was a little bit too freaky for Lilah’s normal ‘roll with it’ sensibilities. She deliberately set it aside, hoping that she wouldn’t need to examine the thought later.

Richie lit a cigarette, blowing the smoke through his nose, “Why now? We’ve spent the last six months fighting and killing each other, and now he wants to talk peace.”

Lilah sat down, folding her hands in her lap as she tried very hard not to think this was about her. She could not be so self-centered as to think that Brasa would give up a war just because she happened to be on the other side. A war he was, by all accounts, winning as the Gecko’s ceded more and more territory to the culebras he seemed to govern.  There had to be another explanation. A trap, maybe, a false sense of security.

“Alright,” Seth drawled, “We get him in a room and gank him.”

Kate gasped, looking horrified, “We have a chance to get real progress, here. Do you want to fight forever?”

Lilah definitely knew the answer to that question. Seth’s entire life was a fight—physical or otherwise. He wasn’t comfortable if there wasn’t some sort of conflict to battle through, his brother at his side. Even if they achieved peace, he’d be at someone’s throat within twenty four hours. It was both endearing and utterly frustrating to watch him cycle through the same motions over and over.

Seth rose, leaning his hands on the desk, “You, more than anyone, have a reason to want every one of those snakes dead.”

Sneering, Kate crossed her arms, “I, more than anyone, have a reason to want all of this to stop. I don’t want to see any more death.”

Behind her, Richie shifted uneasily in his chair. Lilah took each of them in, knowing there was far more history than she was privy to playing out right in front of her. It left her feeling like she couldn’t make a good decision, didn’t have enough data to create a strategy. This was not her preferred method of moving through life. She remained still, waiting.

“We should meet with him,” Kate asserted, hip cocking to the side.

It was not a rare occasion that Kate would insist that they act in a certain way. She had a strong moral compass that clashed with the brothers’ more criminal predilections. More often than not, Kate centered them, kept them from going too far. Lilah was grateful. She had never been successful in stemming off their momentum, once they got started.

“Absolutely not,” Seth shot back, his mouth a firm line.

Lilah surprised herself by adding, “I agree with Seth.”

Richie stubbed out his cigarette, “I’m with Kate.”

This was not surprising. Richie tended to side with Kate on most things. Lilah caught the look he sent Kate, though Kate was still looking at Seth. His eyes were following the line of her petite body, admiring in a way that made Lilah look away, embarrassed.

Seth circled his desk, leaning his hip against it, “Two against two. How’re we going to break the tie?”

There was a beat of silence, then Richie stood and offered up his fist, “Best out of three?”

When Richie beat Seth two to one, Seth gave him a hardy ‘fuck you’ and strode from the room. Richie heaved a beleaguered sigh and followed him. Lilah dropped her head in her hands, boggled by the decision making skills of her partners. Rock, paper scissors...honestly.

“Why don’t you want to meet with them?”

Lilah lifted her eyes at the question, feeling her chest constrict, “I won’t have to do the actual meeting, Kate.” Lie, lie, lie, Lilah, “I just don’t think we’ll be successful.”

Kate tilted her head to the side, “You think its a trap?”

Lilah grabbed onto that line of thinking. It was logical, far more logical than ‘No, Kate. I just don’t want to meet up with someone who claims I am his bondmate and with whom I have exchanged blood’. Even in her head, it sounded so incredibly stupid. Not to mention the fact that she’d been hiding it long enough that admitting it would only lead to suspicion.

“I think Seth is too hot headed,” Lilah clarified quickly, “I think that it’ll fall apart before it even gets started.”

There, that was a convincing lie that was pretty grounded in enough truth that even Lilah half believed it. She very carefully did not study Kate’s face to see if the lie had landed.

Kate moved closer, her ancient gaze peering at Lilah carefully, “You’re right.”

Oh. Okay.

“Thank you.”

“You need to go with them.”

Ah, fuck.

“What?”

Kate nodded, her expression hardening, “You go with them, keep things level, make this work.”

“Me?” Lilah didn’t like how high her voice came out. She cleared her throat, “No, you know them better than I do. You go. Bring me whatever contract they draw up, I’ll red line it, make sure its fair.”

That was her role. Look over the game plan, find the flaws, work out the kinks. In that, Lilah was comfortable and safe. No need to put herself back in a room with Brasa. No need to let this get even more out of hand. No need for the messiness that would come from that.

Shaking her head, Kate took a step back, “I can’t. I can’t face him. What I did to him was,” she searched for words, “terrible.”

The sudden turn of Kate’s tone, the way her face screwed up in real disgust, made Lilah sit up and stake notice. Where had this come from?

She inhaled, trying to parse the words, “What does that mean?”

Kate’s eyes were focused on the middle distance, her mouth quivering, “Amaru loved torture, all kinds of torture. She didn’t care who it was that she hurt. I—she liked,” Another breath, “Brasa was blood bound to her, she could make him do things, do anything. She never got her hands dirty, but him…”

Lilah waited for more, but Kate simply stopped speaking. She looked shell shocked, tears welling up. God, but Lilah had been completely fooled by Kate’s frequent smiles and clear headedness. She hadn’t known how much trauma the hell queen had put Kate through, hadn’t even thought that Kate was conscious of the things that she’d done while trapped inside her own body. Moved to action, she stood and embraced Kate, saying to her the only comfort she could think to give.

“Its the past. And, it wasn’t you.” Then, “Are you still blood bound?”

She felt like real shit for asking, but she needed to know what Brasa’s relationship was with Kate, and if it would make their own relationship (did they even have a relationship?) more complicated. Kate made a soft sound in the negative and Lilah let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. That was one complication she had, thankfully, avoided.

Kate’s body was taut, “When she first brought me back, when I met him, I felt the power I had over him. And, she abused it. I drained him dry that first night, to regain her strength. After three days, when he managed to stand up off the ground, she did it again. Because she could.” Kate pulled back and looked at Lilah, “That wasn’t even the worst of it. How can I look him in the eye after all that?”

Lilah shook her head, “Like I said, it wasn’t you. And, if he really wants to talk peace, he’ll set it aside. If not, fuck ‘im.”

That, at least, was the truth. Lilah had been fighting his kind of less than a year and she was tired of it. She wanted peace. She wanted to go on nice, normal jobs—jewel theft, a bank heist, possibly even some fine art that they could sell on the black market. Stuff that was in her wheelhouse, in her comfort zone. If he was going to hold Kate responsible for the actions of Amaru, then he wasn’t worth negotiating with. Full stop.

Kate loosed a soundless laugh, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

[bisexualkramer]

Hi! I participated in @pilesofnonsense‘s 2020 Rusty Quill Big Bang this year, and I’m so excited to share my fic with all of you!

I’d like to thank @aibari for betaing this monstrosity and @cthulu-time for making a REALLY COOL ART PIECE FOR THE FIC LIKE HOLY SHIT IT’S AWESOME!! It was such a pleasure to work with both of them!

Hope y’all enjoy it!

The End of All Things - A Magnus Archives Lord of the Rings AU

Part One: Fellowship

Part Two: Towers

Part Three: King

Summer had come to the Shire at last. The green grass was soft underfoot, as gentle as the breeze that danced through the air, bringing with it the scent of wildflowers and tilled earth. The skies were blue and filled with clouds that drifted lazily about. Children wove daisy crowns and danced through the streets in preparation for the midsummer holiday. The old dozed; the young worked; everything was peaceful and good.

Not that Jonathan Sims would have known. His summer habits were no different than his winter ones. He awoke before the sun rose—quite the feat, in those long days of summer—and trudged down the lane to the Shire’s old archives, where he dutifully toiled until after the sun had set. The only variation in his routine was the thickness of his jacket and the presence or lack of an old woolen hat, a gift from his gardener that had kept him from catching his death of cold for at least the past three winters. Jon, bless him, had never thanked the man for it, but he was still willing to wear it, and that was quite enough for Martin Blackwood.

On the eve of the midsummer feast, Jonathan was down in the archive basement again, digging through a waterlogged box of paper and finding the documents that needed to be replaced. The head archivist, Gertrude Robinson, sat beside him, dutifully copying down an old deed that had been damaged in a spring flood. They worked in a quiet tandem, satisfied with the comfortable silence that came from years of friendship.

Jon had been very young when his parents had died in a boating accident. His grandmother hadn’t been keen on raising another child, but there had been no one else to take him. He’d grown up a lonely child in the country, kept company only by books, until his grandmother had died, leaving him her house. He’d sold it immediately and moved to the Shire, and his job application to the town archive had been accepted within a week. He’d been working there ever since, though he’d only become one of Gertrude’s close assistants in the last couple of years. Still, the two got on like a house on fire, and Jon liked to think that Gertrude would ask him to take over when she eventually retired.

A knock at the door brought Jon out of his thoughts. A young man stepped in, his blonde hair falling down around his cheeks in ringlet curls that made even Jon jealous. He handed a sheaf of paper over to Gertrude with a smile.

“Thank you, Michael,” she said. Michael Shelley had only been working in the archives for a few months. He had a bad habit of leaving his red cardigan in the archives. Jon was beginning to suspect he was doing it on purpose, if only because of—

“Hey, guys?” asked a voice from the back. “I’ve found another one with water damage. Where are we putting it?”

“Bring it here,” said Jon resignedly.

Gerry Delano was a short, broad-shouldered hobbit with badly-dyed black hair that hung in greasy strings around his face. He had a permanent scowl that occasionally lifted into a smirk. Every time he spoke to Michael, Michael would erupt into nervous, grating laughter, which did little to improve Jon’s mood but seemed to make Gerry much cheerier.

Jon hated working with them.

Gerry dropped the box in front of them and exaggeratedly wiped the sweat off his brow. He met Michael’s eye and smirked. Michael giggled. Jon tried very hard not to roll his eyes.

“Right,” said Gerry. “Think I’m off for today. Anyone fancy the Green Dragon for a half-pint?”

“Oh, ah, that sounds fun,” said Michael. “Uh, would either of you care to join us?”

Jon scowled, but Gertrude shoved at his arm. “Go have fun,” she said. “I’m expecting a visitor soon. I don’t need you moping down here next to me.”

“But the deeds—” Jon began, only to be hauled to his feet by Gerry in a feat of strength that stole the words from his throat.

“None of that,” said Gerry. “C’mon. Besides, I think your boy’s usually there on Fridays.”

“My what?” Jon scoffed, but he was already being firmly escorted out the door.

“Lord,” said Gertrude. “Youth is wasted on the wrong people.”

...

The Green Dragon was always lively around the end of the week, but it was even more so before holidays. Gerry crept to the bar for drinks and brought them back to the table, cursing as he set them down.

“Nearly lost one,” he said, passing them around. “Anyway, cheers to another year in the archives.”

“Cheers,” said the rest of them absently.

Jon peered around the room as Gerry and Michael began to flirt rather obnoxiously. He felt his stomach drop as he accidentally met eyes with Martin from across the room. Martin’s expression brightened, and he began to head toward the table. Jon tried not to scowl.

The truth of the matter was, Jon had spent a very, very long time hating Martin. Martin had apparently been the gardener at Bag End since before the previous inhabitant had left (very mysteriously, and no one in town would say anything about it—there were rumors that he had been close with Gertrude, but she refused to say anything about it). Jon kept him on because his rates were good and it felt like the right thing to do, and not because he had often heard Martin chatting quietly with the bees while he worked, oblivious to Jon’s watchful eye on the other side of the kitchen window. As Martin approached, Jon quickly realized that the only remaining seat was the one next to him. He tried to ignore it when Martin’s leg brushed very lightly against his own, but couldn’t quite manage to get it out of his head.

“All right, Martin?” Gerry asked, giving him a smile.

Martin blushed a bit at the attention, which made Jon want to commit murder, or possibly arson. “I’m all right,” he said. “And you?”

The two of them struck up a friendly conversation, which they roped Michael into fairly quickly. Jon buried his face in his drink for a while before finally allowing Michael to draw him in with a well-aimed question about the old books he’d found in his home when he moved, which led to several hours of debate over the whereabouts of the mysterious owner, and then a conversation about Michael’s sister, who had sold the property, and then the state of the small library in Hobbiton, and soon Jon found himself ranting about the properties of various waxes for almost a quarter of an hour.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly when he realized no one had stopped him.

“No,” said Martin, his face flush with alcohol. “No, it was interesting. It was really interesting.”

“Christ,” said Gerry. “Right. I think I’m done for tonight.” He glanced at Michael. “Care to walk me home?”

Michael stuttered a response and pulled on his sweater, leaving Jon and Martin sitting beside each other.

“Well,” said Jon, just as Martin said “Anyway…”

“Oh,” said Jon.

“Sorry,” said Martin. “I mean, uh, go ahead.”

“No, no, it’s all right,” Jon stuttered. “You first.”

“Right,” said Martin. “Uh, I was just going to say it was getting late. Maybe we should go.”

Jon stared at him blankly for a moment before the words made it past his ears and into his head. “Oh, yes,” said Jon. “Of course. Yes.”

“Unless you don’t want to…?”

“No, it’s really fine. Absolutely fine.”

“Are you sure?”

Jon tried not to let too much annoyance creep into his voice as he said “Yes, Martin. I’m quite sure.” From the look on Martin’s face, he was fairly certain he had failed.

“Right,” said Martin. “Um… I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

“Yes,” said Jon. “Tomorrow.”

“Okay. Night, then.”

Jon gave him a thin smile. “Good night, Martin.”

The walk home was colder than Jon had expected. He wrapped his arms around himself, suddenly wishing he had brought a jacket to the archives that morning. The night sky was clear and star-filled, broken only by the slightest sliver of the moon. As he walked, a small group of fireflies flitted through the bushes by the side of the lane.

He passed by the archives on the way home. The lamps inside were still lit, and Jon could hear hushed voices from within. Never one to miss a chance to eavesdrop, he slowed his step and quieted his breathing, listening with all his might.

“… power grows ever stronger,” said Gertrude. “I’ve felt its draw for the last thirty years. I think soon I shall have to leave it behind.”

“I just hope we’re wrong,” said a familiar voice that Jon hadn’t heard in years. A silhouette appeared in the window, wearing a pointed wizard’s hat. Forgetting himself, Jon flung open the door with a smile.

“Sasha!”

She whirled toward him, her dark hair whipping out as she did. “Jon!”

Gertrude looked rather grumpy to have been interrupted, but Sasha’s eyes were full of delight. She wrapped Jon in a tight embrace, laughing all the while.

“It’s good to see you again, old friend,” she said. “I was going to stop by in the morning. I wasn’t sure if you were asleep.”

“Gerry and Michael dragged me out,” said Jon. Sasha’s face lit up at the mention of Michael’s name.

“I’m glad they’re getting you out of this dusty basement,” she said. “Don’t want you withering away down here, eh?” Her glasses and her many rings glinted mischievously in the lamplight.

Gertrude glanced at him over her reading spectacles. “I’m sorry to interrupt the reunion,” she said, “but I really do think we need to continue this discussion, Sasha.”

“All right, all right,” said Sasha. “Listen, Jon, I’ll talk to you at the festival tomorrow, yeah?”

“Very well,” said Jon. “I’m very glad to see you again.”

“I’m glad, too,” she said. “Take care of yourself, Jon.”

Jon turned to leave, then glanced back at Sasha. As she glanced at Gertrude, her smile vanished, and Jon’s heart filled unexpectedly with fear.

...

The midsummer festival was a full day and night of merrymaking, complete with the finest ales and pipeweeds that could be found in the Shire. People baked for days to prepare enough pies and pastries for the whole community. Everything was shared at the festival, from food to old stories. Even Jon, for all his curmudgeonly ways, could admit that it was a rather wonderful day.

A flowery banner had been erected across the entrance to old Eric Delano’s field, where they’d held the festival in memory of his late wife for the past ten years. (Gerry tended to complain about it, if you could get him drunk enough to recount the tales of his childhood with her—apparently, she’d been rather cruel, and he didn’t feel she deserved such a nice party.) Jon arrived in the early afternoon, far later than most of the Shire, as large crowds tended to make him nervous. It wasn’t long before he was accosted by Martin, who was camped in a corner, sipping at his ale.

“Oh, Jon!” he said, nearly knocking it over. “Hi! Nice to see you here.”

“Hello, Martin,” said Jon. He cast about awkwardly for something to say, landing on, “Uh, are you having fun?”

“Oh, yeah,” said Martin. “I was just helping set up this morning, and then I’ve been sort of running around with everything. D’you need anything?”

“No, thank you, Martin,” said Jon. “I was just, ah, going to see Sasha. Have you seen her or Gertrude, by any chance?”

“Uh, no,” said Martin. “D’you think they’re just running late?”

“I don’t know. I was hoping you would have seen them. I’ll ask around.”

“Okay,” said Martin. “Um, you’re here to stay, right?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, good! Because, you know, I was thinking we could get a drink—uh, with Michael and Gerry, I mean, and maybe Sasha, not just the two of us, haha, if that’s okay?”

“Yes, Martin,” Jon said distractedly, still searching the crowd for Gertrude and Sasha. “I’ll be seeing you.” He turned and began to shove through the crowd of hobbits once more.

He didn’t make it far. There was a large booth on the northern border of the property, near where he had come in, that sold beautiful pastries topped with intricate spiral designs. There were two people manning that booth. One was Michael, who was chatting with old Eric Delano by the fence. The other was his sister, Helen, who was handing out sweets to anyone who walked by with a smile and a nod.

Michael and Helen didn’t look very similar at all. In fact, they weren’t siblings by blood; their parents had married when the two were nearly twenty, and they’d instantly started to bicker like any other siblings. Contrary to Michael’s fair skin and hair, Helen’s skin was dark, and her hair was a deep black. The only similarity between the two was their hair. Both had hair that curled in tight coils around their heads. Michael kept his back in a ponytail with a fair bit of effort and oil; Helen let hers grow out around her head, leaving her with a spiral halo that could be quite disorienting if you looked at it for too long.

“Jon!” she shouted, waving him over. “Jon, over here!”

Jon rolled his eyes but made his way over to the stall. He and Helen had a somewhat tumultuous relationship; she enjoyed teasing him (though Jon likely would have said “torturing him), and he tolerated her jabs with the best humor he could muster on any given day. Often, this meant that he stormed away fuming, followed by her very distinctive cackle of victory.

It was as good a friendship as any, he supposed.

“Hi, Jon,” said Helen cheerfully when Jon arrived at her stall. “Here, try a hot cross bun.” She shoved the pastry at him forcefully and laughed when he took it and instantly swore at just how hot it was.

“Hello, Helen,” said Jon. “Have you seen Sasha?”

Helen pouted. “Don’t want to stay and talk to me, Jon? How very rude!”

Jon rolled his eyes. “Don’t give me that. I’ll come back later, if you like. I just need to speak with Sasha.”

Helen’s pout didn’t disappear, but she pointed a long, slender finger toward an innocuous tent that was hidden behind the many barrels of ale that had been prepared for that evening. “I saw her setting up in there,” she said. “I think it’s her fireworks, but I’m not sure. She didn’t even stop and say hello.”

“Right,” said Jon. “Well, I’ll be seeing you.”

He made his way quickly to Sasha’s firework tent, shoving through the crowds until he was able to duck inside. Sasha was there, thank heavens—Jon was just about ready to leave the party entirely if he had to talk to one more person.

“Jon!” said Sasha as she fiddled with the fuse of a long, red rocket. “I was looking for you earlier, but I couldn’t find you anywhere. Where have you been?”

Jon sighed. “Socializing,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain.

Sasha laughed. “Oh, come on,” she said. “You love it.”

Jon rolled his eyes, but he let his expression soften. “So what brings you back to the Shire?”

Sasha’s smile faded slightly around her eyes, which Jon noted and tucked away. “I needed to talk to Gertrude,” she said. “And I thought it would be nice to see everyone again. You know I miss you all when I’m on my travels.”

“Ah, your mysterious voyages,” said Jon. “Any chance we’ll get to hear some stories tonight?”

“Perhaps,” said Sasha, waggling her eyebrows.

“Speaking of Gertrude,” said Jon, “I should probably go and find her. I haven’t seen her all day.”

“Really?” Sasha asked. “She said she was planning on showing up early. Apparently, her and Eric had a bit of a fight last week, and she said she wanted to apologize before the festival really kicked off.”

“A fight?” Jon asked. “What about?”

“I don’t know. You know they haven’t been as close since Eric left the archives,” she said. “And he hasn’t been the same since the whole Mary thing, or since he lost his eyes.”

Jon hummed. “I’ll ask around, see if anyone’s seen her,” he said. “When are the fireworks?”

“Just after sundown,” said Sasha with a sparkle in her eye. “You won’t want to miss them.”

“No, I won’t,” Jon agreed. He glanced up at her. “I’ve missed you, too, you know.”

Sasha’s smile grew. “Oh, Jon!” she said, and she threw her arms around him. Jon squawked in protest as he was smothered by her flowing wizardly robes, but Sasha paid him no mind. She squeezed his shoulders tightly. “I know how hard that was for you to admit—”

“I am capable of talking about my feelings, you know.”

“—and I want you to know that I’m very, very glad to have you as a friend.”

Jon laughed, then pulled away, trying to extricate himself from a truly ridiculous amount of fabric. “All right, all right,” he said. “I’m going to go and find Gertrude. I’ll meet up with you later.”

“Go on and have fun. And, hey, try not to cause any trouble.”

Jon scoffed. “I do not cause trouble.”

“Sure, you don’t. Enjoy the party! Have some of Helen’s pastries. They’re delicious.”

Jon made his way out of the tent and back into the midst of the festivities. The sun burned in the sky, and the air was humid and heavy. Most of the party-goers had retreated to the relative shade of the small copse of trees in the northeast corner. Jon spotted Gerry sitting there with old Fiona Law, who was regaling a small group of children with a fairy tale that seemed to have put Gerry halfway to sleep.

“Gerard,” said Jon as he approached, “have you seen Gertrude?”

Gerry shook his head sleepily. “Figured she was with you,” he said. “She must have gotten caught up in the archives. Want me to go and look?”

“No, don’t trouble yourself,” said Jon. “I’m sure she’ll show up eventually.”

“Mm-hmm,” said Gerry. He closed his eyes once more. Jon left him to his nap.

It seemed the whole Shire had fallen into the afternoon daze. Jon took it upon himself to clean up some of the mess while everyone around him slept, then decided he could return to the archives and do some work before the fireworks that night. He doubted anyone would notice him leaving, sleepy as they all were.

When he reached the garden gate, a horrible, wriggling sort of sound brought him to a stop. He glanced around, looking for its source, and settled his gaze on a ball of silver worms that were intertwined so tightly with each other that they almost looked like one creature. Normally, Jon didn’t have a problem with worms–only spiders were enough to set him shivering–but something about the worms seemed wrong, reminding him of rot and decay and illness rather than good soil and the smell of summer. He suppressed a sudden bout of nausea and carefully stepped past them, keeping his distance as best he could.

Hobbiton was largely abandoned, as everyone was at the party. The sun had settled into that lazy mid-afternoon place where everything looked a bit like a dream. Jon brushed away a bit of sweat and then paused, hearing the wriggling sound once more. There were more of those silvery worms in the soil beside the main road, though not in nearly so high a concentration as the ones by Delano’s farm. Jon hurried on.

As he rounded the last corner, he heard something that made his heart drop in his chest: a panicked scream, coming from inside the archives.

Jon ran down the lane toward the scream. As he ran, he accidentally squashed a few silver worms underfoot. The sensation of their segmented bodies bursting against his toes made him shudder, but he did not slow his speed. He flung open the heavy wooden doors to the archives with a desperate groan, shoving against years of rust that had grown across the hinges.

Martin was pressed against the wall inside the door, clutching his chest as though trying to keep his heart inside. His face was white as a sheet.

“Martin?” Jon asked.

Martin whirled around, curls bouncing against his forehead. His eyes were wide, and his mouth was wider.

“Jon!” he said, clutching one hand to his chest.

“What’s the matter?” Jon asked urgently. “I heard a shout.”

“I— it’s—”

“For God’s sake, Martin, spit it out!”

“It’s Gertrude,” Martin gasped. “Jon, she’s dead.”

[jettingtothemoon]

Save You; chapter 2

➳ pairing: hector x witch|reader ➳ genre: fantasy, angst, fluff ➳ warnings: violence, swearing, smut, mentions of rape, past slavery, spoilers for seasons 1 thorough 3. ➳ word count: 2404 ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ summary: In which y/n and Hector continue to flee from the council of sisters, finding refuge among an unlikely acquaintance with fresh scars and a cold personality. ➳ Part two of, ’Rescue You’. ➳ a/n: daughter of the spirits is gonna be late this week so i decided to upload this early :)

Chapters: 01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07, 08, 09,

Guilty Feelings

By the morning, you were being gently shaken awake by small hands. Your eyes peeled open and you reached out for Hector, letting out a sigh of relief to find that he was still beside you. Then, you sat up as the forgemaster yawned and stretched his limbs.

"What's wrong?" you questioned upon turning your attention back to the boy who had silently made his way into your room and up to your bed.

The child seemed quieter than usual and you couldn't read his expression as he softly held onto your arm. When Hector sat up beside you, tilting his head to the side as he too tried to figure out what the child wanted, there was a tiny little grumble in the room.

"You're hungry?" you asked as you began to climb out of the bed.

The boy nodded and his stomach growled again.

"We shouldn't wander around the castle alone. We should just wait for Alucard," hector protested as you slipped into your boots and took the boy's hand in your own.

"We're just going to go downstairs. For all we know, Alucard is already up, and if not we will just have to wait for him. I'd go look for him but I don't know which room is his."

Hector hummed, seeing that there was no real danger in going downstairs. As long as you didn't wander it should be fine.

The three of you then transcended back down the stairs and to the kitchen.

Walking through the castle again was an unusual feeling for both you and Hector. They were rooms you knew so well and yet, everything seemed so different. There was still a darkness looming over the castle but it was somewhat brighter than before. You assumed it was even brighter before whatever had happened here since Alucard moved back in.

Not only was the atmosphere different but the decor had changed somewhat, whether that was because most of it was destroyed during the fight or simply because of Alucard's own personal preference, you were unsure. He had done a good job at cleaning things up, so much so that there were little remnants of the minor battle that took place here the day you fled with Cezar. Then again, you supposed Alucard didn't have much else to do to keep himself occupied now that he was here alone.

He didn't return alone. There were a speaker magician and a Belmont with him the day Dracula was killed. You couldn't help but wonder what had happened to them or where they were now. You only hoped that they were not the corpses that had been left to rot outside.

"Ah, you're awake," Alucard announced.

The silent boy quickly latched onto Hector's hand once again, still clearly somewhat unsure about the half-vampire but no longer entirely afraid of him.

"You're up already?" you enquired, knowing that it was even still rather early for you or Hector and that the two of you would still be asleep if it wasn't for the child.

Alucard sighed as though he was uninterested in the conversation but answered anyway, "I don't sleep much these days. I made some breakfast for you though, I thought you might be hungry."

He had indeed made breakfast for all of you. It seemed as though he had even waited for you before touching his own.

"Thank you, it smells delicious," hector commented, trying to make some kind of polite conversation with your host.

Alucard simply nodded his head and beckoned for you all to come and sit down, and so, you did.

It was silent as you ate, almost awkwardly so, until Alucard spoke again, "Oh, I didn't have time to prepare them last night but there will be clean nightgowns for all of you from now on. They will be much more comfortable than wearing your clothes to bed. You all need to bathe today too, you're still covered in dirt."

Although his words should have sounded at least somewhat kind, the only tone within his voice was flat and tired. It was clear that he was unhappy with the three of you being there but, for whatever reason, he hadn't turned you away when you asked to stay.

He seemed somewhat on guard around the two of you, Hector, in particular, but other than that he seemed as though he didn't care much about you being in his castle. It was almost as if some part of him wanted you there, or at least, wanted some company.

Alucard had always been somewhat lonely when you knew him before but back then he didn't seem to care much for it anyway. He had his mother and his father hadn't spiralled into madness but now he was truly alone. His parents were dead, one by his hand, and the only friends he ever knew seemed to have gone far from here. That is if they were ever his friends in the first place.

Whatever the Belmont and speaker were to him, they were people he would have grown used to seeing and now they were gone, that much you knew. Alucard had had a taste of what it was like not to be alone only to end up back in this castle, isolated from the rest of the world and, although you and Hector were the last people he would want company from, it seemed that some small part of him didn't want to send you away.

After breakfast, Alucard took the child with him to search for some clean clothes. Before doing so, however, he had directed you and Hector to the bathroom so that the two of you could bathe and dress in some clean clothes.

As it turned out, some of Hector's old belongings were left behind after the attack so he had clothes to wear at least. You, however, were stuck with whatever Alucard could find lying around that would fit you. Alucard had also told you and Hector that you could use his old room from now on if you wished but Hector seemed somewhat reluctant to go back there, although you were unsure why.

"Want some help? Or maybe just some company?" you offered as Hector headed towards the bathroom.

He stopped, turning his head towards you with furrowed brows.

"What? It's not like I haven't seen it all before," you admitted with a chuckle.

Hector blushed slightly but still seemed somewhat uncomfortable. "I- It's just that- Well, it isn't the same as before... before that.... before you were locked up and..."

"Hey," you spoke gently, cupping his face in your hands to draw his shakey gaze to you, "It's okay if you don't want me to. I can stay out here and wait for you. Just know that nothing that has happened between then and now has changed anything. I still love you, Hector."

His eyes searched yours as if he was looking for his own answer in them and, once he found that answer, he slipped his hand into yours.

"I- I suppose I could use some help washing my hair."

You smiled sweetly and followed him into the bathroom, making sure that the water in the tub wasn't too hot for him before politely turning your back for him to remove his clothes and climb in.

You had indeed seen him naked before, more than once, but not since everything went wrong back in Styria. Whatever happened to him, whatever Lenore did to him or made him do, even if it was no worse than what it had been before you first arrived, it had knocked him down.

Lenore put him in his place, that you were certain of. She broke him down piece by piece knowing that he was helpless to do anything to stop her. That was her punishment for him and his only crime was loving you.

Once the water stopped swishing and you were certain Hector was quietly seated in the tub, you turned toward him again. With a gentle smile, you reached your hands up, soon running your fingers through his tangled hair. He groaned slightly at the tug but closed his eyes as you carefully combed the silver locks until the knots and tangles were mostly gone.

While you were doing this, Hector had reached for a sponge and begun to scrub the dirt from his body. He leaned into your touch when you placed your hand over his, softly taking the sponge before soaking it in more of the warm water and wiping it over his shoulders.

Every movement was slow as you scrubbed the dirt away, slowly dragging the sponge across his tanned skin. He sat forwards and you continued to rub down his back with one hand, using the other to soothe the tension from his shoulders. Hector let out a long sigh and ran his own wet fingers through his hair. When you were done cleaning his back, he leaned back and allowed you to use an adjacent jug to soak his wavy hair.

The dirt began to wash out as you massaged his head and went back to combing your fingers through his hair to prevent it from knotting. You handled each and every part of him with care, you were gentle with him even when he occasionally tensed under your touch. It was easy to tell what he was thinking and feeling at this moment. You knew that you were the first person to ever treat him like something cherished, like someone worth caring about, worth loving.

When you were finished with his hair, he leaned his head back against the tub and looked up to your smiling face with another of those sighs, "I don't deserve you."

You reached out, running your fingers over his face, tracing the outlines of his features as you softly spoke, "You deserve the world."

"I don't," he hung his head down low, "I- I hurt people. I helped Dracula commit genocide. People died because of me, because of my night creatures. Families, women, children... They were innocent. I took my bad experiences with humans out on them, all of them. I was wrong and I don't know if I can stop the guilt consuming me whole. Not all humans are bad, you're not bad. I was just unlucky and met the wrong ones." As he spoke, he closed his eyes as if he were trying to hold in the tears that he didn't believe he had any right to cry. He truly believed that he was just as bad as those who had harmed him but you knew otherwise.

You leaned over him, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. "I hurt people too, Hector. I killed people for Dracula, I helped his soldiers slaughter countless innocent people. Human's do bad things when they're scared, angry and confused. You're human too you know, you did horrible things but you're not a bad person, not at heart. You never wanted them to suffer, you always wished for a quick and painless death even after everything they had done to you."

His eyes opened and, for a moment, it broke your heart. They looked so shattered, so broken. Not only from what happened with Lenore but from the weight of that guilt. You never knew it burdened him that much but you should have for it burdened you too. It was suffocating knowing that you had done such things out of fear. Hector was no different except you feared Dracula whereas he simply feared humans.

"I killed my own parents, y/n. They were my parents and I killed them."

"They beat you, they hurt you. If you hadn't killed them they would have probably ended up killing you," you defended his actions once again but he didn't seem convinced.

He sat up out of the water and leaned away from you. "They beat me because I raised animals from the dead. I'm not normal, I've never been normal. If I was they would still be alive, they would have loved me. Instead, they feared me. They beat me because they were scared of me. Does that make what they did any different from what I've done?"

You reached out a hand, placing it lightly on his shoulder and again he leaned into your touch as if it was the only thing keeping him sane.

"No child should go through that, normal or not. It's okay to feel guilty and sad, Hector, but you have to learn to forgive yourself. What's done is done. It's in the past. You're a different person now, you realised your mistakes and you won't make them again. Neither of us will."

"Thank you. This... helped. A little at least."

With a saddened smile, you carefully pulled him back down and rested your chin atop of his head, stretching your arms out until your hands settled on his chest. He let out another sigh, this time sounding somewhat relieved, and reached up to place his hands over your own.

He lifted the back of your hand to his mouth and kissed it affectionately before closing his eyes with a smile. "I really do love you."

Once Hector finished bathing, he left to change. You asked him to stay but, as much as he wanted nothing more than to stay with you, right now he couldn't. He couldn't because he knew that he wouldn't be able to hold back and he wasn't sure if he was ready to take that step with you yet. He wasn't sure if you were ready to take that step with him either. It had been long since you fled the castle but he was still trying to figure things out.

He was sure about one thing and that was you. He knew that he never wanted to leave your side, he knew that all he wanted was to go on more walks with you; to keep practising his magic with you; to wake up by your side every day until the day he died. All he could think about was how he wanted you to touch him, to reclaim the places she had touched with your own tender kisses. He just didn't want you to be stuck with the body of a broken man, a body that had already been claimed time and time again.

Chapters: 01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07, 08, 09,

[lukatheselkie]

HMC - “I’ve missed you. But it seems like you’re not happy to see me.”

@hetaliamondaychallenge

Pairing: England x OC (Wisp)

Warnings: Non-consensual touching/nipping

Some info about the OC I used here! He’s a fae; more specifically, half Ghillie Dhu and half Pixie. I did extensive research and I am being as respectful as I can every time I write him. He’s lived in a birch forest his entire life, though he was discovered by the nations when he was very young. They took him into their care since he’s an orphan, and even though he lives in a birch forest in Scotland now, they still visit and sometimes take him home for a visit. His home is in the forest though. This mentions bows; Lichtenstein gifts him bows, and he absolutely loves them. Some of the others have taken up this habit, so he has an arrangement of bows. Most of the time there’s more bow than hair to be seen. If anyone wants to learn more about him, here’s a link to his form! My profile pic is one of my favourite PiCrews of him.

    Wisp lifts his head up when the sounds of the forest around him get quieter. It’s a subtle difference, but it’s there. He had been splashing in the creek near where he sleeps at night, waiting for his bows to be cleaned. The sudden change in atmosphere warrants his attention though, so he grabs his bows out of the water and places them on a nearby rock. He sniffs the air, and frowns at the unfamiliar scent. Who could be visiting him? He clips the bows back into his hair, not wanting to go anywhere without them, and makes his way through the trees silently.

    Wisp lifts his head up when the sounds of the forest around him get quieter. It’s a subtle difference, but it’s there. He had been splashing in the creek near where he sleeps at night, waiting for his bows to be cleaned. The sudden change in atmosphere warrants his attention though, so he grabs his bows out of the water and places them on a nearby rock. He sniffs the air, and frowns at the unfamiliar scent. Who could be visiting him? He clips the bows back into his hair, not wanting to go anywhere without them, and makes his way through the trees silently.

    When he gets to the edge of the forest he camouflages himself, just in case. Usually an unfamiliar scent means fae hunter, but not always. It’s dusk, so it’s unlikely the person is a child. But if they are, he has to get to them before anything else does. A bit of water falls into his eyes, and he wipes frantically at it. He should have shaken off his bows! It’s too late now; doing so would surely draw attention. He sniffs at the air again, and follows the scent a few meters to his right. He sighs in relief when he sees Arthur, but it’s short-lived. He un-camouflages himself and stamps over to him, albeit still within the tree line. “Arthur!”

    “Wisp!” A smile lights up his face. It’s been a long time since he’s seen that smile, but it doesn’t make him any less upset. Arthur pauses when he sees the frown on the fae’s face. “I’ve missed you. But it seems like you’re not happy to see me.” Wisp bristles angrily.

    “One-twenty! One-twenty days! No Arthur! Been gone! One-twenty days!” Arthur sighs heavily. “Wisp angry! Been long!” He looks around for something to throw at Arthur, but doesn't find anything that won’t hurt him. Another drop of water falls into his eye, reminding him of the bows. He yanks off the orange one Arthur brought him last time they saw each other, and throws it at him. “Why!? Why long!?” Arthur sighs again, picking up the wet bow and turning it over in his hands a few times.

    “I absolutely deserved that. I’m sorry. I’ve been busy. I know that’s not an excuse, but it’s what happened. I brought you a gift.” Wisp doesn’t stop frowning. He doesn’t even perk up at the mention of a gift. “What’s wrong?” Arthur steps closer. “Are you that upset? I’m sorry. I’ll try to visit every month, if that will make you happy.” He furrows his brows. “A month is thirty days, more or less. Who taught you how to count, anyway?”

    “Natalia.” He answers immediately.

    “Ah. Has she been by a lot?”

    “Every seven day. That week, she says.” Arthur nods.

    “Yes, that is a week. Do you know how long I was gone, then?” Wisp scrunches up his nose in concentration.

    “Four month.” Arthur nods. Wisp smiles brightly, and hops around excitedly. “Got right! Got right!” He giggles happily. “Got right, Arthur!” He turns to him, and freezes when he catches his scent again.

    “There’s something else wrong. You don’t ever frown. What’s wrong?”

    “Smell different.” Arthur visibly relaxes.

    “Is that all? Thank goodness. I thought it was something serious.”

    “Is serious! Why smell different!?” Arthur holds up the hand without the bow in it.

    “Alright, alright. It’s either my coat or my cologne. Christmas passed while I was gone and-”

    “Chris… mas?” Arthur stares at him for a long moment.

    “I forgot you don’t know what that is. It’s easy to take things for granted, I suppose. To put it short, it’s a celebration of friends and family. We get each other gifts and spend time together.” Wisp brings his hand up to the bows in his hair.

    “Christmas all time for Wisp.” He smiles fondly at the memories of receiving the bows, and spending time with the people that had given them to him after. Normally, he makes something for them as a thank you.

    “You could say that. But it’s on a certain day.” Wisp frowns deeply. “The sentiment is still there though!” Arthur rushes to say, not wanting to see him sad. “Speaking of sentiment, will you open your gift now?” He tugs a small present out of his coat pocket. “It has wrapping on it. You’ll have to tear it off first. Gently.” He knows how the fae is. Unless told to be gentle, he’s not. That could damage the gift, especially with his long nails.

    “Still angry smell different.” Arthur laughs quietly.

    “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Did I scare you?” He nods, sulking. “My apologies. But you know it now, right? I’ll try not to return with the smell, but if I do you don’t have to worry again.” Wisp bows his head and kicks at the ground.

    “...Like smell.” Arthur has to hold back his grin. He holds out the gift and his bow. He takes them, sticks the bow back in his hair, and pokes at the wrapping paper on the gift.

    “My hands are freezing from the water on your bow. How do you handle it? Do you need some blankets?”

    “No. Wisp fine! Warm. Not sure why.”

    “You might be able to regulate your temperature. I’ll ask Gwen when I see her next.” Wisp perks up at the mention of the doctor.

    “Gwen! Wanna see Gwen!” He wiggles excitedly.

    “I’ll tell her, I promise.” Wisp nods, and focuses on the gift in his hand again. He tugs at the wrapping paper, and holds each piece out to Arthur when he pulls them off. He tilts his head when he sees something shiny in the air pocket. “It’s a necklace. I made sure it’s long enough to pull on and off, so if it gets snagged on something it won’t hurt you. It’s strong, too, so it shouldn’t break. But if it does, I can have it repaired. I-I hope you like it.” He feels his cheeks heat up in embarrassment, and turns away. Wisp grabs the shiny chain and pulls it over his head, looking down at it happily. It’s off-white, and there’s something hanging on it. He grabs the hanging thing, and brings it up to his nose to look at. It’s a shiny birch leaf, attached to the chain by something the same colour as the necklace.

    “Pretty! Thank!” He runs out of the forest, knocking into Arthur. They tumble onto the ground, Wisp nipping at his cheeks and ears. “Thank! Thank thank thank!”

    “Alright, alright! You don’t have to say it so much!” He laughs breathlessly. “I’m glad you like it.” He turns his head in an attempt to hide his deepening blush, but it gives Wisp better access to his ear. He grunts quietly when he bites down hard enough he knows it’s going to leave a bruise. “Wisp, please. You’re too excited again.” The fae scrambles off Arthur, stumbling over his apology.

    “S… Ap… So so… Apollo…” Arthur pulls him into a hug so he’ll stop. Wisp cuddles into him with a sigh of content. “Sorry,” he mumbles out, closing his eyes. “Thank for gift. Necklace. Very pretty. Love.” Arthur kisses his temple, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart. He should just tell Wisp he loves him. But he has no idea if the man knows what romantic love is. He should start there.     “I’m glad you like it. I have a serious question for you though.” He tilts his head to show he’s listening. “Do you know what romantic love is?” He nods.

    “Natalia taught.”

    “You two are close. Why did she teach you?”

    “So Wisp could find someone!” He seems proud of his words. “Someone pretty. Kind. Sweet. Loving. Someone that let Wisp be Wisp. Not upset. Someone that can take Wisp hyperness! Not get tired it. Someone…” He frowns deeply. “No word! No word!!!” Arthur pins his arms to his side.

    “Calm down. Please. I know you get aggravated when you can’t find a word for something, but please don’t. Not today. Not here. If we were in your forest, maybe, but not outside.” Wisp takes a few deep breaths.

    “Arthur right. Dangerous outside forest. Dangerous not house.” He nuzzles him, then licks his cheek.

    “I do wish you would at least warn me before you do that. I know you’re struggling with the concept of consent, but you can at least warn us. Please.”

    “Wisp try! Sorry.” He hangs his head. Arthur watches him for a long moment.

    “Don’t look so sad. Just keep it in mind for next time.” Wisp nods frantically.

    “Will!” He looks up and smiles at Arthur.

    “Your hair is an absolute mess.” He smoothes out the damp strands, shaking his head. “Were you washing your bows? I’m sorry I interrupted.”

    “Fine!” He giggles. “Nice see!” Arthur’s heart thumps at his cute expression.

    “Have you found the person you think Natalia was talking about?” Wisp shakes his head slowly.

    “Maybe… Don’t know…” He scrunches up his nose and brows.

    “If you have someone in mind, do you mind telling me who?” Instead of saying something, Wisp just points at him. “Me?” He nods sheepishly. Arthur can’t help but smile. “I had you in mind too.” Wisp lets out a happy puff of air through his nose.

    “Yay!” He giggles, and hops up to bounce around excitedly. “Love Arthur! Arthur love back!” He bounds around the Brit, who’s still on the ground. “Oh! Can date!?”

    “How do you know that word?”

    “Natalia show movie! Many! Know kiss too. Can kiss?” Arthur bows his head to hide his blush. Wisp crawls into his lap to look at his face, worrying that he may have upset him.

    “Yes, we can kiss,” he practically whispers. Wisp hums happily, and presses his lips to Arthur’s. The kiss is sloppy, and a bit too smiley, but it’s absolutely perfect to him.