Jon Snow*Couldn't Resist
Pairing: Jon x f!reader (could be modern or not)
Kinktober Day six: over stimulation with Jon Snow – Jon is eager to please but even more eager to make you a mumbling mess who doesn’t know their own name by the end
Word count: 1114
Warnings: over stimulation, multiple orgasm, fingering, f! receiving oral, dry humping, neck kissing, slight begging, needy Jon, p in v sex, unprotected sex, smut 18+
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Soft black hair tickled the skin of your cheek, rousing you from your slumber. As your eyes fluttered open a moan escaped your lips as you felt soft lips against your neck, sucking softly on the skin. “Jon?” You yawned, glancing down at the man who was already all over you before the sun had risen.
He hummed against your skin, lips never leaving your skin as he worked his way down your neck. “What are you doing?” you asked, noticing his hand softly running up your bare thigh. After a long night with your husband under the sheets last night you had fallen asleep bare, something Jon found to be irresistible apparently.
“Kissing you,” he said, his lips trailing along your collar bones, “Feeling you,” he murmured, his hand running up your inner thigh. You shivered when his fingers ran over your wet cunt, “Touching you,” he finally added, his lips edging farther down your chest, “Need you,” he muttered against your skin making you chuckle lightly.
“You had me last night,” you giggled, “over and over, and over again,” you teased, your fingers toying with his hair.
“Not enough,” he said, his lips moving down your stomach. You sighed in content as he made his way further down, moaning lightly as his finger rubbed over your clit in slow circles, his lips edging further down. “Wanna taste you,”
You hummed, figuring you had time for now, “Just once sweetheart. I know what you’re like,” you said, hands still holding his soft locks.
Jon laughed as your skin, “Have no clue what you’re on about love,” he said and before you could chastise and remind him of last night, he had placed a soft kiss to your clit making you whine, your back arching slightly, “Just wanna make you feel good,” he said, warm breath fanning your wet cunt making shivers radiate up your body,
His hands held your thighs, pushing them over his shoulders as he licked a stripe up your cunt making you tense in anticipation. His hands locked around your legs, keeping your hips steady as he began to lick greedy tongues up your cunt, devouring you like a starved dog.
Your hands twisted in his hair, toes curling as his lips moved up to suck your clit, his fingers edging in your hole. You gasped when you felt him ease two fingers in but moaned as he began to move them slowly, curling them with expert position like he’d studied your body for a lifetime.
Jon moaned against your cunt, vibrations running up your body making your skin tingle. Your heels dug into his back, and you could feel the way he was humping the bed, giving himself his own slight release as he worked on yours.
It didn’t take long in your sleep ridden haze for a warm feeling to spread through your stomach. “Fuck,” you whined, as you came to your peak. Jons tongue did not stop even as your body did, your legs twitching around your head, “Just one,” you whined, pushing at his shoulder.
“Cmon baby,” Jon whined, his face wet with your juices, “One more please? I’ll be good after this I swear,”
You whined before nodding, “Fine,” you said, and the words had barley left your lips before he dove back in. this time his tongue darting inside you making your body shudder. These moans were harder to contain especially when his nose moved to nuzzle perfectly into your clit.
Your second peak arrived even quicker than the first but as you reached this one you felt your hips bucking, hand clenching Jons hair tight, as you grinded onto his face. Your movements only spurred Jon on as soon his fingers had return, this time slipping three in with ease as he moved up to suck your sensitive bundle of nerves again. His fingers were faster this time, his teeth grazing your clit, and no sooner had your second orgasm finished did your third hit like a fallen castle.
You could barley contain the moans, biting into your arms to try stop yourself as your body twitched under Jon. His movements didn’t stop till your hands began to push his head away, not feeling like you could face another as your legs continued to twitch.
Jon crawled up your body, his lips kissing your cheek and jaw gently as his hips rutted into yours. his hard cock rubbing into your stomach as he searched for friction, “Please,” he murmured against your skin, “Let me fuck you please,” he begged, kissing your skin desperately.
You nodded making him look up from the crook of your neck, his eyes searching your face for approval. You nodded at him, not sure if you were even able to speak yet. Jon knew your signal to stop, a double tap on the shoulder, but with your nod and no tap he waisted no time in lining his cock up with your ready hole.
As he sunk his cock in you gasped, your hole already so sensitive from before. Jon however was still desperate for release so as his lips latched to your nipple, his free hand playing with the other, his hips began to snap against yours setting a relentless pace. “Fuck Jon I-I,” you gasped, interrupted by your own moans as you felt another orgasm approaching.
Jon moved his hand to under your back, pulling it up to arch your back to hit a new spot which caused your eyes to roll into your skull as a fourth orgasm crashed down on you. his thrusts did not stop but the way your cunt squeezed him just made his pace quicken.
He was determined to milk one more out of you as his hand dropped your back letting you sink into the bed but now his hand slipped between your bodies till, he was rubbing fast circles into your clit. His lips left your skin as he lent up, allowing himself to fuck you deeper as his hand came up to cover your mouth as your moans probably echoed through the walls.
You looked up at him through hooded eyes, admiring his body for the few moments you had before your final peak arrived making your legs clench around Jon which only pulled him in deeper. You vaguely heard cursing as you rode out your final orgasm, but you released why as you felt Jon spill inside you.
After a few moments of him catching his breath Jon rolled to lay beside you, glancing at you with a sorry smile, “What happened,” you started to ask, panting as you looked to your husband, “to just one?”
“Couldn’t resist,”
Taglist: @clairacassidy @nyotamalfoy @valeskafics
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Ma’am your writhing is immaculate!!! If possible can we have a rafayel falling backwards?
falling backwards
rafayel; 1,670 words; fluff, fem!reader, no "y/n", slight!suggestiveness, fade to black, the slightest spoilers for raf's bday card, existential cuteness?
summary: the sky forgets, but the sea remembers
a/n: this is rly short and sweet, with a sprINKLE of spice in there for the bday boi!! happy belated my fav mermaid oi
lost and found.
He has waited for you for a thousand years.
And like, this he thinks he could wait for you a thousand more.
“Do you remember?” he asks, his thumb running along the thick rim of his coffee mug, the morning sun pouring thick and lemon-sweet through the endless windows of his vast studio.
“A little,” you say, your eyes fixed on your own coffee, steam still rising in faint, ghostly tendrils above the milky surface.
“Only a little?” Rafayel sighs, leaning back in his chair, his white shirt buttoned carelessly to the middle of his chest, revealing a strip of smooth, unmarred skin beneath. You lick your lips and take a sip of your steaming coffee, cheeks warming as you try to look anywhere else.
“I was just a kid…” you say, a little rueful of his disappointment, but Rafayel only laughs, leaning forward to dip a finger into the chantilly cream dollopped on top of the bowl of fruit sitting in the middle of the table. He reaches out and swipes a bit onto the tip of your nose, making you jerk back, going slightly cross-eyed as you frown.
“Hey!”
“There she is —” he nods, apparently satisfied as he sucks the remaining cream from the tip of his finger, eyes flickering up to meet yours, “There’s that laugh I love so much…”
You somehow find it in yourself to blush and look away, the abashedness of all your previous and younger years welling up inside you, only to crest up your neck and into your cheeks like the morning tide, staining your skin in the color of sunrise. Rafayel watches you with a pleased glint in his eyes, his tongue flickering out to wet his lips.
“You promised you’d come back for me,” he says, pushing his mouth up into a childish pout. You fight the urge to roll your eyes.
“That I don’t remember,” you say, petulant, as you wipe the bit of cream from your nose, scrunching your face to make sure there’s no more. But it’s a lie — though not entirely. You do remember, but only in the way the most important memories always fade with time, tucking themselves into the forgotten corners of your mind until they’re needed. And then up they come, floating to the top of your mind’s eye in flickers and goldfish flashes, like brightly colored fins caught in the morning light, just beneath the water’s shimmering surface.
“Liar,” Rafayel says, and you don’t refute him. He takes a long sip of his coffee and casts his eyes towards the distant horizon beyond his huge, studio windows. The air smells of burgeoning spring, of melting snow and drying paint. Of empty canvases and seafoam and the dewdrops lingering on the leaves of freshly budding flowers.
You press your palms to the warmth of the thick ceramic mug cupped between your hands.
“But… you found me again, didn’t you?”
a whole new world.
The entire world is 70% water. So you know this. So Rafayel tells you.
“The other 30% though, I had no way of seeing, of knowing —” his eyes are faraway as you sit, shoulders pressed against each other, a thick blanket wrapped around you both as the morning chill threatens to seep right into the marrow of your bones.
“I wanted to see the world — the whole world — not just the parts that were sunken under water.”
He says the words sunken like a curse, but you lower your eyes to your hands, clasped in your lap, and you wonder if things enveloped by the soft embrace of water might have it better than the bits of the world doomed to be above it.
“Y’know… I wanted to be a pilot when I was a kid,” you say, leaning back and casting your eyes far up towards the endless sky, the horizons brightening in silken steams of pinks and yellows. Still, the sky directly above you with color of a healing bruise, and a thick, unrelenting darkness simmers along the opposite skyline like a crouched cat, waiting for the sun to turn her head before leaping back up again.
“You did? I thought… well, honestly, I thought all Hunters would’ve wanted to become Hunters from when they were kids.”
You shrug, laughing, “You’re not wrong, but… I thought — how cool must it be to fly the planes that Hunters rode in for their bigger missions? How cool would it be to pilot something into Deepspace? I mean… there’s so much out there that we don’t know…”
Rafayel turns toward you. You flash him a soft, indulgent smile.
“So… in that sense, we’re not so different — we both wanted to see part of the world that we hadn’t before. Parts of the world that we didn’t have access to but… I was thinking about it and… isn’t that a kind of running away too?”
Rafayel stills, his breath going shallow as he turns back to watch the far horizon, where the dawn is rising like a great phoenix, feathers burning, her throat full of bright orange light, and suddenly, all the stories and legends make sense.
“The sea remembers everything the sky forgets…” Rafayel says, never taking his eyes off the rising sun, “That’s what my teacher used to tell me. Artists — we try to remember the things that the world tries to forget too — we paint moments and feelings, try to capture a second in time, even though we’re doomed to fail, over and over again.”
You turn to glance at him, and you catch him staring. Your eyes meet and it’s not so unlike the colliding of lost stars. He reaches out to trace a finger along the edge of your cheek and you feel your breath burning like sunrise in your chest, and suddenly, there’s an entire world caught in your belly, a rising dawn feathering its way out of your throat —
Kiss me, you want to say. Instead, you say, “Happy birthday.”
Thanks, it looks like he might say.
He leans in to kiss you instead.
calculations.
Later, when the sun has risen and set once more, when the tides have come and gone again, when the moon hangs high and envious in the late winter sky and he has his lips pressed to yours, the taste of your pleas slick and sweet on his tongue, he wonders if a lifetime under water has just been preparation for this.
He traces the seashell shapes of his fingers along the white sand beaches of your skin, dropping kisses into the moonlit pools caught in the dip of your collarbones.
“R-Raf —”
He savors in the way your breath catches and cuts, the way he can sever them with silver scissors as he laves his tongue across the midnight bruises blooming along your shoulder, your chest, your hips, the soft, plush insides of your thighs.
“Don’t you think you owe me at least this much?” he asks, his own voice a soft rasp as he pulls back, panting, “After leaving me alone all those years ago… making me wait for so long?”
You keen, head pressing back into the soft feather-down pillows of the mountain-top chalet, lips kissed pink, your cheeks flushed dark with color.
“I — please — more —”
“Mm…” Rafayel grins as he cocks his head, drinking in the sight of you spread out beneath him, “Since you asked so nicely…”
He figures that the human body is also made 70% water. Of salt and gravity. Of the mind forgetting while the body remembers.
Of oxygen and the stuff of lost and wandering stars.
“Tell me one more time,” he says, bending down to graze his lips along your earlobe. He savors in the way your body shakes with shivers, the slick of sweat, the soft break in your voice as moan his name.
“Raf - a - yel — please. I want — I want you.”
hiraeth.
“Do you… ever miss home?”
You try to think about how it might feel to miss a home you can no longer go back to, to come from a place that everyone around you has written off as legend — about the doubt and uncertainty, but about the freedom too.
It’s the morning after, except this time, you’re tucked into the bend of his arm, your ankles locked beneath the twisted sheets, his hair a tangled mess, haloed around his face against the soft white of the pillows.
“Home… doesn’t always have to be a place, y’know.”
“Yeah… I know that.”
“Oh? You do?”
Rafayel smiles, a thing of tenderness and salt, even as he tucks you close. Like this, you wonder if he knows that there’s an entire ocean locked beneath the dark of his gaze.
“Sure I do. Ever since that day — on the beach, my home hasn’t really been Lemuria.”
You swallow passed the dryness collecting in your throat like so much soft, white sand.
“Then…”
Rafayel lets out a puff of laughter, turning his eyes towards the ceiling.
“C’mon, I thought you had to be smart to pass the Hunter exams.”
You crinkle your nose and inch in closer.
“Maybe… maybe I just want to hear you say it.”
You don’t miss the way his ears go red as he makes a show of sighing, glancing back towards you with a helpless smile.
“Fine, fine — ahem… here it goes,” he says, clearing his throat with perhaps too much pomp and circumstance.
“Ever since that day on the beach… my home hasn’t really been Lemuria…” his voice trails off as his eyes soften and he turns to face you properly, the teasing lilt seeping from his voice until the only thing left is warmth and honesty and you can’t help but hold your breath.
“Since then… my home’s always been… you.”
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love is in the air.
. . . and maybe that's why mikage reo can view the world with such clouded, pink-hued vision, and why nagi seishiro cannot breathe at all.
series. nagi + reader + reo. no gendered terms, but some implications of m! reader. reader likes boys. bestfriend! nagi. valentines/white day. highschool setting. swearing. humor. fluff & angst.
a/n. repost bc it wasnt showing up in tags T-T i js want a shoujo anime w these two as the MLs...
prev ┊ next ┊ 01 … 02 … 03
⊹ 01 : my dear partner [wc: 4.7k]
TWO YEARS AGO
“…dude. you're scaring all the hoes away.”
nagi watches your lips move, though he barely registers anything you've been saying since he has stopped listening a while ago—which, honestly, comes as no surprise to anyone.
there’s no real reason to be so lethargic at this hour (it's already late noon, plus he surprisingly had a decent amount of sleep the previous night for once), nor the time to think about trivial things, but he can’t help but think about how exactly every single thing stopped being so bothersome like it used to.
he can't quite pinpoint what brought on this gradual change, but if he had to, then it’d probably be three springs ago—when he’d wake up a little earlier than usual to the gentle kiss of the sun through his window and the cherry blossoms were in perfect bloom. around that time is when he’d received his quiet companion choki, he’d finally scored top 1 in the leaderboards after months and months of grinding in his favorite mobile game, and… when you’d first sat next to him in middle school.
for as long as he remembers, you were simply just there. an unexpected oddity that has not only forced its way through, but has also wedged firmly into every aspect in his life. and somehow, he’d concluded that maybe some things weren't so bad—that some things weren't such a hassle to him after all.
“move, idiot. at this point you might as well hold my hand.” the snow-haired male barely hears your voice over his wandering thoughts, stumbling from the light shove you give him. he has now become acutely aware of your swinging hand, wary of the close proximity and the faint buzz of static that lingers on his skin. huh. maybe it is better to move away.
still, he’d rather not reposition himself. it’s too much work, he’d like to reason, and it's certainly not because of anything else… maybe. he doesn't really know for sure. what he does know though, is that the space beside him suddenly feels strangely empty.
when he looks at you to see a pout forming on your lips, he can't help but sigh. you're being unreasonable. there's something that's been nagging his curiosity for a while now, and it took him quite a bit to realize what it is.
“seishirooo,” you whined one day, allowing your head to sink against his mattress, taking up nearly the whole space while nagi sits at the corner of the bed. you came over to his place that day to bother him, stating that you needed some comfort because apparently, “no one ever looks at me. i feel so damn invisible.” he shrugged and offered you his controller, challenging you to a 1v1 with him as a distraction.
“…but i look at you all the time?” he replied.
“yeah, but that's different.” and he would've asked you to elaborate more, if not for the fact that you've been horribly vague about it when he does ask, and the perpetually sleepy gamer only has so much patience before he gives up and decides it's something not worth spending his energy on.
besides, you're always emotional like that. this was probably just another one of your fleeting phases.
it's not until he notices you've been longingly gazing at the couples on the campus, quietly seething under your breath that it finally clicks. now, he may not have the greatest understanding when it comes to feelings and all its complexities, but even he can tell you’re reeking with jealousy.
despite being pushed off only seconds ago, nagi shuffles closer again as he falls into step beside you. even if sparks prick his skin, it feels right in this way. “dunno why you ‘need’ hoes when you already have me.”
“just because i'm into guys doesn’t mean that i like you in that way,” you mutter, sending him an odd glance like you thought there’s something wrong with his head for even suggesting that. not knowing how to respond, he settles for staring right back without a word.
“what's with that look? you know what i mean, seishiro.” you continue, averting your gaze from him. what look? he asks internally. “it's just, well, literally everyone is getting into relationships. and i know we're still first years, but… it just feels like i’m missing out, y’know?
“do you really? sounds like a hassle to me,” he shrugs, and it truly does—he never saw the appeal of dumb crushes, of drama nearly every day, of possible unrequited “love,” or of wasting half your time and energy on someone just for it to not mean anything at all in the end. video games sound way more fun, and way less heartbreak inducing.
“you can't say that when you haven’t even experienced it,” you argue, still pouting.
“it’s overrated anyways. being single is better.”
“hah! of course you’d say that, you virgin.”
“you’re one to talk,” nagi boredly quips. “i’m celibate purely by choice, but you on the other hand… if you really think about it, you're basically an incel.”
nearly choking on your spit, you exclaim, “hah?!”
“you don't even really talk to other guys except for me, and on top of that, you're barely approached by anybody,” he explains in a matter-of-fact tone, oblivious to the way his best friend’s confidence waning rapidly by the second the more he speaks.
“yeah? and who’s fault is it, you cockblocker!”
nagi simply sticks a tongue out as you flip him off.
right after that, the two of you ended up breaking into a sprint as you heard the clicking sound of heels walking on the tiles around the corner, not wanting to get caught for skipping classes. well, you ran, and just dragged him by the wrist. he felt the warmth of your fingers even through the thick barrier of his baggy sleeve.
PRESENT
you try not to trip and fall face first as a cold hand guides you through the crowded hallway.
it's embarrassing enough as it is to be rushing through the middle of the corridor and pushing past the bodies of random students like you're a main character or some sort, but even more so when the (apparently) most popular guy of the campus that you’ve (never) seen is walking right in front of you.
and it gets even more humiliating when said popular guy has taken hostage of your wrist, leading you away to a more secluded area. shocked, harsh whispers echo throughout nearly the whole floor, and multiple eyes shoot daggers at the fingers wrapped around the sleeve of your uniform, and you’ve never wanted to bury yourself alive more than this moment.
after rounding a corner into a miraculously empty hallway, you finally skid to a stop, yanking your hand away, ready to pounce at the culprit who made you go through all that unnecessary attention. however, before you can get a word in, the refined male bows his head low in front of you, and you find yourself face-to-face with sleek purple locks.
“i’m sorry, but i have no time for dating. i’m really flattered, though. i hope we can stay friends still.” he hurriedly says, hope gleaming in his matching purple eyes.
…what.
who is he again? and why is he rejecting you?
for some reason, you find the stranger’s gaze too bright that you have to look away; so you do exactly that, tilting your chin downwards instead and letting your hair mask your expression.
after a few beats of silence, he clears his throat. “i'm really sorry, it hurts me to see you look so down… i’m sure we can put this behind us and—”
“nice shoes,” you interrupt, still not raising your head to meet his now confused stare. “i can tell you really love wearing them, judging by the busted, worn out stitches. hey, is it just me or is that prada logo kinda wonky too?”
the male's jaw drops down nearly all the way to the floor.
“pardon me?” he says through gritted teeth, keeping his composure by flashing his usual award-winning smile, albeit a lot more stiffer. “i know i just rejected you, but you don't have to be so hostile…”
when you finally raise your head, your expression can only be described as terribly and solemnly unamused, unimpressed beyond words.
then, you suddenly lean closer, peering closely into his violet irises with thoughtful hum. an unwilling flush of red creeps on the tips of the boy’s ears, his eyes widening comically at the sudden intrusion of space. “you’ll do,” nodding to yourself, you now grab his wrist and pull him away. “come.”
“w-wait, huh? where are we go—”
“you're the one who made me late. let's go!”
reo isn't quite sure why he's the one being dragged away now.
he has only initially planned to gently turn down the person who last confessed to him, whose family just so happened to be related to his father’s business partners—but now he somehow finds himself on a whole date with that person? (the same one who brazenly insulted him by implying his shoes are fake, by the way!)
“i have other plans today, you know…” the heir says, subtly trying to inch away from you.
you tug him back by his sleeve, with twice as much force than he had used on you earlier. “i can imagine, my dear partner.”
“w-what?” reo stutters, and he's cringes at himself for how he's acting at the moment. the usually composed and charming mikage reo, now reduced to a stuttering and blushing mess? how embarrassing.
“normally my best friend would do this with me, but he slept in today.” leave it to seishiro to leave me all alone on the day that actually matters, you irritatedly mutter under your breath. “well, whatever. come on.”
as you and him enter the packed bubble tea shop, the fingers that were wrapped around his sleeve slides down to interlace with reo’s own clammy ones. he realizes this a second too late, and before he has the chance to let go, the clerk by the entrance greets them with an enthusiastic “welcome, lovebirds!”
“huh?!” reo’s jaw slackens, dumbfounded. he’s really starting to hate himself now—it's unbecoming of him, really, but it's hard to process everything when you're so close to him that the scent of your shampoo keeps invading his senses and subsequently messing with his head.
“here’s your special tickets for today. thank you for participating, and happy valentines!” you drag him straight to the back, where the colorful claw machines are set up. reo catches a glimpse of the pink posters set up on the walls of the quaint shop, which reads: couples get free special tickets! today only! …ah. that's why he's here.
“aoi-san… you're gripping too tight,” he says, gritting his teeth together into a forced smile.
“aoi?” you repeat, your grip finally loosening until you let go entirely. “huh… i see. by the way, what's your name again?”
needless to say, the purple-haired male is beyond perplexed. “is this your unique attempt at a joke or something?”
“come on, rich boy. we've held hands and i don’t even know your name!”
“right… which i totally wasn't being forced to do…” he lets out an awkward laugh. sure, some admirers of his tend to get a tad excessive, but they were never able to get far with him, much less forcibly drag him out on a date—and it's not even because they want him to spend his unlimited budget on them and spoil them rotten, but just so they can get… a free special ticket for a claw machine. how did he end up getting in this bizarre situation? more importantly, how does he get out?
you simply shrug. “your fault, rich boy. you should try thinking about anyone other than yourself for once.”
“excuse me?” he narrows his eyes, slightly peeved. he's had enough of your rude attitude; potential business partner or not, he hopes that he never has to interact with you again in the future. “stop calling me that. i have a name, and it's mikage reo.”
the way your eyes widen doesn't go unnoticed by him. “and what did you even mean by that?” he presses defensively.
you plop down on the seat, with reo mirroring you as you insert the rouge ticket decorated with pink hearts into the slot of the claw machine. “well, mikage reo. i’m sure you're aware how aoi’s family is important, right?”
yeah, this person is definitely a weirdo, reo muses. who refers to themselves in third person?
“i heard they had connections everywhere… just like you. it's crucial to maintain a good relationship with someone like that, right?” you conclude—that would explain why reo had taken the time to personally talk to “aoi” one-on-one instead of just flat out rejecting them on the spot.
reo tilts his head to the side. “i’m not following…?”
“mikage.” you emphasize, looking at him straight in the eye before turning your attention back to playing. “i’m saying that the poor kid’s still waiting for an answer. your heartfelt and sincere rejection, to be exact.”
a few seconds of silence pass. well, as silent as it can be with the loud chattering of the crowd and the mechanical whirrs of the claw machine you're currently messing with resounding in the air.
“you mean, you're not…” reo trails off, all color draining from his face. “i’m so, so sorr—”
“aoi’s the one you should apologize to, not me. oh, i got a double! how lucky.” you eagerly grab the prize, the limited edition valentine’s merch exclusive to this boba shop; a plushie collectible that comes with a redeemable code for your favorite video game. you want to collect all of them, but you’re broke as hell and you’re only here due to the free ticket. turning to reo, you shove the second plushie to his chest. “here, this is for you. since you did help me out with getting these.”
“ah, thank you…” reo absentmindedly accepts the small toy, still reeling on how he could make such a careless mistake. “listen, i do apologize—”
“i wonder how'd you even mix us up. is it ‘cause we have the same hair color?” you ask, slightly amused because aside from that, you and aoi look nothing alike. your fingers tap on the surface of the control panel, observing reo’s shame-stricken visage. “or maybe… is it because everyone just looks the same to you?”
at that moment, mikage reo realizes two things: (1) maybe he's more transparent and vulnerable than he thinks, and (2) you're dangerous, and it's better to stay far, far away from you. how could you see right through him so quickly? what if that's something you'll use against him?
he doesn't like to admit it, but it's true—in his perspective, everyone's the same. they're just after him for money and status, and at some point, they've all just become faceless, superficial pawns vying for his attention.
and of course, you’re no exemption.
noticing he’s gone quiet, you continue, “but i guess if my world was as vast as yours, i couldn't possibly keep up with everything either, so i get it. i’m not saying i’m in the same situation as you, but i can kind of relate, i guess. i only keep the ones who's important to me close, and the rest just exist and do whatever. i’m selective, but in that way, at least i can give my all to the ones that really matter.”
reo closes his mouth shut. here you are casually saying that you don't matter to him, and while that isn't a lie in the slightest, he still can't help but feel guilty. maybe it's just the people-pleaser in him, or maybe it’s the way the corners of your lips are slightly quirked up and to form a miniscule, accepting smile, but he wants to reassure you, “still, i’m sure you feel that—”
“i don’t.” you don't mind that he didn't know you, because you didn't even know him either—there’s no reason for you to take it personal. you’d be a hypocrite otherwise. “i really don’t.”
you smile at him. he thinks it's out of understanding, but unbeknownst to him you're actually just entertained by how his inner turmoil is so clearly reflected on his expression. “so don’t worry about it. plus, we’re even now.” you add, gesturing towards the prize.
hopping off the stool, you wave at him as you start to walk away. “...happy valentines. i'll see you around, mikage. maybe. er, probably not.”
“wait!” he hurriedly jumps off the stool as well, clutching the plushie in his hand as he follows after you. “i… let me drive you home.” the words stumble out before he even realizes what he's saying. you're probably just using him, and you're dangerous, and you see right through him, and he should stop wasting his time because his actual valentine's date is probably three seconds away from storming out the restaurant he's booked at—
so why is he doing this?
“drive?” you repeat, because of course he’d have a driver. damn rich people, you think internally. “nuh uh. it's like a ten minute walk, and i’d rather save the environment.”
“then i’ll walk with you.”
“you do realize i’m done dragging you for the day, right?” you quirk a brow up, amused; you could've sworn he was itching to get the hell away half an hour ago. “you're free. you can go home if you want.”
reo smiles, a more genial one this time. “i know.”
“so, you into popular guys now?”
“hell no.”
nagi narrows his eyes at you. “you’re just into reo, then?”
while you expected to be grilled first thing in the morning by random people about your apparent relationship with mikage reo (to which you simply replied, “i don’t know who that is, sorry,” and proceeded to run away), you didn't expect to be interrogated by your apathetic best friend as well.
usually, nagi prefers to be completely silent during the 1st period (and actually all the way through lunch), not bothering to utter more than a few words, but today, he seems uncharacteristically on edge, waiting for you at the corner of the gym with a wrinkle between his brows.
“why are you on a first name basis with him?”
“everyone calls him reo.” he shrugs. “why him?”
“i never said i was into him.”
“then what's all that partner thing about?” he asks, which confuses you a bit. you doubt that reo would go around announcing to everyone how you teasingly called him ‘partner’ and practically dragged him to a date against his will, but it's not like him and nagi are close either, so you wonder where nagi has heard this information from. then, you suddenly recall back to yesterday, where you saw the curtain of your neighbor’s bedroom window swinging side-to-side, as if it was drawn close a mere second before you looked up.
it seems that your mind wasn't playing tricks with you after all, and that a certain someone was eavesdropping on your conversation with reo as he walked you to your door.
“fake partners, you mean? and it was a just a joke—i met him that day.”
“that day? why are you acting so close if you've just met that day?”
“you're awfully talkative today, seishiro.”
“i know. it's making me exhausted, and it's all your fault.” he then presses his weight against you, leaning his forehead on your shoulder—as he always does when he's tired and you're within reach. your eyes widen immediately, darting around the gymnasium to see if any of your classmates has noticed.
you don't want people to get the wrong idea about you two. it's not because it kills your chances with anyone due to the assumption that you aren't single (which you still very much are, by the way), or even because of potential issues of being a two-timer due to a certain rich boy—it's just that whenever you get asked if you and your best friend are together, you can't help but flinch from the idea, like ice is being poured inside the back of your shirt. you don’t really know what to call it, but you do know that you've answered the question a hundred times and you're positively sick of it.
“i told you to stop doing this in public,” you hiss, trying to push the giant, clingy sloth off you. “and stop whining, nagi. i’m not going anywhere. besides, i’m not even looking for a relationship or anything like that. not after… you know, what happened during our first year.”
he lifts his head up, frowning at you. “don’t call me nagi. just ‘cause you met a new guy doesn't mean you get to call me nagi.”
you raise an unimpressed brow. what’s his problem? “only if you stop whining.”
“…‘m not.” he slurs his words together, only proving your point.
“yes you are!”
“why do you have to be so annoying? you're such a pain,” he sighs, now walking away from you.
“i'm the annoying one?! and don't call me a pain, you—!” without hesitation, you promptly snatch a red ball from the steel ball cart beside you before swinging your arm at him, slamming the dodgeball right to his head. well, you tried to, at least; even with his back facing towards you, nagi only takes one step to the side to avoid it.
“your shitty aim sucks balls,” the tall male comments unenthusiastically, his white fringe falling over his eyes as he gazes at you over his shoulder. his nonchalance only spurs you on, now hauling multiple dodgeballs at him.
“how about you suck my ba—”
“give it up already. you're never gonna hit me.” and nagi actually has the audacity to yawn mid-dodge. of course, it only fuels your irritation even more. you eventually run out of balls to throw, so you mindlessly grab the nearest object to your right and chuck that as well.
…which unfortunately, happens to be nagi’s phone that he's snuck inside the gym, peeking under a face towel on the bench.
“oh, fu—”
because of your (rightfully) so-called shitty aim, it swung way up high to the left, a few steps away from nagi. in less than a second, he realizes what you have flung at him, and his body moves instinctively; he throws himself towards it, swinging his leg upward and trapping it with his foot with perfect ease before it has the chance to plummet down on the floor.
“why are you making me move so much…” he sighs. “what a pain.”
“you’re supposed to move anyways, we're in PE. you're welcome,” you smugly reason out. and then not even a second later you fold, shoulders curling inwards as you glance toward his phone; if it weren't for his godly reflexes, you would've broken it. with a small voice, you meekly add, “sorry.”
nagi shrugs in response.
when he saunters over to place his phone on the bench again, a silver glint catches your eye. a small charm swings lightly, small beads of white and black strung haphazardly together attached to the side of his phone case.
“wait, this is…” a phone charm crafted by hand, which is your birthday present for him four years ago. “i didnt know you still had that.”
“why wouldn't i?”
“where was it this whole time? this wasn't here a few days ago.”
“i just kept it in my drawer ‘cause i don’t wanna lose it.”
tilting your head to the side, you ask, “so why'd you suddenly decide to attach it to your phone now?”
he looks away, scratching the back of his neck. “…dunno.”
eyes dropping into slits, you mutter, “you know, that kinda sounds sus—”
“hey! that was amazing! nagi, right? you should play soccer with me!”
nagi and yourself both turn to the direction of the sudden voice, seeing a familiar figure running towards you, vivid purple eyes gleaming under the gymnasium’s stark white lights.
“mikage?” you exclaim.
ever so slightly, nagi sharpens his usual droopy eyes. “nah.” he immediately says, turning on his heel.
“seishiro? wait, weren't you supposed to be looking for a club?”
“don’t really care.” you follow him, lightly jogging to keep up. as soon as you catch up by his side, the taller male glances at you as he asks, “will you join too?”
is he seriously asking you that… “no?”
“then i won't.” nagi concludes as he continues to walk away from reo.
“hey, wait up!” reo calls out, placing a hand on your shoulder. “ah, i was completely shut down… say, will you help me convince him?”
your brows shoot up as your gaze flicks down where he's casually touching you. after your initial confusion of who he is yesterday, you then recognize him after learning his name—the most popular boy in school, known for his good looks, charisma, and most especially, his wealth. he gets along well with literally everyone, and acts genuinely close with them even if they aren't.
“uh, why should i?”
“remember that limited edition merch you like? i can get you the rest of the collection. in fact, i’ll even buy out the whole place just for you.”
“wha– seriously?” you feel your eye twitch. damn rich people. “it was limited edition. they all ran out of stock already.”
“i have my ways.” well, that's not shady at all. he flashes a grin at your skepticism, winking at you, “anything for my partner.”
and you now understand why he's earned his title. this is probably how he always gets what he wants—with a smile like that, anyone would drop to their knees and do whatever he’d ask. two years ago, you would've keeled over for attention like this, but now, you're nothing but indifferent.
he places his hands on both of your shoulders now, completely stopping you from taking off. wide violet eyes scrutinize your own, making you scrunch your nose at the close proximity. “shouldn't you be begging him and not me?”
“yeah, but...” reo swears he feels an air of animosity radiating from the white-haired male, and that's why he has decided to turn you instead. “you wouldn't leave your partner hanging, right? as partners, we help each other out, riiiight?” he says, dragging his words out.
you lean as far as you physically can from his grip, but he doesn't seem to care, excitedly looking at you with stars evident in his eyes. “mikage, you—” he smiles at you, bright and blinding, and you find yourself withering under his intense gaze. “okay, fine, just—”
“well, that's settled then! they’re joining the club too, nagi seishiro. they can be our manager.” you briefly wonder why he didn't outright offer to have you join the team, but he probably saw how you threw the dodgeballs earlier… though it's not like you have to use your hands in soccer, so what the hell, this is kind of insulting.
“says who, mikage?”
“you're gonna come watch all our games?” he negotiates.
“why don’t you offer that i join the team?”
“ahahaha. haha. hah.” he laughs awkwardly, swinging an arm around your shoulder and ultimately evading your question.
because you were too busy trying to shrug him off, you miss the way nagi’s eyes zero on to reo’s arm around you, wordlessly observing the whole interaction with his lips pressed taut.
you still don’t know why reo hasn't moved away; he's so close that you can see the dark amethyst specks in his irises, the long strands that frame his face are lightly tickling your cheek, and if you lean in even just an inch, you can practically—
“you said anything i want, right?” your voice drops to a low whisper, and reo nods slowly, still seemingly oblivious to the lack of space between you.
“then... what if i said i wanted a kiss?”
reo’s smile drops immediately, recoiling away from you as if you've slapped him, his whole entire face heating up all the way to the tips of his ears. finally out of his grasp, you erupt into boisterous laughter, shaking your head as you leave the flustered boy alone and catching up to nagi.
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“Poor Unfortunate Soul Reprise” octopus hybrid!Scaramouche x reader nsfw
A/N: picture for reference of Cecaelia the actual term for the myth being (male reference). Sorry this took so long it was collecting dust in my folder for a while due to cliche AO3 author shit but I hope you enjoy!
You couldn’t tell how much time has passed but what you do know is you’re sore like you’ve been hit by a truck, stirring awake enough to feel someone cradling you in their arms and tiny waves of water lapping at your shins. The cool temperature of the water shook your sleep logged mind enough to register that you were still naked and tried to sink deeper into your sleeping companions body warmth.
It was very dark but a small dark red light illuminated the cavern softly, allowing you to see you were in Scaramouche’s more private habitat where no one could see him unless a diver swam into it. Which rarely happened since the last person who tried it ended up with a broken arm and a 4 week recovery period, a silent message from the Cecaelia. “Keep out pathetic weaklings.”
Scaramouche had pale as snow skin like he’d rarely been in the sun for longer than a couple minutes and mix of blues and purples coloring his ear that took on a more webbed fin like appearance. Bits of vibrantly sparkly lavender scales scattering his body from the waist up, giving more of a divine appearance compared to his sharjjp fowl mouth. His tentacles were twitching ever so slightly and almost blending into dark waters, their mass made up of entirely muscles reminding you of their power. A face so gorgeous looking like it was sculpted by the gods or some heavenly being designed to lure people into a sense of calm. Short silky smooth dark violet blue hair with messy cut bangs framing his youthful face and thin but longer hair falling down this back swaying on the surface of the water. Speak of the devil or sea witch rather.
Cecaelia. A term your superiors had found after scouring the library and internet for answers. Happening upon the very name for a being that had the upper of half of a human and the lower half (usually at the waist or hips) of an octopus. They apparently have others unknown abilities being to said to take ‘a form of mermaid or sea demon’ and most often ‘combining the head, arms and torso of a woman (more rarely a man)’.
He could feel you squirming as you woke and chose to leave you to your devices, only worming his tentacles around you for a better grasp and settling his pet into a more comfortable position as you both came to. “Good morning, pet. I can see you had a nice nap.” Scaramouche chuckled to himself as his eyes flicked over every mark adorning your body and wrapping his arms around your waist to bring you closer. “I hope you aren’t too sore Name because I have plans for you but for now rest up.” Kissing gently on your lips and hoping you weren’t too cold or the effects of his blood hadn’t faded.
You hummed in satisfaction and fully relaxed, murmuring a “thank you” before succumbing to the fatigue pulling at your eyelids and leaning into your dear companion. A talk about what your relationship was could be had at a later time. Dreams slowly passed your mind and occupied your attention, provoking thoughts gaining your attention; such as how were you supposed to go back to your job after this happened? Did he like you more than just a one night stand? Well, the way he spoke didn’t seem like he planned on giving you up nor like things would go back to normal. ‘I hope you aren’t too sore Name because I have plans for you but for now rest up.’ Hm.
The stress from all your questions wouldn’t allow you to sleep soundly and ended up waking up anyway, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and stretching. Your head turned to Scara and nudged your head under his chin to wake him up. “Scara I need to talk to you about what the fuck is going to happen after this….thing.” Laughter filled the small cave and bounced off the walls, his arms moved you so you faced him. “And what would you like to talk about, love?” You sucked in a breath and rethought what you wanted to say, “First what are we in terms of our relationship? Second, what plans do you have for me? Three-”
You remember reading some of the documents given to the staff of the mythology and one of the sections was about reproduction or theorized romantic relationships. It was said that cecaelias are likely to mate for life or until one of them reaches death and are loyal to the end when the find the one they love. That couldn’t be what he felt for you right? He did seem seriously about his feelings, not to mention the clear favoritism he held for you as you both grew to become familiar with another.
A feeler covered your mouth before you could finish your sentence and wouldn’t move when you tried pulling it away, glaring at the person responsible. “Don’t look at me. You were the one who was talking too fast for me to understand… hahaha but alright. To answer your first question, I thought I made myself clear. You’re mine now and until I decide so, pet. For the second question, you’re going to help me out of this damn prison and back to your house.” To say you were stunned was an understatement, starting to spew worries about your job and him getting hurt but it was of course muffled by one of his arms gagging your mouth.
“I know, I know. ugh, you humans and your meaningless worries. I assume your anxious about getting fired or in trouble.” His hand stroked your hair soothingly in an attempt to calm you and removed his tentacle so you could speak. You nodded and chose to say nothing about the worry of him getting hurt since all it would do is inflate his ego. “Alright thank you for clarifying but how the fuck am I supposed sneak you out. You’re enormous and I don’t think you can survive on land for long periods of time.”
The violet haired being rolled his eyes and told you you had nothing to worry about, just rely on him and after hours cut the power entirely. Help get Scaramouche get out to your car and then turn it back on so the other animals would be okay but it would seem as if it was simply a power outage. You hesitated but agreed after he told you if you did get caught then he’d take the entire blame and punishment, insisting that it wouldn’t come to that. “Alright, but what time is it?” One of his purple slimy arms pulled a watch from a small crack in the wall next to the light and examined it. “6am. As much as I would love to keep you here, you have work and I have breakfast to eat.”
Right. Work. You hoped it was a relatively low maintenance day and saw your still dampened clothes being handed to you, thanking your now boyfriend and standing on the dryer platform to put your clothes back on. “I just remembered that I have to swim back up to to surface which means my work clothes will get wet. Well, I suppose it was worth it-” A feeler curled its way around your ankle tightly and squeezed, “You suppose?! Ugh, it looks like I didn’t fuck you hard enough did I? Or maybe you’re daring me to test my own stamina like the brat you are.” You scoffed and finished buttoning up your shirt, getting back into the water. Slapping the arm still stuck to your ankle lightly and kissed his cheek, enjoying the light pink flush filling his cheeks and grinning at your small success of making him flustered.
“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. You’ll have to find out. Now, if you want to leave with me tonight then help me get out of here because I don’t know if any security is patrolling this area.” Scaramouche shook his head to get focused again and slipped under the water to check, quickly coming back up to let you know it was all clear. You took a deep breath and sunk underneath the water. The trip to the top of the tank was fast, much faster than if you swam on your own. Fresh air filling your lungs and pulling yourself onto the platform for the trainers, climbing up the ladder and reaching for a towel by a bench with supplies.
Hearing him cough for attention, you went over to fridge and pulled out a sizable part of bass that was already prepared. “Don’t think I forgot about you, discount ursula.” Throwing it to the hybrid and ignoring the glare he sent your way for the insulting nickname, muttering something about being better than whoever this ursula person was. “I must’ve done something right to receive more food than usual. Seems like should keep testing your limits.” He smirked as you muttered curses in anger at him and walked off to change clothes, admiring the visible marks he had left last night and swimming down to enjoy the alone he had before the building opened.
You wandered into the employees only section where the uniforms were kept whenever volunteers would sign up and pulled out your size, changing into them and using your towel to dry your hair. It was still early and you hadn’t had anything to eat so you went to the cafeteria usually meant for customers. Checking the schedule to see which area you’d be covering today and were shocked to see you’d be in charge of Scaramouche’s tank with another person since it was a two person job. “Oh guess I won’t have to stray far from him. Wait this means he won’t bother to hide much since he’ll probably want to torment me more and that means a bigger crowd.”
Grabbing a scone and coffee quickly before heading back up to grab your phone, headphones, and employee badge. You texted your coworker that you had come early and that you were both on cecaelia duty, laughing at the comment Alex made about work being cut out for you both. Well, they weren’t wrong but for you it was for different reasons and went to space in front of his tank to tell him the news. The gate to the employees area unclipped as you got behind the metal railing and pressed a button that was connected so a waterproof speak in the water.
“Scaramouche. I’m going to be working with you today.” Keeping the call button on so he could hear the outside and struggling to keep your chuckling visible when you saw the hybrid swim down so quickly, scaring off a bunch of fish and receiving a hiss from a algae green large moray eel. A small but noticeable smile spread across his face before it disappeared as soon as it appeared most likely to keep up his ‘I don’t care and I hate you all’ act. “Oh! And Alex is working with me too.” He looked visibly displeased and went to swim away before you spoke again. “Wait, regardless I’m going to stay with you. Would you rather me work in another part of the building cause I can make that happen?” You didn’t know if you could but the threat was clear and he gave you an angry look, not saying anything but not disagree either. “That’s what I thought.”
He pressed a hand against the thick glass and only looked at you, what you wouldn’t give to see what was going on in his mind. Pressing your own hand against the glass and smiling, asking him through the intercom if he had a way to get out of the tank. Scaramouche nodded and continued to “talk” with you, on occasion making rude gestures whenever you teased him or caught his soft emotional looks (even if it only happened once in a blue moon). “Name! Hey- Oh Woah! The spitfire legend is out!” Alex jogged over to you and got behind the gate as well, admiring him closely since it was rare to see him out in the open and this close to the glass on his own free will.
“Wow! He’s more beautiful than I thought. What did you do to get him out?” You laughed at their fixed gaze on Scaramouche who clearly was not pleased with the attention solely on him and feigned ignorance. “I don’t know, I just got hear and made my rounds only to see him out.” They laughed and pushed your playfully, “Yeah right. Everyone knows he like you more than anyone here, not to mention you explicitly tell others how not to piss him off. Do you know how many accidents you’ve prevented?” As if to spite you, your lover turned to face you and crossed his arms with a raised eyebrow. Your coworker pointing it out “See even he agrees!” The three of you talked (your beloved nodding or making gestures) as the morning went on slowly, dreading the rush hours and helping people out with directions if they needed it.
Everything was going great and shockingly calm until a swarm of people flooded into the room.
About 25 or 30 people ran up to the metal railing, sending the octopus reeling back in shock and swimming to hide behind a bolder nearby. You and Alex answered the questions you got about the tank’s inhabitant and occasionally checking in on Scaramouche to make sure he was okay. This went well until I very angry mother stormed up you specifically and started screaming at you. “Make him come out!” You flinched at the volume and backed up “Excuse me?”
“Get that thing out so my kid can see him! He’s not doing anything so get him out into the open!” You turned to Alex who gave you a look if you needed help but you shook your head, focusing your attention back on the karen. “I’m sorry but Scaramouche is a cecaelia, not a thing, and second he isn’t fond of crowds so I’m forcing him to out.” What you said only seemed to anger her more and she got face to face with you. “I’ve seen others use cattle prods on him to get him out but you’re telling me there’s nothing you can do?!”
You nod firmly and stand your ground. In no way were you going to hurt Scaramouche even before you knew him or got into a relationship. You would never hurt an animal or any creature. “No, ma’am-” “MA’AM” Interrupting her again you continued, “I refuse to use those things. Now, do I need to call security?” The room was quiet before a loud slap could be heard and you felt her palm hit your face, an audible gasp fall over the crowd and they all stood in silence for a slip second before movement could be heard behind you. Scaramouche who’d been watching (and hearing) the whole ordeal closely and already pissed at this vile woman for yelling at you didn’t bother to control himself when he acted automatically upon seeing you get slapped.
Swimming as fast as possible behind you and flaring his lower half to make himself look bigger than he already was, his tentacles spread out and pressed against the glass. The hybrid would’ve beaten your assaulter had the glass not been in his way and inches thick. His fist banged on the glass to get her attention and gave her a death stare, surely given off how infuriated she’d made him. The woman was to scared to speak, fear overtaking her expression and shaking where she stood. Good. She knew she made a grave mistake and he sharpened his glare, baring his teeth and slamming his fist against the glass. “Run.” Even if he couldn’t be heard, the message was clear. The disgusting trash took of running, her child who apologised profusely to you yelling insults at their mother.
Scaramouche’s eyes remained on yours as he watched and heard several things happen. Alex called security and told them what happened (also to ban the woman specifically from the aquarium and not her kid). Concerned parents and kids asking if you were alright, something his heart warmed at. ‘Maybe not all humans were cruel’ He thought, you and two others from his past were evidence it was true. Finally gaining your attention and hearing you whisper into the radio. “I’m alright, Scara. It doesn’t hurt much, just stings.” Reluctantly, he nodded and stayed at the front of the glass in case something else happened, using his scary and fierce reactions to his advantage if any issues occured.
You could see the concern on his face and breathed a sigh of relief when he didn’t retreat back to the bolder, not that you expected to after that. He could indeed be terrifying when he wanted to be, seeing the speed he moved at from the corner of your eye and how intimidatingly big he made himself seem in response. A response your heart couldn’t help but leap at the protection he gave you even from the other side of a thick transparent wall. “Thank you.” Alex had checked back and examined your cheek after coming back from dealing with the woman. “Are you okay? That’s a stupid question- you just got slapped. She’s gone and not coming back ever.” Their gaze flickered over to the guarded cecaelia still right behind their coworker.
“Thank you, Scaramouche. You’re getting a special dinner for that.” He nodded and glared off to where the woman left, seemingly still peeved at her. “Hey, she’s not coming back she’s banned. You did a good job scaring her off.” These words were all it took for him to calm down at least visibly and turn his attention back to you, lifting a tendril to the glass next to you. Things calmed down and the crowd spoke their apologies incase they had help instigate altercation. A small voice made themselves known as they politely asked others to move aside and stepped up to the railing so they were standing on the lowest rung. “Excuse me? I hope you’re okay! That woman is a nasty meanie. Klee drew this for mister Scaramouche since he reminds me of a prince.”
A small girl maybe 7 or 8 years old with blond hair pulled into pigtails and fiery ruby red eyes handed you a paper depicting a kid’s drawing of the mythical being. He was frowning but wearing a simply drawn crown standing in front of a castle under the ocean, it was clear she took pride in it. You smiled at her and turned partially to show the muse of her art. “Hey, Scara. Klee drew this for you, you like it?” Scaramouche skeptically looked at the drawing and nodded whilst mumbling something that you could guess was a half hearted compliment. You could see the flustered expression on his face as he tried to not show how much he liked it and turned back to Klee to give her art back to her. “Oh. I want him to keep it. I have tons of drawing at home just like that. Thank you Mx Name!”
She waved goodbye to you and Scaramouche who also waved back with a smirk now realizing how many people probably thought the same (not like they could compete with his new favorite kid). “Mommy! The pretty octopus boy liked my picture! I can’t wait to tell big brother Albedo!” “I saw, mama’s so proud. I got a picture you can show him.” You watched as the blond pair walked off to another room, one practically bouncing off the walls and the other calmly intertwining her hands. The day went on significantly more smoothly and nothing else major happened, your lover hadn’t left your side for one second as the day eventually ended and your coworker said goodbye as their shift ended.
It was around closing time when you were preparing dinner for Scaramouche and chatting while he was lounging on the sunken platform. “I’m telling you the plan will go smoothly so stop worrying about. I see your stupid mind whirling away like diver lost in an underwater cave.” You continued to cut the slices of different fish onto a plate with some greens and freshly washed vegetables, taking what he said to heart and hoping it would all go according to plan. “Are you sure you want to leave? I don’t know if you’ll be able to go outside what with people knowing what you look like-”
“After what happened today?! You only got hurt because of me and the crowd I was drawing so that should answer your question. It isn’t the first worthless humans treated you rudely either. Why would I want to go out when you’re all I need?” You reminded him that you’ll still need to work and probably more hours since you’d now be providing for two people to which he countered that he’d get a job after retrieving his identification files. “You’re what now?!” He looked at you like you had two heads and laughed. “What do you think I don’t exist? I have a birth certificate and everything…granted they’re mostly fake but they do work.”
Clearly you were stunned and had several questions but guessed you wouldn’t get an answer out him. “You gonna tell me?” Scaramouche shook his head and grinned smugly, resting his head against his palm. “In time, but firstly dinner then get another set of clothes around your size. After pull your car around the closest back exit and turn off the power. No one should be here anyone since it’s sunday and everyone went home early.” Agreeing you set his dinner down before getting a extra pair of clothes (for who? you couldn’t figure out) and grabbed your bag and keys, heading out to your car. You pulled into the back entrance where the animals usually get transported into the facility and began to lock up all the door, going off your mental checklist when you normally closed.
Heading the main power switch, you took a hold of it and turned it off. Switching on your phone light and running towards Scaramouche, you skipped steps to get to the top faster and went to call out to him only to stop short. There before you was your lover dressed in the employee clothes you left him with but on two legs instead of his octopus half with all eight tentacles. “How-” He ran or rather tried to but ended up wobbling towards you and nearly falling to the ground. “There’s no time to explain. Help me, I haven’t been in this form for a long time.” You did as you were told and slung an arm over your shoulder, carefully walking down the steps and helping him stand like you would with someone relearning how to walk after an accident. Even after turning the power on you’d have a around 15 minutes before they were active again and that was all you needed.
“Turn the power back on. It’s the big green button at the top. I would do it but I’m holding you.” Scaramouche pushed it and the light flickered back on, trying his best to walk after years of not using his legs. You finally got to your car after a minute of reaching the transport bay and got him into the passenger's seat, closing the door and running over to the drivers side. The car turned on and you swiftly drove out of there, telling siri to set a reminder to text your boss that you’d be taking a few days off because of a sudden family emergency and the incident that happened today. The sound of the radio and running engine filling your ears, looking briefly over to your companion who seemed enamored with the sights passing your car.
“It’s been so long since I’ve seen the outside. Thank you, Name.” The light ahead of you turned red and you stopped which gave you time to turn your attention back to him. “Scara. Explaination. Now!” He rolled his eyes and continued to look out the window, speaking after a couple seconds seemingly in thought. “I’ve always had the ability to grow legs but as you can see some of my scales remain visible. They could just be attributed to makeup or a tattoo but they’re still there.” His head turned so you could see the lavender scales like marks on the corner of his cheeks and collar bones when he unbutton the top of his shirt. They did look like he could pass them off as not being real. “But if you could escape before. Why did you wait that long? You had plenty of chances before.”
He took in a breath carefully and kept his gaze on the now passing environment as you started driving again, look at you. “I met you. I was going to leave, I had a plan and everything but then you wormed your way into my heart and made me care. So, I stayed and put up with it all, waiting for the chance to maybe get out with you.” Scaramouche’s small speech left you stunned in silence and honored that you’d left such an impression, muttering a grateful response and remaining silent as you returned home. You lived in a relatively small area but not in the middle of nowhere and only 20 minutes from the aquarium just at the entrance to a small wooded area but off the coast near the ocean.
A large river that connected to the ocean flowed next your cottage down the hill which you figured could be a good place if Scaramouche ever wanted to relax in his octopus form or swim with you in the warmer days. It was roughly 25 feet deep and was mainly saltwater with little freshwater home to some birds and small sea life. The trees surrounding your home kept you sheltered from major storms while still allowing a great view for lightning over the sea. You pulled into the driveway and got out with your bag, moving to help the now humanish cecaelia who you guessed had been flexing his muscles as he was now roughly standing with his on your car. “Let’s get inside, I can cook dinner while you can into more comfortable clothes.”
Your home was more comfy than Scaramouche would’ve guessed with fluffy blankets covering part of a leather brown couch and brick fireplace neatly cleaned of ash. Pictures decorated the wall of your friends and family he surmised and rustic decor could be found all around your living room, following you to your bedroom after he wiped his feet and being handed some soft loungewear. “Here you can change into that and I’ll cook some dinner. Feel free to wander about.” Leaving him to change, you grabbed a set of sweatpants and sweatshirt to change into in the bathroom. You mulled over your thoughts after everything that had happened today, how your life had changed significantly and hopefully for the better.
The warm cotton fabric acted as a comforting shield from the cold air seeping in through the window and tickling your ear as if to whisper your unconscious thoughts to you even if you couldn’t understand them. DING! A notification from your phone brought you out of your thoughts and brought you back to the present, slipping your hand into your fleece pocket to retrieve your phone. It was the reminder you set when you both were in the car to text your boss and coworker, heading out of the bathroom and to the kitchen to make some quick dinner. You texted your boss and coworker the same thing, how you would be taking a few days off because of “family emergencies” and your mental health. Which wasn’t entirely false but a little white lie couldn’t hurt.
“It’d take too long to fully cook something and ordering take is expensive so it looks like I’ll just throw a frozen pizza in the oven for tonight. I can go shopping tomorrow,” Opening the freezer drawn and grabbing a recently bought frozen flatbread with your favorite toppings. It was supposed to be a treat for a self care night but this could count as such too. You set the oven to the correct temperature and put the pizza in so it would cook as the machine preheated. “Hey Siri, set a timer for 15 minutes.” The AI did as it was told and you went to call out to your new roommate and lover only to see he was leaning on the jamb of the doorway. In his hands was the rest of his long hair and scissors, where the ponytail began now roughly cut off so it formed almost a wolf cut.
Scaramouche walked over and put the scissors down, “Like my new look? I figure it’d be easier to take care of and I’ve been wanting to cut for a while. Where is your trash?” You pointed to your garbage can camouflaged like all the other drawers and continued to stare. “Are you sure? I mean you look great but-” The short haired man nodded and tossed the length of hair in the trash shutting the lid before falling into your embrace. Nuzzling his head into your neck and placing small kisses, taking your hands in his and leading them up to the sides of his face. You wove your fingers through the violet hair, untangling any knots and sighing deeply to rid of your anxious worries.
“What’s wrong?” It was obvious something was bothering you and he couldn’t blame you. Your life had changed so much in the past 24 hours and you had still yet to adjust to it; he’d do his best to be a constant variable. “I- I’m just worried about everything. What if you get caught? What if this is only temporary?” Silence hung in the air as you both waited for an answer, the fear of their unknown future looming over you like a remind of the big decision you’d made. His grip on your got tighter and he rested his forehead against yours, kissing your lips softly. “If this is temporary then I’ll enjoy it till the moment it’s over. I won’t get caught, I’ve been wandering alone for a while before they caught me. I have experience on my side.”
That was a promise. He’d never let anyone take him from you, not after his friend was killed because of him and not after the little boy died in his arms. You were his new hope. A ball of light untouched by his past mistakes and he intended to keep it safe. Keep you safe. “Don’t worry, Name. This will all work out.” Unfurling himself from the hug and rubbing comforting circles with his thumb on your cheek, whispering affirmations and promises that no measly human could tear either of you apart. You felt better and relaxed, it was new territory which was always scary but you had Scaramouche with you. RING! RING! The timer on your phone went off and made you jump at the sudden noise, catching a small flinch from your significant other as well. “I made pizza for dinner. You can have some even though you already ate, Scara.”
The hybrid looked pleased and nodded, searching through all of your cabinets and drawers until he at last found the plates. Taking two out and grabbing a slice after you’d cut it, you could hear his quiet curses when he grabbed the hot pizza. “Be careful. It just came out, I don’t want to bandage you so soon.” You felt like you were reminding a child the basics of living and safety, assuming that it was probably years since he was last in a house with working appliances and you’d have to remind him until it became a habit for him. The hot marinara sauce hit your tongue as you bit into the pizza and perfectly cooked cheese pulling apart messily, using your finger to tug the long string of cheddar apart so it didn’t become a piece of spaghetti. At long last being able to eat something solid and filling felt like heaven after the exhausting hours of work, secretly eyeing Scaramouche to see if he liked it.
A satisfied hum came from him and he was focused on eating something that must’ve been a lot better after eating nothing but raw fish for meals. Plans had started forming in your mind for other delicious meals for him to enjoy and restaurants you could go on dates to. Once things settled down and you both could back to work, finding a job for Scaramouche and you going back to work, you both could enjoy the more fun things in life like going on dates and waking up together. You should take a bath after the stress of today and working among sea life would cause you to smell a bit salty or fishy, “I’m going to take a bath after this. It should only take-” “Can I join you?”
You swallowed the piece of food in your mouth and turned to him, “What!?” He shrugged and returned back to eating, continuing the talk to you, “I want to wash my hair and body after being in a saltwater tank for a few years. Can you blame me? Wait- are you embarrassed?” The flustered expression you was the only answer he needed and laughed at the sudden silence coming from you. “Fuck you totally are. What, it’s not like we haven’t seen each other naked or do I need to remind you how good I made you feel?” You stood up and washed your plate, deeming that you were full from dinner and putting the rest of the pizza into the over so it would stay warm. The hybrid’s laughter could be heard even after you went into the bathroom and turned the faucet on to your jacuzzi tub, something you’d spent a decent amount of money on because of nice it was to use.
“Damn fucking asshole. He’s too attractive for his own good and he knows it.” He knew how to push your buttons so you’d react accordingly and remain entertained based on your reactions, happily watching you squirm under his gaze. Grabbing some soap to make bubbles and testing the temperature of the water to make sure it wasn’t too hot or cold. You looked back to the door that was slightly ajar and undressed, putting your clothes on the counter and sighing joyously when you sunk into the warm water. “So much better.” Muttering to yourself and slipping underneath the surface to soak your hair. The door creaked open and your lover strolled casually in, blatantly admiring your figure through the light sheen of bubbles. “Shit. You really do things to me, beloved. I’m going to join you.”
You went to argue when he countered you never said no to him and allowed him to undress, averting your eyes with a light blush on your cheeks and gaining a response from the other. “Aw, you’re still so shy. Look at me. Look at me, Name.” Holding your face and moving so you had no choice but to see him bare before you. Unable to stop yourself from staring at his toned muscles and light scarring all over his body, your eyes traveling down to his v-line and hard erect cock. “Good baby. Hm, I can’t wait to fuck you so hard you only remember my name.” He got into the tub and relaxed his body, seemingly concentrating on something before you saw his lower half shifting and changing color. Below his waist his skin turned a dark violet and scales became more pronounced, an ink like dark cloud covered the water and nine tentacles formed where his legs used to be.
Some of them spilled over the tub and others lay floating on the surface, “Ah~ so much better. I can’t tell you how long it’s been since I had a hot bath.” He eyed you up and down, extending his arms opening and made a “come ’ere” motion. Soft cool tendrils circled your thighs and moved you to his lap, curling themselves around you. You hands made their way to the back of his hair and gripped it, playing with the messy cut strands and frowning a bit. “I miss your long hair, it looked pretty and I could’ve used it to pull you back into a kiss. Too bad it’s short know.” Absentmindedly playing with his hair until his hand was against yours, “You can still pull it see?”
His eyes daring you to pull at it and your fingers tightened around his roots, pulling lightly and getting an delightful moan. “Well maybe I should do that again.” You did it again and received the same reaction, his head was tilted back and mouth ajar with arms closing tighter and tighter around you. His tendrils crept towards your clit and breasts, all too eager to mark you up for all to see and know you’re his. “I’m going to breed you. I’m going to fuck you so much that you’ll be the parent to our kids. What do you say, huh?” Nodding slowly you kissed him and gasped when cold tentacles circled your clit and sucks teasing your most sensitive areas. Wetting your nipples and further fondling your pussy.
He broke the kiss and nipped your neck, licking the bruises he left and aiming to make more. Scaramouche wouldn’t be satisfied until your entire body was littered in hickeys and marks from his suckers. “Fuck me. Scara please fuck me.” You just wanted him to bury his cock inside your cunt and pounding away at your cervix. Anything besides the lack of friction being given to you right now. You’d beg. What you would give to be on your knees sucking his dick and being overstimulated till your knees gave out. “Since you asked so nicely pet. I won’t make you beg even though it’s very arousing and only strengthens my desire to make you cum your brains out.”
He lifted you up above his face and smirked, licking a stripe up your pussy and blew cool air against it. “Hm, maybe I should overstimulate you till you can’t orgasm. How about that?” Returning to kissing your wet cunt and thumbing off your arousal fluid, pressing the tip of his thumb on your bottom lip. You tongue poked out and tasting yourself in your mouth. Two of his tendrils snaked their way up your body and wrapped around your waist, the other one prodding your gaped puffy lips and pushing it way inside. “Mhm~” Going to move your arms but failing to and feeling two other tentacles binding your hand together, making you subject to your boyfriend’s will.
The tentacle occupying you mouth steadily moved back and forth, reaching the back of your throat and causing you to gag. You suppressed the urge to gag again and moaned when you felt him put pressure on your clit again. Rolling your hips to get more friction, crying out when you felt waves of pleasure wash over you and moaning with his tentacles in your mouth. Scaramouche groaned and laughed a bit, “Hm, you always do such a good job sucking on my cock. Fuck- Keep going, kitten~” Hollowing out your cheeks and running your tongue along the underside it and sucking the tip, briefly being interrupted by harsh thrusts of his tongue against your walls and unable to stop your eyes fluttering shut. You could feel your orgasm was close and kept bobbing your head up and down.
The knot in your abdomen tightening and tightening, your lewd noises getting louder and louder with the hybrid extending his tongue to reach the sweetest spots in your pussy. “Come on. Cum on my tongue and I might just fuck you till the morning sun shines through the window.” Diving back in and fitting his whole mouth around your sopping cunt, wishing that he could’ve done this much sooner had he known you tasted better than his favorite meal. He felt your walls squeeze around his tongue and knew you were getting close to orgasming, something he didn’t get to taste when he was in that “cage”. His finger dipped knuckle deep to furth egg you on and trigger your climax, countless dirty fantasies going through his minds.
“I should have fucked you on my cock right in front of the glass so everyone could see who you belong too. ngh~” That very idea aroused you, clenching the muscles in your legs and desperately trying to push yourself onto his tongue more. “Oh~ You like that? Maybe I should sit you on my dick whenever we go the beach and hide away in the shallow pools. Make to much noise and someone would see.” Muttering praises against your inner thighs and tightening his hold on your thighs, holding them so your couldn’t try to close them even if he head wasn’t in between them and gripping the plush fat of your ass. “But you’d like that wouldn’t you my slutty pet.”
You were sucking his cock so well and feeling him twitch in your mouth, struggling against the arms holding your wrists and thighs together. “Mhm- nghn-” Nodding as best you could while you gave him a blowjob and hearing his smugly laugh, moving at a faster pace. Both of you were close and you felt the knot snap when he bent his fingers, hitting your cervix and harshly sucking your clit. “Ahh~ Scara- ‘m gonna cum” You told him and loudly mewled, the vibrations from your moans lighting the cecaelia’s nerves on fire as it increased the euphoria his cock was getting. “Hm- I- ngh. So am I-” Working you through your orgasm and sinking his fingers into your pussy as you helped him through his own.
Hot white ropes of cum shot out from a slit you had been teasing on his tip and coated your tongue, swallowing it and panting heavily as it dribbled down your tongue. Your moans being heard louder as you became overstimulated and flexing your hands still bound. You looked down and saw Scaramouche lapping up your cum, slick covering his mouth and dripping down his chin. Shuttering when his thumb wiped the excess of his face and licked it up, humming in satisfaction. “Gods you taste divine. Was that fun kitten?” Very tired from your orgasm you shook your head and were lowered back onto his lap, guiding your head into the crook of his next and unbinding your hands so you could hug him. Affectionately pressing kisses on your shoulders and embracing his beloved lovingly, your arms wrapped around his neck and lazily pecking his neck.
Scaramouche pulled back and used two of his fingers to swipe up a bit of you cum from your labia, causing you to whimper slightly from the overstimulation still present and moaning softly. Spreading his fingers to show you the semi transparent fluid and resting them against your bottom lip. “Open up, beloved.” You let your mouth go slack and sucked him clean, tasting yourself as you curled your tongue around his slender pale fingers. A string of saliva connected his fingertips to your lips and broke when he kissed you sweetly, full of love and loyalty just like he’d promised you. His attention turned to you, curling his tendrils around your waist and smiled. “Can you make it one more round, pet? I’d love to feel my cock in your tight wet pussy but if you’re too spent I could always cuddle you into slumber-”
You eagerly responded yes and weakly leaned into him, pressing kisses up his neck and nipping in hopes to mark him so others wouldn’t steal him away from you. “No, I wanna feel your cock inside me. I want people to know that you’re mine but I’m so tired. You’re mine as I’m yours, love. Take me~” Continuing to press open mouthed smooches on his skin and feeling your boyfriend shift under you. The extra tentacles started to retract from below his hips and formed back into his two legs in his human form. Scaramouche taking your chin and tilting your head down to see his more human like dick, the pale girthy shaft with small veins leading up to his rosy mushroom tip twitching and desperate to be touched.
It was already leaking pre-cum and red from the overstimulating blow job you’d given him, “Are you just going to sit there slack jawed or do I have to do all the work myself?” His hand guided yours to his cock and you fingers curled around it, stroking it slowly and coating it in his pre-cum. “Don’t start getting arrogant now. I’ve haven’t touched you and you’re still sensitive~” He glared before smirking at you and rolled his cock against your slit. Kissing his chest and trailing up until you met his lips, rooting your other hand in his smooth violet hair. You lifted yourself with his help and sunk onto his cock. “Fuck. I should’ve done this a lot sooner. You feel so good clenching me- ngh-”
Slowly you rhymically moving up and down, breathing heavily and moaning whenever he bottomed out. Your slick making a white ring around the base of his cock and biting his neck. Feverishly kissing his jawline and rocking your hips in time with his thrusts. “Ah~ Just like that- Keep fucking yourself on my cock! I-” Scaramouche was interrupted when you grabbed his hand and brought it to your next, squeezing his hand in your own. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head when he tightened his grip and chuckled mockingly. “Well well, what a kinky little slut you are. Ngh-”
His dick kissed your cervix as he harshly pounded into your cunt and cut off your air supply. Checking in with you to make sure he wasn’t going to far and pecking your cheek softly when you signal you were alright. “Scara- aHah keep going! I’m close-” “Shit! Me too! ngh~ Guess you riled me up, beloved!” A breathy moan left your mouth and fell against his chest, scratching his back with your nails when the pace got even faster. Pistoning his cock deep into your pussy and feeling like it was splitting you in two. A second later his unoccupied hand crept down to your clit and pinched it sending painful overwhelming pleasure through you.
Your climax hit you like a ton of bricks and made your legs spasm, trembling thighs tensing and crying out in joy. “Cumming!” The hybrid felt your cunt contract around his cock and groaned loudly. “Cumming too!” Feeling warm spurts of his cum fill you and faltering when you both road out your high, collapsed against the rim of the tub. The water mellowed out and stopped splashing about as you panted to regain the lost energy. “Let’s actually get clean because we just dirtied the water” Scaramouche weakly laughed and hugged your closer, “I wouldn’t mind going for a round 3-”
He was cut off by your glare and quickly scooped you into his arms albeit stumbling a bit before getting out, putting you on the cool tile to refill the tub. “I’d say I marked you up quite well, now others will know who you belong to.” Lifting you so you could see your reflection and the countless hickeys and bite marks all over your body. You smiled and nodded, shakily tapping his arm to put you down and using the counter to keep yourself standing. Towels on your nearby shelf were used to dry yourself off and tossed one to Scaramouche He thanked you and wrapped the towel around his waist, grabbing your body and bringing closer to him once again. “Now let’s go to sleep because in morning you’re not leaving my side and I have to thank you for breaking me out~”
“Hm, sounds good.” My bedroom is-” Already out the door and on the way before you realized he knew where it was since you had shown it to him when you both came in. Leaning your head against his bare chest and stretching out when you’re laid down on the soft pale green comforter. You crawled under the covers and snuggled into the soft pillow, letting your muscles go soft and practically fusing yourself to the hybrid’s body. “You comfortable there?” You nonverbally hummed ‘yes’ and tried to embrace him, happy that he wrapped his arms around you. “Now go to sleep, beloved. I’ll be here in the morning.” “Goodnight.” Closing yours eyes and welcoming sleep with open arms, the warmth under the covers mixed with his body heat.
Your dreams consisted of memories from the day and fantasies of days yet to come, swimming deeper and deeper into the sea of your unconscious before the bright rays of the morning sun peaked in through the curtains. A soft groan came from the person beside you and pulled you closer, messily tangling the sheets around your legs which was already intertwined. RING! RING! You shot up briefly at the sudden loud noise coming from your phone and blindly reached your hand at your bedside table until you finally had the vibrating cell phone in your hand. Pressing the answer button and slowly bringing it to your ear, a loud automated voice quickly giving you a message from your workplace.
“Hello… Name. This is the Deepwater Cove Aquarium calling it’s employees to let them know they will have the following week off with paid leave due to a high security inhabitant breaking out and having gone missing. Tell no one about this and keep it within company staff to avoid a mass panic. If you have any questions or concerns please contact head of Human Resources Teresa Merrii. Thank you and goodbye.” ….well that answered the question in the back of your head and you guessed they didn’t have a clue you were behind it.
“Scara.” Shaking his shoulder and attempting to wake him up, only to receive a mumble and pulling at your torso for you to cuddle with him more. “Scaramouche! They know you escaped-” He opened his eyes just a tad and raised an eyebrow, “It was bound to happen eventually and besides they don’t think it’s you so come back to sleep with me.” The cecaelia had a point, you were also on paid leave which you hadn’t expected and might as well make the best of it. Checking your notifications for any major or important messages you should respond to while you were up and saw a text from your coworker telling you ‘I hope you and your family are alright! Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help and we need to talk about the week off from work because what if it’s Scaramouche?!’.
You’d have to give them your thanks, turning your phone off and getting back underneath the blankets, feeling the smooth bits of scales littering his chest and heat radiating off of him. It felt like you were sleeping next to a fire on a cold winter morning and you pulled the covers over your head. “Well, even if they try to find me, they can’t cause I’m free of that prison and at home with my mate-” THAT’S WHAT YOU BOTH WERE?! “We’re just dating scara-” His finger was pressed against your lips. “Yes, my mate. That’s what most cryptids, as you all like to call us, call our significant others and almost all of us mate for life.”
A second passed. You were fairly sure that he was going to live longer than you which didn’t bode well since he seemed very clingy and insistent on you being with him till death. “How long do you live?” Scaramouche pondered and hummed to himself, recalling all the years he’s been alive. “About 36, but “special” beings who are half immortal live about 150 years. Cecaelia fully mature at about 20 years.” Further explaining about how his kind usually took a mate at 30 or so and pinching you playfully when you laughed, commenting on how it fit that he was 6 years “late” on finding a soulmate. “I’m sorry but with your bitchy personality I can see why no one wanted to date you-” He interrupted you with a pinch on your cheek and scowled at your mockery. His arms wrapping even tighter around your torso and guiding you hand to touch a patch of scales on his cheekbone.
“Oh please, that incompetent mermanta ray Childe couldn’t find a partner and he probably hasn’t knowing him and his battle obsession.” Eyes flicked to the window that looked out onto the sea, seemingly where is (possibly?) friend lived and trying to imagine what kind of hybrid he could possibly be by yourself. The curiosity in you spilling over the edge of your mind and asking yourself if the fairytales you heard of mythical being was true. If half octopus people existed did that mean nagas, mermaids, fae, and kitsunes were real too. “What other mythical beings exist that you know of?” Scara rubbed comforting circles on your tummy as he thought back, “A fair amount of people but many of them are miserable to be around, but as far as the ocean goes I know a couple mermaids and selkies. Two of them are tolerable to be around and offer good conversations last I remember, their names are Kaveh and Kokomi I think.”
“Kaveh always bitches about his annoying merman of a roommate which is always amusing to hear. Of course there are other cecaelia but I haven’t met many others so I assume they live in deeper parts of the ocean.” Laughing to himself as he remembered the insults he’d hear from the selkie about how emotionless and arrogant Alhaitham was to live with. You scooched up so you were laying against his chest and pulled up a soft throw blanket over both of you, “Are mythics only in the ocean?” Lifting his hands from your body and playing with his fingers as he talked. “Haha don’t be silly. They’re all over the world. Some live in the skies and mountains like harpies, dracotaurs, and butterfly people. I know before your boss captured me there was news about a dracotaur named Zhongli and a harpy named Xiao who watched over a city near here almost like a guardian angel.”
The sun shone brighter and the wind picked up, whistling and causing branches to tap against the glass. Birds looked for worms in the ground to bring to their young and chittering to each other. “Hm, I wonder what he’s like?” His hand broke from your grasp and turned your chin so you looked at him, “I thought I was the only supernatural being that interested you?” You laughed and nodded, confirming he was. “You are but that doesn’t mean I can’t be curious. And butterfly people? Aren’t those just fairies?” Apparently not and you shouldn’t say that to a fae’s face because it could piss them off. You had heard stories from your grandparents about people who angered the fae. How travelers would knock on trees when going through the woods to check if the fae were hiding in trees and offer small gifts of flowers or shiny objects for safety when hiking in their territory, with the promise of being respectful.
In your younger years you had believed it, often giving small gifts of your own at the edge of the woods near your house and leaving notes with messages to them. You knew not to tell them your name or else bad things would happen to you and the possibilities of you getting dragged into the forest to never been seen from again only increased. “No, fae are very mischievous and playful. Most of the stories about tricks and fairy circles you’ve heard are true. Butterfly people are similar to fae but have butterfly wings and are much kinder, often helping out creatures of all kind including humans if anyone is in trouble or in need of a helping hand.” Letting your mind drift off into what you thought some of them would look like and your inner child hoping you could meet one one day.
“Just before I got kidnapped, I was washed up by a mangrove near some abandoned but fruitful orchards looking for help since a bad storm had caused me to sprain my wrist. What I thought was a butterfly at first turned out to be a tiny person who called herself Nahida and helped me with my injury.” He explained that butterfly person was the protector of the small kaleidoscope that was home to the ethereally lit forest and her official name was Kusanali. “She helped me identify what fruits were safe and ripe to eat and what herbs could be used for healing or nutrition. Nahida told me what she knew of the fae and that a certain fae prince was becoming quite well known for his artistry and experiments.” Scaramouche kissed your lips and nuzzled his nose against yours, revelling in the comfort and affection you were giving him.
Of course there were other supernatural creatures of the land like nagas and lamias, attractive people with the lower half of a snake with more serpent like features such as scales or forked tongues. Who often are sneaky and stereotyped as sadistic thanks to generalizations from Christianity’s view of snakes when in actuality a lot of them are well versed in healing and medicinal treatments for travelers or other mythics. One type of supernatural you were not so please to find out about were the driders, people with the lower half of a spider and actually very dangerous. “They’re just as cruel and sadistic as the tales say they are or at least that’s what I’ve heard. I don’t intend to find out and I’m hope you don’t either. Remember my home turf is water not land.” You laughed and shook your head, shivering at the thought of running from a being with eight legs and liquidated to be eaten.
“Yeah, that doesn’t seem pleasant to run into but if those are the only dangers in the forest then it seems fine-” He interrupted you and then chuckled, carding his fingers through your hair to work out the tangles that had gotten more apparent over night. You looked up and saw him still looking out the window but away from the sea front view. “Ever heard of werewolves? You’ve probably walked passed by more of them than you think thanks to their ability to remain human looking except during a full or new moon. They are very territorial and possessive of who or what they hold close to them which my kind are also prone to-” You cut him off with some laughter and lightly hit his chest, raising your eyebrow at him and reminding him of the incident involving the ‘Karen’ yesterday.
“Scara you nearly had to be held back when I was hit and any time another employee tries to make a mood on me within your sight even before you dragged me beneath the water-” A bright blush covered his cheeks and he averted his gaze from you, clearly trying to pretend like he didn’t remember it despite you reminding him. “I- It’s not my fault that you attract everyone else’s attention and I have to show them that you’re mine. At least I’m not as bad as the kitsunes! Gods…Those vixens are downright malicious if someone offends them or someone dear to them. My mother’s wife is a nasty example and I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s been stopped many times from striking me with lightning by my mother.”
This was the first you were hearing of his past in general and his mother, no one who found him could get any answer as to who his parents were or where his home was. “I’m plenty happy that you’re possessive and I appreciate you not killing people just for flirting with me.” Laughing towards the end of your sentence and carefully thinking through your words to find out more about his life. “I’m going to need you to be more tolerant now that you don’t have 4 inch glass separating you from the public whenever we’re outside. But you’ve never mentioned your mother before, what was your life before all of this,” You gestured vaguely to your house and around you both, “happened.
The cecaelia’s eyebrows furrowed and his mood got noticeably somber. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea, “If it’s something you don’t want to talk about then I understand but I’m here. I know what it’s like to not like your past.” You kissed his cheek and rubbed comforting circles on his chest, letting him think it over and seeing him shake his head out of a deep thought. “No, it’s alright. I just have… mixed feelings toward my mother and it’s not a pretty story.” Scaramouche shifted so you were sitting up and side by side, his hand intertwining with yours and gratefully looking at you. The dark pools of pale purple overflowing with inner turmoil and deep seated unspoken emotions laying just beneath the surface.
“Well not only am I not human but my mother is a goddess, specifically a goddess of storms and lightning.” Eyeing you for a reaction to which you were stunned and gaped at your non-mortal lover, nodding slowly to let him continue. “My mother had a relationship with a human which resulted in me but I don’t know my father and I haven’t seen my mother since she abandoned me.” This was heartbreaking to hear. Why would any mother ever abandon their child? He was still, silence enveloped the room as he kept his eyes locked on the comforter balled up in his fists. Outside you could see the sky darkening, dark grey clouds gathered strangely with your knowledge that there wasn’t supposed to be rain this.
“That makes me a demigod in addition to my weird ass octopus half. I don’t think I have any abilities like my mother but my human emotions are linked to stormy weather which might explain the thunderstorm coming together outside.” Both of you were now focused on the growing anomaly, you looked to Scara and unwrapped his tightly wound fists. The muscles in his fingers still tense and slowly being relaxed thanks to your hand sliding its way into his. “I’m right here with you. I’m- I’m sorry you had to go through that but how did you manage living on your own at such a young age?”
A fond but sad expression painted over his face and he leaned his head on your shoulder, “I didn’t. I was found on a beach by a man named Niwa, someone who I considered my friend…my family. He was the one who showed me how to live and grow up while trying his best to find answers for both of us as why what I was.” Apparently, when he was a child, Niwa took them both to the library to search as to who Scara’s parents were but were stunned to find his mother’s name belonged to a local goddess. While he told the story, a flurry of emotions crossed his mind upon digging into memories he thought he had put away permanently.
“At first we thought it must have been a mistake but Niwa spotted a symbol marked on my skin behind my neck,” Turning his back to you and lifting his hair to let you view a black triple right tomoe. Black ink filled the shape and bent when you ran your fingers over it, noticing the shiver your lover tried to suppress. It looked like a tattoo freshly healed but there was something not natural about it like the scales that littered his skin. “along with the scales, it was clear that I wasn’t human….but he didn’t look at me differently. He wasn’t disgusted or fearful that he was living with a demigod and helped me discover more about who I was but…”
Tears pricked his eyes and threatened to fall, indicating hesitation and what you could tell was a emotionally traumatizing moment back then. You wished you could have done more but the best you could do is be by his side and comfort him the best way possible. “but there- there was one question he couldn’t answer even though he tried. Why did my mother abandoned me? Clearly she knew about my existence since she put me to sleep on a beach but-” The damn broke as streaks of tears fell down his cheeks, quiet sobs loudened as he tried to muffle them and latched onto you when you brought him into your arms. The tight grip Scaramouche had hurt your heart, no one deserved to go through this and you had some choice words in your head for his mother.
There were several better ways to set him free without the lack of communication or possibility of harm. You were glad that someone like Niwa was there for him while all this self discovery was going on, you’d have to thank him if he ever introduced you two. “Scara-” “Kuni. My name is Kunikuzushi. You- you deserve to know.” With the look he was giving you, you had no doubt that this meant a great deal to him and clearly had gained his trust with your help and kindness. Tears still streamed down his face but they had stopped a bit thanks to your comfort. “Kuni. I’m so glad you had Niwa with you. How come he didn’t help you when you got captured?”
There was silence for a couple minutes then he started quietly crying harder burying his head into your neck and mumbled words you couldn’t understand. Carding your hand through his hair and cooing softly, “It’s alright. You’re safe. You’re with me safe and sound.” After gathering himself he kissed your lips and brokenly smiled. “T-thank you. Niwa-” Kuni stuttered and took a deep breath while thunder shook the house. “Niwa was killed by a self proclaimed doctor called Dottore who hunts the supernatural and dissect them. He used Niwa to get to me after seeing bits of my scales You would have gotten along, he was kind and determined like you.” He paused briefly between words to sniffle and then embraced you again, seeing lightning shatter the sky which reminded him to take a breath.
“He helped me with these pathetic human emotions that plagued me. I thought my mother tossed aside because of my disgusting human half and tried to get rid of my mortal part…. to no success.” To say you were stunned was an understatement. To think in addition to all the torture he’d endured at the aquarium he had tried to kill himself in order to get to his mom. You didn’t notice tears that fell from your eyes and landed on his warm bare chest. His thumb brushed your cheek and wiped them away, whispering apologies that he didn’t need to say at all. “I know, I’m not going to say I regret it because I don’t but you and Niwa changed my mind about humans.”
You sadly laughed and kissed him, “I’m glad you’re here. You made my life brighter and I love you dearly. However, how did you come to live in the ocean?” He wiped his eyes and dried his tears, looking down at the lavender scales decorating his skin. “When I tried to drown myself, something different happened my legs split into 8 and my pale purple scales darkened from my waist down.”
“My ears grew webbed and more fish like, entirely below my waist I looked like an octopus from the hips down but I could move through the water faster than I ever could before-” He stopped and look to you, winds calming down and a genuine happy expression took over his face. “I was free. Free to do what I wanted and be free from the pain of loss…so I shut out the world until I met you.” He whispered, almost in disbelief and awe upon reflecting into his past. Time seemed to stop as he moved closer and cupped your face, rubbing his nose against yours affectionately.
Kuni slowly kissed your lips and slowly pulled away for air begrudgingly, still resting his forehead against yours and closing his eyes. A comfortable silence fell between you two. So many emotions poured out and no doubt you could sleep for another couples of hours given it was only 9 in the morning. You kissed his lips sweetly before pulling your boyfriend back under the covers and slurring your words out of fatigue. “I love kissin’ you but sleep is a definite tie. Come cuddle me, Kuni~”
There was little hesitation as he wrapped his arms around you and tangled his legs with yours, taking the small spoon position. Sleep tugged at the corners of your mind but before you succumbed to it you whispered something you’d been holding in for a bit. “You and ursula would get along very well.” You practically felt the annoyed tick mark appear on his face with even having to see it and struggled to hold in your laughter. “Who the fuck is this Ursula bitch?!”
Genshin cryptids
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what happened to lucy gray baird // LTPF
summary: what became of lucy gray baird and sejanus plinth? you finally get some answers after sixty-five years.
pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader
wc: 2.8k
masterlists / nav / requests
tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. this is kinda sad btw. just a heads up.
a/n: happy birthday to my bestie @that-veela-girl ! this was requested by her bc we talked ab this AT LENGTH in an ask and we just needed to see it fleshed out. also bestie i made some minor changes i hope that's okay with you ahhh
series masterlist // playlist
Lucy Gray stumbled up to the cabin, hours after she was certain you and Coriolanus had left. Her heart had finally stopped pounding, and the bullet wound that only just grazed her back was still burning. Trying to stop the bleeding was hard when she was all alone.
She takes deep breaths, sighing in relief as she opens the cabin door in the dark of the night. She was free, or so she hoped. She peaked in, gasping as she saw your figure asleep on the makeshift bed, Coriolanus's scarf gripped in your hands held up just in front of your face as the moonlight seeped in through the open door. She couldn't believe she had considered you a friend.
You looked so peaceful as you slept. Harmless, even. But she knew better. She closed the door quietly, begging the universe to keep you asleep long enough for her to get away. Where you were, Coriolanus Snow was never far behind. Lucy Gray quietly stalked off into the woods past the cabin, leaving any hope of returning to the lake or the cabin behind. She would go North, just like the original plan.
After hours of walking in the dark, the day would break- finally. Finally, she could breathe again. The sun was still rising when the smell of smoke reached her, making her furrow her brow as she looked around. Up ahead, between the trees, there was a fire sizzling out, coals still burning just enough to illuminate the area around it. She hears a twig snap a ways to her left and quickly jumps behind a tree to hide, heart racing and forcing her blood to start to seeping from her back again. She could feel it.
"Lucy Gray?" The use of her name makes her tense up, and she doesn't dare peak out of her hiding spot. "Lucy Gray, is that you?"
She knows that voice, but it's not Coriolanus, and it's certainly not you, but the Capitol accent still has the hairs on the back of her neck raising.
"It's Sejanus, you don't have to hide. I'm not gonna hurt you." Her eyes shut tightly. That's exactly what you had said to her before you tried to kill her. She couldn't trust Capitol folk. Not anymore.
"Lucy Gray..." The footsteps get closer. "I thought you were dead. She tried to kill me, too."
Lucy Gray opens her eyes, holding her breath as she peeks around the side of the tree trunk. Sejanus is there, several feet away with his hands held out to show her he meant no harm. "I'm not going to hurt you." He says again.
Taking a shaky breath she nods, stepping out from her hiding place but keeping her distance. "She tried to kill you?" She asks him. "You weren't there when we arrived... I thought you didn't make it."
"I was there. Just went to scout out what our path should be." He explains. "I heard it all. What he did to you..."
Lucy Gray shakes her head, looking down at her feet. "I thought I could trust 'em."
"I did too." He replies quietly. "They were my best friends. My only friends. They tricked us both, huh?" He laughs dryly, shaking his head.
"Apparently." Lucy Gray mumbles.
"Come. Sit. You must be exhausted." He nods for her to follow him back to his little camp where he had the fire going.
"I just want to know why." Sejanus mumbles after close to an hour of silence, both of them sat quietly by the now dying fire.
Lucy Gray stays silent, just nodding as she stares into the orange coals. "I should have seen it sooner. She was just so... odd. So back and forth. I should have known when she flipped a switch and turned into a whole new person when she showed up at the hob."
"You wouldn't believe the things I've seen that girl do." Sejanus agrees, tossing a stick onto the rubble of the fire. "She's crazy. I always thought that was a good thing, she stood up for herself, she wouldn't go down without a fight to get anything she wanted. She'd scream and throw things like no one's business when someone said something she didn't like. Lucy Gray, you have no idea."
"But you were friends with her. Why?"
"Why were you?" He asks, turning to her and raising an eyebrow.
Lucy Gray opens her mouth to answer, but she can't bring herself to say what she wants to.
"I get it." He admits. "She's good when she wants to be. I've seen both sides of her. She's... Complicated, but at the end of the day, I'm not much different than her. She's braver. Much, much braver, though. I mean, I've seen her get violent before, but nothing like that. I could never hurt anyone."
"They deserve each other." Lucy Gray mutters, and Sejanus hums in quiet agreement.
Snow littered the grounds of the presidential palace on the day Sejanus Plinth and Lucy Gray returned to the Capitol.
The whole building had a chill that stung Sejanus down to his core as he was lead through the large halls, the building more lifeless than it had ever been. Quiet. Haunting.
When he thought back on his life in the Capitol, a full lifetime ago, he did imagine at the time that you and Coriolanus would occupy the space; filling it with life and tones of red and laughter and love, despite everything the Capitol leaders had done. He had hope back then that you would have done better.
The guards open the doors to what appears to be a bedroom, large with endless opulent decor and a patio overlooking the back of the property.
He doesn't say anything when he enters and the doors are shut promptly behind him. He turns, seeing the guards had entered now. Likely, in an effort to protect him.
"Leave us, please." He prompts them quietly, voice rough from nothing more than the decades that had passed. The guards look confused, but obey anyways. Sejanus had been on the receiving end of your anger before, and he was one of few who lived to tell the tale. You wouldn't hurt him.
You were sitting at the window, looking out at the snow falling over your garden. You turn your head when you hear his voice, eyes already wide. You stand up slowly, holding the arm rest of the chair as you stare at him in shock. "Sejanus?" You ask, but it comes out more as a comment.
"Y/N." He smiles. Smiles. You could be sick.
You're not sure if this is a fault in your medication- if you had been distributed too many by Thirteens doctors and you were losing your mind, or if Sejanus Plinth was truly standing in front of you right now. You let out the slightest laugh from shock, eyes welling up with tears.
"It's good to see you." He says, taking steps toward you, hands held behind his back. He was older, like you, but you didn't have a doubt in your mind that it was him.
He had survived. All this time.
"Oh my..." You shake your head in disbelief as he opens his arms to you. After all this time- after what you did, something so long forgotten from your memory, he was greeting you with a hug.
You hug him back, once again unsure whether or not this was real. Perhaps this was the afterlife, and you had been executed by something so boring as an untraceable overdose. You certainly hoped not.
"Sejanus..." You cry, patting his arms as you pull away and looking him up and down.
"I'm sorry." He mumbles, almost inaudible to you even from right there.
"Sorry?" You reply, that same dry laugh falling from your lips. "You have nothing to be sorry for. I... You're alive. I'm proud."
"I'm sorry it had to end like this." He clarifies and you look down, then cast your gaze out the window.
"Yes, well... we have never been well liked." You admit.
"You were by me."
"But not anymore?"
He doesn't respond, motioning for you to sit down as he pulls over his own chair to sit across from you. You both sit down, and you continue to stare out the window.
"We had a good life. He gave me everything I have ever wanted." You sigh. "I apologize... for what we did that day. I have felt a great deal of... guilt, over it. I hope you know."
He nods, keeping his pleasant shock to himself. You were sorry. He didn't expect so much from you after what he had seen and heard of your actions over the years. "Why did you let us go?" He asked, and you look over at him again, your face falling into one of confusion.
"Us?"
"Me and Lucy Gray."
"Lucy Gray..." You mumble. "That's a name I haven't heard in years." You shake your head, hurt building up inside you. It doesn't settle well. "Not since Coryo told me that he had buried her."
This wasn't true, of course, you had brought her up a small handful of times since, but that was when you were under the assumption that she was under the brush in the woods of District Twelve by the cabin at the lake.
Sejanus's eyebrows raise. "I... No. She escaped. She is alive, too." He says, trying to gauge your reaction, but you keep much of your emotions to yourself. All that gave you away was the tear that fell down your cheek as you stared down at the greenhouse.
"I see."
"You are scheduled for execution tomorrow afternoon." He states. "Coryo will be the following day. Coin wants him to be hurt by your passing, there will be a big celebration and they want him to be a witness."
"A celebration." You chuckle, wiping your tear away. "I wouldn't want it any other way."
"Wouldn't you prefer to go together?"
The way you hesitate is what he knows is his ticket in. "That would be preferable." You say after a moment. "But we will be together soon, regardless."
"I have spoken to some people from Thirteen, and they are willing to let you go." He tells you, and you shake your head before you even think about it.
"No. I will not be happy without him."
"I think that's a hasty assessment." When you don't respond, your pride refusing to let you admit anything different, he continues. "Is that true? Or are you just so used to being with him that you can't imagine being happy without him?"
"He is my whole world, Sejanus." You answer honestly. You hadn't known anything different since you were eighteen years old.
"Y/N, one of the things I remember the most about you is that you won't let anyone get in the way of what you want. You've always been a true independent." He reminds you.
You're silent for a moment, reeling over the realization of what Coriolanus had truly done. To him, it was likely a harmless lie to keep you calm. To be able to leave you out there at the lake for days without fear, and it worked. But it could have cost you your life, if Lucy Gray was more vicious than she was.
"Lucy Gray saw you, in the cabin." Sejanus tells you, almost tracking your thought process. "That he had left you out there alone. She said you had never looked more peaceful than when you were sleeping."
Your blood runs cold and you slightly shake your head. He just confirmed your fears, and you think he knew that. She could have killed you, but she didn't. You were just as lucky to be alive as he was, and it was at the fault of your beloved husband.
"I never forgot what you did for me. You saved my life, then you could have killed me, and I count myself lucky everyday that I had made a friend in you." Sejanus says, reeling you in further. "And I just want to offer you that same freedom now. I know you deserve it."
You chew on the inside of your cheek, eyes still locked on the snow coated greenhouse outside. "I have some conditions."
After he leaves, you are escorted outside and down to the garden. You would spend what was meant to be your final night there, with your husband.
You wanted to hate him for lying to you, you really did, but you couldn't. If you were to hate him for anything he had done, that would have happened years ago.
"My execution is this afternoon." You say to Coryo, approaching him as he admires some of the roses.
He hums in response as you join his side, picking one of the delicate flowers and holding it out to you with a gloved hand. You smile as you accept it.
"We were happy, weren't we?" You say softly, smiling down at the rose in your hand.
"Indeed." He grins, looking at you now.
"We took a lot of risks, and that rewarded us."
He smiles. "I would say so."
It was the end and he knew it. There was no use in fighting anymore.
"Would you have done anything differently?" You ask him, taking a seat on the bench next to you.
"Maybe I would have let you step in to prevent that stunt those kids pulled last year." He comments, sitting next to you. "But when it comes to us... no. Not a thing."
You nod slightly, looking down. "Sejanus is alive." You tell him.
"Is he really?"
"Yes. I just spoke with him."
"What did he have to say?" Your husband asks.
In the very same way that he never told you about Lucy Gray, you never told him you let Sejanus go either. Were you really any better than him? "That he is sorry." You answer simply.
"Well, he got what he wanted." He replies. "He shouldn't apologize for that. We never have."
"I agree, but he was more sorry for us." You explain, reaching out to take his hand beside you. "That it had to end this way."
"I see."
"I only wish that our children would have had a better chance." You say softly. You gave them everything- they were spoiled rotten their whole lives and prepared to take your place, but they would never get that chance. They were to be executed just after you, if Coin got her way.
"We gave them everything we could. This is not our fault."
"No." You agree. "It isn't."
"What about Cecelia?" He asks quietly. Your granddaughter was extremely special to the both of you, to him especially. She looked just like you, and every time he looked at her it's all he could see.
"Sejanus agreed that she will be well cared for." You promise, squeezing his hand. "She'll be okay."
He nods slightly. "She looks more and more like you every day." He says, unable to help it. "I remember you, when we were her age."
You smile at the memories, nodding. "I miss those days."
"I hope you know how incredibly proud I am of you, darling." He admits, voice cracking as he looks at you. "I feel as if I didn't tell you enough."
"You showed me every day." You promise, patting your other hand over his. "You were the best person I could have had by my side all these years."
"I love you." He says, and you lean your head on his shoulder.
"I love you too." You didn't want to talk anymore- you felt so incredibly guilty for deciding to leave him. It was betrayal. Maybe that is what would kill you.
You only have a few minutes before the glass doors are cracked open, and you look up. You know it's time. Commander Paylor is standing there with some guards, and she just nods at you.
You stand carefully, squeezing your husbands hand again as he joins you and remembering something you had heard him echo to you dozens of times.
Never let them see you bleed.
So it would be a silent goodbye. You drop his hand, looking up into his blue eyes for the last time as you take a step back.
He smiles as you raise your hand to your forehead in a salute. You don't need to speak- he knows what you mean. You weren't sure you could if you wanted to.
'Coriolanus Snow, future President of Panem, I salute you.'
He smiles, refusing to let the heat in his head manifest into tears as he gives you a curt nod, a slight bow. Your show was over.
You can't bring yourself to look back as you are escorted, for the last time, from your beautiful garden.
The sound of fireworks and music comes from the home Coriolanus Snow had shared for so many years with the love of his life. The most perfect person he has ever known, and he knows that the sounds of national celebration are his indicator of your passing. So that was it. You commanded and filled the energy of every space you entered, so he wondered now, after you were gone, why the air didn't feel any lighter.
He stared at the bare trestles that in the spring had always held up your raspberry bushes. They were gone, waiting to sprout in the spring. He can hear you, still.
'Raspberries are perennials."
Only then, when it was dark and he was alone, completely alone for the first time in years, did he cry over the weight of your death. Again.
All that was left of him was that boy on the train, crying over a letter he knew you would never receive.
Yours,
Always yours, your Coryo.
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Pride & Prejudice or (Mechanic Harry Part 4)
Summary: Your relationship with the Mechanic in town seems to flourish as you spend more time working for him. Except that you both begin to cross friendship lines whether intentional or not.
WC: 10.4k
A/n: So sorry that part 4 took this long, i hope that didn’t discourage you from reading :( enjoy lovies🫶🏻
Mechanic H Series
Today is a good day.
The sun is golden, the trees in the field are dancing and bunny is hopping around the strawberries Harry planted. Some bluebirds flew around the house and landed on the kitchen window, aiding the tune being played on the yellow scratchy vinyl.
Rays of sunshine snuck in and painted the house with a warm ambiance that Harry could never give up, even Snowy expressed his love by sleeping under the sun.
Unfortunately Harry was unable to ignore the real sun that was missing, he felt his stomach drop when he realized that you already left. He cursed his drowsy state, knowing that he never sleeps in this late. If only he woke up half an hour earlier…
His pondering last night concerning what to cook you for breakfast is now long gone, but as far as he remembers he had decided on strawberry pancakes.
‘Sparks’ by Coldplay was his to-go song in the mornings, he needed something calm to soothe him after a full night’s sleep. But now the lyric ‘Did I drive you away’ is not something he wishes to hear, so he turns it off as the two bluebirds take over the singing.
Instead he plays ‘Je te laisserai des mots’ , it is more suitable for his window friends anyways.
He made himself a quick breakfast filled with protein ( which is sacred to him so he can have energy all day). Snow Bun had some rabbit food, with a chopped strawberry that he devoured first, he needs fuel to play all day too.
Harry trained Snowy when he was a baby , it was harder than dealing with a cat or dog even, yet not impossible. As far as he knows there isn’t much danger in the wide field but he installed a wooden barrier so Bun doesn’t go far away or loses his way.
He also makes sure to inspect the field during his morning run for anything that could be hazardous to the little bun, if he doesn’t have time then he’ll set him up a play area in the house.
Today was perfect for a morning run, so he enjoyed one, breathing in the pure air with his headphones in. The clock was nearing eight in the morning so he dressed up in his denim Levi’s , a custom Gucci shirt with a grumpy bear on it gifted to him by his childhood friend (apparently, he thinks that the bear is an imitation of Harry).
He was almost done with Meena yesterday before what went down between the two of you , he decided to leave it for later during the day, he has a good number of Jeeps to fix.
11 AM.
11:30 AM.
12:00 PM.
Harry kept checking the clock anxiously, perhaps it’s broken and he forgot to fix it? Old clocks need delicate care and recently he’s had his head in the gutter. His phone’s clock confirmed that it is indeed 12 PM, and you are still nowhere to be seen.
You took good care of the garage, helped him quite well and took appointments, yet Harry had a thing for being organized, and you didn’t…
It’s not like you turned the place upside down, but you liked having things close around you instead of organizing them, so his lost crawler (that he later found near broken scooters after he texted you) was stressing him out, and it reminded him of your presence , how you put the item somewhere else even after he tells you where to exactly put it.
His top-secret oil (a mix of oil his chemist friend made and some imported oil from the Middle East) getting lost was his last strike, even though it was your mess that got him startled and disturbed but he does not know yet that he unconsciously cares more about your presence than the items.
He cannot understand for the life of him why you thought you were fired, he never even implied it. What did your anxious little brain tell you?
He knows how anxiety can be, he’s not immune to it, but he can’t help his attitude , it’s how he acts around everyone. Harry was checking the coolant of a Range Rover when he heard the wheels of your bike; he abruptly straightened his posture , watching you attentively as you parked in front of his shop.
Your eyes were fixed on ‘Pride & Prejudice’ as you sat in your regular chair, it’s been like this for fifteen minutes. Uncle George interrupted before you could say hello to Harry. He was a nice old man and you could see how much he means to Harry.
He came for the clock necklace and patted Harry’s back, you can’t exactly point out their conversation but it is quite evident how grateful he is for Harry’s help.
You dug your eyes back into the book, allowing yourself to get lost in Jane Austen’s world. Harry’s presence was smooth, almost unnoticeable but never invisible.
“So what’s that book you’re reading?” He muttered suddenly catching you off guard. You’re not sure how much time has passed since George left. Getting distracted in books is easy.
“Pride And Prejudice”.
“Isn’t it about that guy that hates her but later becomes whipped?”
You let out a loud laugh at his own idea of the book, it was somewhat true. It’s just weird to hear him say it.
“Yes Mr.Darcy, it’s a bit complicated I believe that he might have liked her from the beginning, but was afraid of something, I’m not sure but men hide behind their emotions.” You were fiddling with the cover of the book not even aware that both of you are no longer speaking about the book.
“It’s just my opinion but guys always take longer to figure out things, because he really had no reason to be grumpy and mean.” You were speaking rapidly and curiously, as if you were alone in a room, nonchalantly criticizing one of the best classics.
Harry was a bit too silent, his legs spread as he sat in a car, checking its speedometer while he listened to you. A while ago you might have cared about him being calm and unresponsive but now the words rush out from your mouth without even thinking , you’re not sure what shifted but it’s nice, really nice.
You reached the part where Jane got sick and Elizabeth went after her, it was one of your favorite scenes but your reading got interrupted with a shadow blocking the light in front of you.
“Has anyone ever told you that your communication is pretty shit for a social worker?” Harry’s body towered over your resting figure, a thin layer of sweat adorning his face.
“I— what?”
“You didn’t talk about yesterday, nor why you skipped work today. You just immediately sat down with your bloody book” He wasn’t shouting loudly but his tone changed, and he was visibly upset.
“Please don’t shout.” You replied in a calmer voice and placed your book inside your bag.
“I didn’t mean it.” He scoffed and took a few steps back with his gaze fixed on your now disturbed expression.
“Why’d you leave in the morning.” He leaned against the car and spoke in a manner so calm that you barely even heard him.
“I just didn’t want to bother you.” Again you noticed that he doesn’t have music on.
“I don’t understand.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes before swiping his hand through his hair.
“Well my presence at the race was rude and then you welcomed me into your home, I felt like I was intruding and being a burden.” You managed to speak as you fiddled with your bracelet.
You didn’t want to confess anything to him or anyone for that matter but especially him. Maybe he’ll think you’re an idiot who overthinks every word spoken or why the wind blew in that direction so instead of bothering anyone, deducing outcomes was easier.
“It’s fine, we’re good. We were both in the wrong and don’t worry about it anymore. My home is not the white house, you can come anytime…” His soft face stared back at you as he hesitated his choice of words.
“…. For Snow Bun of course.” He cleared his throat and awkwardly scratched his head.
“Yes, he is very adorable.”
Even after being vulnerable and speaking out, the atmosphere was still nice perhaps even better. You were not one to communicate and Harry was an argumentative person, an outsider would gape their mouth at your attitude but for now Harry moved around the garage and played David Bowie, and you silently hummed as you arranged the appointments. He managed to sneak the fallen pots inside before you arrived, but it was of no use, you already saw them. And so it goes whatever he hides, you will see.
“Heyy I found my top secret oil!” Harry screamed from inside over the sound of music. He popped his head out a few moments later showing you the oil bottle.
“Did you put it in the refrigerator?” He furrowed his eyebrows inspecting the bottle from all sides while realization struck you as your face turned tomato red.
“I’m sorry! I thought it was Pomegranate molasses.” You cupped your hand over your mouth feeling your heart beat rapidly.
You expected a scolding, perhaps forcing you to pay for it or just grumpy Harry attitude but instead you were met with a toothy grin as his head fell backward before he placed his palm over his eyes and let out the most beautiful laugh you have ever heard.
Harry held back his laughter for the rest of the day and gave in every time he looked at your pout. In your defense, you really thought it was molasses, you apologized repeatedly but he wasn’t really listening, stuck in a laughter daze.
When a customer came to pick up his car and inquired if Harry changed the oil, he looked at you and laughed as you organized his tools, but the customer got rude and Harry didn’t take it well.
”Are you laughing at me?” He tried to appear intimidating but failed to do so as Harry straightened his posture, and crossed his arms against his chest, allowing his biceps to flex almost immediately.
“The fuck is your issue dick? Do you see me laughing for you? Piss off from here.” He sneered at him before throwing the car keys at him.
The man grumbled something under his breath, and picked up his keys off the ground as he continuously cursed Harry who was changing the song choice to 1975 and couldn’t care less.
“What was the man shouting for? Did I mess up his appointment?” You asked him timidly after hearing the man shout loudly.
Harry gazed at you with a troubled look, wincing slightly as he noticed your eager expression, were you waiting for him to shout at you? He regrets not beating up the guy.
“Just men being men don’t worry yeah?”. You nodded at his words and took your usual seat watching him continue to work as you unwrapped your turkey sandwich.
He bopped his head to the ‘The Adults Are Talking’ by ‘The Strokes’ as he took off his rings and placed the leather gloves on his soft hands, they were pretty clean and delicate for a mechanic. This time he allowed his curls to shade his face, not paying attention to his hair clip. Due to the scorching heat, he took off his shirt (which you really liked) and placed it neatly aside where it wouldn’t stain.
The sight of his muscles was something you could never get over; he had phenomenal beauty and you read about Greek gods before but you’re not sure they can compare. Soft waist, artistic tattoos, delicate hip bone, dainty pearl necklace, prominent veins.
His anatomy was graceful like a fallen angel.
You had forgotten to eat breakfast this morning, and when Harry texted you asking to come, you freaked out and packed your sandwich instead of having it. It was your special recipe and the to go lunch sandwich, you were ready to devour it when you glanced at Harry and saw him gazing with a frown on his face making you feel like the worst person on the whole planet.
In a matter of seconds you had the sandwich split into two, leaving a half on the table in front of you and approached Harry who now was even more grumpy, as you stretched your hand to offer him the bigger half.
“Sorry for my bad manners, I should’ve asked, would you like to eat some of my Turkey sandwich?” His face softened a bit at your expression but switched back to his usual tense demeanor quickly.
“Thank you no, I was actually wondering about something else.” The toothpick in his mouth did not stop him from speaking, as he leaned his back against the car, planting his foot firmly against the gravel. His position made his midsection stretch and bend and his V line was getting recognition, you hoped he linked your drool to the sandwich.
“Which is? Do I have something to do before eating? Did you stop lunch breaks?”
Every time you spoke, a little feeling inside Harry sparked, this tiny feeling confirmed his thoughts time and time again. He has to shake himself whether mentally or physically and shut down his urges which most of the time include opening his notebook.
“I guess why you’re eating a sandwich. Does it fulfill you?”
The thing about Harry is that it’s very hard to read him sometimes, is it confusion or curiosity, fondness or kindness. Right now it was a mixture of both wonder and something that you can’t quite catch yet.
“I mean I think so. You don’t want to try it?” Your pout told him all he needed to know, if he didn’t take the sandwich from you, you’d probably think about it for days but right now Harry had something else on his mind.
“Can you stay here for a bit? Don’t go after me and don’t eat the sandwich” He ordered with a stern look before throwing his tooth pick in the garbage , closing the hood of the car and going inside the store.
You were not exactly sure how to feel, you don’t even know what he went to do, maybe he felt guilty or shy from your food offer. Either way you are really hungry and you wouldn’t mind sharing food with him so where did he disappear?
Harry has never cooked for someone else in his life until you.
He can’t really recall what led him here, or why he’s cooking meat right now and boiling pasta. His chef techniques were meant to be reserved only for him and Snow . His legs did lead him here and his hands keep chopping the vegetables without a direct order. Lately his nervous system seemed to be betraying him, acting upon some certain actions that make him beyond confused.
Maybe if he had an explanation after it was done, it would’ve put him at ease, except that he doesn’t. He likes to be direct and see immediately through people, and that was the problem with you, he was seeing too much.
Why did it matter if the pasta’s boiling was medium or fully cooked or if the change in spices was necessary? He could not for the life of him understand many things.
Maybe Snow Bun can help.
Harry has been inside his garage for the past 35 minutes, at first you were worried and he had asked of you to not follow him, so you respected his boundaries.
Your worry slowly fled away when you smelled it, the scent of tomato sauce and the unmistakable scent of meat, you assumed that your mind was playing tricks on you and it was your hunger that made you imagine things.
But as more time passed you knew that you were not a lunatic and that Harry really is cooking. So you were right then, maybe he was making food because he got hungry and refused to take your food. In moments like these you could see that Harry is just a tender boy at heart, in your opinion everyone is.
We get mistreated a lot that we lose sense of who we are, but the real and soft version of us, the one touched by angels and untouched by demons remains hidden and comes out discreetly but in the most beautiful ways one could imagine. It was kind of your favorite hobby, to see when it shows up , but to get to observe it, you have to know one’s weakness at first then watch them do the exact opposite.
With Harry it’s taking you more time to observe, tender things need more patience.
You got excited at the idea of Harry eating with you, you were used to eating alone, as the only person close to a friend you had was Kitty and maybe Harry but you don’t want to put your hopes up.
You were wrapping up the sandwich again so that it stays edible, before Harry walked out with two plates in his hand, he was still shirtless and the heat from the oven reflected on his sweaty body, he had a chef’s bonnet to avoid getting his hair in the food and the sight of him strolling lazily with his jeans low on his waist and holding food that he made was a sight that will be engraved in your mind for a long time.
He balanced the two plates in one hand effortlessly, and grabbed a chair nearby fixing it next to yours as he set the food in front of you which you figured out is a Tagliatelle alla Bolognese.
“Fancy some pasta?”
Lunch with Harry was nice. He seemed flustered and you’re not sure why, so to save him the embarrassment you opened up a chat about Snow Bun who is probably trying to pluck the strawberries from the garden as you spoke.
You insisted that Harry tastes your sandwich and despite his chef like standards he approved of your recipe but continued to flaunt that his culinary abilities are better.
“My sandwich deserves a Michelin!”
“Excuse you? People would die to have my pasta woman!” He scoffed and chewed with his Bunny teeth that he probably stole from Snow.
He took the plates inside and fumbled around for a certain product then remembered immediately that he ran out of it. You went on a quick walk and bought some of the missing essentials for the shop, and you bumped into Uncle George , who you approached to greet.
“Hello Uncle George, How are you? Can I help with anything?” You offered a sweet smile in case he needed it today.
“Oh bless you child I am well, thank you I’m only grabbing a bouquet of flowers.”
“Ohhh, is it for your wife?” You blushed at the thought of your future partner buying you flowers at an old age. Uncle George is a very sweet man, no wonder Harry is close with him.
“Yes darling it is, she loves yellow tulips.” He pointed at the bouquet he’s holding with an enthusiastic smile.
“Oh that’s so nice I hope she likes them. Have a nice day.”
“Same for you kid, same for you.” You bid him goodbye with another smile and walked away before hearing him again.
“I can see his through his eyes now.”
You turned around to see that he did not repeat his words and apparently not address you even, when he looked back he waved again at you and you returned it with a confused look.
Upon your return, Harry was cursing under his breath in a grumpy state, the music was low and he was standing over an open hood with his fingers examining his puckered lips. He asked for the bottle of brake fluid as you organized the other things you bought in their designated places.
“Can you come over here” He asked a few minutes later.
You found him holding up the hood of the car with his two hands and you can see how his biceps are clenching as his hand fought against the weight of the hood despite holding it like it weighs nothing.
“The hood is broken and I need to fix something else, It won’t balance on the stick, can you please hold it while I check something?” You nodded and took over the hood part , and quickly felt its weight. Damn him and his muscles.
He easily managed to pull heavy parts and put them back, he was really good at his job and no one could deny it. You helped him and handed him over some of his kit as he worked out the trouble.
“The coolant is supposed to have a sweet smell, yet it smells weird and there are no signs of any leak. Flashlight please?” He asked without turning to you but when you didn’t respond for a good while he angled his head towards you.
Your hair was long and straightened and it was getting in the way of your vision since you were bent down, you did not want to tell Harry, afraid that it would seem unprofessional of you.
You were struggling to hold the hood, and the flashlight was farther than all the other tools, when you tried to reach it your back cramped from the weight of the hood and your hair completely clouded your vision.
“What are you doing?”
“Sorry it’s my hair. I can’t see.” You winced as you felt useless despite it being the first time he actually asked of you to help yet you were not able to provide it.
“It’s okay you can sit down I’ll handle it.” He replied without glancing at you.
“But I can help—“
“Just sit there, it’s fine.” You nodded and felt the sadness creep into you despite him not being mean, but you really wanted to help.
He’s already paying you way too much to just take appointments and buy new oil. Your body slumped against the barstool and your lips formed a pout as you glanced at the now neglected car, you were making a great team.
“M’gonna need you to stay still for a while.” He came behind you abruptly and swiped his hand through your hair.
His hands were soft even though he spent all day ruining his skin layer with work, you can feel the lotion he just used at the back of your neck. His rings sent a shiver up your spine, as his hand discovered your skin, it was silly to feel that way, so giddy for his touch but you couldn’t really help it.
You’re very shy by nature, and in situations like this you pry from ruining the mood and asking what the other person is planning to do. Even Harry seemed to take a long time to make his next move, his hands kept swiping through your hair tenderly, as his fingers went in and out from your hair strands.
He divided your hair into three divisions, and gently began bringing them together, the first with the second, then with the third and so on. Your heart was drumming against your ribcage, even more so when you realized that Harry was braiding your hair.
You soaked the moment in as much as you could, his knuckles were grazing your back and his touch made you want to crawl in his lap and hug him. Perhaps you were touch deprived or he was just very huggable. Not to mention that you love physical touch, so his hand at your skin caressing sensitive spots along with the soft breeze that’s helping Harry, made you want to giggle and squirm beneath him.
“No one has ever braided my hair.” You blurted out quickly before biting at your inner cheeks. Whenever someone was nice to you, you’d unconsciously share personal things, but again not only is Harry physically near you, but he seemed like the type of person you can feel comfortable around. Not because he wouldn’t object or make snarky comments like other men. Harry was just not judgmental.
Despite all his grumpiness, occasionally rude attitude and short temper, Harry was so soft deep down. You’ve barely known him for two weeks yet but your experience as a social worker aided you in identifying people and uncovering their mask. After all, Harry was a safe bubble, along with Snow Bun, his hydrangeas and yellow house. It is nothing but a courageous attempt at protecting his peace.
“Why? You have nice hair.” He mumbled the last sentence rather faster and quieter as if he didn’t want you to hear it. He even let out a huff as if he couldn’t believe you.
“The girls used to say that my hair is ugly and weird, and that I don’t look like Princesses.” You felt your cheeks burn at the memory, your childhood wasn’t the best, especially when you had to grow up with these said girls.
Harry glanced down at your locks between his hands, they were so pretty that he had to restrain himself from playing with them all day , they smell like strawberries too and he could swear you look like Rapunzel under the sun. Why were people mean?
“I don’t know, sounds like bullshit to me.” He shrugged his shoulders and cleared his throat as an attempt to keep his rough demeanor on.
You didn’t wish to recall these days so you focused on the feeling of his hands again, the wind around you and how the soft tug at your strands was almost like a scratch and made you feel sleepy but safe.
His fingers parted your hair but only for a few seconds, before he added the final touches, and secured the end of the braid with a hair tie. He continued to place inside it something that made your eyebrows furrow, you couldn’t pinpoint what it was exactly, but you had a feeling it looked nice.
“Okay, now you can help me. The car is waiting.” He strolled to the car without any other words and pretended to continue his work, but not forgetting to give a side glance and watch you look at the mirror and at the blue hydrangea petals he placed in between your hair .
Ever since you arrived at this town, you experienced some harsh incidents that can be considered as ‘bad luck’. First, the landlord wanted to charge you double that of other apartments, until he changed his mind and lowered the price thankfully. Then the town was caught in a huge storm, making all shops close down so you couldn’t visit the grocery store and spent two days eating ramen.
Your job is a whole other story, quitting it allowed you to see things from a clearer point of view and learn from your mistakes. Harry’s advice served you good since if not for him you would be deep down a hole of troubles.
Losing your car was the most damaging, it was the only piece you had from your grandfather, also your first car and held many memories over the years. To see it every day in Harry’s garage made your heart clutch, but you know that you would never give up on it, you just need to save a little money.
All these incidents remind you how you will always be alright in the end. It’s been over a month since the race, and as each day passed you and Harry got closer. Breaking down his wall was not easy; you didn’t even fully reach there yet but there is a progress.
You learned that he has a sister in the UK, he loves engineering but wanted to study Music, he didn’t adopt Bun nor had an intention of keeping him. He found him covered in dirt behind the garage so he took him in until he was healthy enough to give him to someone worthy, yet even then Snowy refused to part from Harry and you have an inkling that it was the opposite.
Harry is a big tea drinker; he has packets that he keeps in both his garage and house. He really loves the honey and cinnamon tea, and drinks two cups a day. However he seems to dislike alcohol a lot and described it as ‘piss’.
Niall is his only trusted companion, they bonded over their origin and even though Niall tends to be playful and exactly what Harry hates in people sometimes, but you don’t recall a day where they didn’t speak to each other.
As you concluded from the beginning, he adores music and is a proud Vinyl collector. He once spent 600$ just to get his hands on a special edition of Elton John’s Breaking Hearts. Every other week, he visits a market nearby where he goes on a hunt for new interesting Vinyls.
Your days with him consisted of laughter, he had a way to make you smile even when it wasn’t his intention. He can still get grumpy sometimes, but he was never mean to you, whenever he got mad, he’d lock himself inside the store and get out after 15 minutes only to continue conversing normally.
He braids your hair from time to time, although you never really told him about the other mean things you’ve been told. You knew his preferences enough to get him lunch or a snack, perhaps a gift even, yet you felt like there was more to know but you had patience and in return you must also give him parts of yourself.
You’re not sure how you managed to be around him this long, he was unnaturally gorgeous, you would stare in awe at whatever he does, you never imagined a person to be this beautiful. You could swear his irises change shades every now and then, that his lips stole the color from cherries, and his body an incarnation of a female and male Greek gods.
Being around him made you flustered but not in a bad way, it was a good feeling that reminded you how you’ll be seeing him every morning, how the blood pumps faster to your heart when he’s near you, when your cheeks burn as he cooks for you or delivers a ‘hello’ message from Snowy with a strawberry filled basket.
He was somewhat your only friend and that was an achievement. Making friends is a nightmare for you, you’re not the best at it nor had good experiences in the past years. You’re not sure if you got better at it or if Harry is easy to be around, perhaps he is ,but that would also mean that there is nothing wrong with you.
Kitty was able to note the change in your attitude, how happier you became, but she refrained from saying anything because she already knows the cause behind all this giddiness and why Harry checked out Pride & Prejudice right after you returned it.
“I don’t mean to intrude my boy, but I never saw you as a classics guy.” Kitty spoke as she registered the book under his name.
“Umm, just wanna see what the fuss is about I guess, no other reason.” He tried to hide the blush in his cheeks by awkwardly scratching his neck and fleeing away after grabbing the book.
Kitty was no fool of course, she was just waiting, after all some clocks need delicate care and attention.
The news of quitting your job earned a broad smile from Harry, he looked even happier than you and kept assuring that you took the right decision. It didn’t take you long to find a job offer, the only issue is that it’s out of town but Harry insisted that you apply to see how it would go.
You watched him hop off his bike and remove the Gucci sunnies, before placing his motorcycle inside and taking off his leather jacket, he glanced at you and was about to speak but furrowed his eyebrows instead at your face expression.
“Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”
“Okay please don’t get mad, but I just remembered that my job interview is tomorrow and I know that this is last minute but I really need to take tomorrow off, I can start working on appointments from now an—“ Your anxious rambling made Harry even more confused that he had to cut you off.
“We all forget strawberry shortcake, what time is the interview?” He replied nonchalantly as he took off his shirt. You couldn’t help but blush at the nickname he’s given you for smelling like strawberries.
“Around one in the afternoon, but I have to get up early because I do not know the town and have to find a bus so th—“
“I’m driving you.” He picked up his crawler and walked to a car he was fixing since morning.
“No you don’t have to, I can—“
“It’s not negotiable, I’ll pick you up at 10.” You mumbled a quiet ‘thank you’ as he continued to do his work.
Niall popped in around noon and began rambling about his work, what he ate and what he’s been up to as Harry only nodded and kept his focus on the car.
You liked his presence, he was a nice guy and anyone who Harry likes must be a big deal since it doesn’t happen that often, but it’s safe to say that Bun is fond of biting Niall in his leg , recently he’s been avoiding Harry’s House because of ‘the deadly beast’.
Niall swore that Snowy only seems to like you and Harry, even though he is harmless but he just never clicked with the little bun. You thought that it is such an ironic situation since Niall is the one who gets for Harry, Snowy’s food and essentials from his aunts’ store. Maybe he liked the Bun deep down.
When he figured that Harry is busy and will not give him his attention, he turned to you and struck up a conversation, he was very chatty and you found it hard to keep up with him.
“I had a chicken sandwich and I kept thinking about the ones that Harry make, they’re delicious really.” His Irish accent made you giggle.
“There’s leftover Pizza if you want, I can heat it up?” You asked him in case he was hungry.
“Thank you I should really get back but I’m also bored and I had to pass by to make sure Harry didn’t make you run away yet.” He let out a loud laughter and imitated Harry’s grumpy face making you laugh even harder.
The giggles did not go unnoticed by Harry, he could recognize your voice and laughter anywhere but it was infuriating when it wasn’t about something he said.
He decided to let it go as Niall is a funny guy and can make anyone laugh, that is until he heard Niall asking you a question that made him see red.
“Do you want to go out maybe? I know a nice place..” The rest of Niall’s question was inaudible as Harry’s jaw twitched and tightened.
He strolled over quickly to where you were standing with an oil bottle in his hand and spilled it over Niall’s shirt, it wasn’t a secret that Harry is visibly angry, but while Niall was oblivious you immediately caught up.
“Mate the fuck? If you’re mad unleash your anger somewhere else, I’m still in working hours.” He mumbled angrily as he walked over to his car, taking off his shirt and driving away.
You were shocked at Harry’s behavior; you looked back at him and he had anger radiating off his body. He didn’t even look you in the eye. Your arms were crossed in disappointment, perhaps with a hint of confusion and irritation. He knew it too but acted as innocent as a sly cat. He will not get away with it, you thought.
“Your child like antics seem to get only worse. That wasn’t an accidental spill, you were being rude.” You sneered feeling hot fume leave your body as a reaction to Harry’s act.
He dropped the wrench with a thud and strolled toward you with a scowl on his face that did not appear until you opened your mouth.
He trapped you in the corner making you lightly stumble and lay your weight against the bar stool you usually sit in. His face was inches apart from yours and all the blood in your body was pumping fast.
“Do you see how close I am to you? He must’ve been wishing to get to do that, and that’s my problem. You see I could’ve done worse, I was being nice Shortcake , m’kay?”. His piercing gaze softened after he finished talking and he tilted his head to the side smiling lightly, before backing away and lighting a cigarette.
Harry’s fingers kept tapping against the steering wheel as he awaited outside your apartment building, he showed up 10 minutes after you sent him the address as if he’s a standby chauffeur.
He pinched his puckered lips, glancing every now and then at his painted nails then back to the building gate. It’s not even a date or so but his whole body wants to shiver yet Harry mastered the art of controlling his reflexes.
What he did yesterday was unexpected, he took it too far and was really a child. What’s worse is that he didn’t seem to mind it until he got back home and replayed the scene in his mind. He threw oil on Niall just because he asked you out?
Recently Harry has been acting in ways he does not approve of which is quite silly as he controls his own actions yet sometimes, he feels helpless. He tried to ignore it at first, but that only seemed to make it worse.
Getting mad at the thought of someone dating you can only mean one thing and he refuses to accept it. It’s true that the past month was a change from the boredom he encounters at work every day, but it also allowed you to creep inside of him and lay there, Harry’s afraid you’re already welcome.
Thankfully Niall didn’t catch on, but only because this isn’t the first time Harry has been a jerk, but it also happens to be kind of their own thing, to prank each other. He ponders if he should apologize later on to Niall or just let it be, however If he does then it might reveal the fact that it wasn’t a joke.
Harry would consider himself to have fallen down the rabbit hole.
You and your silly books, adorable soft hair that always reminds him of his strawberry garden, weird colorful clothes that would send a fashion designer into a coma, sweet rambles about everything and your claims on being the best Turkey Sandwich maker. He could go on and on and tell every single bit about you, but he can’t and shouldn’t. He knows better than to allow his desires to take over the wheel, which is why he must find a way to climb back out of the rabbit hole.
He got pulled out of his trance by the sound of the door opening then slamming shut, your sudden entrance along with the wind going in your direction allowed Harry to catch a strong whiff of your strawberry scent making him clutch the steering wheel roughly.
“Am I late? So sorry I didn’t know what to wear and what book to grab for the road.” You apologized as you threw your bag in his backseat, trying not to focus on how he’s eyeing your figure without a single word.
After all, it’s a job interview and being elegant was a must. You spent the entire morning going through your closet and trying on every piece you have, to be a bit fair most of them were decent and suitable for an interview yet it was not your potential new boss that you wanted to impress.
The huffs and puffs paid off as you picked a matching plaid blazer and skirt, you faintly remember the last time you wore this set two years ago which is why it wasn’t a surprise when the skirt turned out to be a bit shorter than expected, it was still decent for the interview but also hugged your body perfectly.
Harry’s eyes nearly bulged out when he saw your skirt, you didn’t even bother to wear tights beneath it and your bare legs were a sight. He still didn’t utter anything and it was making you more anxious.
“Soo how long will the trip take?” You asked with your gaze set down on your feet, avoiding him as much as possible knowing that you’ll blush if you just glance.
“Approximately an hour and a half.” He cleared his throat and fixed his Gucci sunnies as he continued to chew his gum.
You brought three different books with you in case you wanted to pass time, but you hoped that you didn’t have to touch them and converse with Harry instead.
You didn’t realize that it would be much awkward when you are outside of work, initiating a conversation is harder let alone maintaining it. What’s making it worse is Harry’s attitude yesterday and what he said to you.
“I could’ve done worse shortcake.”
That exact sentence kept bothering you the whole night as you tossed and turned. Does he like you or is he just a protective friend?
It would be an exaggeration to assume he has a crush on you yet his actions placed you in a tough position. Would it be unwise to open up the subject? Will you even get the answer you’re wishing for?
All you know is that you’re about to spend half a day with him on the road without work distractions, and god knows what will happen but again the chances are below zero.
“Grab the 2nd CD here will ya?” Harry turned on the engine and began rotating the steering wheel with his palm as he stretched his arm behind your head and looked backwards. The sight of him driving like that made you squirm in your seat. You pretended to be fumbling with the CDs but instead you couldn’t possibly miss the sight of his biceps practically bulging through his leather jacket.
He had light stubble as he hasn’t been shaving for a while and despite having sunglasses on, you could see how focused he is, with a gentle furrow of his eyebrows. His hand on the wheel had protruding veins and you smiled at the new turquoise nail polish.
“The CD has a nice mix especially for road trips, let’s get going shortcake.”
The mixtape Harry picked had one of the best songs you’ve ever heard. He has a talent for picking the right tune in any situation. Knowing him, he probably would’ve bought his Vinyl player with him if not for road bumps.
Emerald star by Lord Huron was playing and Harry raised the volume. For the first time since you left town you dared to look at him.
His side profile was majestic, you can’t see his eyes but you assumed they’re in their usual state, unreadable and unbelievably gorgeous. Some freckles lay against the tip of his nose, the weather has been getting warmer and the more freckles appear on his face the more enamored you become.
His jaw flexes as he chews his cherry gum, and if he likes the song he’d tap with his index finger repeatedly, perhaps bite at the skin of his rosy lips. You can tell that he wants to sing along but you don’t want to push him out of his comfort zone.
“Oh what a jewel are you, and oh what a fool am I
For squandering my love on an emerald in the sky”
The song touched your heart as you listened to pure poetry with a melody, it was something else. Even Harry allowed his dimples to show when he first heard the intro of the song.
“I loved it so much, can we repeat it?” You asked as he immediately turned to you with a grin.
“Haven’t spoken a single word since we set off , and you only talk to me because you liked the song? I thought the cat got your tongue.” He placed his sunglasses above his soft curls and pulled out a cigarette from his pocket, leaving the steering wheel without control as he cupped his hands around his mouth to light the cigarette.
“Can you not do that again?” His recklessness was a reminder for you to put on your seatbelt and you did so quickly.
“Do what?” He turned to you with parted lips and you could not tell if he’s acting innocent or is actually clueless.
“This.. thing with leaving the steering wheel and looking at me. You’ll get the car crashed.” Your voice showed how timid you are, but it was only fair when he was being so careless.
He let out a deep chuckle, with the cigarette perched between his lips. “I know what i’m doing shortcake, i’ve been driving cars since I was 14. If I want to get us crashed , I would’ve done that in the race.” He took another puff from the cigarette and let it out through the window.
The reminder of the race made you feel uneasy, not only was it terrifying and life threatening but now that you know Harry more, you unconsciously care for him which explains the pit that formed in your stomach at the mention of the race.
“Besides I can look at you whenever I want” He muttered under his breath and you decided to not answer back at any of these remarks.
“If the garage is getting you good money, why do you race Harry? You could get yourself killed.” Your curiosity took control as you found yourself speaking without thinking first.
It was as if he didn’t hear you or chose not to. The silence was loud except for AngelEyes by ABBA blasting on the radio, you slowly diverted your body towards the door and looked out the window, trying not to feel hurt with his attitude.
“I like the adrenaline it gives me.” He suddenly spoke making you turn back to him.
“It has a certain type of rush that I’m addicted to, you could say I’m an adrenaline junkie. I also love how everyone tries to beat me, but they will never be able to do that shortcake.” He elaborated nonchalantly as if he was speaking about an arcade game not a dangerous street race.
You could not possibly lie and say that you didn’t like it, at some point you discarded the fear and experienced some of the adrenaline he spoke of, but you couldn’t also deny how dangerous it was.
He had you in his lap, with one hand secured around your waist yet still managed to drive with risky turns and the other driver’s attempt at getting him to crash. It looked like any daily routine for him.
“Perhaps you can find a healthy addiction?” You didn’t wish to interfere in his life, but being you, helping others to overcome unhealthy habits is a must.
“Hmm, maybe.” He gave you a toothy grin as if he got an idea right there and then but didn’t want to share.
The road ahead of you was slightly familiar, a few cars were driving along but surprisingly not a lot. As soon as Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High by Arctic Monkeys started playing, you rolled down the car window, and let out your upper body as the soft breeze caressed you and allowed your hair to float.
Harry was shocked at your sudden act, he no longer cared if the road was empty or swarmed with cars. Your back was turned to him and your skirt was riding up on the back of your thighs, you had already kicked off your heels when you got in. The door was locked and you still had your seatbelt on, hence why he didn’t freak out, however he had his arm stretched near your waist just in case.
If an officer passed by on his motorcycle, he’d take away Harry’s license. His eyes forgot that the road exists, or that he’s driving, all he could see was you. Your floating hair, spreading the strawberry scent everywhere, the giddy smile on your face like a child experiencing the high of a rollercoaster for the first time or the way you ignored him and pretended that it’s your own world with the song blasting.
You looked like an addiction he could get used to.
‘ You said you gotta be up in the morning
Gonna have an early night
And you’re starting to bore me, baby
Why’d you only call me when you’re high?’
As the song came to an end, Harry’s apprehension took the spotlight as he pulled you in with one swift motion. He can race with many cars cornering him but you push your body outside of the window and the alarms in his brain go red.
You squealed when he pulled you in, as he cut off your little moment with the wind. His questioning expression made you self-aware of what you did making roses slowly creep up your cheeks as you covered your face quickly with your hands.
“Oh c’mon shortcake, that was nice. Did you get your own adrenaline hmm?” He reached his hand and removed yours off your face.
“I just felt like doing it.” You shrugged your shoulders and smiled shyly at Harry.
“Do whatever you want shortcake.”
Time passed easily with Harry. It was definitely not your expectation but you didn’t mind it too. You’ve been on the road for half an hour now, and you had a fight about ice-cream flavors. You’ve been slowly trying to break down his ice wall and now that you’ve laughed together, you thought about taking the conversation further.
“Can I ask you something?” You asked with curiosity reeking from your voice.
“No I will not try your disgusting bubblegum ice-cream.” He grumbled like a child as if you asked him to eat trash.
“No but one day I will make you eat that.” He rolled his eyes at you making you let out a laugh at the thought of him trying on bubblegum ice-cream.
“ So.. is it okay if you tell me how you knew that my ex boss was scamming me?” You swallowed down your throat after asking, as you reopened the subject that made you both fight in the first place.
You can see how his jaw twitched upon the mention of your ex boss, he certainly was not pleased with the topic and testing the waters now seems like a bad idea.
“Sorry you don’t have to—“
“He scammed my sister before you.” He looked at you with a hint of pain in his face.
“We both came here young and had dreams, I was slowly building myself and she thought that volunteer work was a good step. He kept promising her with a job, made her donate even, only to tell her that there is no place for her when the contract was over.” He was trying to hide his anger but to no avail. His nostrils were flaring and he could rip off the leather of the wheel from how tight his grip was.
“She was ambitious just like you, and what he did left her hopeless. Eventually, she didn’t find a job and went back to the UK.” Your heart clutched at the thought of Harry’s sister going through the same thing but with no one to warn her.
“I’m so sorry, I hope she’s doing better now back home.”
“She is, he just didn’t have the right to do so. That fucker… I wish I complied to my urges and left him a bloody mess but back then we didn’t have money for lawsuits.” He let out a big sigh and you felt like an idiot for discussing it with him.
“ Your sister sounds lovely, I’m sorry that happened to her.” You answered softly not knowing what to exactly say.
“Enough of that now shortcake, talk about something else.” It was obvious that he desperately needed a distraction and you felt inclined to provide it.
“We can play Truth or Truth since we can’t do dare in the car.”
“That sounds like a made up game but okay.” You rummaged your head for nice questions that do not cross his boundaries.
“How many tattoos do you have?” He pretended to count them making you roll eyes at him.
“I dunno shortcake, I lost count at 20.” You don’t have any tattoos but you wondered how the hell he was able to handle all this pain.
“My turn, what’s your favorite book ever?” He skipped the song that was playing until he decided on ‘Sesame Syrup’ by Cigarettes After Sex.
“Absolutely not, I’m not answering that.” You shook your head aggressively in disapproval feeling cornered with the question.
“I’m not letting that slide easily but your turn.” He took off his leather jacket, leaving him in a plain white shirt as you glared at him for leaving the steering wheel again.
“How many partners did you have?” Your felt quite bold but regretted it immediately after you saw his smirk.
“Hmm I’d say one for the serious relationship.” He was cheeky with his answer as if you fed his ego by asking. You’re not even sure why you did so, perhaps your curiosity got the best of you.
“My turn. What’s the best place you’ve had sex in?” Your cheeks turned crimson red at his question, as you began picking at your nails. He looked back at you when you took too long to answer and saw how flustered you were.
“Shit did I make you uncomfortable? “ He cursed under his breath as he stared at your flushed face.
“No it’s okay.. I just.. umm “ You swallowed down your throat, and turned away from him as the game was no longer in your favor.
“What is it?” He was confused as to why you suddenly become more flustered than you usually are. You were biting your bottom lip and playing with the hem of your skirt until he finally understood what’s up.
“Are you a virgin shortcake?” His rather correct guess made your face heat up embarrassingly as you allowed your hair to fall and cover your face from him.
“Hey, don’t do that. S’fine you can say whatever you want.” Harry found it cute that you were so red in the face over his question. He couldn’t believe it.
His shortcake was a virgin.
He tried to refrain himself from thinking about unholy things but god he couldn’t. How can he continue to live every day and be around you now that he knows you haven’t been touched.
“Yeah, you’re right, I’m just embarrassed.” You spoke in a low voice with your gaze set at your feet.
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. It’s just a stupid social standard, you can wait for as long as you want shortcake.” He tried to comfort you, as he realized how upset you might be feeling.
“It’s not really about waiting; it’s about finding someone. Boys didn’t date me, they went for the popular prettier girls.” Harry almost hit the brake pedal in the middle of the road at your words. The fact that you thought so lowly of yourself because of stupid premature boys made him see red.
“The fuck do you mean by that? Just because some boys are pricks doesn’t mean you’re not worth dating. Fucks sake where’d you get those thoughts from?” He was visibly angry as you held back tears at both your confession and his sweetness.
“I’m not sure..” You couldn’t provide him with an answer when you didn’t even know what was going on in your own love life.
He suddenly turned off the music and reached his hand to caress your burning cheek. “ Hey, look at me.” He ordered softly as he turned your face to him.
“It’s not nice to think like that. Anyone would be lucky to have you. You’re worth more than sex and there are many people out there who would kill to have you. It was my fault for bringing it up.” His sweet words added to your pent-up frustration as you held back hot tears.
“It’s okay, can we close the subject now?” You’re not sure you can handle any further comforting from him. You feel embarrassed enough as it is for confessing such things.
“Yes of course but remember my words.” He leaned back in his seat and actually set his eyes on the road.
He didn’t know what to feel. The way you underestimate yourself infuriated him, it proves to him yet again that you’re too pure for this world. Never was he so angry just because someone else was not treated properly.
He didn’t want to think whether it’s right or not to feel that way, all he knows is that he’s mad. If only he could talk a little more… but he respects your boundaries and decided to turn on the music again in hopes of cheering you up.
You arrived at the designated building in no time, and you felt a lot better after Harry stopped by an ice cream shop and bought you four scoops of bubblegum ice cream with marshmallow topping. You admired his gesture and you could tell he was trying to make up in his own way.
Even though you were ready mentally and parked right outside of the building, you felt like cooling off a bit and taking a stroll on the sidewalk.
Harry walked out from the car like a movie star with his beloved leather jacket hanging off his shoulder, you fixed your attire and secured your handbag before beginning to walk with Harry by your side.
The building was tall with tainted windows that you could not see through, you can hear Harry lighting up a cigarette behind you to destress as if he’s the one with the interview.
“Harry, I think I’ll just go in. If I wait any longer, I’ll get stressed.” You fixed your hair and stared back at Harry who was leaning against the car.
“Whatever suits you, I’ll wait here.” You gave him a gentle smile and walked away towards the building before you heard him calling your name.
“Yes?” You turned around to face him.
“Read the contract well shortcake.”
Harry has been waiting outside the building for almost an hour now, he thought about going in to check up on you but he didn’t want to embarrass you, for all he knows you could be waiting or doing the interview as he walks in.
He’s had five cigarettes and walked back and forth three times; it could be a sign of anxiety but for fucking what? It’s you who’s doing the interview and worrying about you should be the last thing he’s supposed to do.
In the past month he allowed you to get closer to him, something he despises. But now that he thinks about it, he never remembers being aware of it. He always has his guard on, and the way he let it down naturally scares him.
He’s gotten used to your turkey sandwiches, books around the garage, random hair clips that he finds everywhere, the fallen hydrangea petals from your hair after he braids it, some doodles and heart shaped drawings in his appointment book, and the curious inquiries when he’s fixing cars.
‘ So if you replace this piece with a new one, does it become like those cars in movies.’
’ Can you place a machine inside the car that gives you bubblegum when you press the button’
‘ What happens if you actually replace the oil with pomegranate molasses’
As a mechanic, hearing these questions sent him into a laughter fit, you were something else that he can’t pinpoint, perhaps otherworldly but what he knows is that you are not the type he ever saw himself meeting. He couldn’t possibly believe that someone like you exists.
Maybe he’ll wake up at any second and find himself back home, and that it was all just a fever dream, even his garage, degree and Snow Bun. Instead he hears the sweet voice that he got so accustomed to hearing every morning.
“Harry! I got the job” You walked excitedly to him while being careful to not trip over.
Deep down Harry knew that they would take you, it wasn’t a surprise that you’re talented, not to mention a very fast learner. But to see you so happy with the broadest smile was the real fever dream. He didn’t prepare himself for encountering such a sight nor could he survive it.
“They said that there’s no need to wait a few days, they hired me on spot and you wo—“ You stood in front of him rambling excitedly before he cut you off by pressing his lips against yours and cupping your face with both of his hands.
You melted in the kiss as his soft lips nibbled on yours, your heart was drumming against your chest and it all felt too surreal. You can taste the mix of cherry and cigarettes on his tongue as his mouth lapped at yours and devoured you whole.
Neither of you seemed to want to let go, especially Harry who held on to your waist as he deepened the kiss further making you lean backwards against his arm. Your tongues clashed together and you could feel him smiling.
Harry is not sure he can climb out of the rabbit hole.
A/n: hope you had fun reading!! Please make sure to leave feedback, i’d appreciate it a lot <3
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Let It Snow
Summary: Apparently, getting stuck in a cabin with Spencer isn't too bad
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (fluff)
Word Count: 1.0k
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"We're never going to get out of here by tomorrow." She complains, looking out the window where the snow is already probably half a foot high, and it's not forecasted to end any time soon.
Maybe the idea to use some of their remaining vacation time to retreat to a little cabin in the Vermont mountainside wasn't well thought out. Although it was almost Christmas break, apparently, it was too cold for serial killers to kill, so the BAU workload was light, and Hotch was more than willing to give them time off.
But the chance planes will be leaving, or even be able to land in DC if the cold snap had traveled south, is next to zero. By morning, they might be completely snowed in.
She turns back to look at her gorgeous boyfriend, who is snuggled under a blanket on the couch, tucked up like a burrito with a mug of tea on the table. "How are you not freaking out about this, Mr. Planner?"
"Doctor Planner." He jokes. "And I'm not freaking out because I like spending time with you here."
She smiles, stepping away from the window and to the couch where she sits next to him.
The inside of the cabin is cute yet luxurious, fitted with polished wood, a grand fireplace, and nice furniture. Most importantly, it's cozy, with one bedroom off the side of the open-planned kitchen and living room. The windows are impressive, floor-to-ceiling glass that shows the rows of pine trees covered in white snow. It's peaceful and quiet, and that's what they needed.
Spencer takes his arm out of the blanket and wraps it around her, pulling her closer. "I'm not worrying because, for once, I don't feel stressed." It's remarkable, really, since he's been stressed since he was five. "Who cares if we don't get home tomorrow or this week?" He asks rhetorically. "We've got food, power, a backup generator, and, this might be my bias, but good company."
She giggles, nuzzling further under his arm. "You're right."
"I always am." He reminds her. "Now get out of your coat and shoes, and come cuddle with me."
She obliges. It's warm enough with the fire on that she doesn't need anything more than sleep shorts and a hoodie of Spencer's. She hurries back to the couch where Spencer has set up snacks.
The news on the TV is on, a weather reporter talking about a snowstorm coming over the east coast. It's not good news. "Are you seeing this?" She asks Spencer, turning the volume up as she stands behind the couch to watch the show.
He nods, unphased as he pours more tea. "Let it snow, Y/n. Just let it snow." He instructs, taking the remote and turning the TV off.
Y/n huffs, sitting down next to him. He pulls her closer so they can both see out the wide windows at the settling sun and pink-painted sky.
"Don't you think it's so beautiful?" He asks. There's a soft wonder in his expression that's usually not there. She imagines it's what baby Spencer looked like opening his college textbooks at thirteen.
She places her fingers on his cheek while they both stare at the scenery. He hasn't shaved since they left, and it's a good look on him. "Not much snow growing up in Vegas, huh?" She asks.
"Maybe twice." He recalls, turning back to look at her. She leans forward to kiss him a couple of times, appreciating how warm he is to be around. "I don't mind it, though, because it makes me feel like a little kid now." He confesses. "Like I had encyclopedias when I was a kid and I still love learning facts, but it's not a novelty."
He could not be any cuter, all soft. It melts her heart completely. "You're adorable." She tells him, holding his cheek tighter when he tries to hide his blushing by turning away. "Stop. I'm your girlfriend, I'm allowed to say you're cute."
"Can we just lay here forever?" He wonders. "Stare at the bright stars, then watch the sun come up, see the snow falling all day, and look at the sunsets."
It does sound ideal. "We might need sleep, though." She reminds him.
Spencer's already thought of that. "We can do that here, too. I just want you to always be this close."
She leans forward to kiss him a few more times. "Sounds like a good plan." She agrees, pressing her cheek to his so they can both look out the window. "This is going to be my happy thought now." She admits. "You know when there's something horrific at work and you have to think of a good thing to balance it?"
Spencer can feel his happy thought changing as well. "What was it before?" He asks curiously.
"The first time you kissed me." She reveals.
He pulls back in shock. "God, really? That was horrible."
She shakes her head. Maybe he was sweating because of how nervous he was, and maybe his lips were only on hers for a short second and he had no idea what to do afterward, but it was them. "It was sweet."
"I'm just glad my Ph.Ds were a redeemable quality." He jokes.
She laughs with him. "Baby, everything about you is a redeemable quality, even though you don't have anything that needs to be redeemed."
"I really love you." He says softly.
"I really love you too." And she really doesn't hate unpredictable weather events anymore.
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Snowed In
Plot: You and Seungcheol head to a cabin in the woods to prepare for a winter get away with the others. But plans change when a storm hits and the two of you get snowed in together.
Pairing: S.Coups | Seungcheol x Gn!Reader
Warnings: Mildly suggestive content (kissing)
Words: ~2.3k
Worry sat heavy in your chest as you stared out at the heavy snowstorm outside of your cabin. Seungcheol chatted nervously in the background with the owner of the cabin you were renting. From their conversation you knew there was a chance the power could shut off at any moment. You hoped you would have the heat running long enough to warm the large house before that happened.
You and Seungcheol made the decision to come to the cabin a day before the others so you could get everything ready for your winter vacation. You arrived late in the day due to traffic delays, and now the sun had set and the storm was getting stronger each moment. Now, you feared the trip might not happen at all.
You had texted the others, telling them to stay put until you knew how the weather would play out. The storm could last the night and be over by the morning, or you could be stuck the whole weekend, just the two of you. You felt anxious butterflies fill your stomach at the thought.
Seungcheol groaned as he hung up the phone. "This place apparently doesn't have a backup generator so lets get some stuff ready in case the power does go out."
You nodded as you ran to unpack and fetch any light sources and blankets you could find. Eyeing the small stack of wood by the fireplace you bit your lip.
"I hope that's enough wood."
Seungcheol looked over as he heard you, his own chest tightening with worry as he saw how small the pile of wood was. He knew with how bad the snow outside was, there was no way to make it to the storage shed to get more.
"We'll be alright." He said encouragingly, and you smiled at him in response with a nod, hoping he was right.
After you brought out some candles and flashlights, as well as locating all of the blankets in case you would need them, you made your way to your room to unpack your things.
Now alone in your own room, your thoughts began to wander. Not too far, but instead to the man you heard rummaging a few rooms away.
It wasn't a secret that you had feelings for Seungcheol. Not to you, not to the others, and not even to Seungcheol himself. You also knew he had feelings for you. But it was an unspoken agreement that nothing would happen.
It was never discussed, but you two knew each other well enough to know you were both afraid it wouldn't end well. Not to mention the fear of it accidentally becoming public. There was too much to worry about for you to really commit to a relationship, so one never formed.
Sometimes you regretted it, well, a lot of times you regretted it. And honestly, if he made a move, or confessed you wouldn't run from it. You'd be more than happy to be with him, but you had decided to never make the first move. There would be more risk for him in the relationship, so you left the final decision to him, as much as it hurt sometimes.
Your body froze as the lights flickered. You eyed them suspiciously as the wind outside blew harder, almost shaking the window panes.
"Uh-oh." You muttered to yourself, your heart dropping as the lights shut off, leaving you in pitch darkness.
Feeling around blindly for your phone, you had the sudden realization that you left it downstairs in the kitchen.
"Damn!" You cursed as you made your way slowly to the door.
"Seungcheol?" You called out, but heard nothing in response, sending an uneasy chill down your spine. "Where did you go?" You muttered as you stepped out into the hall.
As you collided with something you yelped out, as you felt an arm wrap around your waist to steady you.
Seungcheol's voice instantly soothed your alarm as he chuckled "Its just me!"
"God, Seungcheol! Why didn't you respond when I called out to you!"
"Sorry, I was trying to get my phone from my pocket."
"I left mine downstairs."
He chuckled softly under his breath as you suddenly saw his face light up in front of you as he turned on his phone screen.
Your breath caught as you realized just how close he was. Your hand was flat on his chest from when you collided. His eye caught yours and you saw a smirk playing at his lips, causing you to remove your hand and step away as his hand fell away from your waist.
His hand took hold of yours as he turned towards the staircase with a smile, "Let's go downstairs."
You followed him closely, stepping just behind him as you stayed in the light of his phone.
Once you retrieved your own phone, the two of you gathered in the living room, a faint white glow filled the room as the bright snow from outside reflected eerily into the cabin.
You could hear the faint padding of snow hitting the window among the howling wind as the storm raged on outside. Sitting on the couch, you leaned against the back as you looked out the window, seeing nothing but the violent swirls of white.
"It didn't get too warm in here but at least it's not freezing." He muttered as he turned on a few small lantern lights. After he lit a few candles he settled beside you.
You nodded as you hoped the temperature wouldn't drop too quickly. Putting your chin on the back of the couch, you stared out into the snow, unaware of Seungcheol's gaze as he studied you.
The dim light from the room lit up your face enough for him to see you clearly. He rested his head on his arm as he watched you watch the storm. He was filled with nervous excitement the whole way to the cabin. A feeling he was used to when he was around you.
Now, as you were snowed-in together, just the two of you, these feelings heightened. He could sense the tension of unspoken feelings between you, and the urge to act on said feelings grew stronger each moment.
He felt his heart jolt when you suddenly looked over at him, and smiled when your eyes met.
"I'm hungry."
He chuckled at the sudden profession, "Well we've got plenty of snacks. And if we make a fire we can heat the water for some noodles."
You hummed, "Snacks first, noodles later, I don't want to to use up all the wood." He nodded in agreement as he made his way to the kitchen to grab the snacks the two of you had brought.
As time passed slowly, the temperature in the cabin dropped, leaving you two no choice but to start a fire. You sat on some blankets close to the fireplace, as you set up the kettle. The warm glow and crackling wood, cast a comforting atmosphere around the cabin, and you momentarily forgot about the harsh storm outside.
"This is kind of fun." You admitted as you prepped some hot chocolate.
Seungcheol grinned as he prepped the noodles, "It is isn't it?"
You giggled softly and Seungcheol felt his chest clench. The longer the two of you were here together the harder it was for him to hold back. He knew he was tired of resisting his feelings, and avoiding a relationship, but he wasn't sure how to bring it up.
Earlier when you had run into him in the darkness, he didn't want to let you go, and now he wanted to hold you close and keep you warm. But would that be too much too soon?
Your heart rate began to rise as Seungcheol scooted closer to you, his knee pressing against yours. You distracted yourself by making two cups of hot chocolate, as you tried not to focus on his gaze as he watched you.
Handing him his cup, you noticed how he took the cup from you, his own hands caressing yours almost purposefully. The two of you sipped on your drinks in silence, before a sudden chill crawled over you.
Seungcheol didn't miss the shiver that ran through you, and immediately scooted closer, his shoulder now against yours. Taking the blanket he had draped over himself, he draped part of it across your back so you were both wrapped in it.
Your eyes shot over to him at his actions and he smiled almost teasingly, "I don't want you to get cold."
"I can just get another blanket." You mumbled out of nervousness as you gestured at the pile of blankets behind you.
Seungcheol glanced at them before he met your eyes again, "But I like this more."
He didn't miss the slight widening of your eyes as he said this and he smiled, his eyes glancing to your lips almost instinctively.
Looking back to the fire he cleared his throat. "I'm kind of glad this happened."
"You are?"
He nodded his head, "I miss spending time with you, just the two of us I mean."
Your heart was pounding heavily in your chest, as your gut clenched. "It has been a while hasn't it?"
Silent tension hung between you. You both knew the reason you hadn't spent time alone was due to your mutual feelings. The two of you were mutually and unconsciously avoiding each other for fear of giving in to your attraction.
"Do you miss it?"
You nodded in response and he smiled softly before nodding once and returning to the noodles he had been preparing before.
As you ate, little conversation passed between you. Both of you were lost in your own thoughts about each other as you both silently struggled with the same fears and reservations.
You timidly set your empty noodle pot aside as you felt Seungcheol look over at you. When he continued to stare, not looking away, you slowly looked over.
The look in his eyes made your breath catch. His gaze was soft, yet intense, and you could feel the emotion pooling behind his eyes.
Slowly, he reached over, and placed his hand on your cheek. "You're cold." He mumbled softly.
As he suddenly stood up, allowing the blanket that was draped across the two of you to drop, you stared at him in confusion. Picking up the blanket it, he draped it over you before he began grabbing the other blankets and lying them down on the couch.
Is he going to sleep out here?
"What are you doing?"
Seungcheol didn't respond as he grabbed some pillows and placed them on the couch as well.
You watched with a curious gaze as Seungcheol walked over to you before reaching down and scooping you into his arms.
"Wha-!"
You wrapped your arms around his neck as he lifted you, alarmed at his sudden actions.
He smirked as he plopped you down on the couch. You blinked in surprise as you stared up at him as he squeezed into the couch beside you before pulling you into his arms.
"We should sleep here. It will be warmer out here by the fire."
You attempted to get out some words, but apart from some bewildered sounds, nothing came out. Seungcheol grinned before he adjusted himself so he was lying face to face with you.
"We?" You finally muttered.
He nodded his head, grin remaining. Grabbing a blanket, he covered the two of you before he continued to stare at you.
"I'll put some more wood on the fire before we go to sleep but-...but for now I just want to stay like this."
As you stared at each other for a moment in silence, he slowly brought his hand to your face and caressed your cheek.
"I don't think I can do it anymore."
"Do what?"
"Avoid this. Avoid us. The reasons we had before... don't make sense to me now. I just want-"
As he paused with a soft sigh, your heat skipped a beat.
"Want what?"
"I just want you. I want to be with you."
Reaching up, you took his hand from your face and held it. You fiddled with his hand as you thought fr a moment. Seungcheol's chest tightened as he prepared himself for you to list of reasons why it wasn't a good idea.
"I want to be with you too."
His eyes bulged out for a moment as you spoke, making you giggle.
"You do?"
"Of course I do, you knew that well enough didn't you?"
"Well, I mean, yeah, but I- I meant I want to be with you now. Forget the reasons and excuses why we shouldn't, I don't care about those, I want to be with you."
You smiled as you nodded, "That's what I meant too."
He paused as he processed your words, and with a sudden boost of elation he leaned forward, pressing his lips against yours as he pulled you closer by the waist.
After a moment of surprise, you melted into the kiss as your hand gripped his shirt. He deepened the kiss with a sense of desperation, as he finally gave into his desires.
A sudden wave seemed to rush over the house as the lights turned on and the cabin came back to life.
You both pulled away with alarm before you locked eyes and chuckled. You hadn't noticed the snow outside was only soft snowfall now. As heat began blowing through the house Seungcheol shook his head.
"That didn't last long."
You grinned a him as you cleared your throat softly. "Can we still stay out here?"
He grinned as he kissed you again, before peppering a few kisses on your cheek and neck.
"Yes, absolutely."
xx End xx
I didn't know how to end this lol. Hope you liked it! This was my first time writing for S.Coups
General Taglist: @otsilliak, @brattybunfornct, @bahng-chrizz, @otakutrash669
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Febuwhump collab day 18 - too weak to move
Hi yep I’m still working on febuwhump XD I’ve got two more fics after this in fact! Expect the next one up either later today or tomorrow >:)
This was suggested by an anon, thank you! They wanted Warriors or Sky, so I kinda did both. It ended up taking a turn I didn’t expect, but I hope you like it.
Warnings: Heat exhaustion, a brief discussion about infertility
Today’s lovely art
Ao3 link
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“Aunt Sun! Aunt Sun Aunt Sun where’d you go we need you!”
Sun looked up from the lemonade she was mixing, and saw Wind run into the kitchen, almost tripping on his flip-flops but catching himself.
“Aunt Sun!” he gasped, and Sun looked at him in surprise.
“What’s the matter Wind? Did Sky and Warriors finally get tired of hucking snowballs at each other?” she asked, leaning on the counter. “I’m all for a snow day, but it’s just too hot to be out there, even with snow.”
“No, no they didn’t, b-but Warriors was making a really big snowball and then he fell over and now he won’t get up, and Uncle Sky told me to get you,” Wind stuttered, and Sun froze, then immediately dropped what she was doing.
“Lead the way,” she said quickly, and followed Wind outside, the heat hitting her like a physical weight.
The area was suffering through a horrible heat wave, and everyone was desperate to cool down, in any way they could manage. Warriors had brought Wind over to hang out with Aryll for a while, and offered to generate some snow for a snowball fight. It had helped a lot with staying cool, but Sun had gotten to the point where she hadn’t been able to handle the heat any longer, even with snow, and she’d gone in to mix up a more reliable way of cooling down.
She was wondering now if she should’ve stayed out, though.
Wind led her to the backyard, where several rapidly melting piles of slush lay, Sky kneeling among them and apparently uncaring of how wet he was getting. Aryll sat next to him, her eyes wide, and Warriors lay collapsed beside them both, parts of him pale while others were flushed with heat.
A sharp spark of fear hit Sun’s chest.
“What happened?” she asked quickly as she kneeled down beside the two, Sky frantically shading Warriors with one wing while the other fanned air towards him.
“I don’t know, he was just making some more snow, and then all of a sudden he just...” Sky gestured helplessly, and Sun leaned over Warriors, unsure of where to start.
“He sleeping?” Aryll asked in confusion, and Wind picked her up, looking shaken.
“I don’t think so Aryll,” he said quietly.
Warriors’ eyes flickered open then, and they all leaned forward to look at him, his expression confused as he blinked up at them all.
“Wh’ happened?” he mumbled, and twitched a little like he was trying to sit up. He didn’t make it more then maybe an inch though, and Sky and Sun both pushed him back down, Wind and Aryll looking on with wide eyes.
“You just collapsed Wars, take it easy,” Sky said worriedly, still fanning him. “How are you feeling? Does anything hurt?”
It took Warriors a moment to respond, all of them watching him carefully. And when he did finally speak, his voice was unusually quiet and raspy.
“...dunno,” he murmured, blinking dizzily at them all. “Sort of... s-sick, I-I guess...”
Sky leaned over and put a hand on Warriors’ forehead, and the worry on his face sharpened.
“...you feel warm. Warriors, you’re never warm,” he said in a voice that was on the verge of panicking.
“‘parently I am today,” Warriors slurred, looking dizzy as he closed his eyes again.
Sun tugged Sky’s hand out of the way so she could feel Warriors’ forehead as well, and she frowned at the heat that met her fingers. Warriors wasn’t burning up or anything, but for someone who always ran cold, the fact that he was warm to the touch at all was worrying in more ways than one.
Sun made quick eye contact with Sky, and the look on his face confirmed her own thoughts.
He pushed himself too far.
“Wind, would you take Aryll inside and get a wet washcloth? There’s some clean ones next to the sink,” Sun said, and Wind nodded and went back into the house, Aryll still looking back with a curious look. “We should get him inside, it’ll be cooler in there.”
“Yeah, yeah that’s a good idea,” Sky said with worry thick in his voice, and Sun gave his hand a quick squeeze.
Sun then helped him sit Warriors up, his head lolling a bit. They each pulled one of his arms over their shoulders, Sky pulling his wings in, and lifted him up, slowly carrying him inside. Warriors didn’t move much during all this, looking blearily around as they moved him, and the lack of anything else only worried Sun more.
Normally Warriors would’ve cracked a stupid joke by now, or at least reassured them he was okay, especially earlier with Wind and Aryll watching. Instead all he did was remain slumped in their arms, and Sun and Sky wasted no time in bringing him into the house.
They laid Warriors on their couch, Aryll watching curiously from the floor, and Wind returned after a minute with a wet cloth like Sun had asked. She quickly wiped it over Warriors’ face, dripping it in his hair and dampening his skin, then placed it on his forehead.
“Is he okay?” Wind asked once she’d finished, and Sky ruffled his hair.
“We think he just overheated a bit buddy. He should just need to take it easy,” Sky reassured, though Sun could still see the worry plastered all over his face.
“Can I help at all?” Wind asked, anxiously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Sun looked at her nephew, and nodded, seeing the worry bright in his eyes.
“Yes, I think you’re exactly who we need,” she said kindly, and gestured him over. “Would you blow a bit of air on Warriors? It doesn’t have to be a lot, but it’ll help him cool down faster.”
“Yeah, I can do that!” Wind said eagerly, then sat down in the chair beside Warriors, blowing a gentle breeze through the air.
Warriors shifted as the air brushed him, and he let out a quiet sigh, turning his head towards the breeze. Sun and Sky watched him in silence for a moment, and Aryll wobbled over and poked her head up by Warriors’, smiling when the air blew past her own face as well.
“Sleep?” she said, poking him with a chubby hand, and Sky tugged her away.
“...yes, he’s resting right now pumpkin, so let’s leave him alone, okay?” he said, and Aryll blinked, Sky gently pulling her back from her uncle’s side.
He picked Aryll up and set her over by some of her toys, trying to get her distracted, and Sun busied herself with wiping the cloth over Warriors’ face again, feeling his skin. Still too warm.
She held back a sigh, watching Warriors’ hair be tousled by the breeze Wind was making. Warriors and Sky had both been the ones to push themselves the most back during their hero days, often further then they should... but while just playing with his family, Warriors never gone so far as to pass out.
Something must be up.
Sky came back after a little while, Aryll happily stacking some blocks, and he looked down at his brother, still motionless and pale.
“Should we call a doctor?” he asked quietly, and Sun hesitated.
“...I don’t know. It seems like he’s just too hot, and I don’t think they’d be able to do anything for him that we can’t,” Sun said finally, wiping the cloth over Warriors’ forehead again. “Let’s give him a little while.“
“Alright. We should probably call Artemis though,” Sky mused, and Warriors cracked his eyes open.
“Don’ need to,” he murmured. “She doesn’t... need more problems. Leave ‘er be.”
Sun and Sky both raised their eyebrows at that, and Wind paused in his blowing, giving Warriors an odd look.
“Warriors... you’re not a problem. Especially not to Artemis,” Sun said, and Warriors closed his eyes, not replying.
Sky frowned.
“...Have you had any water to drink today Wars?” he asked suddenly, voice suspicious.
“I guess..? ‘lil...” Warriors mumbled after a moment of silence, and Wind looked down at him worriedly. “Don’... really remember...”
“So you spent the hottest day of the year making snowballs in our backyard, and you haven’t had any water all day. Is that what I’m hearing?” Sky asked with a bit of a bite to his voice. “Did you just forget you get dehydrated when you use your powers too much?!”
“I don’t know,” Warriors murmured. “...sorry.”
The fight went out of Sky all at once, and he sighed, wiping some sweat off his brow. He lightly nudged Warriors with a wing, and didn’t say anything for a moment, obviously thinking.
Sun decided to cut in. “Well you should drink something now, you need to get all that water you used up back in you, and it’ll help cool you down,” she pointed out, and Warriors gave a small nod.
“I can get him some!” Wind offered, and hopped off his chair, running into the kitchen before anyone else could offer to go.
Sun and Sky watched him scamper off, then turned back to Warriors, who was trying to sit himself up again. His arms shook, and Sky quickly grabbed him before he could fall, helping him up without a word.
Warriors leaned his head back once he was sitting upright, and closed his eyes, his face worn. Sun studied him for a moment, fixing the cloth when it tried to slide off. Warriors looked tired, but in more ways then one, a weariness apart from dehydration and overheating evident on his face.
Adding that to how he’d overused his powers, forgotten to drink anything during the worst heatwave they’d had in years, and his reaction at the mention of his wife...
“Warriors... is everything alright with you and Arty?” she asked finally, looking at her brother in-law.
Warriors remained silent, his face creasing a bit further, and Sky and Sun gave each other looks.
Hit the nail on the head it seems.
“Alright Wars. Something’s eating at you. You never push yourself like this unless you’re really out of it, or something’s wrong,” Sky said as he sat down beside him, and Warriors softly huffed.
“Do not.”
“Do too. And I can think of at least three times off the top of my head,” Sky said pointedly. “Come on. What’s going on with you and Artemis?”
Warriors stilled, and the quiet buzz of the ceiling fan was the only noise in the room for a few moments. It was occasionally punctuated by Aryll’s giggling and the sound of Wind clattering around in the kitchen looking for a cup, and Sun was about to threaten to call Artemis and ask her for answers when Warriors let out a sigh.
“Things’ve just... been hard,” he said, voice still faint. “We’re okay, we haven’t... fought ‘r anything, but...”
He hesitated, then exhaled again.
“...We’ve been trying so hard,” Warriors murmured, eyes still closed. “For kids. But we...”
Sky put his hand on his shoulder, and Warriors swallowed.
“...I don’t know. Maybe it’s a sign we’re just not meant to be parents,” he whispered.
“Warriors, don’t talk like that,” Sun said softly, her heart falling at the grief in his voice. “You and Arty will be wonderful parents.”
Warriors didn’t reply, and Sun put her hand on his other shoulder, wishing she knew what else to say.
“Overextending yourself isn’t going to fix anything Wars,” Sky said softly, drawing his wings in. “This... this isn’t your fault. You can’t punish yourself for things outside your control.”
Warriors seemed to droop further where he sat, and his eyes remained stubbornly closed.
“I want... to fix it,” he said in a voice so quiet Sun could barely hear it. “But I can’t. It’s a problem I can’t... solve, and Arty’s suffering for it.”
“And it isn’t your fault,” Sun reminded him. “You can’t control this Warriors, and you’re suffering just as much as Arty is. Don’t minimize that.”
Warriors stilled, and Sun fixed the wet cloth on his forehead where it had fallen slightly.
“I’m sorry Link,” Sky said quietly. “I knew you two were struggling with it, but I didn’t realize...”
“It’s all right,” Warriors murmured, and Sky squeezed his shoulder.
“Still. If there’s anything you two need... just ask, okay? We’re here to help Wars, but we can’t if you don’t let us.”
“Or if you make bad decisions such as creating too much snow in the worst heatwave I can remember,” Sun added, and Warriors’ mouth twitched into a faint smile.
“I’m already... regretting that, trust me.”
Sun smiled back, and Warriors finally opened his eyes, looking between the two of them. He still looked unusually subdued, but he seemed a little better then before, and Sun counted it as a win.
“We should let Artemis know you collapsed though,” Sun said, brushing some hair out of her face with a sigh. “And somebody is going to have to drive you home... then maybe we can discuss this a little more. But right now you need to rest, and focus on cooling down.”
Warriors sighed. “Yeah. I know.”
Sun gave his shoulder a squeeze, then withdrew it, resolving to bring things up with Artemis next time they had some time to talk. If Warriors was feeling this badly, she could only imagine how Artemis was doing.
“I got your water!”
All three adults looked up as Wind finally walked back into the room, carefully holding a mug in his hands and looking a little frazzled.
“I couldn’t reach your water cups and I didn’t want to break them by blowing them so I just got a mug cause it’s basically a cup, and I know this one is kind of weird but I it was the first one I found,” Wind rambled, and looked at Warriors anxiously. “Are... are you feeling better, Warriors?”
Warriors took the garishly colored mug with a trembling hand, then took a long sip of water. Some color seemed to come back to his face as he drank, and when he lowered the mug, he gave Wind a small smile.
“Yeah bud, I am,” he said quietly as he looked at his hands. “Sorry for scaring you.”
“I wasn’t scared,” Wind said quickly, then climbed up on Sky so he could be next to Warriors. “Just... don’t do that again.”
Warriors let out a soft chuckle. “No promises. But I’ll do my best.”
Wind flicked a puff of air at Warriors’ face with a grumpy huff, but after a moment he went back to blowing a soft breeze at him like he had earlier, looking relieved.
Warriors relaxed as it hit him, and closed his eyes, looking much better then he had before.
Sky gave Warriors’ shoulder one more gentle nudge, but didn’t say anything further, and Sun got up to go phone Artemis. Wind started in on some kind of story about what one of his brothers had done recently, Aryll toddling back over to sit beside them and listen, and Sun looked back and watched them for a moment, a somewhat sad smile on her face.
Then she headed for the phone, Aryll’s giggles following her.
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2, plus 4.
-------------
a/n: no, no just imagine. JUST LOOKOK
what if..
xiao having quadruplets which are actually his siblings reincarnations?
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
genre: fluff
summary: a really cute and wholesome family
warnings: mentions of sex, giving birth, babies.
[name] indicates you, afab reader, xiao being strict ig, reader is immortal, kinda ooc xiao, SHORT BUT PLS BARE WITH ME IM NOT THAT CREATIVE AND IM NEW ::cry::
wc: over 100
the first time you met was the aftermath of a strong blizzard in the local villages.
you watched him, as he ate the snow from the blood stained ground, the sun shining upon you two.
his clothes, torn apart, wounds uncovered, scattered around his body and probably infected, his hair as messy as (your lif-) your cats litter box.
you approach him slowly, then you sat down right in front of him.
you gave him a piece of warm, fluffy bread that you had in your basket. He hesitated to take it at first but really, hunger was the main problem here. (like my mom in my lif-)
he ate it in a millisecond. (yum ig) then you offered to fix his appearance in your house that was just 2 blocks away.
he didnt cooperate at first, but when you offered a certain dish (which is almond tofu btw) that is as sweet as the dreams he, and similiar beings allegedly eat. (in your knowledge of course)
then he finally accepted.
you gave him a pair of shoes you were carrying in your bag so he can walk properly. (dora is that you)
when you both got there, you immediately gave him a bath (dw u didnt look at his penpen), fix his hair, gave him a new pair of clothes and make him satisfy his hunger (and ofcourse how could u forget the almond tofu?)
you gave him a room to sleep in, and tons of blankets.
he was comfortable, but he knew that he had to go.
when you woke up he just vanished.
you thought you probably finally made a friend, but they always just had to go.
---------------⠀♡
the second time you saw him was when he was training with his siblings, you didnt recognize him at first but you got there.
you saw that they needed a medic to assist the yakshas in the wounds that they receive in battles. good thing you practiced medicine.
you worked your way up to make him recognize you, and to atleast talk with him.
alas, you got what you wanted.
''you seem familiar, have we...met before?'' he asked.
''you have! do you remember me, alatus?''
''...''
''....?''
''i believe that i dont go by that name, atleast not anymore. so it seems that i have met you far back.''
''oh right! my name is [name]. do you now remember?'
''..i do remember you. i thank you for giving me...hospitality that day.''
''no problem, so uh, shall i continue treating you, general?''
''yes, yes you may.''
from that day onward, you both were talking everytime he went to your medic tent.
but nothing really lasts forever, yes?
you were rushing the civillians out of the blood painted space,
trying to treat the wounded as you are able.
the bloody screams haunted your ears, the blood splatters on your uniform and tainted hand in red, gave you terror.
your friend, the general alatus. being tortured by karmic debt, killing him slowly.
his siblings, all covered in blood.
you just had to.
you had to save him even if it means not seeing him
ever again.
⠀♡⠀♡⠀♡⠀♡⠀♡⠀♡⠀♡
now here you are, still haunted by that day, but doing quite well.
delivering herbs to baizhu..
doing commissions for extra money..
yeah but thats not it.
there was something wrong.
you had a goal, but you cant really make it up.
oh.
you want see him again.
you need him.
you searched for him day and night
and you finally got a clue, he apparently resided in wangshu inn.
you greeted verr goldet, then asked her if you could borrow the kitchen for a second. she allowed it, and you sprinted right onto the ingredient storage.
grabbing the ingredients for almond tofu, you started to make it.
once you were done, you didnt waste a single breath of going to the balcony.
you called his name and offered almond tofu.
and there he was, right in front of you.
''what do you need, morta-'' he froze. he looked at you up and down.
you were familiar to him, he knows that you both had a bond.
''general alatus, its me. do you remember?''
''of course i remember you, medic.''
then you started a friendship again. (wow its so fast)
strangers to friends, and now
friends to lovers.
you both were just close friends in mortals eyes.
but only if they knew what you both do in your shared bedroom.
xiao always asked during heated times or any part of the day actually, ''why would you be with me? why would you keep being here, by my side. knowing what i did, and my karmic debt-''
you always gave an answer that gave him warmth.
''because i would never even leave a wonderful being like you, i love you, xiao. so dont ever think about that.''
so uh anyway
but as xiao believed, he thought that you both should do those intimate, and close things as a married couple, to follow tradition and courtesy.
so you both wed each other.
xiao's proposal was sweet. short but meaningful.
your ring finger, now decorated with a jade band.
its been about.. 21 years since you have wed, 13 years as mere partners, 450 years since you were both just friends.
you both have spent a lifetime together, maybe longer than that i suppose.
you thought, that maybe life would be a lot more cheerful if you both had children.
you first presented the idea to xiao, he was hesitant at first but he agreed (he would do anything for you.)
so you gave it a try.
at the 3rd try, you were finally with child..ren..?
somehow, xiao sensed that there were more than just one.
they were not one, but four.
if you think xiao would be so overprotective over you even before you got pregnant, then you were wrong. he is 2x. wait no 10x even more protective than before.
when you just want to cook something for yourself, he stops you and he always said
''request the chef for some food, no need to make it yourself. its dangerous.''
''IM NOT PORCELAIN-''
*vanishes*
''...''
''YOU FUCKER-''
and when you want to go out to get some fresh air he is ALWAYS beside you.
''xiao, dear, can i just go out to the garden for a bit? its not like there are monsters around right?, plus you can clear them out in no time!''
''no. if you are willing to go out i will be beside you.''
but dw after your hours of scolding he finally accepts and just watches over you.
⠀✦⠀✦⠀✦⠀✦⠀✦
when your due date arrived, you both were just gazing upon the moon on the balcony.
the starlit sky being so beautiful, children playing happily, grass and flowers waving..
it was so peaceful.
then you asked:
''love, what names shall we give our children?''
''..im not good with names, i could ask mora- i mean zhongli to give some suggestions.''
''hmmm... since there are four of them, shall we give them the names of your siblings?''
''...''
''do you think it is a bad idea?--''
''no, no. I think its...wonderful.''
you both wrapped your arms in eachother,
while you notice something was kind of...
a watery sensation?-
oh.
''xiao, i think my water just broke.''
''whAT.''
--------------------------
and there he was panicking.
what if something happened to you? or what if something happened to your children?
what if-
the sounds of new born babies crying occupied his ears.
and he was relieved.
''giving birth is tough-...they tore through my fucking pus- i mean what can i expect...the perks of giving birth..''
''love, get some rest. ill look after them for you.''
2 twin girls, and 2 twin boys.
huh, what a coincidence.
fin.
+++++++++++++++++++++++
a/n ; SORRY THIS WAS SO FUCKIGN SHORT I RAN OUT OF IDEAS but dont worry, i will make a fic about how they grew up, and how they are. anyway, thank you @c3lest14 for being my beta reader! and thank you for the wonderful art that was inspired by [name] in this fic:D
the art btw: (its so gorg)
ok ok goodbye every1<3 have a nice day
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⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐧 𝐒𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐫
Thieves came in many different forms — from Loki to a simple villager, or to a horse with the mind of a trickster and a heart of gold.
჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈
⇁ Viking!Bucky Barnes x Fae!Reader
჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕
⇁ 1.4k
჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔
⇁ Fluff, a bit of crack, Ragnar is a cheeky boy
჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔
⇁ This visual was too funny to pass up.
⇁ This is also a fic purely made for the bond between Mouse and Ragnar, so if you are big on the troublemaker, this isn't one to miss!
჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎
⇁ Forbidden Friendship by John Powell
჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕
⇁ @rookthorne's Merry Buckmas
— Masterlist
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐤𝐨𝐠𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
The frigid chill of the morning air made puffs of mist billow from Ragnar’s nostrils while he stood alert by your side. You watched curiously while his ears flicked back and forth; never stopping unless you made a noise to call his attention.
His hooves, all four coloured with dark keratin, scuffed the snow as he sniffed the air.
From your place by his feet, you rested your head on his leg and trailed your fingertips over the muscles of his lower limbs with awe — a warrior's mount, fierce and strong, the most loyal and steadfast of any creature, could still be as gentle, as sweet.
It fascinated you.
“What is it that you see?” you asked the horse quietly, your eyes trailing over the line of trees. “Bear is fast asleep, boy—you know he is in the cave.” Ragnar knickered, low in his throat, then he nuzzled at your head, pushing your temple into his leg. “What?”
The light colours of his mane flew as he tossed his head towards a mound of snow to your side.
“Do you want to play–?” A soft huff of misted breath settled over the top of your head in reply, and Ragnar waited patiently as you got to your feet. “I will take that as a yes.” You placed a hand on his bare shoulder and scratched gently at the soft fur — the saddle he wore placed in the cave the previous night.
You couldn’t help but giggle as he stepped closer and turned, forcing you to move with him towards the mound of snow where he blew harshly over it, scattering the flurries.
“Oh, no—here,” you said, and you kneeled down to cup a handful of snow. “This is what you do.”
For a few moments, you repeated the gesture: holding up handfuls of snow to his muzzle so he would blow over the heaped snow and send the flurries all over your face and clothes. His dark eyes stared at you, bright under the morning sun, and he snorted in apparent laughter.
“You are very funny, skitr,” you grumbled, and you shook your head to rid yourself of the worst of it. “A snow creature would be fun to make—what do you think?”
There was a deep sigh that shook his nostrils. “I thought so.”
Heavy footsteps snapped twigs and scattered pebbles behind you, followed by the sound of a deep, rumbling voice. “What are you planning, little Mouse?”
You turned towards the source — Bucky was standing at the mouth of the cave. His eyes were hooded with the remnants of his deep, bewitched sleep, but he smiled widely upon seeing both you and Ragnar together. “Góðan morgin, Bear.”
His boots crunched over the fallen snow, and he kissed your temple before scratching Ragnar’s chin.
“We were going to create snow creatures,” you explained happily, looking into Ragnar’s face. The stallion seemed happier for Bucky being awake. “He was just playing with the snow—but now we must get to work.”
“Do you need carrots?” Bucky asked, pulling a few from his satchel and offering them to you.
You beamed at him. “They will help! They can be the creature’s nose—what do you think, Ragnar?”
The stallion eyed the carrots eagerly, and Bucky laughed as he placed them in your outstretched hand. “Better err on the side of caution, minn sváss. He is a devil when it comes to his favourites.”
Under the watchful eye of Ragnar, you began to build something from the heaped snow — at first, it resembled something akin to a mushroom, the kind that grew fat and thick from the earth’s soil. “Hmm.”
Bucky kneeled beside you. “Why not try–” His hands ran over the snow, morphing and shaping it as he worked. You could not help but watch his eyes as they hardened with focus, how his lips pulled taut over his teeth, and the tip of his tongue poked out to the side. “There you are.”
His hands came away from the snow to reveal a creature of sorts. A giant, circular body, like Mani and Sol above, and a second, smaller rounded ball of snow on top. “Oh–”
“We could put the sticks–” Bucky gestured towards the twigs and sticks at Ragnar’s hooves. “They can be the creature’s arms? And then, perhaps the carrot can be the nose?”
“That sounds wonderful,” you replied, and you reached over to grab a handful of sticks. Ragnar sniffed your wrist as you grasped a few, and he followed your hand as you pulled it back to stick one end into the big ball of snow. “The pinecones…”
Ragnar snuffled at a clustered heap of the dried fauna, and with his lips, he pushed a few closer towards the body of the creature. “Good boy,” Bucky praised, grabbing them. “They can be the fastenings of a cloak, or the mouth and eyes, maybe, Mouse?”
You nodded. “The eyes and mouth sound best—our friend needs to see. And I will put the carrot here–” the fat end of the vegetable stuck easily into the packed snow. “There we are! Look at it, it is beautiful!”
Bucky sat back on his heels, admiring the work the two of you had put into it. You were dizzy with excitement at the creation of a new friend, and before you could click your finger to bring them to life, Ragnar’s mouth inched suspiciously close to the carrot sticking out from the snow. “Ah, ah! Ragnar–”
The stallion nickered, blew a harsh snort, and turned his head to look at you. If he were a boy, or a man, you knew he would be pouting in protest. “No.” Your hand scratched his cheek, and you gently pushed away from the tempting treat. “You will leave it alone.”
A quiet laugh came from Bucky. “I told you– Oh, no.”
While you were looking at Bucky, Ragnar had inched his head closer to the carrot once more and grabbed the tip with his teeth.
You were going to grumble your frustrations at the cheeky, pesky stallion, but before you opened your mouth to speak, he took off. His legs worked in a haughty trot, the stride of it arrogant and swift. “Ragnar! Come back!”
The snow ruffled beneath your feet as you stood up and took off after the runaway thief. “Ragnar! Stop—that is not yours!”
Bucky’s laughter behind you was contagious and you couldn’t help but laugh yourself through the harsh gasps for air. It burned your lungs with the chill of the forest, but Rangar refused to slow down — content to allow you to chase him and your quarry. Loud, humorous snorts sounded each step of Ragnar’s front hooves, every one prouder than the last.
“I will not be bested by a beast,” you called, and Ragnar whinnied back, jumping from the ground in leaps. “Ragnar!”
You collided painfully with Ragnar’s flank when he stopped abruptly, and you bounced off of it into the snow with a surprised grunt. The stallion stared down at you, his eyes bright and glinting with triumph, but he did not lower his head; a wiser animal than you gave him credit for. “Please—please may I have that back, boy?”
“Do as you are bid, Ragnar,” Bucky shouted from the other side of the clearing — you had not realised how far you had chased the thief.
Ragnar grunted, and shook his head, the white of his mane flowing with the movement.
“You, boy,” you said, pointing a finger at his nose. “You are a mischievous creature fit for Loki himself.”
Seemingly affronted, he narrowed his eyes and grunted again. You could just hear in your mind: “How you could compare me to such a devil.”
“Because you are one, Ragnar,” you whined, and you pouted up at him. “A devil. You stole my creature’s nose!”
His hooves brushed the bottoms of your feet. The proximity of such a large animal was daunting, but you took a deep breath as Ragnar lowered his head, placing his forelock on your temple, and, mercifully, dropping the carrot in your lap. You placed your hands on the sides of his mouth, and a low, comforting nicker sounded and vibrated over your palms.
The two of you stayed as still as an oak, staring into one another’s eyes. “Thank you, my Ragnar,” you whispered, “For giving it back. You are not such a devil as you seem.”
Dark eyes travelled over your face, and you heard, in your mind, “My Mouse.”
You smiled and kissed his forelock. “Let us go back.”
Kinn Seggr = Cheeky Boy
góðan morgin = good morning
minn sváss = my sweet
skitr = shit
⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁
⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁
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Lavender
Summary: A year after his mother's death, Marc travels back to Chicago to face his father. He doesn't expect it to be easy but he also doesn't expect it to be so hard. He especially doesn't expect to find refuge from the hard moments in a little known witch's shop a few blocks over. And definitely not in one keeping watch over the family's piano.
This chapter: Marc tries to confront his father. You tell him about the day you got the piano.
Tales Untold; Part II
Pairing: eventual Marc Spector x Reader (eventual minor Steven Grant x Reader and Jake Lockley x Reader)
Word Count: 5.9k
Warnings (this chapter): mentions of past child abuse, mental health issues, alcohol
A/N: I hope you enjoy! As always thank you for reading! Comments and feedback are so appreciated. Please let me know if any additional warnings need to be added. For full series warnings, please check the series masterlist, which will be updated as parts are posted!
II.
Tales Untold, Chicago 10:54 AM
Sun.
Spotted on the floor. On the cream colored rug beneath the sofa.
Marc stares at it for a long moment, at the undulating lines of light, head pounding and vision crossing. His neck is tilted at an odd angle on the armrest of the sofa, an ache piercing the top of his spine. When he pulls in a breath, everything still smells like lavender and rosemary, even though the blanket infused with the scent is heaped by his feet at the end of the sofa and spilling onto the floor.
“Fuck,” he whispers, pushing himself upright.
The sky is clear beyond the window, robin’s egg blue, like the snow had never happened. There’s a thin layer of ice rimming the glass and the panes rattle ominously with a wind that still hasn’t died down.
Aside from him, the room is empty.
Marc can just see the rumpled edge of your duvet poking out from behind the changing screen, though he can tell you aren’t in bed. The bathroom door is ajar, the room beyond empty.
Slowly, Marc stands, stumbling a little when a bolt of pain darts up his spine to land at the back of his head. “Fuck,” he murmurs again as he rubs a hand over his neck, turning his eyes around the room until he meets Steven’s tried gaze in the standing mirror near the stairway door.
“Bloody hell, Marc. What was all that?” He rubs his eyes with his fists, hands hidden inside his coat sleeves. “We feel bloody awful.”
Marc doesn’t answer, pivoting to look for the piano innocently standing in the corner of the room. He half expects it not to be there, like last night had all been a weird dream.
It’s still there, the keys uncovered, half in shadow, half in the light spilling in the window, cherry wood shining and polished.
He glances away.
It belongs with him, and yet he can’t hold his gaze on it for longer than five seconds.
You’ve clearly been taking good care of it, if nothing else.
Guilt, uncomfortably warm and familiar, slides up his throat. He shouldn’t feel guilty for immediately interrogating his father, for running away and not going home last night. But it was hard, to stand there, to pretend like he was a normal son coming home for a normal visit to a father he trusts.
He pulls out his phone, scrolls through the missed calls and worried text messages from his father that tapered off around one in the morning.
More guilt squirms in his gut, for making Elias worry, despite it all.
Marc switches the phone off and shoves it in the pocket of the coat he’s still wearing. The acridity of booze and stale cigarettes wafts off him in waves, but he can’t remember what bar he’d been at before he wandered away and collapsed on the street.
Apparently, back in front of your shop.
He glances at his hands, turning them over slowly to check for bruises and cuts. But he remembers most of the night and Marc already knows he won’t find anything. The familiar embrace of anger hadn’t come last night, just the slow moving death of melancholy. One day the pain might stop his heart, the ache inside him that hasn’t stopped bleeding and weeping.
“What is it about that piano, mate?” Steven asks and when Marc glances at him again his hands are against his chest, the shape of them nervous and worried. “Somethin’ I should know about, yeah?”
But that’s Marc’s memory, this piano is Marc’s memory, one of his only good memories. And he wants to guard it jealously. He’s not ready to talk about it. Not yet.
It means -
giggles and sunshine and a mother who loves him.
It means lying shoulder to shoulder with his brother, happy and unburdened and unknowing of the future and all that came with it.
Marc tries, he really tries, not to hide things from Steven anymore.
But this is something he can’t bring himself to talk about.
“I’m not ready to talk about it,” he manages, his throat dry and cracking. His mouth tastes sour and cottony. He wants a glass of water and to brush his teeth. “Not now,” he grumbles, clearing his throat not so subtly.
“Okay,” Steven agrees, his voice soft. “But, sometime, yeah?”
Marc nods, making sure to turn and look into his alter’s eyes.
It’s a system that works for them. Marc gets to hold onto his privacy for a little longer, and Steven doesn’t feel cut off and adrift, alone, left to guess.
“Was it…it was mum’s?”
He must have heard Marc’s conversation with you. “Yeah.”
“And-,”
A door slams loudly below them. The sound makes Marc flinch, brace himself, fists curled at his sides. The stairs creak as someone climbs them quickly, clearly taking them two at a time.
Marc tenses as the person reaches the top of the stairs, his headache worsening by the minute.
But it’s just you, appearing suddenly in the doorway balancing two travel cups of coffee and a paper bag. “Good morning!”
Your voice is loud, but not grating. And Steven goes silent, drinking in the sight of you, the smile tugging your mouth up, before he gushes that you're beautiful, ethereal.
Marc tries to tune him out.
You are inexplicably sunny, cheerful. You’d been drunk last night too, teetering on uncertain feet and leaning into his arm, but you don’t seem to be paying for it now.
“Morning,” Marc falters, watching you dump the bag on the kitchen counter, acutely aware suddenly that he’s in someone else’s space, that he doesn’t belong and you were probably hoping he’d leave while you were out. “I was just going to-,”
You extend a hand across the kitchen island, holding out one of the paper cups to him. “I don’t know how you take your coffee, so I got it black. I have milk and sugar if you want,” you chatter on, not seeming to realize the internal conflict swirling around inside him.
Marc stares at you, then down at the cup in your hand before he slowly takes it. “Marc,” Steven reprimands. “You should probably thank the person who saved us from the street, yeah?” A pause, then, “Marc, do we even know -,”
“What’s your name?”
You smile, shaking out the contents of the paper bag onto a plate. A couple of pastries roll out - a chocolate croissant, a blueberry scone, a banana muffin, an apple tart. You tell him your name, before asking which of the pastries he’d like. “Obviously I don’t know what you like so I got a couple different things.”
He opens his mouth, Steven harshly reminding him to - “Say thank you! Gone to a lot of trouble for you and hasn’t even got a clue who you are!”
“Thank you,” he blurts out, feeling stupid and slow to action, his mind foggy and pulsing. “For last night,” he clarifies when you only stare at him. “And the coffee.”
You blink, like you aren’t expecting to be thanked, like you can’t understand why he’d thank you. “Well, here,” you push the plate toward him instead of acknowledging his words. “You pick first. Milk or sugar?”
He should just get out of your way, go home. The pity you’d had for him while intoxicated was probably long gone in the sharp light of a sober new day.
But you just peer at him from beneath too long lashes when he doesn’t answer, tilting your head to the side.
“Both,” he says instead of giving you his leave, settling on a stool.
You slide the sugar bowl across the counter, and then the milk when you retrieve the carton.
Marc decides on the croissant, his headache easing a bit with every bite of food, and he’s reminded that he hasn’t eaten anything since the airport, since he arrived in Chicago the previous day and nervously bought an overpriced sandwich to stall for time until he inevitably had to track down a cab.
He should have eaten with his father.
He had smelled food cooking as he stood in the living room. Something salty, something that smelled suspiciously like matzo ball soup.
It was a childhood smell, layered over the scent of his mother’s peppermint and cedar, the slightly stuffy smell of a house kept closed for too long.
He’d stood there watching the empty space of the piano with a chasm opening in his heart. It was like mourning and grief slapped over painful memories, papered over the things harbored inside him that he’s never been able to tramp down.
You watch him make up his coffee and Marc doesn’t feel weird about it. The silence isn’t sticky and Marc has never felt pressure to speak, to fill empty spaces with words. Even still, you’ve been kind, maybe saved his life, and he feels…oddly safe.
“So, shit talks to you, huh?” He finds himself asking.
He cringes at the words that leave his mouth, Steven slapping a hand over his eyes in the mirror. But you don’t miss a beat, snorting out a laugh. “Sometimes. But not precisely that, no.” You peer at him over your own cup of coffee and offer no further explanation. “Piano?”
“It was my mother’s,” he says, though you already know that. Maybe that’s why it's so easy to say. His spine softens a fraction and you lean against the counter across from him.
You hum, like its new information and you’re storing it away for later use.
This time, you don’t comment on her death. You don’t comment on her at all. Instead, you ask, “Do you still play?”
“No.”
You nod thoughtfully. “Where are you going to take her? You don’t live in Chicago anymore, right?”
“No.” And then, “I’m not sure why I came looking for it. It’s not like I have room. I don’t even know if I want it.”
You quirk a brow at him. “Things can have a weird pull over us. Attachments don’t always make sense.”
He nods, but all he knows is that when he’d seen that open space in the living room, something inside him had yawned open, vicious, cloying emotions swirling up from the abyss he thought he’d sealed closed inside himself. He hadn’t intended to go tearing off trying to find it.
Marc, really, at the end of the day, always fucks everything up. His best intentions and decisions skewed to something he never meant to happen, and always for the worse.
You take a bite of the muffin, like you’re mulling over what he’s said and he’s someone much more important to you than some guy you just met. “Well, you don’t have to decide now, right? You can take some time to think about what you want.”
He doesn’t answer you, sipping at his cup of coffee.
It’s good coffee, bold and aromatic. The milk you’ve given him is oat but he doesn't mind the flavor of it.
He’s not sure, really. Not sure if he came to finally have it out with his father, reconcile, spiral, or something worse.
He doesn’t know, either, why his father asked him to come home.
“You can always leave it here,” you suggest, mistaking his silence for apprehension. You send him a nervous smile when he meets your eyes. “Especially if you’re in town for a little while.” You shrug and look toward the instrument when Marc refocuses his eyes on the counter. There’s something about your eyes, something that makes him think you know much more than you should, just by looking at him. “I knew as soon as your father walked in the door that I’d have to save whatever it was he was donating.”
Marc goes still at the mention of his father, and doesn’t dare look up from the counter.
“She wasn’t ready to leave your family. Didn’t want to.” For one horrifying moment, Marc thinks you mean his mother, until he realizes you’re just talking about the piano. The piano, and all that it carried, had not been ready to leave his family. According to you. “Now though…it knows you.”
Marc turns to look at the piano and sees the living room of his childhood again, bright child laughter, sun spots on the floor, warm drinks, and the sound of prayer. The image fades, replaced by your lilac walls, the cold spring morning air, the scent of lavender lingering in the air, mixing with coffee and sugared pastries.
He doesn’t question what you mean, about the piano knowing him, about it not being ready to leave, like you can somehow communicate with it.
“Do you want to play it?”
His throat goes tight and he glances back at you, focuses on the lashes that line your eyes, the plush curve of your cheek. “No.”
He’ll die if he touches it. If he touches it, if he plays a note that resonates too loud, his mother will know.
Unbidden comes the image of before, of Randall’s hands next to his, pressing key after key, following the lead of his big brother.
“Marc,” Steven’s voice, curling around him. “Maybe you should-,”
“No,” he repeats, louder this time, and you jump. “No. No, sorry,” he makes an effort to even his voice. “I can’t.”
It’s silent for a while, nothing but the sound of both of you sipping on your coffees and finishing the pastries.
The guilt comes back with a vengeance.
He doesn’t know you. You don’t know him.
And here he is unloading all of his shit onto you, all the baggage he carried around on the ladder of his spine, between the curves of his ribs.
Already he’s had a breakdown in front of you, been saved from freezing to death by you, slept on your couch, and let you feed him.
He wonders why you haven’t told him to fuck off yet, and why he feels so comfortable staying.
“Look,” you say suddenly. “When your dad dropped off the piano, we talked for a bit. He talked a lot about you. I think…I know he misses you.” Marc’s spine goes rigid, his breath stalling in his lungs. “He didn’t tell me what happened between you. But he does miss you. I don’t know-I don’t know if that’s why you’re in town but you don’t have to worry about the piano right now. I’ll take care of her while you figure things out with your dad.”
“He talked about me?” Marc’s voice is sharp and hard, like grit in an open wound.
“Yeah,” you say softly. “Yeah, he did.”
Marc scoffs and shakes his head. “Fuck,” he mutters into the top of his cup.
“Sorry,” he decides to apologize again instead of lingering on the thoughts bubbling up about his childhood, his last remaining family member, and what the fuck he hoped to get out of coming home. “Sorry for whatever the fuck last night was. You didn’t have to do that.”
You smile, “Stranger things and all that,” you murmur, glancing away from his eyes. “I didn’t mind. Truthfully, having a guest snoring on my couch was welcome.”
“I snored?”
“A little,” your nose scrunches up. “Cute little, like, mumbles.” Marc doesn’t have time to feel embarrassed about that before your grin fades and you continue, “Terrible date. Truly awful. I have such bad luck.” You sigh and it sounds heavy, like you’re at the edge of giving up. “Anyways. It was nice to not think about that right after.”
Silence settles again and it's not uncomfortable.
He doesn’t feel like he has to talk.
But he kind of wants to.
Marc licks his lips, decides he’s going to take your offer.
The thought of coming back here, to this little room, only has a little to do with it. “You won’t sell it?”
“Course not, it’s yours.”
Marc swallows and stands, figuring he should get out of your way anyways, figuring he should face his father, “Okay.”
You blink across at him before tilting your head to the side, owlish in your intensity. “Okay,” you agree. “Come visit her whenever you want, if you want. Get reacquainted, y’know?”
He nods. He’s going to need somewhere to go when that house gets too stifling. He’s going to need somewhere to flee when things get messy, somewhere safe.
And you feel weirdly safe.
Like he’s known you his whole life.
“Do I - Did we grow up together or somethin’?”
You shake your head, smiling again. “No. Don’t think so. This was my mom’s place until a couple years ago. I lived out of state with my dad.”
Marc hums, glances at the mirror to find himself alone. He almost says it. Feels like we did. It feels like we know each other.
It feels like he’s known you for a long time. He feels comfortable with you.
“Are you okay to go home?”
The golden energy that bands around you seems to gather at the crown of your head, like some kind of sovereign holding court. “Yeah,” he says, not sure why his voice cracks. “I’m good.”
“Okay. Well. You know where to find me.” He’s almost to the steps when you call out, “Marc? You’re always welcome here.”
Milwaukee Avenue, Chicago, 12:14 PM
His father meets him at the door, worry etched in his eyes. “Marc,” he starts to step forward.
Marc steps away, his back hitting the solid wood of the front door behind him.
Elias steps back, holding up a hand in surrender. “Come in,” he says, placating his only remaining son, beckoning him forward into the house that Marc should feel comfortable in.
Marc follows and doesn’t offer an explanation for where he’d been, where he’d gone, and Elias doesn’t ask.
“I’m sorry about the piano,” Elias says when Marc is settled at the dining room table. The same white cloth is spread over it, a candelabra that holds three candles in the center of the table. “Did you manage to find it?”
A steaming bowl of matzo ball soup is placed in front of him, then a spoon.
Marc wants to fling it across the room, a childlike, bitter, angsty rage swimming in his gut.
He didn’t think it would be this hard. He thought -
He’d done the hard part. Fought himself and won. Fought better for himself and Steven, and Jake, when he deigned to appear. He’s good now. He’s over this. He doesn't think about that room at the top of the stairs anymore. He doesn’t think about the slither of leather, the loudness of an unwanted presence. He doesn’t think about the best ways to hide and go unseen and unnoticed.
Not anymore.
Here, he expects her still, bottle in hand, to sway through the door, point and say it's all his fault, every shitty decision he’s ever made is punishment for the one mistake that could never be undone.
He expects Wendy to walk through the door, look into his eyes, and tell him he’s just like her.
They are one and the same, bitter and biting.
Marc swallows, doesn’t fling the bowl across the room.
Instead, he says, “I already ate. I found the piano. It’s still at Tales Untold.”
“It hasn’t been sold,” Elias leans back in his chair, eyebrows ticking upwards, clearly surprised. “I thought it would have.”
Marc shrugs in response, an awkward quiet descending between them. He doesn’t know what to say into this uncomfortable silence. Not with the weight of a mother and wife, and lost sons, sitting between them.
“How’s life in Lon-,”
“Why did you ask me to come here?”
Elias blinks. “I-,”
“Do we really have anything left to say to each other?” The rage boils up and over, hot and mean. “After all these fucking years. Do we really have anything left to say? Do you?” There’s a long pause, the silence deafening. “You didn’t even fucking come after me. Her shiva. I left. You could have at least come out on the steps.”
He doesn’t know why he’s talking about that day, why he’s even brought it up.
“Son-,”
“Don’t.” His breath stutters and he feels the itch of panic behind his skin, for being loud and taking up room in a place that tried to crush him. “Don’t make excuses.”
“I was grieving.”
Marc’s throat is tight, shards of his broken heart swallowed down into his belly. “So was I.” He remembers stumbling down the street, cold cobblestones beneath his knees when he’d been unable to continue. “And I was alone.”
He’s always been alone.
The comforting presence of his alters are there in a moment, warm and reassuring that he’s no longer alone, that he never had been.
Words flutter at the back of his throat, questions he’s swallowed down his whole life.
I was a kid. How could you let that happen to me? How could you look the other way? How could you protect her over me?
Between the summer evenings batting baseballs together in the park, and early morning prayers, and winters drinking cocoa together. Between the soft moments where things were normal and Marc was allowed to be a kid, between Cubs games and going ice skating and visiting the aquarium, how could he ignore it? Ignore the bruises? Ignore the crying? The drinking? The pain he started carrying around like it was a second skin?
But he doesn’t.
He doesn’t ask.
His rage burns out quicker than it comes. Marc shoves a lid on the emotions simmering under the surface of his skin and looks away, feeling drained and empty.
The urge to throw the soup across the room is still there.
Instead, he curls his hands into fists. “I’m not hungry.”
Elias doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, and Marc is reminded of all the evening dinners he sat through just like this lunch. His mother drunk, perpetually grieving her son, his brother cold, and he and his father not knowing how to look at each other, what to say, who to blame.
Was Marc just a kid? Aas it just an accident, or was Wendy right? Marc’s always been jealous, and he was waiting for an opportunity to become the killer he was destined to be.
“I already ate,” he repeats, something inside him closing, locking tight. If he speaks again, he’ll scream, he’ll cry.
The silence descends again, before Elias quietly takes the bowl away and returns a few minutes later. “Okay,” he starts to lie a hand against Marc’s shoulder but thinks better of it. “I’ll save it and you can warm it up if you want some later.”
Marc gives a stiff nod but doesn’t look up from the table.
Tales Untold, Chicago 6:43 PM
The brick needs repaired. Marc scratches a nail over the crumbling facade of Tales Untold with his free hand.
The wooden sign over the door needs repainted and the flower boxes lining the front window have seen better days.
Marc waits for the door to open, feeling stupid for knocking. He shouldn’t be bothering you. You’d only been kind the other day because he had been in a delicate state of mind. There’s no way you actually want him to come back, but he doesn’t know where else to go, and if he goes anywhere else he might end up at a bar.
Three days have passed since he last saw you, since you took him in drunk and let him sleep on your couch and fed him breakfast. Three days have gone by - three days of half aborted conversations with his father. Three days of awkward silences and even more awkward small talk.
He can’t take it anymore, feeling trapped in that house, feeling the looming presence of people missing. Two nights in a row he’d gone out and bought a bottle of whiskey but on the second night, the anger had come, and he’d seen her in the mirror.
The mirror ended up shattered, long shards spattered with blood lining the floor of the upstairs hall. When his father didn’t even mention it the next morning, Marc realized that he was used to it and so it wasn’t anything to comment on.
Marc dumped the rest of the liquor down the toilet and told himself it was not because it hurt his father but because Marc didn’t want to be his mother.
He’s sober now, with a headache pinching the back of his neck.
He’s a stranger to you and it's evening and the shop is closed. You probably don’t want your free time being taken up by someone you don’t know.
Before he can walk away and pretend it didn’t happen, he catches movement behind the glass, your figure weaving through the aisles to the door.
A frown is etched over your face and Marc’s belly dances with guilt and uncertainty. He’s not sure he can remember a time he’s made a decision without that feeling.
You peer through the glass and the frown disappears.
To Marc’s surprise, you look happy to see him and not at all irritated. “Marc,” you say when you unlock the door and wrestle with the way the door sticks in the frame before it creaks open. “I was wondering when you might come back!”
He holds up the tupperware of matzo ball soup. “I brought you dinner.”
“Oh,” you look surprised. “I-,”
“To get you back. For breakfast.”
He needed an excuse to get out of the house, away from the walls he was ready to tear down with bloody fingers. He’s never felt more like an unwanted guest.
“You didn’t have to do that,” you say, but your smile is bright and you take the tupperware from his outstretched hand.
Marc nods, a strange vulnerability surging up the back of his throat as he realizes there’s nothing to tether him to this spot. Now, he’s empty handed and stranded on the street with nowhere to go but back to a place that feels haunted to him.
“Your sign needs a new coat of paint,” he grumbles, pointing above your head. “And the brick needs to be repointed.”
Marc wants to kick himself. Insulting your storefront probably wasn’t the best way to buy himself more time. But you just hum thoughtfully and nod, “And the door sticks. And the bell is a little rusty.”
It’s an out, a recovery from his poor choice of conversation. A graceful turn of his words, accepting of the blunt assessment.
“And your flowers are dead,” he nods at the wilted, iced over blooms sticking sickly out of the window boxes.
What the fuck is wrong with him? He was in the clear. Why would he-
You just stare at him for a moment, startled and blinking rapidly, before you burst out into laughter, clutching your stomach and bending over like it's the funniest thing you’ve ever heard.
Heat warms his face, something pleasant fluttering behind his sternum.
“You…are so right.” You nod and wipe the corner of your eye on your sleeve. “It needs a lot of work.” You tilt your head at him, “Have you eaten dinner? I got bread from Flour Up earlier that would probably go really well with this. We can share.” You hold up the container with a grin.
He rubs a hand over the back of his neck, not sure if he should accept your offer, if he really deserved to. He’s already taken up so much of your time. “Flour Up?”
You jut your chin to the left, at the bakery next to your shop. “Flour Up. Opened only a couple weeks ago but it's pretty good. That’s where the coffee and pastries were from. The owner is nice.” Marc hesitates, that biting loneliness, the voice inside him that whispered he wasn’t good enough, rearing up again. “C’mon,” you cajole. “You’ve gotta eat some.”
“Okay,” he acquiesces, maybe too quickly.
“Great,” you beam and hold the door open for him. “I bought too much bread anyways.” You chatter as you lead him once again through the shop and up the narrow stairs at the back. The sun is fading now, sinking below the horizon in the distance and your shop and the apartment above are bathed in a faint orange and gold glow.
An unlikely peace settles between his bones again, the golden sunshine on your skin mesmerizing.
He doesn’t look at the piano, even though he can feel it looking at him.
“Y’know,” you say, popping the top off the tupperware as he settles at the counter, “I haven’t had matzo ball soup in forever.”
Marc watches you turn on the stove, the snap of the lighter before the flame appears comforting in its domesticity. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. It’s so good in the winter or when you’re sick,” you chirp. “It’s such a perfect soup.”
Marc finds himself fighting a smile as you carefully pour the soup into a pot and put it over the heat to warm. “Yeah, I haven’t had it in a long time either.” The piano tugs on his gaze and Marc turns to look at it.
You’re humming under your breath, pulling out a cutting board and a serrated knife.
The bakery bag crinkles in your grasp as you pull out the peasant loaf and slice into it.
The salty scent of the broth circulates the room and Marc stands to move closer to the piano, circling it until he can see the keys, the worn places his mother’s hands and his and his brother’s used to rest.
Wendy would sometimes stand behind him and guide his hands, her larger palms engulfing his. He sits down at the bench and slides a finger over one key, careful not to depress it. The smell of the soup reminds him of being small, of his hands being covered and gently guided, of being sick and fed by hand when he couldn’t do it himself, of cold winter mornings and snow days.
“Are you sure you don’t want to play it?” You ask.
Marc’s head snaps up but you aren’t looking at him as you carefully ladle soup into two bowls. “I’m sure,” he answers, letting his hand slide off the keys. “You should play it though.”
“I can play for you,” you agree with a nod.
He didn’t mean it that way, but he doesn’t correct you. He wants to hear it played, even if he can’t do it himself. “It’s happy you’re here.”
This time when Marc looks up, his eyes connect with yours. “She missed you.”
He doesn’t answer, nodding quietly.
You leave the soup on the counter, plumes of steam rising from the bowls, and cross the room to sit next to him on the bench. “Did you work things out with your dad?”
Marc doesn’t deign to answer. The truth is painful, that he could talk things over with his father a million different ways, and he still wouldn’t work things out with him. Not that he’s really tried, not that they ever get to any of the hard questions, the important things that weighed them both down.
The answer sits there between you, the words unsaid and implied. “When he donated it,” you say softly. “He told me you were the most beautiful player of the family. Said he missed that sound.”
Marc chokes on the indignation that rises up. “He never fucking told me that.” He turns to you and you meet his eyes. “I’ve been-,” he falters, seals himself off.
“You can tell me,” you turn back to the keys, fingers brushing against them. “If you want.”
Marc closes his eyes for a moment, trying to breathe past the glass in his lungs. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Maybe he doesn’t either.”
But you don’t know what happened. You don’t really understand, and Marc has a hard enough time explaining it to himself that he doesn’t know where to begin with another person.
He breathes out hard. “Maybe. Shouldn’t, ah,” he glances at you from the corner of his eye, licks his lip nervously, “shouldn’t be unloading this shit on you.”
You nudge your shoulder into his, and press one key down, the long keen of sound it makes beautiful, “You really aren’t. You’re fairly closed up about it actually.” Your fingers twist down the keys, playing a quick tune that sounds vaguely familiar to him.
“What else did he say to you?” Marc asks, watching the movement of your hands over the piano.
You don’t miss a single note, the action is all memory. You don’t glance down, not once. “Not much. Not really.”
Marc nods, pressing down on the questions that bubble up, the urge to beg you to tell him exactly what his father had told you, every detail, so he might start to understand what he’s doing in Chicago.
“He said you moved away a long time ago and that you don’t visit,” you pause in playing, the silence of your hands like an incorrect note in an otherwise perfect sonata. “He doesn’t blame you for not coming home though,” you strike another chord, and then a second.
The isolated, desolate feeling comes back. He’s adrift and alone, shouting into a void that would eat his voice until he went mute. “Yeah? And how the fuck did that come up?”
You don’t flinch at the brash cut of his voice. “Well, I asked who’s piano it really was. She clearly wasn’t his. And she clearly didn’t want to leave. He said it was his son’s. That’s how it came up.”
Marc’s breath is caught somewhere between his lungs and his mouth. He can’t make himself swallow, the pressure choking him. “He…didn’t say it was my mother’s?”
You shrug, your hands still slipping along the keys. The music, this song, is comforting, he realizes, because it's something his mother used to play alone, the movements too complicated for his little learning hands. “He didn’t mention your mother. Only that she’d passed recently. He talked about you.”
The song you’ve been playing ends suddenly and you tuck your hands in your lap. He sits shoulder to shoulder with you for a long time after that, the quiet peaceful, his thoughts jumbled, a tangled knot. “He doesn’t say that shit to me,” he says eventually, swallowing around the lump in his throat.
“I don’t know what happened between you,” you answer. “So ignore this if I’m off base. But sometimes it's easier to say things to a stranger than to the person you need to talk to. Because it doesn’t matter with them. It’s hard with your dad, because it matters. It’s hard for your dad because it matters to him.”
Marc finds that hard to believe, after everything. After everything he was allowed to suffer.
Still, it makes sense. It makes sense why he finds it easy to talk to you, even when he chokes and trips over his words.
You lean your shoulder into his, the pressure light as you begin another song.
He watches your hands greedily, the lithe way they move along the keys, and leans back into you, just a little.
The soup is cold when you finally move away from the piano and Marc’s guilt surges unpleasantly.
But you just laugh.
“No big deal.”
And you put it back on the stove for a second time.
Thank you for reading! Comments and feedback are so appreciated. New parts will be posted Saturdays at 3PM EST! You can add yourself to the tag list on the series masterlist.
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No one comes close to you in my heart
Summary
The fact that Aziraphale has rivals is annoying enough in itself, but when on top of that the rivals are, a nebula, a car and now a cup of coffee?
He's not going to take it lying down!
Notes
One last little story for this year!
I wish you all a wonderful 2024! Full of joy and little pleasures!
Thank you for your support and love through your kudos and comments!
See you next year for new and exciting adventures!
On Ao3
Rating G - 1098 words
"Ah, there you are, love of my life!"
Aziraphale, who had just returned from a most tedious meeting of the Whickber Street shopkeepers, was delighted to be greeted by Crowley's voice as he walked through the bookshop door.
But his elation was short-lived, for as he entered the shop, he noticed that Crowley, who hadn't seen him, was not speaking to him, but to the cup of coffee in his hands, which he was now inhaling with a blissful expression on his face.
The angel muttered, "Not again, first a nebula, then the Bentley, and now a cup of coffee?"
"Oh, Angel, you're here! Cup of tea?"
The demon, apparently unaware of Aziraphale's mood, didn't wait for the angel's reply and went to the back of the bookshop, continuing, "I also picked up some Eccles cakes from Nina, as I suspected you might need some sweet comfort food after the meeting."
The angel's resentment melted like snow in the sun.
His demon, always so thoughtful.
As Crowley, with his back to him, continued to talk while preparing the tea, Aziraphale couldn't resist and approached, wrapping his arms around the demon's waist to hug him from behind.
Crowley, surprised, asked quietly, "Angel? Are you all right?"
The angel, his cheek pressed against the demon's back, nodded softly, humming.
Crowley chuckled softly before saying, "You know, it's going to be a little harder to make tea like that."
Aziraphale laughed lightly at that before replying, tightening his embrace around the demon, "You're far more comforting than any cup of tea or cake, my dear."
The demon, cheeks slightly flushed, said softly, "That's kind of you to say."
"It's not kindness, it's the truth. Your acts of service always make me feel so well cared for."
Crowley placed his hands on the angel's that were intertwined on his stomach and, interlacing their fingers, replied softly, "Only for you."
Aziraphale laughed lightly against his back and replied, "We both know I'm not the only one benefiting from your kindness, but I also know it's a subject that makes you uncomfortable, so let's leave it aside."
Crowley untied the angel's hands and turned between his arms to face him.
Aziraphale was now intrigued by the small, mysterious smile the demon wore as he looked at him.
Crowley cupped the angel's face and traced his lips with his thumb, saying softly, "Look at you, you're gorgeous."
Aziraphale gasped at the words, a scene from the distant past returning to his mind.
"Let there be light."
Suddenly there was an explosion of light and color around them as the universe came to life. Aziraphale marveled at the spectacle before him, but his gaze was suddenly drawn to the angel beside him, laughing and ecstatic, uttering little cries of delight. The red-haired angel was literally transcended by joy.
Aziraphale looked ahead again as the angel at his side exclaimed, "Look at you, you're gorgeous."
Aziraphale sincerely believed the other angel was speaking to him, so he turned and smiled at him angel to see that this was not the case. The red-haired angel was looking forward, and he was undoubtedly speaking to his creation.
Aziraphale didn't quite understand why he was so disappointed, but what he did know was that he really wanted the other angel to look at him with the same admiration he had for his precious stars.
"Angel?"
Aziraphale snapped out of his thoughts, and as he looked into the demon's eyes, he realized that what he'd been craving for millennia was right there in front of him. Crowley was staring at him the same way he'd looked at his newborn nebula.
Pure awe in his eyes.
Blushing, the angel replied softly, "Thank you, my dear."
Crowley smiled softly and said, "Tell me, Angel, did you miss me?"
Aziraphale's eyes widened as the demon continued, "I bet you did."
This couldn't be a coincidence, could it?
As they each carried a box of plants and headed for the Bentley, Aziraphale looked back at the bookshop and asked, "Um, everything okay with...?"
Crowley, realizing what Aziraphale was talking about, replied as they walked on, "Oh, yeah, fine. He's singing to himself. I think he must've been asleep, I heard snoring coming from his bedroom."
As they arrived in front of the Bentley, the angel was about to reply when suddenly Crowley leaned forward and asked, "Did you miss me?"
Aziraphale, a little unsettled, watched as the demon smiled foolishly at the car and continued, "I bet you did."
And me?
Aren't you going to ask me?
Yes, I missed you.
Aziraphale, couldn't hide the annoyance in his tone as he replied, "I'm sure it did."
The angel snapped out of his thoughts, and now seeing the mischievous gleam in the demon's eyes, he thought they might both be playing the same game, so he replied in a tone he intended to be neutral, "I haven't missed you at all."
"Oh, come on, Angel, don't be like that."
The demon, still holding the angel's cupped face in his hands, brought his face close to his and continued, "As for me, I missed you, love of my life."
Aziraphale, realizing he had been completely exposed, sighed, "You heard it all, didn't you?"
Crowley nodded slowly and replied quietly, "I couldn't let you think that a nebula, a car, and a cup of coffee were more important in my life than you, Angel.
Aziraphale pouted, but Crowley brushed it away with his thumb and said in a soft voice, "But it is true, you are the love of my life."
The angel, disarmed, could only surrender to the blatant sincerity in the demon's gaze, and it was he who closed the distance between them to press his lips to Crowley's.
A little later, as they parted to catch their breath, Aziraphale raised his hand to push back a red lock that had fallen across the demon's forehead, and he said softly, "I did, you know?"
Crowley raised a puzzled eyebrow, "What?"
"I did miss you...then and now."
He watched with delight as the demon's cheeks flushed and, seeing his embarrassment, continued, "When you're not here, I always miss you, my love."
Then, taking advantage of having rendered him speechless, the angel wrapped his arm around Crowley's neck and pulled him into another kiss.
Whether on a trip to Scotland or in a meeting for a few hours, the angel would always miss his demon, so how could he have lasted more than a day in heaven without him?
Impossible.
They belonged together and to the world.
_________
Still not beta'd
Still not my native language
Still hoping you'll enjoy this story 🥰
Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝
Ineffable Growing Love series : (After season 2)
Part 1 Story 1-99
Part 2 Story 100-?
Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here (Before season 2)
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last christmas, m | jjk
pairing(s): jungkook x reader
summary: Last Christmas, she gave you her heart, wrapped up with a note saying, I love you. She meant it. This Christmas, you give her back the stuff she left at your place and run into her next-door neighbor that knew all about your love. Somehow, you end up explaining why it went wrong.
warnings: rated M (18+) for language; mentions of previous w/w relationship; pansexual reader; mentions of bad parents and discrimination / prejudice; reader def needs a therapist and Jeon Jungkook is not a therapist; JK is also reader's ex-gf's next-door neighbor; pining; awk tension; I cannot shut up about JK's big peepers; smut (fem reader, a lot of making out [both lips and bodies], light scratching, so much grinding, cowgirl); motorcycle-owning!JK takes you on a ride, whee
inspired by Wham!'s 'Last Christmas'; you are the shitty ex, don't read this unless you're okay with that and, yes, some decisions are made
--
You handed the bag over.
“This is it.”
“T… Thanks.”
The cold stung your cheeks. Around your neck was a dark green and black plaid scarf, thick layers shielding your heart that was exposed to the winter thanks to your open parka. Your hands returned to their tucked position in your fleece-lined pockets. You smiled, ever so slightly.
“You look pretty. The short hair suits your face well.”
She reached up to touch the tips of the chin-length bob, wispy front bangs framing her gentle eyes, not quite looking at you. You noticed her short nails were painted a light shimmery gold, suiting the holiday season. Her lips pursed and she breathed in deeply, looking straight into your eyes.
“Don’t say stuff like that. We’re not together anymore,” she said decisively.
“Ah… right.”
You left the smile on your face.
Right, because you could no longer compliment a person after dating them and then breaking up with them. Rules of some code apparently you didn’t get the memo for. The breeze whipped around your body, chilling moments as you stood at the doorstep of your former lover, feeling a strange kind of satisfaction seeing in her shiver in her fuzzy cream sweater and fleece pajama pants, complete with ivory fur slippers. But those thoughts were cruel to think and so was the bitterness.
She glanced at you.
You felt bad, seeing the glisten in her eyes.
In a box labelled donations in your apartment, there was a knit scarf, checkered peach and cream, the note included long gone, probably in a trashcan. Last Christmas, that scarf had been in silvery wrapping paper with a white silk ribbon, the package shaking in her hands and accompanied by a nervous smile, handed over for you to open, seeing the note first and then the handmade gift.
I love you above the handiwork of love.
It wasn’t the very next day, but you were still giving it away.
“I hope you have a nice holiday,” you said, bowing lightly.
“A-Ah, yeah,” she stuttered, clutching the brown bag of the few sweaters and joggers she had left at your apartment, all laundered and folded neatly the way she usually folded them. You had remembered, and this would be the last time you needed to remember how to delicately tuck sweaters into themselves like cake rolls. “I’m going to see my mom and dad. You should…” And she trailed off, knowing full well you weren’t going to see your parents. “You should eat something nice.”
You nodded.
Smile.
“I will. Take care.”
You took a step back and bowed again, taking your graceful exit from the front porch of that apartment that you would never walk into again.
You headed for the stairs, being careful when it came to the snow-slicked stone steps. Good thing your black boots had sturdy, thick treads. You reached back and pulled the hood of your parka up, fleece blanketing your head and ears, instantly warming your cold hair. It was already getting dark. You barely saw the sun these days, with work and all. There was something nice about the winter evening though, not as thick as the humid summer nights. Crisp and chilly, sure, but maybe you could argue that was all you were anyway.
Shit, holding a pity party for yourself? That’s rich.
The voice was inner self-loathing was nice and loud tonight, huh.
You heard your name being called from the garage at the bottom of the stairs. You looked up to see a familiar resident of these apartments.
Your ex-girlfriend’s next-door neighbor, in fact.
“Jeon Jungkook?”
He smiled and waved, jogging over, something large and round under his arm. Black leather jacket, his gloves matching his jacket. Black jeans. Heavy-duty boots. You took a couple steps towards him, and then you spied the parked motorcycle, and finally recognizing that it was a motorcycle helmet he was holding. The sweater underneath with the somewhat tacky, bright red-and-white candy cane print didn’t quite match the rest of his ensemble.
He looked down when he realized you were staring at his chest and laughed. “Ah, yeah, I came back from a work party. Christmas lunch before we go on break. Theme was ugly sweaters.”
You blinked. “You could have tried harder.”
He grinned. “Yeah, my co-worker Jimin said that too, but I told him he was ugly enough for us both.”
You shook your head with a sheepish smile as the young man looked way too proud of himself burning someone who wasn’t even here to defend themselves. Well, supposedly he burned them publicly already. Poor Jimin. You had never met this Park Jimin Jungkook occasionally talked about, but they seemed to have a brotherly friendship, complete with Jungkook providing shithead younger brother quips.
“I haven’t seen you around lately,” Jungkook said, tilting his head.
Oh. Right.
You pointed up and prepared yourself to say it again and again until everyone knew.
“We broke up.”
“Oh…” His expression fell, big round brown eyes and the downturn of his lips. Man, Jeon Jungkook looking sad was not something you realized you needed to brace yourself for until now. It almost made you sad seeing his expression. “I’m sorry to hear that. I liked watching movies with you two, since you like Marvel stuff.”
You chuckled. “I’m not banned from going to the theater. I can still go to opening nights with you, if you want.”
He scratched his cheek, nodding slowly. “She wouldn’t feel weird seeing you with me?” he asked.
Oh.
Right.
If it was only you and Jeon Jungkook going to the movies, then, of course, people would think certain things.
You answered him honestly.
“I don’t know.”
You didn’t need to give answers, but Jungkook was your ex’s next-door neighbor and you had made friends with the guy before she did. Would be odd, considering she had proximity on her side, but, as it turns out, she was the lesbian and you were the pansexual. She had other priorities than the man living next door. He was not that interesting to her.
You shrugged. “I don’t know how she would feel, but what’s done is done and life goes on.”
Jungkook blinked at you.
You puffed out your left cheek and then exhaled heavily. “As you can expect from my reaction, it was me who broke up with her.” You clicked your tongue. “It wasn’t her. It was me. I have issues when women try to take care of me, even if they only have good intentions.” You reached up and pushed your parka hood back, letting the cold wind pierce your skin again, eager to feel something else. “Doesn’t really happen to me when it’s men, but women? Hah... I tried to tell myself that that wasn’t it, but facts are facts. In the end, I didn’t like her anymore and it had nothing to do with her and everything to do with me.”
Sounded awful coming out of your mouth.
Truth was ugly.
“I thought I would feel like shit not being with her during Christmas, but actually I feel worse because I’m actually glad I’m out.”
You glanced at Jungkook, whose was staring at you with those big brown eyes. For his part, he simply accepted when you introduced his neighbor as your girlfriend back then. Didn’t pry much. It had come up in conversation about representation in movies, and you both clarified your sexualities. Jungkook’s reaction was, oh, cool. But, of course, you hadn’t specified about the differences of various romantic relationships for you personally, until now.
You winced. “Sorry. Kinda dumped all that on you.”
He shook his head quickly, his long black hair flying about like floppy puppy ears. “No, no. It’s okay. Have you talked to anyone about the breakup?” He held up his free hand, pulling it back a little. “You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to. It’s just… I mean, I knew you two a little bit, so… I can listen, if you wanna say stuff.”
You opened your mouth, ready to say, yeah, I’ve talked about it, but then you realized, no, you haven’t talked to anyone about the breakup. You didn’t really have friends outside of the ones related to your previous relationship, and, well, he was standing right here. You certainly weren’t going to tell your parents about dating, least of all dating outside of the heteronormative. They already didn’t like you for various reasons and being anything but heterosexual was probably going to lead to full-on pitchforks and chasing. Not your idea of a fun Christmas, you had to admit.
Mostly because you were the one that had to do the outrunning.
Jungkook rubbed the back of his head, screwing up his face. “Uh, well, a friend much smarter than me told me once that good and bad is relative to who you’re talking to and that most of the time no one is good or bad because there are too many ways to judge.” As he spoke, his eyebrows became more knitted together in increasing confusion of unsure recollection. “Um. Something like that.”
You half-smiled. “Hm, ever considered becoming a therapist?”
Jungkook frowned, looking displeased. “Sounds complicated.”
You laughed. “Don’t worry. You would totally suck at it.”
He harrumphed. “Anyway,” he concluded gruffly, chopping the air, his Busan accent coming out with the flourishment. “I’m saying you don’t have to be sad or feel anything in particular.”
You nodded.
Awkward silence.
Jungkook suddenly perked up and pointed to his bike behind him. “Oh! Did I tell you? I got my motorcycle license over a month ago.”
No, he didn’t tell you, because at the point you had already broken up with your now-ex and stopped coming to this apartment complex. But you glossed over that detail and shook you head, cocking your chin to the metal monster. “Yours?”
He grinned, bouncing like the Energizer bunny. “Yup! Mine! I bought it as soon as I got my license. I always wanted one. Want a ride? I have an extra helmet upstairs.” He pointed up excitedly. “It’ll only take me a second to grab it.”
He knew you didn’t drive here and usually walked here from the train station because it was easier. You looked at the silver and black motorcycle and then back at him, seeing the bubbling eagerness and childlike joy in those sparkly big peepers. What the hell.
“Sure.”
He grinned.
You always liked Jungkook because he had such an expressive face.
He hurried past you and reached out to nudge your arm towards to the stairs. You stood steadfast, your head following his face as you saw his changing expression.
Time slowed.
So did Jungkook, stopping, standing beside you, his motorcycle helmet and arm in between your bodies.
You looked up at him.
Eyes connected.
Your hands lifted and you took his motorcycle helmet from him, ticking your head upstairs.
“I shouldn’t go back up there,” you softly said.
For a moment, he didn’t understand. You knew what he intended, you to follow him up to help carry the extra helmet so he had a hand free to lock the door again. But he hadn’t quite thought about why you were here in the first place, days away from Christmas, after months of not seeing you, and now the comprehension was creeping into his eyes, the wheels of his brain moving in real time right in front of you. You nodded slowly as his lips formed a small ‘o’ accompanied by quick, sharp nods as he bounded up the stone steps two at a time.
“I’ll be fast!”
“Don’t break a leg,” you scolded, rolling your eyes as he completely ignored you, but he held onto the railing, so at least he wouldn’t tumble down and squash you if he tripped.
That left you standing there in relative silence, holding Jeon Jungkook’s helmet and staring at his fairly new motorcycle, only a couple floors underneath your ex-girlfriend who you recently gave back all her things that she had left in your home, the only trace of her now being your memories that would fade in time.
You felt a bit weird, not minding too much about it.
Also felt a bit weird realizing in a few minutes you would be holding onto her next-door neighbor’s waist, your chest to his broad back.
I’m an asshole.
You sighed, remembering the apprehension you had felt embarking on this relationship. Maybe you should have listened to it, but, then again, hard to say. No one wants to believe they have issues. Also, she was quite cute and convincing at the time. Unlike in past relationships, she was already secure and didn’t make you feel ashamed about not being strictly lesbian or heterosexual. It made you think that this was right, this was how it should be, and then it started getting a little too serious.
You kept thinking, I’ll get over it.
You did not get over it.
Then you realized what you really meant was, I must get over it to prove that my shitty upbringing didn’t affect me but all I’m doing is pretending that I’m over it when I’m not.
Yeah, well.
You ended up breaking up with a nice, pretty girl that you weren’t really in love with. She had just made you feel secure because she actually accepted your sexuality, which was awesome but not enough.
So, why did you feel like a complete and total jerk, like you wasted her time, as if you weren’t worthy of it?
Don’t know.
You stared at the motorcycle in front of you.
He must feel free when riding it.
“I got the helmet!”
You didn’t even turn around when you heard Jungkook’s announcement. You were too busy transitioning out of your reflections. “Don’t you know motorcycle accidents are much more likely than car accidents?”
Jungkook popped into view, holding out the other helmet in his hands. You exchanged the one you were carrying with his, and he shrugged. “Everybody dies.”
“Morbid.”
“At least I wouldn’t die knowing I never got to ride a motorbike like I wanted to when I was a kid,” he pointed out, revealing a bit of his inked skin under his leather sleeve. “Same reason I got tattoos.”
“Bet your mom loves that.”
“My mom just has to love my personality,” he laughed. “And I got defiance from her, so she’s doomed.”
You shook you head with a smile. Jungkook showed you how to put the helmet on.
“Just stay safe.”
“Don’t you mean drive safe?”
“It’s not just you on the road, dude.”
Suddenly, his hands stopped moving after you put it on. Now you were staring at Jungkook through the opening, about to close the visor, but then those brown orbs found yours. There was a strange intangible ripple between you and him. He tilted his head.
“Why are you talking as if you’re not here about to get on the bike with me?”
Everybody dies.
You pointed to the helmet. It felt heavy and odd. You were unaccustomed to the tightness. It smelled clean though. “I am. Why else would I put this thing on?”
Maybe I’m already dead because I don’t feel bad about what I did.
You wondered if you should feel bad, even though you did the right thing, even though you knew there were no real villains and heroes in this situation, even though you knew you both were only people that chose how to live their lives. How were you supposed to know if you were dragging things on or running away? The only thing you knew was that she deserved someone who really loved her as much as she loved you. It wasn’t her fault you didn’t. You just had to be honest about it.
Right?
Jungkook nodded and stuck on his helmet, fitting it snugly and climbed onto the motorcycle, unlocking it as signaling you to get on behind him.
“Hold onto me here. Set your feet there. Yeah.”
He was warm and solid and present.
He even smelled nice.
You didn’t think about it too much. What was there to think about? Life was complicated. You could spend countless hours analyzing why you made certain decisions, if they were wrong or right and in which eyes that mattered, and then all those thoughts blew away when the mechanical monster underneath you roared to life, loud and vicious and pure power wielded with skillful hands, and you held on tighter to Jungkook, startled by the sound, yet not scared for some reason.
Just fascinated as Jungkook pulled out of his parking spot and zoomed out of the garage, onto the road.
It was fuckin’ cold.
Layers of green-and-black plaid between Jungkook’s back and your sweater, shielding your racing heart, wind and speed and thrill shooting throughout your veins, the winter night flashing past, blurring streetlamps and stoplights, forgetting the cold, your hands tucked inside Jungkook’s jacket, fingers fanning over his waist and ribcage, feeling his muscles under the tacky sweater.
You closed your eyes.
At least I wouldn’t die knowing I never got to ride a motorbike like I wanted to when I was a kid.
You used to think about riding a motorcycle when you were in middle school, although you had been looking at those smaller, zippy Japanese models, not a Harley-Davidson. You always assumed only loud obnoxious Americans rode that kind of stuff.
What?
Movies didn’t help.
Unfair stereotypes aside, it had been only a passing thought for you. One among many rebellious teenage desires. Cringe. That was hard to admit. But apparently for Jungkook it was a dream that he had turned into a reality and, while someone could view it in whatever negative light they wished, you saw it as walking the walk. You could respect that.
You leaned against him.
Felt the cold but there was something hot under layers of green-and-black plaid.
This is what joyride means, huh?
You were slowing down. Opened your eyes and saw Jungkook turning, seeing a parking lot and, across that, a field of white covered in a walkway of colorful lights. Oh. That was right. The park over here had put up this light display called Festival of Lights, where local artists had created wire sculptures covered in Christmas string lights which were displayed along a walkable path.
You went her last year, holding her hand.
You got off and took off your helmet, entranced by the bright twinkling displays, barely making out a gingerbread man doing a handstand.
“Wanna walk?”
You glanced at Jungkook. “What about this? Should I carry it?”
He laughed, waving to the sudden open top-box behind the seat. “Put it in here.”
You handed the helmet to him and watched in fascination. “Oh. I didn’t know there was a space to put stuff.”
He grinned. “Come on, let’s go.”
You following his bouncing jog with a loose stride, closing your fingers into your palm and remembering the feeling of his solid body in your hands only moments before. Furrowed your brows and shook your head, approaching the entrance, seeing a family several meters ahead, tired parents with a couple of loud kids pointing excitedly at a lit-up snowman holding six candy canes like Wolverine claws.
“Have you been here this year yet?”
“Ah, no,” you absentmindedly replied, seeing Santa and his reindeer. Classic, and well-done. “Haven’t had the time.”
“There’s one at the end I think you’ll like,” Jungkook was saying excitedly. “But I think the food vendors went home already. There was a hotteok truck and another one that sold roasted sweet potatoes, mmm, but maybe you can come back some other time.”
“Uh huh.”
You knocked into Jungkook’s back and bounced, vigorously shaking your head. “Ow.”
“Sorry, there’s ice. Careful.”
“Oh.”
You realized Jungkook was looking at you and you let go of his arm, not even realizing you had grabbed it out of instinct so you didn’t trip. A weird moment of muteness. You looked past him to see three chipmunks flashing in red, blue, and green scarves.
You looked up at Jungkook, who had followed your eye line to the three cuties.
“Jungkook.”
“Huh?”
“Why didn’t you ask your neighbor why I wasn’t coming over anymore?”
Those brown eyes looked away from the twinkling artificial stars to your eyes. There was a little bit a guilt. They shifted away and came back and you realized Jungkook didn’t know how to lie but he also wasn’t sure if he was about to be out of line either.
“I… I heard her crying. A lot. And it’s none of my business,” he mumbled, frowning. “My mom told me not to be nosy,” he added under his breath.
You almost snorted. “You told your mom that you were worried about the lesbian couple next door?”
Jungkook squinted at you, annoyed. “No, I told my mom that I was worried that my friend might have broken up, so I asked her if I should do anything. Something nice?” He shrugged. “I don’t know. It seemed weird especially when Black Panther: Wakanda Forever came out, and I was going to ask if you, I mean, you both were going to the midnight release but…”
The kids were yelling in the distance and you didn’t even hear them.
You were just staring at Jungkook and noticing that his ears were turning bright red.
All the adrenaline from the speed and, now, everything slammed on the brakes.
“I didn’t cry.”
He blinked slowly. “What?”
You breathed out, looking around you, at snow and lights and white, and then at Jungkook, wearing all black and that candy-cane sweater, at yourself and your dark monochrome outfit, and then you admitted it again. “I didn’t cry, and I feel kinda shitty for it.”
“Oh.”
You stepped past Jungkook and walked down the carved-out path, following footprints and hard work. He followed and you acknowledged him, looking from one festive decoration to another, admiring the creations and spinning through the inner workings of your mind. “I felt frustrated. I know sexual attraction and romantic relationships are two different things, but I wanted to believe they weren’t. I wanted to believe that enough time had passed and I was okay, but I wasn’t okay and maybe I’ll never be okay, and I don’t know how to feel about that.”
You glanced up.
Jungkook looked confused and thoughtful at the same time. “I think you said before you don’t talk to your parents?”
“Yeah. They’re assholes.”
“Oh.”
That wasn’t very descriptive so you gave a brief explanation. “They looked at me like a product they made. A child was an object that they could program to do things they weren’t able to do, like make lots of money, marry rich, and in general sacrifice all my autotomy for their every beck and call.” You shrugged. “A dog would have more grace than their child.”
“Ouch.”
“Also, they would not understand that I’m pansexual. I think I’d be shot on the spot.”
“Don’t talk to them,” he puffed heatedly.
“Mmm,” you hummed in agreement. “And, yeah, I’m sure that kind of upbringing affected my romantic relationships.” And lots of other things, but that wasn’t the point right now.
“Everybody goes through stuff like that.”
You looked at him.
Jungkook shrugged. “My last girlfriend said all I care about is myself and there’s a reason why all my friends are older than me and called me irresponsible, selfish, and childish.”
“Are you?”
He frowned. “I don’t think so? I do the dishes and always fold my laundry.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Only fold?”
“Okay, sometimes I leave it on the table for a little while,” he grumbled.
You chuckled. “How long ago was this?”
“Um, couple years ago? Maybe five?”
“You were barely an adult,” you commented, seeing a face-down figure with white hair in a bun and something that looked suspiciously like deer tracks on the back of that red coat. Uh. You decided not to comment and move on. “Still learning.”
“Learning to be a dick, she’d probably say now. She would tell me not to get a bike for sure.”
“Thought the whole point she was dating you was because you had a dick.”
Jungkook laughed, loud and vibrant, the lights making his cheeks glow. “Well, she’s married now so I guess she found a better one.”
“Or settled.”
“Damn, you would think you were the one who dated her,” he snickered. You could tell he was enjoying this though, those brown orbs sparkling a little too bright. There was a little bit of a jealous streak in him, you could sense. “I think I was dating the wrong kind of girl though. I think I have to date someone who shares my interests more. I like being with the person I like all the time. I don’t want them to be sick of me.”
“Mmm. I can see that. Pretty childish of you.”
“Hey!”
You laughed, nudging his side. “As long as you know you are the problem.”
He narrowed his eyes.
You grinned. “I didn’t say you weren’t a fun problem to have.”
Jungkook leaned closer, squinting harder.
You grinned wider.
Then you realized he was so close and he realized he was so close, both of you backing up at the same time. A little too fast, simultaneously darting your hands out and grabbing each other’s forearms, you grasping his right with your left hand and his right hand on your left sleeve, squeezing hard, immediately regaining balance.
You let go.
He let go.
Speed under a green-black plaid scarf, something hot and moving fast under all those layers.
“Sorry.”
“Ah, no, my fault. Sorry.”
You jerked your head towards the light displays and started walking again, trying to move past this sudden weirdness. You pointed out the various ones you liked. Yellow pill-shaped Minions decorating a Christmas tree. A curtain of lights programmed to look like falling snowflakes. Penguins sliding down a light-up hill. Slowing down. Breathing. You glanced at Jungkook.
He looked somewhat ashamed.
“Hey.”
He tilted his head, inquiring with his big eyes and pink nose. “Hm?”
“I’m glad you took me here. I don’t think I’ve done anything festive this year.”
“O… Oh.” He looked sheepish, rubbing the back of his head. “I thought it might be cool. Cheer you up a bit.”
“Yeah. It’s funny. A lot of people think I don’t like this season.”
You saw Jungkook rub his nose, realizing it was cold. “Huh? Why?” he asked nasally.
You glanced down at your dark color palette. “Well, you know me, I like Halloween most, but I actually enjoy Christmas quite a lot. Not because I have any particularly nice memories around it,” you mused. “Ah, I mean when I was a kid. But, I don’t know, maybe that made me appreciate the spirit of the holiday time more than all the capitalistic stuff surrounding it, since I didn’t participate much in that.”
Jungkook blinked, puzzled. “You didn’t get gifts?”
You thought about it. “Hmm, not until I was an adult and only when I was dating someone who gave gifts.”
He pursed his lips and then reached out, taking your elbow and pulling your along, to the corner.
“Come on. This can be your gift.”
You stumbled behind him, craning your head in confusion. “Huh?”
“Did you watch Wakanda Forever?”
“Of course, I did. You know Black Panther is my favorite.”
“Then, look.”
Your eyes widened as the bright display of Black Panther, black lights complete with the purple highlights and signature action pose loomed among the other creations, slightly out of place because it wasn’t holiday-themed or even remotely Korean, but apparently none of that mattered and it didn’t matter to you as you admired the craftsmanship of the wire structure underneath, obvious it was specifically Chadwick Boseman’s T’Challa from the violet details.
“Oh, shit. That’s sick,” you breathed, staring at the display for far too long and probably burning it into your eyeballs.
“I knew you’d like it right away.”
“That’s so random that it’s here.”
“I mean it’s not Christmas, but the movie did come out a month ago, so I guess they made an exception ‘cause it was so cool.”
“I mean this feels like Christmas to me. Put a Santa hat on him and call it a day.”
Jungkook laughed. “Okay, I’ll sneak one on in the night.”
You whipped your head to him, wiggling your eyebrows. “I mean…”
“It turns off automatically at midnight to save power…” he trailed off, putting on a scheming face.
“Would you go to jail for that? Is a Santa hat vandalism?”
“I didn’t commit a crime if I don’t get caught,” he countered.
You gave him a look. “Sounds like someone belongs on the naughty list.”
Jungkook scrunched up his face.
“Naughty or nice depends on who’s asking.”
He stuck his little pink tongue out.
You poked the tongue tip sticking out of his lips.
Instant wet warmth on your index finger. Jungkook jumped, startled at your quick action and even you snapped back, surprised at yourself. Why had you done that? A wave of fluster, and you froze, hand hovering in the air, and Jungkook rapidly blinking, cheeks turning bright red. Silence. Couldn’t even say sorry, too stunned at your action to try to double back to apologies. Big brown eyes framed with windswept black locks, something unsaid hanging between you and Jeon Jungkook.
A casual friendship.
Kept at a fixed distance for… reasons.
Well, it had been.
Nobody was stupid, but time and place meant something.
Fast lane, not feeling the cold, racing pulse, lowering your hand, and you could feel it. You knew it was there, but time and place and all those other things.
“Sorry,” you finally said.
Jungkook’s eyes started darting in all directions. “It… It’s okay.”
“It’s kind of not. No one should be touching other people’s tongues without permission,” you pointed out.
He wasn’t really looking at you. “It’s okay… I forgive you.”
“Stop pretending I’m not a bundle of walking problems.”
Now those brown orbs finally scooting back to you.
There was no getting around that.
“That doesn’t mean you’re not a fun problem to have,” Jungkook mumbled softly.
Yeah, especially not after this irresponsible, selfish, childish guy said something like that.
There was a lot of shit you could say, but none of it seemed right. They sounded like excuses, or lame roundabouts, or too much too fast, like getting a whole sleeve of heavily-inked tattoos in a little under two years and a bigass motorbike after passing your motorcycle license exam. They sounded like feebleness in what was pretty clear, and you didn’t believe in saying something that wasn’t the truth.
“Um...”
Jungkook continued staring at you like a lost reindeer even though his nose was quite red.
You decided it was best to give a response. “Yeah?”
“You… You’re not doing anything on Christmas?” he asked.
“Ah, no. Nope, I just get a day off work.”
An extended silence.
You verbally approached very carefully. “You wanna… uh… hang out at my place?”
“Oh…” Man, this conversation sure was something. “I can bring some food and stuff. I can cook.”
“Me too.”
“You… like pork belly, right?”
“Yeah. It’s my favorite.”
Good fuckin’ gracious.
You couldn’t stand it anymore and exasperatedly put your head in your hand. “Just…” You saw Jungkook peering at you, looking worried. You put your hand down, resolving yourself quite quickly. “Okay. Give me your number. I’ll text you the address.” You didn’t think about it too much. Just yanked your phone out of your inner pocket and furiously typed down the numbers that came out of Jungkook’s mouth, your frozen fingers needing to press more than once, but you eventually got there.
After you pressed send, you immediately jerked your head up and looked at those big brown eyes very seriously.
“I… We… What happens, happens,” you finally said.
Jungkook nodded determinedly. “Yeah.”
It was pretty obvious what was going to happen but, then again, there were children around.
Last Christmas you received a gift with a note that said I love you.
This year, you would receive…?
-
“You think Die Hard is a Christmas film?”
Jungkook shrugged. “Sure?”
The actual movie didn’t really matter. Mostly because you fell asleep on top of him and woke up to a black television screen, wrapped in a fuzzy red velvet blanket, and Jeon Jungkook staring at you in the darkness. You blinked slowly. Could barely make out his face in the faint light of the open window, seeing the shape of his parted lips, the shine of his large eyes, the waves of black hair that cradled his cheeks.
You had animated conversation over dinner, funny stories of Jungkook’s friends and viral videos you had both seen on the internet, so natural it was almost frightening, complete with weird tense moments of silence that you or he pushed along, resolute, knowing how you got here, and yet.
Chills all over despite the warmth under the blanket.
He was not wearing a tacky sweater now. Just a simple black and white plaid flannel and a white t-shirt under, paired with loose black pants. Oversized and cozy to go with your fleece red-and-black checkered long pajamas. He smelled the same as he did the other day. He didn’t bring anything with him but a large glass Tupperware of food and his motorcycle helmet, saying he forgot to leave it by his bike. His heavy black coat was hanging in the hall closet by the front door.
You stared at Jungkook, saying nothing.
Stayed close.
He leaned in.
You closed the distance.
You were pretty sure you had a soul of ice.
Then again, Jungkook had said earlier in the night that he had been told in his fortune that he had too much fire in him, so maybe it canceled out or something.
You wanted to say you had an entire, deep discussion of, is this a good idea, or perhaps even, what is courteous and respectful but also fulfills the personal desires of the very obvious between us, but there was only heavy making out and lip-locking and breathless gasps and your hands around his waist again, warm and solid and present, and you shuddered, breathing him in, pulling him close, pressing your body to his.
Jungkook didn’t waste time.
His hands were on your hips, his wispy moan trailing over your lips.
Oh no. You tried to resist the addictive sensation that demanded to be chased, your lower body rolling into his, feeling was what very real and very apparent, his shaking breath tickling your lower lip and chin, whine shimmering in his throat. He liked it. Pulled you closer, increasing the pressure, your clothed pussy practically riding his clothed dick.
You caught his moaning mouth and felt the electricity of his arousal enter your lungs, your hands tangling into his hair, pulling his head back, first lightly and then when he didn’t relent, harder, tearing a moan from his throat, loud and vicious and pure power of his vocal cords vibrating under your kisses, nipping at his neck and leaving small possessive marks that he encouraged with gasping, don’t stop, don’t stop, please, falling apart in your skillful hands, tracing the crown of his head, his ears, his jaw.
You ran your tongue over his collarbone and then softly trailed back with kisses.
“O-Oh, fuuuuck me…”
That was the idea, yeah.
He was unbuttoning your pajama shirt.
“Wha… Why are you wearing a bra?”
You guessed that was not supposed to sound whiny but then again Jungkook was pouting in frustration.
“I generally wear bras. You know, to hold my tits.”
He puffed his cheeks. “Don’t ladies usually not wear bras at home?”
“I imagine the situation might change if there was a hot man involved.”
An involuntarily shiver travelled all over Jungkook and the only reason you could feel it was because you were basically humping his dick.
“Also, we can’t talk much if you are distracted by my nipples,” you added.
You felt an agile hand creeping around to the back clasp. “What if I want to be distracted by your nipples…?” he trailed off experimentally, giving you a curious, mischievous look.
You raised your eyebrows.
“Sounds like someone belongs on the naughty list.”
He tilted his head, sending dark strands over one eye and his cheek.
“Who’s asking?” he purred, his silvery voice low and deep.
Well, shit.
The man knew how to be sexy.
You raked your fingers through his thick black hair, feeling him tremble under you.
“Leader of the naughty list herself,” you breathed back, leaning in to kiss him again.
While it was true that Jungkook had not come with some last-minute wrapped trinket, he had brought a hard dick and abundant horniness, and that was a pretty good gift in your book. You showed him your boobs and those nipples he was so keen about – well, technically, he showed himself and audibly gasped when your bra tumbled off. You weren’t sure if he was acting or not, but that question was answered too, because he lifted you by the waist and ran his tongue over your cleavage and then started making out with your chest.
“Oh…!”
Your turn to be surprised and you clutched his head, gasping, pushing him to suck, and he didn’t need any more signs, circling his tongue around the hard nab and then his eyelids fluttered, moaning deep in his chest. Hot shivers at the feeling of his warm mouth and gentle insistence, your body pressing into him, matching his rhythm and sound, holding his free hand to your neglected breast while his other hand splayed over your lower back, strong and secure. Your thighs squeezed his waist, feeling his desire melt into yours.
It wasn’t like you didn’t know.
You just didn’t act on it and neither did Jungkook, other than the occasional puppy eyes because he was terrible at lying. He had made a conscious effort to stay securely in the friendzone out of respect. You had appreciated that, really. But then there was that chance meeting, and, even then, you knew he took you to the Festival of Lights just to cheer you up, not to put you in any complex or awkward situation, but, again, he was bad at lying and there was no getting around this very intense attraction between you and Jeon Jungkook.
Hence the current kissing down your stomach and you leaning back, slow cascading moan falling from your lips as you felt his dance around your bellybutton and he pulled down the waistband of your pajama pants, following your hip line.
“Fuck, you’re so fucking sexy…”
Your fingertips grazing the lines of his legs, nails applying dainty pressure that made him quiver under you, his breath hitching as you placed your hands on his thighs and pressed your fingers inward, lifting yourself back up. Leaning down to kiss him again, tasting traces of you on his lips. Slowly peelings his clothes off, tangling him in them just to see his eyebrows knit in frustration, so cute, but you didn’t say, not yet, and then your clothes were in a rumpled pile on the living room floor. You in your panties and him in his boxer briefs, and you straddled his waist, kissing him repeatedly, rubbing your chest into his, feeling him under you.
Hot.
Shivering.
Overwhelmed with sensation, rolling his hips and hard cock into your covered heat.
He liked the feeling of your fingernails running down his chest. You did it once, just to test, and he reached for your hands, pulling them back up, more, and you watched his body writhe and fall apart under your touch, his head tipping back and lifting up his torso to add more pressure, moan hiking when you scratched down his sides and kissed his chest, licking his nipples, traveling to his back, earning a stronger reaction and his fingers sinking into your ass, his erection throbbing in between your thighs that squeezed his tense hips.
“Fuck, oh, fuck…”
You could feel the dampness occurring, both from you and him.
“J… Jungkook…”
You couldn’t stop kissing him, continuously telling yourself last one, but that was ages ago, lips locked and drunk on foreplay, on his body and his sound, vibrant and carnal, a mix of cute and sexy that was practically illegal. Couldn’t stop touching him, couldn’t stop whispering to him how nice he felt, how nice he tasted, careless, absorbed in the strength of his lust.
“C-Can I fuck you…? I brought condoms in my coat, j-just in case…”
“Naughty boy,” you scolded and didn’t mean it, and it was dangerous, so dangerous the way Jungkook desperately moaned as you placed your hand over his damp, pulsing hardness and rubbed him through his underwear, too dangerous with the way he looked at you and gasped, you wanna sit in this naughty boy’s lap?
Thankfully, that was the extent of that.
Also, you didn’t bother going all the way to the hall closet when you had plenty of condoms in your bedroom.
And, yeah, you sat in his lap.
”Oooh, wow, y-you feel soooo fucking good…“
Could have been either of you or both of you saying it. You wouldn’t remember if you thought about it later, because you were too busy rocking your hips and trying to find the correct rhythm again. It was easier than you thought, maybe because of Jungkook’s roaming hands on your thighs, hips, breasts, his fingers pinching your nipples, sending sparks of pleasure across your torso that matched the satisfying fullness deep inside, and, right there, finding the correct depth and forcefulness, chasing it immediately, building the steady pace with the condom wrapper tumbling down your sheets and hitting your knee.
You snatched it and chucked the foil wrapper over the side of your bed.
“Oh!”
“Forget about it, fuck me, Jungkook, fuck me.”
He angled his hips up and you rode him, relentless pleasure and waves of need satisfied by thrusting, clenching around his thick, hard cock, losing yourself in the shocking bliss.
You closed your eyes.
Felt the heat, so intense it sent chills up and down your spine. Couldn’t stop, didn’t want to stop, hands on his chest, tense and vibrating under harsh smacks and craving more, your name in Jungkook’s breathless voice addicting. His sound, intoxicating. His body, telling, unable to lie and you could be nothing but be honest, so good, fuck, feels so fucking good, speeding in the fast lane and soaring from the feeling.
There was no doubt that Jungkook was someone special.
You looked down, just for a moment, catching those brown eyes, glassy and fucked-out and watching you like you were everything and more.
I need him.
The thought was so intense and raw that you felt something inside you snap, your breath cutting off, torrential crash and orgasm seizing you by the throat, throwing your head back, your hair sweeping your shoulders, and you came around him, jerking your hips to bury him deeper, oh, fuck, yeees, suspended in the blissful, powerful rush, feeling your liquid honey leak out and down, covering him with it, the scent of sex rising between your bodies.
Jungkook lifted his hips and your body by doing so, his hands strongly grasping your waist, moaning with you, thrusting hard and fast, fucking your through your orgasm and you immediately tumbled into another peak, back-to-back intensity, feverish pitch of your joined voices as he came too, rock-hard and twitching inside your pulsating tightness, holding both of you up by a miracle.
Or sheer lust.
Nice or naughty, right?
For a moment, mute, stunned silence at the shared feeling between you and him.
Sure, it was pretty damn obvious you were going to fuck.
You just didn’t expect it to feel this good and this right.
Down, down, down. Slow, serene, subliminal, the way he sank down and both your gazes left the ceiling, sinking into your sheets, your eyes and his eyes connecting, quiet but an entire conversation humming between your bodies.
“J… Jungkook.”
He was panting hard, sweat glistening on his chest and forehead, his long black hair a mess your pillows. “Y… Yeah?”
“It’s… It’s a bit late…”
Well, actually, you had no idea what time it was.
“Y-Yeah, it kinda is…” he breathed, caressing your hips with his fingertips, relentless energy under you, eyes so big and brown that you could drown in that comforting darkness.
“Can you just…”
A pause, racing hearts beating together.
“Stay?” you asked, tentative and unsure.
Jungkook squeezed your thigh, reassurance in his touch.
“I wanna stay,” he stated, nodding determinedly.
So, he stayed, the start of many Christmases to come.
--
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A Worthy Sacrifice
Going on a food run for this spaceship usually didn’t end up in a debate over whose body parts are more expendable. Never, as a matter of fact. Today was the first. And it could have easily been our last.
The trip had such a peaceful start, too. Along with the usual supplies that we paid real money for, Captain Sunlight sent a handful of us to pick up a local delicacy: some plant. I honestly missed the name. I was more interested in the location — inside a vast cave complex with shafts of light filtering in from above, and multiple lakes of poison to make the perfect growing environment. Or maybe they were acid lakes. At any rate, extremely dangerous, and completely at odds with the lovely sun-dappled scenery and brightly colored plantlife.
I stood with some trepidation at the edge of the cave maze, holding an empty bag and wondering if there was maybe an entrance somewhere big enough for a hoverbike. Beside me, the hulking forms of the Frillian twins were similarly hesitant. You can’t punch an acid lake, after all, or lift weights at it.
Down closer to ground level, Mur just looked annoyed. “It’s fine,” he said, flipping a blue-black tentacle forward. “The locals pick these plants daily.” His own bag was on a dinky little hoversled that followed him like a flying puppy, leash and all. The sled also held a couple pairs of pruning shears in case the stems gave us trouble. Mur could have ridden on the sled himself, pushing off the ground like a squid-shaped kid on a snow disk, but that would have been undignified. Strongarms are proud of that tentacle-walking, after all.
And apparently they’re not phased by giant lakes of acid.
“If you say so,” I told him. “Lead the way.”
He did, grumbling. I followed, taking care not to trip over the sled, while Blip and Blop stood tall and brought up the rear.
The entrance tunnel was small, alongside many others, and a few turned out to lead to the same big cavern. My first impression was warmth. I regretted wearing a sweater, thin and utilitarian though it was. I took it off as we walked, tying it around my waist, glad that I at least had my hair tied back in its usual long braid. I didn’t need any extra sweat about my neck today.
Once the sweater was secure, I was free to appreciate the scenery. It really was pretty. The walls were a wash of reds and golds, with multiple types of greenery sprouting from every level surface and a few that weren’t. The lake far below was an evil purple, fading to the innocent blue of tropical seas at the edges. A solid fence lined the cliff edge, which I appreciated.
The wall behind us was awash in climbing vines with dangling blueberry-looking things that sure would be convenient if they were the plants we were here for.
No such luck. Those were on the far side. Lots of them. A vast jungle of treelike things, most of which were bent under the weight of head-sized yellow fruit. As I watched, one particularly spindly trunk lost its biggest fruit to gravity, and sprung upwards to fling the smaller ones away in a comical fashion. I could almost hear the splats against the cave wall.
“Well, they sure look ripe,” I said.
Mur wasn’t interested. “Where’s the— Oh, there it is. We took the wrong door. C’mon.” He slapped away along the path beside that fence, over to where a single large hover platform waited like a ferry.
We were just getting on, with me trying to hide my misgivings and the Frillians doing the same, when a chorus of more slapping tentacle-steps approached at speed.
“Wait!” commanded the large reddish Strongarm in the lead, who was colored much like the cavern walls. She was also shaped more like an octopus than a squid, as was the green one behind her. The beige-gray one had a pointy squid head like Mur.
Mur waited. He’d already figured out the controls for the platform, and he stood there in silence while I clutched the railing with the Frillians, and the newcomers climbed on.
With nods all around, Mur pressed a button to close the gate. Then he removed the lid of the fancy pottery jar big enough for a child to hide inside — I’d assumed somebody had left it behind — and he scooped out a bunch of those blueberry things. As I watched in curiosity, he opened a different lid, this one over a part of the control console that stuck out, baring a dark tunnel like an ominous toilet bowl.
He threw the berries in. The platform’s engine started.
Mur steered us out over the deadly lake, engines humming happily, throwing clusters of berries in every so often. I exchanged looks with the Frillians. The other Strongarms didn’t look impressed.
“Are those fuel berries?” I asked.
“Only for this engine,” Mur said, tapping a sign. “It takes anything organic. Nice of the locals to make sure there’s always a full pot here. There is a note here to refill what we use if possible, and I think we definitely should, but I’m sure that not everyone does.”
The red Strongarm made a flapping noise that I recognized as the equivalent of a snort. Yeah, she probably wouldn’t stick around to do her part.
(And remember that bit about “anything organic”? If you recall how I started this little anecdote, this is where you’ll start to get concerned.)
There was only a moderate level of worry in the air at that point, though. We hadn’t fallen in yet and the rails seemed sturdy, if sparse, and the jungle was approaching at a reasonable pace. The slight breeze even made the temperature pleasant.
When Mur docked the platform headfirst and opened a gate on the other side, I was the first one off among the trees. Picking the yellow fruits turned out to be a great time, especially the way they kept accidentally flying through the air. They were about as heavy as cantaloupes, but with such rubbery outsides that it was like they were made for high-impact comedy. I did my best to pick each tree thoroughly, hanging onto the bent trunk with one hand before letting go. I’d started by taking a single fruit from each tree, but that had not worked.
Blip and Blop had the most efficient strategy: one held a bag and the other shook a tree like they were taking its lunch money. Mur just climbed the lowest trunks and plucked everything he found. One way or another, we filled our bags quickly and met back at the platform.
The strangers were a little slower, but again, we waited politely. Soon enough, we were on the way across the lake that lurked distantly below like malevolent grape jam.
I was just thinking that it had been a while since I’d had a proper PB&J when the trouble happened.
The Strongarms, standing on one side of the platform with their sacks of fruit, produced blasters and demanded ours.
(Yes, Strongarms keep things hidden among their tentacles. Yes, it’s just as gross as it sounds.)
Anyway, they must have taken our politeness and healthy fear of death for the signs of a bunch of pushovers, and wow they were wrong about that.
Blip and Blop swung their sacks of fruit in unison while I dove to one side and Mur took the other. You’d think we did this sort of thing all the time. In reality, there were only so many directions to go in a fenced-in battleground like this.
The would-be bandits were too busy dodging the sacks to aim their blasters properly, though they tried. One shot Blip’s bag of fruit, making her even more angry as yellow globes bounced everywhere. One nearly singed my ear, but didn’t get a second shot when I roundhouse kicked him in the squiddy head.
The other one, the leader, was wrestling Mur, and her shot went right through the center of the berry pot, shattering it and sending the platform’s fuel in every direction.
I mentioned that the railings weren’t exactly close together. And that these looked like blueberries: the little round things. My point is, they rolled. With great talent and speed. Right off the sides and down into that terrifying lake, leaving only a few behind.
“Look what you did!” Mur yelled, wrestling harder.
Blop made an undignified squeak of concern, then tried to find an angle he could help from. He ended up stepping firmly on a red tentacle and pinning the blaster to the floor.
His sister, meanwhile, was slamming an alien cantaloupe against the green guy, whose own weapon was stuck inside a different fruit, making its leisurely way down towards the lake.
The gray dude was out cold, which was a surprise to me. I guess Strongarms are easy to concuss, I thought as I made sure his blaster was safe on our side of the platform. I’d considered throwing it over the side as well, but figured we might want it to keep them in line once they woke up. I sure wasn’t planning on giving it back, though.
Crunch went the third blaster, Ow went the Strongarm holding it, and “Stay down, you arm-dragging limp grub!” went Mur. The red Strongarm stayed down.
So. We won the fight. But we only had a scattered few berries left to fuel the platform, and it had coasted to a stop in what looked to me like the exact stinkin’ center of this terrible, poisonous lake.
Blop looked worried. “Now what?” he asked Mur.
“These?” Blip suggested, holding a yellow fruit out toward the intake.
“No!” Mur shouted, startling everyone. He blocked her path. “Those break the engine. Didn’t you read the sign?”
I glanced at the defeated Strongarms. “I think only you read the sign,” I told him.
“Well, it’s very clear!” he exclaimed, waving dark tentacles like he wanted to tear out hair that he didn’t have. “Only other organics!”
Blip set the fruit down. “What do we have?” she asked, checking her pockets. “I’ve got two shrimp sticks and one of those seednuts that Paint likes.”
We all took stock, coming up with a whole lot of nothing. The unconscious Strongarms woke, and submitted to sitting in the corner with their leader, injured and embarrassed and also not in possession of any spare fuel.
“Let’s at least see how far the berries take us,” Mur said grimly, picking up the nearest.
We gathered all that we could find, and it took us a little way. Pocket snacks and whatnot took us a bit farther. We considered clothes (most were artificial), the fruit-carrying bags (same), and even treating the toilet-looking thing in appropriate but mortifying ways.
As we got increasingly desperate, we were still far from shore.
“Pretty sure this is real leather,” Mur said as he dropped in the leash for his tiny hoversled. “That will take us … not far enough.”
We were sort of close, kind of. Relatively speaking.
“The captain will come looking if we’re gone long enough,” Blop said.
“She doesn’t know which tunnel we took,” Mur reminded him. “Searching could take days.”
“Won’t the locals find us?” Blip asked.
The red Strongarm sneered. “They just finished a work cycle, and it’s a regular holiday. You think we’d try to rob you if they could come in at any moment?”
Both Frillians groaned.
Mur scowled. “Yes, very smart. See where that got you!” Moving slowly for added drama, he picked up a pair of shears from his sled. “Who wants to volunteer something organic?”
There were desperate pleas at that, and stonefaced silence from Mur that I hoped was acting.
“What about them?” the leader said, pointing wildly at the Frillians. “Surely they don’t need all those frills!”
Blip and Blop regarded her with identical shocked expressions. “Yes we do!”
“Well, we need our arms! You think that wouldn’t hurt to cut off?”
The yelling escalated while something very obvious occurred to me. I stepped over to Mur and flopped the braid over my shoulder. “Do you think this would be enough?”
The Strongarms shut up immediately. And they stayed silent while Mur calculated, so silent that I started to wonder.
They answered my question before I could ask it.
“You would volunteer that?” asked the red one quietly.
Ohhh, they think it’s a tentacle covered in hair, I realized. Have they not met a human before? Never mind; let’s see if Mur plays along.
“Yes,” I said solemnly, instead of going “Yeah” like I usually would. “If this is the only way to save all of us, then I will gladly make that sacrifice.” I looked over at Blip and Blop, who were elbowing each other but keeping mum. Good.
Mur ushered me toward the intake with all the grandeur of a high-society attendant. “If you would permit me to do the honors,” he said, “I will be quick.”
So I stood in front of the thing with my back to it so the wide-eyed bandits couldn’t see, told Mur to cut just below the hair tie, and held up my sweater ready to wrap it around my head like a bandage.
Yes, I did feel silly. But the bandits deserved a bit of shame and secondhand anguish. Besides, I’d been wanting to try a short haircut for ages, but never found the right time to chop it all off.
This is definitely the right time, I thought. “Go ahead.”
Mur snipped through the braid with one clean cut — hooray for sharp shears — and I collapsed with an anguished expression and some artful whimpers. Blip helped tie the sweater “bandage,” while Blop shielded us from view and stared down the Strongarms. I didn’t see Mur drop the braid into the intake, since my view was somewhat limited, but I felt the engine kick on with a most welcome hum.
I really hope that was enough, I thought as I lay there with my arms about my head. It’ll suck if we have to snip this down to a buzz cut. That’ll be hard to keep up the act through. And I really don’t want hair THAT short.
But when the engine finally went quiet, it was to a cheer from the Frillians. We were close enough to jump.
Or, more accurately, close enough for Blip to fling Mur across the gap with one of my socks to gather berries in. Mur was a terrible shot when he threw it back, but enough berries reached us that we were able to close the distance.
I pulled the blaster from my waistband and nudged it over the side before I forgot. It was too small for the Frillians to use anyway.
Plus, we didn’t need it. By the sound of her voice, the lead Strongarm had been so humbled by my sacrifice that she might have been considering a career change.
She even offered their collections of fruit, and the other two didn’t object.
Mur accepted graciously. I managed to turn my chuckling into pained noises as strong Frillian arms lifted me. I didn’t uncover my head to look. By the sounds of it, the many fruits were being balanced on Mur’s sled and the shoulders of whichever Frillian wasn’t carrying me.
“Farewell,” Mur said haughtily. “Make better choices in the future.”
We left the cavern to the sound of the ex-bandits promising to do so.
I have no idea if they’ll really go straight, but wouldn’t it be hilarious if they did?
Once we were out of sight, Blip put me down and took her share of the fruit bags. I claimed one too. I felt much lighter without the braid. And the threat of impending death.
I looked at my crewmates cheerfully. “Let’s never do that again.”
“Not without significant backup,” Mur agreed.
“Or more spare headfur!” Blop said.
“I’ve definitely spared enough for one day.” I freed a hand to pull out the hair tie, marveling at how simple a process it was now.
My crewmates all told me I looked incredibly strange with short hair about my face like that.
I told them to wait until I picked a final hairstyle, and I described hair gel to them.
~~~
The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come!
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Jake Kiszka // Female Narrator
Part Three
After a blinding light eradicates mankind, you're left in a desolate and empty world. A year of solitude eliminates all belief that anyone else was left behind. Until a chance encounter on the side of the road. Jake is injured and fighting for his life, but his presence brings a renewed sense of hope. Touch starved and lonely, you need him. And undoubtedly, he needs you too.
"It would be the last man on earth that would end up being mine..."
Explicit sexual content Sex (penetrative & oral) /Foreplay /Blood / Injury / Hunting. / Intense emotions / Death.
Day 410 ~ Jake
Her eyes drifted up from the board. An air of concentration furrowed between her brows and the tip of her tongue which sat delicately at the edge of her teeth.
"Check mate!" She announced, knocking my piece off the board with a look of devilish satisfaction.
"Beginners luck." I replied, sending a hand to my ribcage to rub an ache I suspected would always trouble me from now on.
The snow had fallen in earnest. A blanket of dazzling white covered the ground, powdered flakes falling off the canopy of trees around us made for a spectacle when the sun peeked out from behind clouds. It was the first real beauty I'd taken note of in what felt like a very long time.
"And what if I told you that I was a secret master? That I'd been dumbing down my abilities all this time just so that I didn't demasculate you over a game of chess?" She gloated, raising an eyebrow as she waited for me to make my next move.
She reminded me of a sunset. With a touch of copper in her hair and those damned freckles on her nose. She had all the hope of a beautiful end and that it would bring something as equally beautiful in the morning.
"I didn't have you down as a liar." I replied, scanning the board for something that would knock her off her winning streak.
She folded her hands beneath her chin and leaned her elbows onto the edge of the kitchen table. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Jake."
I didn't doubt that. But I was sincerely grateful for the things which I had learned over the past few days. She'd carefully guided me around the entire place, shown me how everything worked and where the source of all the power came from. How to maintain all the power sources and what to do in the event of any of them breaking down.
There was a bank of solar panels on the cabin roof, flanked by a couple of small turbines. They were hooked up to a battery which powered the entire place. There was a small out house around the back, a few old generators were sat in there gathering dust in case of an emergency but she assured me the solar and wind provided more than enough for the entire place to run off for another decade.
These were things that I felt as if I should've known. Things that felt fundamental to survival. As if somehow it'd been wrong to live in a house that was attached to a network that relied on manpower to keep going. The foolishness of it.
Even the polytunnels where the vegetables grew made me feel as if I'd been missing the point entirely every time I'd walked into a grocery store. There were chickens kept in a coop, and there were two horses in a small stable on the other side of the trees. Because, apparently, someday the fuel was going to turn bad. She talked at great length about how she had no idea how to get the horses to mate, in the event of their untimely deaths she didn't want be left without transportation.
These were things I hadn't considered. Things which made me feel a little stupid when she pointed them out to me. My eyes widening in slight horror at the sheer expanse of pickled foods and canned goods kept in what she liked to call the "store". It was a small shelter, dug into the ground and covered in mossy earth to the untrained eye. But inside there was every non perishable and medical supply you could think of. Put there by her Grandma, in the event of the government falling to into it's own pit of destruction, or so her Grandma explained it.
The stark realisation that my life had been filled with convenient privilege was not lost upon me. I watched her muck out the horses and feed the chickens, tend to her plants and make sure the store was stocked up making mental notes of each little thing she did. Hoping that when the time came, I'd be able to be of some use to her.
"I know you're not a chess master." I hummed, tipping over her Bishop with my Queen. "Check mate?"
She leaned back in defeat. Chewing on the inside of her cheek as she tried not to react. The board looked a little chaotic now, with pieces in places I had no idea what to do with. I had minimal knowledge of the game and I suspected she was trying in vain to keep it going.
"You're a dark horse." She ruminated, trying to step over the impasse we'd arrived at. "I can't imagine we'll complete this before sunrise."
What did it matter? Time was our greatest thief. And yet, it was slowly becoming our greatest asset. We had time to sit and play chess, time to sit and read. Time to take walks in the woodland and drive into the empty streets of Roanoke to go in search for supplies.
The world was gently eroding back to nature. Something I'd barely noticed over the passing of the last year. Maybe I'd been so hell bent on finding another living soul that I'd forgotten to take in what was around me. With Amelia, it was starting to feel like I had woken up from a deep and dreamless sleep.
I was about to consider my next move when she shoved the board aside.
"How about that whiskey?" She asked, a flash of mischief in her eyes that I'd never seen before. "You're done with your antibiotics now."
The wind howled outside. Another flurry of snow in the air. The animals were fed and watered. I felt a churn of something deep within, like the stirrings of Christmas morning as a child. Like everything was precisely as it should be.
Everything was ok.
"You might not like me when I'm drunk." I warned, allowing a hint of playfulness to slip out. "I have this terrible penchant for speaking in a British accent."
She grabbed a bottle of something dark from the cupboard beneath the sink. Hooking two small glasses between her fingers from the cupboard above.
"That's the alcohol influencing the broca's area of your brain." She explained, pouring out two generous shots. "The part which perceives speech is impended. Although the accent thing is weird, I'd quite like to hear it."
There was a little curl in her lip as she clinked her glass against mine.
"You're so smart." I told her, "You make me feel like I was just travelling towards a destination with my eyes closed."
Immediately she brushed a dismissive hand through the air. Curling up her legs to sit with them crossed in the little dining chair, nursing her glass as she watched the brown liquid roll around the crystal edges.
"I think we were both entirely different people before." She said warmly, "If we had known what was to come, would we have lived our lives any differently?"
I sank my drink and leaned my hand out for a refill. "My life wasn't ordinary, even back then."
There'd been so many reasons why we hadn't talked like this before. Her initial reluctance had taken time to thaw. The silence we'd become accustomed to seemed so much safer to dwell in.
I was starting to lose count of the days I'd been with her. I was entirely distracted with surviving and being of service to her. Getting myself well enough to pitch in and not be a burden. The way she had given me purpose again made me want to live in this empty world. It made me not want to be anywhere else, with anyone else.
"I guess we haven't really touched on that, yet." She replied sheepishly, almost as if she didn't want to go there. "It almost seems irrelevant, doesn't it?"
She sank back another shot. Wincing as the burn slid down the back of her throat. Her nose wrinkled, all those freckles converging. For a moment I could forget that once there'd been another woman in my life.
"We both lost people we loved." I countered, taking the bottle for myself and pouring my glass almost full. "It's not relevant now, but I still miss them. I don't know how to stop missing them."
She didn't say anything for what felt like too long a period of silence. Where usually it was solidly comfortable, I could feel her unease at the presence of the ghosts of those we loved. Their names on the tips of our tongues.
"I don't think we're meant to. I think we're meant to miss them for the rest of our lives. Maybe that's our cross to bear. For whatever this life now brings." She replied, our mutual sadness at that thought evident in the way her eyes glossed over.
I didn't want her to cry. I couldn't bear to see her cry. It made me want to throw all my resolve away and take her into my arms whether she would have me or push me away. It made me want to make a fool of myself.
"I don't think we should play chess anymore." I suggested, "It makes us melancholy."
I clocked the bottle and it was already half empty.
"I don't think it's the chess." She slurred a little, gesturing to the snowy expanse outside. "I don't think I've seen this much snow for this long in my life, ever."
I could feel the heat of the whiskey in my blood as I stood. Taking my time to stroll over to the kitchen window. Trying to make myself appear steadier than I felt.
"Maybe the climate is changing."
Her face remained still. It took me a moment to notice that she wasn't responding. When I chanced a glance over at her, she was chewing the inside of her cheek. Lost in a thought I couldn't follow her into.
"What is it?" I dared to ask.
"They won't be here to see it." She replied quietly, a solitary tear betraying her. "They won't be here to see any more sunrises. Or the way that grass is starting to grow in all the pot holes that were left. And they'll never see the snow on the ground again. I hope..."
She swallowed hard, taking the bottle and foregoing the glass entirely. Swigging it back, like she couldn't stand to measure it out anymore.
"What do you hope?" I asked.
There was a longing there in her face that wasn't there before. Subsequent tears spilling down her red cheeks. Her skin all blotchy from the drink and the roaring fire.
"Wherever they are..." She sobbed. "I hope there's snow."
If we didn't speak their names, how could we honour them? If I was doomed to spend the rest of my life missing them, their names would never be forgotten anyway. They deserved to be spoken. They deserved to be memorialised. If they were dead, we couldn't go to their graves and weep. If they were alive, there were no roads we could find that would lead us to them. Speaking of them was all we had.
"Josh loved snow." I offered, returning to the table as slowly as I could. "We used to get a lot of it in winter where we grew up. Our parents used to make us go out back and chop wood and we'd have these huge bonfires and burn all the crap we didn't need for next summer. When we got a little older, our little brother Sam would have to come with us and we'd make him do all the hard labour. And he'd stand there and complain that it wasn't fair and we'd spin him a yarn about how he used to get to sit in the house all nice and warm while we did it and he wasn't a baby any more. Our sister never had to it, though. Her name was Veronica. She would sometimes come outside and hang out with us, though. She was cool like that."
I hadn't said their names in so long it was like resurrecting them. When I looked up from my faraway gaze, she wasn't crying anymore. There was this look of inherent surprise. Like she hadn't expected me to offload a childhood memory so freely. I could see a glimmer of hope where the tears had once been.
"Josh was your brother?" She ventured.
"Twin." I nodded, "He and I were the eldest. Then Veronica. Then little Sammy."
I probably shouldn't have, but I let her slide the bottle over towards me. Enough left for one more sip. I could feel myself on the fringes of being drunk, I knew one more would tip me over the edge.
"I had two brothers." She sniffed, wiping her cheeks with the sleeve of her t-shirt. "I was the middle child. My older brother, Deacon, he was like eight years older than me. I'm not sure my parents planned on having more than one but I guess nothing really goes to plan in life, does it? My little brother, Charlie, he was only two years younger."
Charlie. The little toy chest in my room still had his name carved in it. For her, they weren't just names to be said in remembrance. They were real, solid echoes still bouncing off these walls. I felt this uncontrollable need to close the distance between us. To hold her like I had when she'd screamed in the night.
"It didn't stop us from fighting, though." Her eyes lit up. "Deacon would always have to be the voice of reason, but every now and then he would come down to our level and bicker with us about something until our Dad had to step in. Our Mom was always a little more laid back, I think it was because she was raised here at the cabin. My Dad grew up in Silicon Valley. He had vacations in Europe and country club memberships. My Mom had yearly road trips to Virginia beach in a beaten up Volkswagen my Grandpa drove into the ground. Deacon was the first person in her family to graduate college."
And just like that, the fire went out again.
"So your Dad was rich?" I poked at the embers, hoping to see the spark in her come back.
She shrugged. "His family were. All surgeons and lawyers and ceo's. I think he probably would've lived that textbook rich white guy life if he hadn't met my Mom. She kept him grounded. We were never allowed to exploit our wealth, we had to do volunteer work and give generously to charities. We had to go to college and get our own jobs and careers, there were no hand outs. But I guess you could say we were privileged. But never spoiled. Not when we used to spend summers here, with our Grandparents."
I could have listened to her all night. "What was that like?"
She uncrossed her legs and inspected the empty bottle. Her eyes were half closed, lids fluttering up and down slowly in a drunken haze.
"It was like fucking Disneyland." She smiled, then. "My friends all went off to ski in Aspen or whatever. We got sent here to hunt squirrels with my Grandpa and bake pies with my Grandma. And toast marshmallows on the fire every night. They'd let us go swimming in the lake until sunset, taught us everything we needed to know about living in the woods. And every time we had to go back to California, it always felt like I was stepping back into something I didn't really feel a part of."
She looked up at me from her inspection of the empty bottle. As if she'd forgotten that I was sat there at all.
"What was your life like?" She asked, scuttering off to the cupboard under the sink, falling almost as she slinked off the edge of her chair.
She waved a bottle of red wine at me, her lips flattening into a straight line as she settled on the floor.
"We don't have any wine glasses." She said flatly, "Can't drink wine without a wine glass."
I would have gone to her and picked her up off the ground. Helped her back to her seat, made her laugh if I could. Let her fall asleep on the couch in a delicious drunken heap, wrapped in the blankets she'd left me in when she'd saved my life. But she stumbled to her feet, giggling softly as she realised how quickly the whiskey had gone to her head.
"You need some help, there?" I asked, reaching out my hand for her to take.
"No, I'm good." She lied, "You just tell me your life story while I pour."
She filled our little crystal glasses to the brim, taking care to leave enough space at the top to allow for spillages. All regard for needing a wine glass dissipated.
"I was just a boy with a guitar from Michigan."
She stared at me with those hooded lids. Keeping her drink propped against her mouth, like I was weaving the most interesting tale she'd ever heard.
"Where's your guitar now?"
I hadn't anticipated how much that question would sting. I knew she noticed the way I backed away from it. She reached over the table and placed her palm on my forearm. Her thumb making soft movements against the scar which ran down the centre of my flesh.
"No...not without Josh..." I stammered, "I can't play..."
There was a real sympathy in the way her brows knitted together, squeezing my arm a little in silent comfort. She stayed like that, touching me innocently, as I tried to compel myself to bring together the story of my life. It felt like I was entirely detached from all of my memories somehow. As if recalling it from something I'd watched rather than experienced first hand. Like a fever dream.
One thing I knew for certain. One thing that struck me as the alcohol coursed through my veins. It didn't matter how many thousands of people I had played to. It did matter how many awards I'd won. None of it mattered a damn thing without my brothers. And I'd sworn never to play without them again.
Day 413 ~ Amelia
The rain began that night. Lashing against my bedroom window, forcing the snow to retreat. A part of me was relieved. That the snow would wash away and all the earth beneath it would be able to breathe again. Bringing a renewed hope for the coming spring. But it kept me awake. The deafening pitter patter against the old glass felt as if it was break at any moment. The rattle of the wind like ghosts through the cracks in the old wood.
Jake had been a formidable drinking partner. My head still aching somewhat from a hangover that had lasted three days. I bore no regret from it, though. The whiskey and wine had afforded me a courage I couldn't have found on my own. And the nightmares had been kept at bay too. Sleeping far too deep for any of those demons to penetrate.
My mouth was dry. Frustrated by the noise and the insomnia and the lingering consequences of my booziness I crawled out of bed and slipped into my robe. On soft tiptoes I crept out into the hallway, certain that the wind and rain would shroud my movements. But staying quiet just in case.
Down the hall Jake's bedroom door was ajar. A shard of low, golden light striking the hall in half. I'd expected him to be asleep, coming to know his sleeping habits in the days he'd been here. He was a night owl, often hearing him slip into bed hours after I'd retired. It was almost dawn, but still pitch enough that it felt like the dead of night.
It was in my mind to go downstairs and fetch a glass of water, to mind my business and leave him be. But the soft whimpers that cried out above the din of the wind called out to me. And I crept on silent feet down the hall, moving against all the intricacies of the floor boards I knew would creak and alert him to my presence.
It sounded like he was in pain. The way he'd recovered so quickly had been unusual, part of me had wondered if he'd tried to save face. If, when in private, he'd allowed himself moments to feel the pain of his healing injuries where I couldn't see him. But it wasn't pain.
It was pleasure.
I stood in the crack of his door. Sinful sounds coming from the bed. A rush of blood to my head made me weak at the knees. His hand was moving vigorously beneath the bed sheet. The sound of his voice, like that of a man who had known truly how to love a woman.
I closed my eyes and began to imagine hearing those melodic moans above me. A reminder that I'd long forgotten what it felt like to simply be a woman. In survival mode, there was no allowances for arousal. It had been gone from me, the desire to even touch myself. Every night I'd laid my head down and tried to rest until the sun came up. Never allowing myself to fall into that trap of desire. I was forever alone. There was nothing but grief each time my hand had travelled across my breasts. So I'd abandoned it. All hope that I'd ever feel want again.
Despite my eagerness to uphold his dignity, I couldn't find it within myself to move. Even when he grew too heated under the covers, kicking off his blanket to reveal the line of his body. I held my breath. Took note of the way his chest moved as he breathed harder, his stomach rising and falling. And the way he wrapped his hand around himself. Making gentle strokes that pulled on his shaft, revealing the flex of the muscles in his forearm.
I had no right to see this. I was the worst sort of voyeur. The sort that never made their presence known. If he had known would he have been angry? Humiliated? I couldn't tear my eyes from him. It was wrong, and it troubled me. The way I stood there and allowed the sight to make my core begin to throb. A heavy beat making me wet and swollen.
I stood there until he came into his palm. An agonizing groan signalling the end of his endurance. I watched the white, sticky mess spurt from his tip and spill down his fist. My hand pressed against my mound, not daring to trespass further. Not even underneath the fabric of my pyjama shorts. I was quietly hyperventilating, almost light headed from it as I watched him drag a hand towel down his softening cock and the back of his hand.
And just like that, he flicked off the lamp at his bed side and plunged the room into darkness. And I felt my own shame begin to rise in my cheeks as I stood there peering into the pitch black. Allowing the thunder which gathered overhead to shroud my footsteps as I retreated back up the hall way.
It was still raining when the sun came up. It drenched the daylight in a darkening grey and it didn't really feel as if the sun had come up at all. I busied myself with throwing down some chicken feed into the coop and gathering up some of the eggs which had been laid. I mucked out the horses and let them roam a little while I put down fresh bedding. Trying to keep my mind from returning to the thing I had done that morning.
He was a man who had been alone as long as I had. Clearly with a thirst which begged to be quenched. I was throwing down the bedding far more aggressively than I ever had before, torturing myself with thoughts that were unwelcome.
I didn't want him to kiss me, but why hadn't he tried? I didn't want him to fuck me, but why hadn't he tried? Why hadn't he even hinted at it? Or was his own hand a more preferable means to an end? Did he find me unattractive? Did I find him unattractive?
I cursed him as I shovelled the last of the bedding in, throwing my spade down as it clanged against the stable door. I hated myself for thinking such despicable things. All we had to do was survive. Nothing more. What did it matter if he satisfied himself behind a door I wasn't meant to be standing behind?
"There you are."
I spun on my heels. His hair was dripping, his shirt so wet that I could see right through it. A curious look on his face, like he'd been searching everywhere for me.
"Oh, hey." I replied, as nonchalantly as I could.
He looked into the clearing at the horses milling about, with no regard for the rain. They seemed to be enjoying being out of their confined space. And by all accounts, so did he.
"I woke up and you weren't there." He said, rain dripping off the tip of his nose.
"Yeah, I had stuff to do." I had already done it all, but I tried to make it appear as if I was still busy.
He watched me for a moment, his hair sticking to his collar bone and that stomach of his concaving as he breathed against the drenched shirt.
"Is it terrible that I didn't like it?" He asked, "I've grown fond of seeing you there drinking coffee at the kitchen table every morning."
How had I let this happen? This thing I swore I'd never let happen? How had he become so necessary to me and I to him? When he couldn't even bring himself to kiss me? Was it nothing more than a platonic fondness borne of this unwanted necessity? Was I a replacement for his mother or his sister?
"I've got shit to do, Jake. I'm sorry." I dismissed him, passing him as coldly as I could to fetch the horses in.
He would wonder why my temperature towards him had dropped. But I couldn't help it. I wanted to rid myself of this gnawing churn in my stomach that was forming each and every time I looked at him. Least of all now, when I knew the curve and shape of his cock and how he liked to stroke it so perfectly gently and firmly.
"Amelia..."
He would have one kind word from me.
"Jake, I don't have time for this nonsense." I spat, leading the other horse into shelter. "We're running low on fire wood and I need to do a supply run for toilet paper. There's two of us here now, you understand?"
I'd been initially standoffish and he could forgive me for that. We didn't know each other or our intentions. But it was clear I'd let my guard down somewhat, and I knew the way I spoke to him was a bolt from the blue. He couldn't understand my switch.
"You know I'll do anything to help." He said so apologetically my heart almost broke in two. "I can do more, now. I'm starting to feel stronger every day. And I promise... soon you won't have to do all this stuff on your own. I'll pull my weight. I'm sorry..."
I couldn't bear it. The way he looked at me. A solemn pleading in his eyes as I latched the stable door shut and we stood in the pouring rain staring each other down like a duel at high noon. The rain hit the canopy above so hard it sounded like static when the tv didn't have any signal.
"Why are you staying here, Jake?" I demanded, raising my voice above the crescendo of rain. "What is it for? Are you afraid to be alone again, is that it?"
He blinked at me. Water rushing so hard it even poured off his eyelashes. Torrential and hard, we stood there like statues letting it shower over us like it wasn't even there.
"Of course I'm afraid to be alone again, aren't you?!" He snapped back, drinking rain as he spoke. "But that doesn't mean I'd rather be with anyone else?! I don't want to go back out there and carry on looking, I've found what I was searching for! Don't you get that?!"
Someone to take the edge off his solitude. Nothing more and nothing less. And why should I be anything more to him? I didn't want him crawling under my skin any more than he already had. We would ride out this error in humanity's timeline. Help each other to survive. That was it.
"I don't know." I confessed, " I was fine before. I was doing just fine! And then you came along, literally crashed into my life! Like I needed the distraction? The pull on my resources?!"
I didn't mean it. I could feel myself filled with regret even as the words came out. He was shaking his head, his hair so wet it barely moved. The dark circles beneath his eyes seemed deeper somehow. And I knew that I'd hurt him by the way he couldn't seem to get his words out. He could only look at me and feel the knife in his back that I put there despite standing right in front of him.
"If you want me to leave I will leave."
And now because he wanted to. He would leave because I wanted him to. And now I wanted to scream at him and fall into his arms and throw away all my pretence and beg him to kiss me. Beg to know why he hadn't kissed me before. I hated feeling like this, I had never felt like this before. Not for a man, not for anyone. He stole all my resolve and I hated him for it. Hated myself for allowing him the strength to take it.
I could feel the sting of tears begin to spill over my lashes. The salty warmth of them in stark contrast to the cool rain.
"If you stay, you'll only grow to hate me." I sobbed, "You'll see that I'm not capable of letting you in."
"That's not true, Amelia." He replied, taking a bold step forward, reaching out for me before pulling back in case I rejected him. "I've seen your warmth and compassion. You're not cruel. I don't understand where all of this is coming from?"
I backed away. "I can't do this, Jake...I wont do this."
I retreated into the trees. Running through the mud and rain, letting it lash against the backs of my legs. I could scarcely see in front of my eyes, but I knew the way back blind. I could hear him calling out my name, unable to keep up with me. But he pursued me, regardless. With his healing bones, he ran behind me Begging me to stop.
"Amelia! Please!!!" He called, his voice fading out beneath the falling rain. "Stop! Please, don't do this!"
I reached the clearing at the front of the cabin. My body burning from the exertion and my breath caught in my lungs. Before I had chance to regain my composure, I felt his body against mine. Wet and solid. Heaving breaths as he spun me around, forcing me to look at him.
"Don't you run away from me like that again!"
He was furious. A rage the likes of which I'd never known could exist burning in the delicate tremble of his lip. I was too weak to protest.
"If you ever do that again I will always follow you, do you understand me?!" He shook me, hands wrapped around my shoulders as I gazed at the fire in his eyes. "I swear it, I'll follow you to the ends of the earth woman!!!"
Still, he wouldn't kiss me. Just let the rain fall upon us as he held me close. Breathing into my parted lips. Our shared breath turning to vapour in the freezing cold air.
"Because there's no one else to follow?" I said, my mouth desperately close to his.
"No." He replied harshly, turning his head to get a better look at me. "I had a girlfriend before all of this. We lived together in Nashville. She travelled with me when I had to go on tour. We were together for years. Maybe I would have married her, if I'd been given the chance."
"Why are you telling me this?!" I didn't want to hear it, I didn't want to hear about the way he had loved another.
"Because." He swallowed hard, "Even if she came back, even if she appeared to me right now like none of this had ever happened....I would still follow you."
I couldn't feel my fingers, or the tip of my nose. A flash of lightening streaked above, illuminating the darkness on the ground. For a moment his face lit up and I could see the conviction there.
He meant it.
But still, I wouldn't have it. "You don't know what you're saying."
"Oh, don't I?" He clenched his jaw. "You don't know a damn thing about what I know. You don't get to tell me how I feel. I might be afraid to be alone, but I'll do it if that's what you truly want. I'd leave just make you happy."
Nobody had ever held me like this. So securely. So aggressively soft. Like he could shake the life out of me if he so desired, but wouldn't.
"You wont even kiss me." I replied so pitifully, speaking so quietly a part of me hoped that he wouldn't hear me over the mounting thunder.
"And have you slap me across the face for taking such a thing?" He replied, almost laughing at me. "Would you have kissed me back if I had? I might not have kissed you yet, but I've imagined it. At night, when I know you're on the other side of that wall. And in the morning when you're sat at that table. I wanted to kiss you the other night when we got drunk and I could have used it as an excuse. Every time you wrinkle that nose and those freckles connect I want to kiss you. When you curl up by the fire to read, I want to kiss you. When I see you going out there to make sure the animals are safe, I want to kiss you. Ok?"
"Ok." I breathed, not an ounce of fight left in me.
He kissed me in the rain. In the storm that was brewing. His lips covered in raindrops and mine in tears. A kiss so desperate, so forcefully full of need I let him wrap his broken body around mine. I let him clutch me to him, whether it would hurt him or not. The heat of his tongue against mine was like the lightening had descended from the sky above and struck me where I stood. The gentle murmur of his whimpers in harmony with mine. I could feel his palm against my cheek, his thumb trespassing a slow stroke across it. I'd never been kissed like this before. Like I was in a black and white movie, my knee bent just a little to keep me from falling. He kissed me like he was starved. With gentle intention, but intensifying pressure as his tongue slipped further into my mouth. Until I was sucking on it, grappling at his shirt to tear it from his flesh.
"Fuck, ahhhh..." I stopped myself. "No, no... we can't..."
He was panting as he pulled away, his lips a little swollen from the pressure of being against mine.
"We don't have to, just don't push me away. Please? Don't do that... Sssshhh, come here..."
My eyes flitted over towards the store. Of all the medical supplies I'd sequestered, none of them included birth control. Something I never would have given any credence to before. But now I was dulled with the thought and the fear of him spilling inside me and putting a baby where there didn't need to be one. Not now.
"No, it's not that..." I clung to him. "I stopped taking my birth control. I didn't think I needed it..."
His face washed over with realisation. "Oh."
His smile was going to lead me down a murky path. I knew it. I would've died for the way he smiled at me in that moment. Like I was the sweetest thing alive.
"Not tonight, then." He whispered, his mouth moving against my ear. "Tonight, we can do other things."
.
.
.
@caprisunsister @thewritingbeforesunrise @takenbythemadness @katuschka @its-interesting-van-kleep @lvnterninthenight @writingcold @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @edgingthedarkness @velveteencatch @lyndz2names @nina-23-45 @itsafullmoon @vikingisthenewsexy
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