#**tag later

“Shit-” Mavis sits up, her blue hair wild and sticking up in all directions, tousled by her tossing and turning in sleep.  She’s aching below, hips already starting to move and grind the air.  Mavis is usually not to keen on getting penetrated like that but fuck the way Saturn’s tongue felt in her was incredible.  Even in a dream it was a body shaking sensation.

She fumbles in her bedside drawer for the dual ended dildo she kept in there.  She’s off work for the day, so she can lag all she likes.  She licks her fingers and brings them down to play with her clit while she guides her toy into her.  She’s imagining it being a long and dexterous tongue, and once it’s as far in as she’s comfortable, she grips the shaft on the outside and starts pumping it up and down.  They’re already soaking wet, after one little dream.  Still jacking herself off, she reaches for her phone.

“Fuck..”  She mumbles to herself, typing a quick message to Saturn.

[TXT]: 🪐Starlight ✨ ➜ hey saturn i had the best dream last night, i wanna tell you about it [TXT]: 🪐Starlight ✨ ➜ can you facetime me right now?

And then she waits, still tugging on the toy inside her, grunting softly.  She pauses to get her shirt off before going back to it,  Once the facetime call starts she slows, holding her phone up enough so Saturn can’t necessarily see what she’s doing.  Though she does look pretty flustered and turned on in the camera.

Lorcan nearly jumps out of his bath when he hears the front door open - he should be used to this by now, really, but who wouldn’t be spooked by someone practically invading their flat without notice? Still, he knows exactly who it is, too used to hearing those familiar, stumbling footsteps, and he wraps a towel around his hip and makes his way out of the bathroom and towards the living room, huffing.

“You know, sometimes I wish you’d shoot me a quick letter or something before barging in like this. Could’ve had someone over. Could’ve been doing something. Do you even have an owl, Mundy?”

But even so, he has to admit that he’s not unhappy to see Mundungus - after all, he’s one of the few people he’s learned to rely on over the years, despite their shared, not-so-good habits.

“There’s nothing in the fridge, if you’re wondering. You look good enough to eat, though,” he grins, baring his fangs a little, “ - get it? Because I’m a…”

The couch was far too short for him to be on and his legs were sticking out at the end of it but even so, Lorcan insisted on keeping his head in Frank’s lap, his guitar sitting across his chest as he idly picked at the strings.

“I’m stuck Frank,” Lorcan whined, hitting a sour note and letting his strumming hand finally fall to his side. “I’ve been trying for weeks and nothing’s coming to me. What if I never write a song ever again? What if this is it?” He could hear his heart beating in his ears - though that was most likely the euphoria elixir he’d taken a few hours before he came to his friends’ flat.

“Nobody’s going to like me like this,” he muttered, putting the guitar down onto the floor and shifting so he could face Frank properly. “You know, I used to hear it all the time, the music - on the street, in the halls, everywhere. S’not like that anymore.”

And he’s almost tempted to laugh at himself but he doesn’t, sighs instead. “What if I made a mistake leaving it all behind? What if I never get it back?”

If one were to ask Lorcan why he liked to spend so much time at Greta’s flat, he could probably list a hundred reasons why - from the fact her fridge was somehow always full to the fact she never seemed to not want him around - which was exactly why he’d ended up here again, head stuck in her fridge as he sorted through her ridiculous assortment of cheeses. 

“Greta, this has blue stuff around it. I don’t think you’re supposed to eat this.” He called out, taking out something that he could only describe as moldy cheese out of the fridge and climbing back out of the fridge to put the cheese on the counter.

And of course, in true D’eath-esque fashion, it wasn’t so easy for him to get to the counter, bumping his head against the cupboard door he’d left open and knocking back all of the ladles and spatulas as he jumped back in surprise. 

“ -- oops,” he muttered, lifting his head to meet Greta’s familiar face.

Muffin is the first (and only) to greet him when he steps out of the bedroom, bare feet quietly treading against the cold marble floors. He holds her in one arm as he starts the kettle, her tail wagging and tapping against his arm and all. Mornings are lonelier, usually - filled with silence and chilly air, with no sure thing waiting for him for the rest of the day. But mornings like these feel more full, taking out two mugs from the cupboard instead of one, a soft smiling spreading across his lips as he drops two teabags and hot water into them.

No, days like these are better, even if they’re only temporary.

Gently, he lets Muffin down and makes his way back into the bedroom, two steaming mugs in his hands, trying not to make too much noise as he keeps his eyes on the figure underneath the covers. When he sits down at the edge, something shifts and he makes a small noise in surprise before putting down the mugs on the bedside table to turn towards the warmer body.

“Sorry, did I wake you up?” Lorcan asks, voice still hoarse, “there’s...tea, if you want it.”