#The temptation to draw both of them knocking me out was strong

[the-insanity-of-mojiru]

A horse and a bird

[idkyetxoxo]

Jacaerys Velaryon - Temptations

Summary - During family tensions and personal turmoil, emotions reach a boiling point and a shocking confrontation leads to chaos prompting a protective gesture from Jace sparking an intimate moment where long-hidden desires and a profound connection are revealed.

Pairing - Jacaerys Velaryon x Targaryen reader

Warnings - Strong language, violence (very slight)

Word count - 2168

Masterlist for Jacaerys • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

"You are going to drink yourself to death," I chided, the words heavy with both sorrow and frustration, as I watched Aegon's eyes roll dismissively before he took another indifferent chug from his goblet.

"You sound like Mother," Aegon muttered, the words barely escaping his lips before he drowned them in another swig of wine. His hand trembled slightly, betraying a deeper unrest.

"Leave him be, sister. Maybe if he drinks enough, he'll finally remember he has a wife. Though I doubt even that would stir him." Aemond retorted sharply, his tone a mixture of exasperation and mocking as he spun a dagger between his fingers idly.

I clenched my jaw, reigning in the impulse to lash out at my brothers. 

My heart pounded in my chest, a drumbeat of warnings I had long learned to ignore but tonight, something in Aegon's eyes, that hollow, desperate look, made me want to shake him, to make him see what he was becoming.

Instead, I turned to my twin sister, Helaena, casting a sympathetic glance her way. It was a rarity for all four of us to gather in the same room, an occurrence that didn't happen often.

A knock on the chamber door shattered the moment, drawing everyone's attention. I rose from my seat and crossed the room, opening the door to reveal our nephews, Jace and Luke, standing hesitantly outside.

"Grandsire has sent us here," Jace announced, his voice tinged with reluctance. 

I glanced back at my siblings. Aegon and Aemond exchanged looks of annoyance, while Helaena's smile widened ever so slightly.

It was definitely something the king would do, driven by a desperate eagerness to reunite his fractured family. His yearning for peace eclipsed any lingering complexities or reservations.

"Very well then," I replied, holding the door open wider to welcome them inside.

Jace stepped into the room, his broad shoulders now filling the space he once darted through as a boy. Despite his new strength, there was still a hint of that boyish vulnerability in the way he glanced around, uncertain, searching for an anchor.

Luke followed closely behind, his demeanour more reserved, casting cautious looks around the chamber as if sizing up the unfamiliar surroundings.

I would be lying if I claimed not to find Jace immensely attractive. We had grown up together, inseparable in our youth until circumstances led us down separate paths. Now, with his return, a rush of familiarity stirred within me, accompanied by a subtle yet undeniable flutter of feelings.

His features had matured since we last met, chiselled by the passage of years into the handsome countenance that now captivated my gaze.

As he greeted us with a hesitant smile, I couldn't help but notice how his eyes lit up when they met mine, recognizing the shared history that bound us. The years apart had only deepened my appreciation for the person he had become.

I exchanged a knowing glance with Helaena, who had always been privy to the unspoken depths of my heart.

"It would be easy for you to lie and say you had spent time with us, there is no reason to actually do it" Aegon's voice cut through the uneasy silence, his tone laced with bitterness. 

I let out an exasperated sigh, sensing the familiar spiral of confrontation looming ahead.

"Aegon, for once in your life, can you not be so dreary?" I interjected, trying to inject a note of levity into the charged atmosphere. 

Jace's soft laughter at my words offered a brief reprieve, and I turned towards him with a mirrored smile.

Aegon's eyes narrowed as he noticed our shared moment, a flush of embarrassment darkening his features. He leaned back in his chair, his retort sharp and defensive. "And could you not be so insufferable for once, my sweet sister?"

"She's far more tolerable than you," Helaena's quiet remark carried a weight of truth that hung in the air like a silent accusation.

Despite the tension, I couldn't suppress a laugh at Helaena's understated wit. 

Aegon's grip on his goblet tightened, as if crushing it could somehow silence the rage boiling within him. His next words cut through the room with a venomous edge. "Keep your mouth shut, wife."

The words stung, igniting a fiery response within me. 

"Don't speak to her like that!" My voice rose, filled with a mixture of anger and protective instinct. "Helaena deserves better than your constant disrespect."

Aegon sneered, his voice dripping with scorn, his tone turning nastier. "Oh, so now you're the defender of all things virtuous? Spare me, sister. Your holier-than-thou attitude is nauseating."

"At least I care about someone other than myself!" I shot back, the frustration of years of pent-up grievances spilling forth. "All you do is drink and wallow in self-pity."

Aegon's eyes flashed with fury, his retort laced with raw emotion. "You think you're better than me? You, who pretends to be so noble?"

"You are a disgrace," I responded, my voice cold and cutting. "Your behaviour shames us all."

Aegon stood abruptly swaying slightly, the flickering torchlight casting shadows that danced across his contorted face, twisted with anger and bitterness.

"And you think you're so perfect? You're nothing but a hypocrite, always judging everyone else while pretending to be the pure, untouchable princess," he accused, his words dripping with venom.

"Better a hypocrite than a drunken fool," I shot back, my own anger rising to meet his.

Aegon's hand slammed down on the table, the force causing the wine to spill from his goblet and pool across the polished wood. 

"You know nothing of my struggles, nothing of my pain," he seethed, his eyes flashing with anguish. "You're just a spoiled brat who's had everything handed to her."

"And you?" I countered sharply, my voice trembling with suppressed emotion. "You've wasted every opportunity given to you, drowning in your own misery."

A bitter laugh escaped his lips, edged with a dark mockery. "And what about you? Unmarried, unloved. I wonder why that is, maybe no one wants you after all."

His words struck like a dagger, twisting in wounds I had long buried. The mask of control I had worn so carefully began to crack, and with it, the flood of years of resentment threatened to drown us both.

"You know nothing of my choices or my heart," I shot back, my voice trembling with a mixture of hurt and defiance. "You think marriage defines worth? Perhaps it's your own inability to love beyond yourself that repels others."

Aegon's face contorted with a mixture of fury and hurt pride, his retort sharp and unforgiving. "Always quick to judge, aren't you? Maybe if you weren't so cold and aloof, someone might actually care for you."

Jace stepped forward, his voice cutting through the taunting atmosphere with firmness. "That's enough, both of you."

Aemond's gaze shifted to Jace, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. "Defending her, are you? Have you taken a liking to our sister, Jace?"

Aegon chimed in, his tone laced with mockery now as a sly smile formed on his lips. "Yes, do tell us. Has our dear sister captured your heart?"

Jace's cheeks flushed crimson, caught off guard by the teasing. He stumbled over his words, attempting to deflect. "I—I'm just trying to keep the peace."

Aegon chuckled, nudging Aemond with his elbow. "Oh, look at him blush! Our little nephew seems quite smitten."

Aemond leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. "How charming. Tell us, Jace, do you dream of her at night?"

Aegon joined in with a smirk of his own, stoking the teasing further. "Do you imagine every possible way to have her?"

Jace's discomfort only seemed to fuel their amusement. He cleared his throat nervously, searching for a response that would deflect their teasing without adding more fuel to their fire.

"Aegon, Aemond, stop," I interjected firmly, my patience wearing thin. "This is not amusing."

They paid no heed to my warning. Aegon's smirk widened, his tone goading. "Come now, nephew. Don't be shy. Share with us your feelings for our sister."

Jace looked to me for support, and all I could offer was a sympathetic glance. 

"Aegon, stop it," I repeated, my voice carrying a note of authority that demanded their attention.

Determined to put an end to the escalating conflict, I rose from my seat and swiftly moved to disarm Aegon. His drunken grip on the cup and his words had crossed a line that demanded intervention.

"You've drank enough, and you've said enough," I asserted firmly, reaching out to take the spilling cup from his hand.

Before I could complete the action, Aegon's hand shot out and seized the back of my hair, his grip tight and painful. A sharp cry escaped my lips as the cup slipped crashing loudly to the floor and creating a mess.

Instantly, Aemond, Jace, and Luke sprang to their feet, ready to intervene. Helaena, anticipating the eruption of violence, covered her ears, bracing herself for the impending confrontation.

"Aegon, let go!" I screamed, agony pulsing from his tight grip. "You're hurting me!" My voice cracked with both pain and disbelief.

His face twisted with rage, and he spat out a venomous epithet. "You bitch."

"Brother, that's enough," Aemond interjected sternly, attempting to diffuse the situation.

Aegon's response was a mocking laugh. "Is it really? Our sweet sister should learn that vying for the attention of a bastard is a form of betrayal."

"Release her," Jace commanded, stepping forward with a protective stance. 

Aegon scoffed but finally relinquished his hold on my hair, shoving me forward as if I were nothing more than an inconvenience. Jace reacted swiftly, catching me in his arms and steadying me as I stumbled.

I took a step back, trembling with a mix of fear and indignation, my hand instinctively going to the back of my head where Aegon's fingers had dug into my scalp.

"Get out, all of you," I managed to say, my voice trembling.

Aegon and Aemond were the first to leave, their departure marked by heavy footsteps echoing down the corridor. Luke followed, casting a worried glance back at me before disappearing through the doorway. 

Helaena hesitated, her concern evident in the lingering look she gave me, but I waved off her worry with a strained smile.

As Jace turned to leave, his steps measured and deliberate, he paused midway through the room hesitation tugging at him. Something in his expression softened as he glanced back at me, concern etching lines across his usually composed features.

"Are you alright?" His voice was gentle, laced with genuine worry as he approached me.

I nodded, but it was a shaky, uncertain gesture. The events of the evening still lingered in my mind, leaving a trail of raw, unsettled emotions that threatened to overwhelm me.

"Are you sure?" His voice was barely above a whisper, a gentle coaxing that made my heart ache.

"Yes," I murmured, though the word felt hollow, lacking the conviction I wanted to convey. It was more of a reflex than a reassurance.

Jace closed the distance between us, his touch feather-light as he wiped away a stray tear from my cheek. His fingers lingered, warm and reassuring, replacing the lingering ache left by Aegon's harsh grip.

We stood facing each other, the air thick with unspoken words and unexplored feelings. His thumb brushed against my cheek, a gentle caress that I couldn't help but lean into.

Without words, without hesitation, our faces drew closer until our lips were mere inches apart.

The tension and uncertainty of the evening melted into a shared longing, a silent acknowledgement of the unspoken bond that had grown between us over the years.

Our kiss began tentatively, a delicate exploration of newfound emotions and buried desires. Lips met in a tender embrace, conveying more than words could ever express.

As the kiss deepened, I felt a surge of passion that had long been suppressed. The teasing banter, the familial tensions they all ignited something within us, a fire that burned brighter with each heartbeat. 

Jace's hands cupped my face with a tenderness that spoke of reverence, drawing me closer. There was no rush, no urgency, just a profound sense of rightness in the way we fit together. I responded eagerly, my fingers tangling in his hair.

When we finally parted for breath, our chests rose and fell in unison, the shared intensity of the moment leaving us both breathless.

"We should stop," I whispered against his lips, the rational part of me aware of the complications and consequences.

"We should," Jace agreed, his voice husky with desire, but his eyes, locked on mine, told a different story.

"Are you going to stop?" I asked, my breath mingling with his as we lingered in the closeness of the moment, neither of us willing to pull away.

"No," he murmured, his voice a promise and a declaration. His arms tightened around me as he drew me back into another fervent kiss.

In that embrace, we surrendered to the truth that had been growing between us all this time. 

It was a truth that had been quietly blossoming, nurtured by shared glances, stolen moments, and an unspoken understanding that had always lingered just beneath the surface.

A/n - We should stop...no!

[comphy-and-cozy]

NHL!Michael Blurb // "Let's have a baby."

For the anon who requested #49 ("Let's have a baby"). I took the liberty of making this deliciously filthy and smutty.

NSFW/Smut under the cut. ~3.5K words. Breeding/pregnancy kink. Some daddy kink, too.

Unofficial part 2 here.

#49: “Let’s have a baby.”

You’re in the kitchen when he says it, unbuckling your heels from the team function you just came back from. Facing the counter, one hand supports you as you slip your feet out of the shoes.

“Let’s have a baby, or let’s make a baby?” you ask, brow quirked to yourself. “There’s a big difference.”

You feel the warmth of Michael’s body approach behind you, hands resting on your hips. He presses his lips against your shoulder in an affectionate gesture that you know has more meaning behind it. He hums, lips sliding toward your neck. “Both?”

You turn in his arms, stopping his movements as you look him in the eyes, trying to gauge how serious he is. “Michael —“

“If we start trying now, there’s a better chance that they can be born in the offseason,” he explains, voice logical.

You raise your eyebrows, surprised at his thought out rationale. “Oh, so you’ve thought about this.”

“I always think about knocking you up.”

You roll your eyes, and he grins. Michael’s arms wrap around you, holding you close, and he adds, “I’m serious, though. I want to start a family with you.”

“Babies are a lot of work,” you point out, not convinced that he really understands the magnitude of bringing life into the world; you assume he’s just trying a new tactic of getting you naked. “It’s different from Gus.”

“I know.”

“We have to feed it and bathe it and teach it life skills and lessons and —“

“Y/N, I know.”

You pause, biting your lip as your arms circle around his neck. You’d wanted to be a mom for as long as you could remember, that feeling only becoming more prominent as your relationship with Michael blossomed. Now, the ring on your left ring finger holds a different weight, symbolizing the security and stability you didn’t realize you had been waiting for.

His eyes watch you, as if he’s trying to hear the train of thoughts chugging through your mind; he gauges how long he should let you ponder.

“Angel,” he presses on after a moment. “I want to be a dad. I want to be a parent with you. I’m ready. If you still are.”

Your eyes slide back up to his, and you see the sincerity in his gaze. Suddenly shy, you shrink in his arms as the realization hits you that this is real.

“What if you think I’m ugly when I’m all bloated and pregnant?”

Michael’s large hands flex slightly on your hips and his gaze becomes more intense, but his smile is the opposite, full of love and adoration as he looks at you. “I could never think that, baby.”

You’re not convinced, but then his hips press into yours, letting you know exactly how much he likes the image, and suddenly the mood in the kitchen has drastically changed. His hands move to grip your hips tighter, and he leans in to kiss you; it’s sweet, but you can feel the heat behind it that he’s trying to contain, waiting for your ‘official’ approval.

You’re ready; you know you are, and it really isn’t much of a decision — the source of your hesitation is more that you sort of can’t believe you’re really going to do this. With just a simple nod, you let him know that the light is green. You feel his lips curl into a grin against yours before he’s kissing you with full force, letting the hunger inside of him take over.

Michael’s tongue meets yours, carving out a space in your mouth as his hands pull you against him. His mouth is quick to move to your jaw, pressing open mouthed kisses along your skin before he murmurs in your ear, “You’re going to look so fucking sexy carrying my baby.”

A shiver runs down your spine, going straight to your core at his words. Michael walks you backwards until your bottom hits the edge of the counter, and he effortlessly lifts you up until you’re sitting on it. He pulls his mouth away from yours to smirk at you for a moment, then spreads your legs and steps between them, pulling you close once again before seeking out the skin on your neck.

You hum with pleasure, each kiss earning more goosebumps along your skin as you feel the wetness between your legs growing.

“Michael,” you whine. “Please.”

“Needy already, are we?” he teases. “Have patience, angel. Gotta get you nice and ready for me, yeah?”

Michael follows through on his statement by tugging your hips forward, placing a hand behind your back to gently lay you down against the granite countertop. It’s cold against your skin, but you’re distracted quickly when he kisses your calf, trailing his lips up your leg as he bunches the skirt of your dress up your thighs. Your back arches when his mouth presses against your core through the fabric of your panties, his tongue licking the material barrier.

Soon, but not soon enough, his fingers curl into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs. Your eyes watch him as he takes in the sight of your bare pussy in front of him, and you wish that you could see into his mind and hear all of his filthy thoughts.

“She’s so gorgeous,” he murmurs, settling between your legs and allowing them to drape over his shoulders. He’s speaking to you, but his eyes haven’t left your core. “Such a pretty pussy.”

You shiver under his praise, eyes fluttering shut when he presses a kiss to your lower lips, slowly and sensually dipping his tongue in your entrance. “Taste so fucking good, baby.”

Michael’s tongue explores your pussy as if it’s his first time, taking his time even though he knows each and every spot. He’s always been the kind of guy who genuinely enjoys eating pussy, treating it like an art rather than a chore. He kisses your clit before flicking it gently with the tip of his tongue, drawing delicate circles around it that have your head spinning in no time.

Large hands hold your hips in place as he all but makes love to your pussy, tongue delving inside you and through each fold. His nose nudges your clit, and you stifle a moan when his tongue flattens against you. One hand trails to meet his mouth, dipping a finger inside you to work in tandem with his lips wrapping around your clit.

Your mind is blank, empty save for relishing the heated euphoria Michael is providing you, working you with his practiced rhythm in the way that always leaves you breathless. He said he wanted to get you ready, but with the cadence he’s set, you know he wants to make you come, and hard. By the way the heat is flooding your belly, it seems like he’ll achieve his goal quicker than expected.

“That’s it, baby,” he mouths against you, his voice muffled by your thighs wrapped around his head. “Can feel you.”

Fingers curling upward, he all but grins at the cry you let out as he strikes your g-spot, probing it while his tongue continues it’s assault on your clit. The pressure inside you snaps, hitting you like a freight train, and your body goes rigid as your release rips through you. Michael doesn’t relent, his fingers and tongue working to drag out the waves of your orgasm that have now dulled to an intense ripple.

Once he’s satisfied with your weak whimpers, he slows his movements before gingerly removing his hand, inserting the same fingers into his mouth to suck off the remaining excess.

“Michael,” you moan, the sight nearly too much to handle in combination with your climax. “Need you.”

He chuckles softly, standing to lean over you. His mouth is coated in a layer of your slick, but you reach up to kiss him anyways, tasting yourself as he wastes no time in plunging his tongue in your mouth the same way he had done to your pussy just moments prior. In an instant, the action has your orgasmic haze clearing, making way for a fresh, and strong, wave of desire.

“I don’t think the kitchen counter is the right spot to make a baby, do you?” he asks, hands sliding under your ass to lift you into his arms. Wouldn’t be the worst spot, you think to yourself, but you tuck your arms around his neck anyways.

“Nah,” he says. “Want to do it properly, in bed.”

If your lips weren’t so busy seeking out his, you might be embarrassed that you said that out loud, but instead you’re focused on wrapping your legs around him as he begins to carry you through the house. Eventually he makes his way to the bedroom, gently dropping you on the mattress, crawling over you in an instant.

Michael’s hands slide up your sides, helping you to remove your dress, then your bra, and he pauses to take in the sight of you naked beneath him.

“Never gets old,” he comments, eyes staring at your breasts.

“Michael, you saw them this morning,” you laugh, and he shakes his head.

“Doesn’t matter. They’re still perfect.”

You respond by tugging at his shirt until he pulls it over his head, and as your eyes trail over the cut muscles of his body, you suddenly understand his sentiment — you will never grow tired of this view. You’re distracted, though, when he unzips his pants and kicks them down his legs, leaving him in nothing but his boxer briefs with a sizable tent in them.

Dragging your bottom lip between your teeth, you do your best to quell the moan that bubbles in your throat, anticipation thrumming through your veins. Michael knows, and he gives a cocky smirk. “You want it, don’t you, angel?”

You drag your eyes up to his, giving your best sultry ‘fuck me’ eyes as you nod, refusing to give into the temptation to yell, “Yes, please, please, please.”

Your feet slide up his legs and make their best attempt at pushing his boxer briefs down his legs, half succeeding before he’s smirking again, leaning back to help you remove them completely. Your mouth waters at the sight of him, finally naked and bare for you, just as you are for him.

He’s in a teasing mood, you can tell, and instead of letting him, you take matters into your own hands by reaching out to fist his length. He’s hard in your hand, skin soft as velvet, as you pump your hand while maintaining solid eye contact with him.

Michael isn’t pleased with your act of defiance, but your hand feels too damn good to ignore, and a groan of pleasure sounds from his chest as you give him a squeeze. His eyes watch you, glittering, while you shift onto your knees on the bed to take him into your mouth.

He groans out at the feeling, hand moving to tangle loosely in your hair as you work your lips around him. He’s heavy, and big, and you have always enjoyed the challenge of fitting as much of him into your throat as you can. Steeling yourself, you relax enough to take him deeper, tongue flattening against the underside of his dick.

“Jesus Christ,” he grunts out. “Such a perfect, pretty mouth you have, baby.”

You bob your head, finding a rhythm, tongue working sinfully in tandem with your lips and the suction of your mouth. Even after all these years, he is still in awe that he married the world’s best dick sucker, and that he’s going to get blowjobs like this for the rest of his life.

Slowly, your rhythm melds into his as he begins to gently move his hips, thrusting into your mouth cautiously. Once he’s sure you’re ready by the telltale sign of your fingers flexing on his thighs, he takes over the movement, fucking your mouth as he hits the back of your throat each time.

“Mmm,” he hums, fingers gripping your hair a bit tighter. “So good for me.”

Each thrust and groan from his mouth draws more arousal to your own core, thoroughly enjoying how much pleasure you are providing to him. With one hand bracing yourself on the bed, holding yourself steady, you move your other hand between your legs, rubbing circles over your clit. Michael, of course, takes note of this quickly, chuckling darkly. He knows how much you enjoy this, and it turns him on wildly to know that getting him off also gets you off.

Pulling away from your mouth, Michael bites his lip at the sight of his dick emerging from your lips, swollen and covered in saliva, as a string connects your mouth to his tip even as he pulls away.

“As much as I love to fuck your pretty little throat, I’m afraid I won’t be cumming there anymore. Have to save all of this cum for your pretty little pussy, yeah?”

You let out an unabashed moan at his words, feeling yourself clench down onto nothing at the thought. Michael presses forward, leaning down to kiss you as he gently pushes you backward, tangling your legs around his hips while he crawls on top of you.

He settles between your legs, his hard cock resting so close to where you need him most, but instead of giving you what you want, he cages your head between his muscular arms, gazing down at you.

“You like that, angel?” his voice is low as he weaves his hand down your body, toying teasingly at your entrance; he smirks upon feeling just how drenched you are for him, welcoming his fingers greedily. “Oh, yeah, you fucking love it, huh? You can’t wait for me to fuck a baby into you, can you?”

If his grade-A pussy eating skills don’t have you soaked, his words certainly do, and you feel your muscles clench weakly around nothing, aching for him to be inside you.

Michael kisses you deeply, and you can’t help the whimper that he swallows down as he grinds himself against you. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, fingers clutching onto him as you try to focus on anything but the throbbing between your legs. You’re desperate for him, needing to feel some sort of friction and the delicious stretch of him inside of you.

“Michael, please,” you whimper, “Please.”

“Please, what, angel?” he asks, teasing you as he leans back to rub the head of his cock along your dripping slit.

“Please, fuck me,” you moan, and Michael hums in approval.

“That’s my girl,” he praises you, enjoying the effect he clearly has on you.

He adjusts, bracing his arms on your sides before he slides into you slowly, eyes glued to your face as your mouth opens in a silent moan. The sex was always good with him, but there was nothing quite like the first stretch around his thick length as your bodies connect into one.

Your nerves tingle as he works himself into you, leaning forward to touch his forehead to yours in a sweet gesture that you’d normally appreciate more if you weren’t desperately in need of more. His hot breath fans over your face, but you’re too busy focusing on the way he feels moving in and out of you, igniting the fire in your core with each thrust of his hips. Breath is caught in your throat, hips rising to meet each push, and Michael kisses you as if to suck the air out of your lungs for you.

For a brief while, all that can be heard in the privacy of your bedroom are your heavy breaths and the gentle sound of Michael’s hips hitting yours. He feels so fucking good, and you are perfectly fine to enjoy the sensation rather than rushing to reach your peak. Somehow, it feels different — and even better — knowing that this act is more than just passionate lovers, but making love — and making life.

Your hands graze over the skin of his shoulders, accepting the heat of his flesh into your fingertips, and, likewise, transferring the thrum of your chest until your hearts beat in tandem as one.

Michael, though, has a different idea in mind, and soon, the pace of his hips speeds up as he begins to thrust into you harder. His lips find your jaw, sucking into the spot just below your ear, muffling the sound of his groans as he feels you clench tightly around him.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he murmurs. “Can’t wait to fill this pretty little cunt up with my cum.”

All you can do is whimper in response, the arousal you feel at his words and his matching actions almost overwhelming. Your fingers tremble along his shoulders, nails digging into the flesh as you hold on for dear life.

“Yeah? You like that, baby? You want to make me a daddy?”

“Fuck,” you cry out, both from the way he presses the head of his cock right against your g-spot, as well as his erotic words. “Yes, Michael, yes, please.”

“Yeah? You gonna take all of my cum, aren’t you? Not gonna waste a single drop, huh?”

You shake your head, not trusting your voice to come out, and he rewards you by moving his hand to circle at your clit. He knows you’re close, hanging on by just a thread, your cunt clenching desperately around him.

“That’s it, angel,” he praises, eyes glassy as he watches the bounce of your tits. “Take it so good, don’t you? Fuck, it’s like you were made to take my dick, baby.”

Between his hot praise, forceful thrusts, and calculated rub of your clit, you’re spiraling over the edge before you even have a chance to cry out, the euphoria washing over you in overwhelming waves. Your head falls back and legs tremble with the strength of your orgasm, clenching tightly around him as he groans at the feeling.

“Good girl,” he purrs, removing his hand from your clit to take its place back on your hip, gripping it tightly as he seeks out his own release.

He pumps into you, losing himself to his own rhythm as his eyes close. A deep groan rumbles in his chest, almost animalistic, and it has you clenching tightly around him.

“Fuck,” he exclaims. “Gonna come, angel. Gonna fill you up with a fucking baby.”

“Give it to me, daddy,” you moan, encouraging him. “Come inside me.”

The sight of him coming is always something — head thrown back, eyes closed, muscles flexed — but it’s even more beautiful knowing the intimacy of the act. It’s more than a release, it’s the start of a family with the man you’re hopelessly and deeply in love with, souls connected in more ways than one.

You feel the hot spurts shooting into you, and it’s almost enough to send you into another orgasm, your cunt greedily taking every drop from his cock. His hips stutter against yours, hands loosening their grip as he comes down from his high.

Michael looks down at you, panting, and smirks at you before pulling out halfway, only to push back in and make you clench weakly around him.

“Gotta keep it all in this pretty little cunt, don’t we? Don’t wanna waste a single drop,” he says.

He takes his time, lightly fucking you, gently sliding in and out of you. Between your two orgasms and the feeling of his warmth deep inside your womb, your core is on fire in the best way, and your fumbling hand reaches quickly for your clit. One, two, three circles later, you’re crying out in your final orgasm of the night, legs trembling weakly as your insides contract tightly.

Michael watches in awe, cursing under his breath as he lets you work through it, keeping his gentle rhythm steady. He eyes the swollen, wet lips of your pussy with a deep appreciation. “Look so fucking pretty taking my cum. All filled up with our baby, yeah?”

He presses kisses to your hairline as you come down slowly, as if to tell you to take your time. When he finally pulls out, you whimper slightly at the loss, feeling the emptiness, but you know you’re not really empty.

With his release, the darkness in Michael’s eyes has disappeared, and now he’s looking at you softly, eyes full of love and adoration. His lips curl into a smile, leaning down to kiss you gently as one hand trails over your belly. No words are needed; you know what he’s thinking, as you imagine the little seed growing inside of you.

He shifts so that he’s laying next to you, pulling you into his arms, and he presses a kiss against your forehead.

“Have to say,” he murmurs after a moment. “I think I like being daddy already.”

“A daddy, or just daddy?”

Michael hums, hand trailing over your stomach again, as if there’s already something there, invisible to everyone but him.

“Both.”

[septicace-writes]

Truck Stop

Summary: You meet a handsome stranger at a highway rest stop. Syverson x cis!F!Reader

Genre: Smut

Warnings: smut, blowjob, fingering, PiV sex

a/N: I had a dream where a truck pulled up beside me at a truck stop and while I woke up too early for anything to happen, this is the result. Also exists as a cis!M!reader version here

1.9k words

You had been driving for hours and while the music kept you going for a while you also had gotten up at 4am and were in dire need of a break. In the middle of nowhere, on an empty highway, you keep your eyes out for a reststop. After about 30 minutes you finally find one, even though it's really just a small parking lot, a few benches and an outhouse without even so much as a vending machine. Luckily, you had some packed lunch in a cooling bag.

You walk around a bit to stretch your legs while you eat your sandwich, then soak in the sun for a while, sitting on one of the benches. In all this time you don't see a single other car so you decide to have just a quick nap before continuing your drive and get back in the car, leaning the seat back as far as possible.

You startle awake from the noise of someone knocking on your car window. For a second you're not sure where you are until you remember your drive and the stop. Sitting up straight, you look out the window and see a man standing a few steps back but looking at you. He's big, his body well-endowed with muscle under a healthy layer of fat. He sports a massive beard that does its best to hide the smile he's sending your way. As you're still taking it what's going on he gives you a little wave and motions for you to open the window. You take another look around, everything is still well-lit by the sun, no sign of it setting yet, and you don't see anyone else. The only other noticeable change is the large truck he had parked on the other side of the parking lot. Feeling a little reassured by him keeping his distance you roll down the window.

Sorry to disturb you, Miss, just wanted to make sure you're alright. He gestures to your surroundings Don't get many people riding solo and stopping here of all places.

You blink slowly, taking him in further, his voice is deep, smooth like butter and from the first word you're caught in a dream of what it might sound like in certain other situations. You're so caught up you forget to answer until

Are you... Alright? There's concern in his voice now so, quickly, you nod.

Yeah. Yes. Yep. Yeah I'm alright... Just a long drive and I needed a break. You smile in what you hope is a reassuring yet charming manner.

Glad to hear it. Just make sure you're not staying here till nightfall. The place has a bit of a reputation of... Well, less reputable folk to meet here. Damn that charming, dreamy southern accent. You're barely taking in what he's telling you but nod along anyways.

He turns to get back to his truck and in a sudden burst of bravery you speak up So... If this place is so disreputable, what brings you here?

He looks back for a moment It's part of my route. I usually don't pull in but your car here so all alone in the middle of the day had me worried. But since everything's alright I really ought to get back on the road.

Shit shit shit you don't want to say goodbye just yet. You barely know what's gotten into you when you open the door and say And what would it take to make you stay a little longer.

At that he actually turns back around, takes in your form, now leaning against your car. You push off, take a step towards him and bow your head just a little, looking at him through your eyelashes. He adjusts his posture, straightening his back, and visibly swallows.

Well, a temptation like you certainly might. If you're implying what I think you are.

Your heart is beating a million miles an hour in your chest, you did not think it was going to be that easy yet here you are, about to fuck - or rather get fucked by - this man in an empty parking lot. You take another step forward, and another, until you stand face to face with him. He's a few inches taller than you, and from so close you can smell the motor oil in his clothes. You want to reach out a hand and touch him but for a short, tense moment you both just stand there, staring at each other - neither knowing how to make the first move.

It feels like an eternity even though it's just a few heartbeats and then he places a hand cupping your neck and, looking directly into your eyes If you're sure about this, I'd like to kiss you and how could you say no so you nod, already leaning up.

His lips are warm and soft, smoothly moving over yours as he continues to hold your neck, caressing the side of your face with his thumb. The full beard tickles a little, but you can tell he keeps it well as the hairs are soft against your skin. Now distracted from your nerves, you sling your arms around his back, feeling the muscle underneath as you slide them up and down. He brings his arm around your waist, pulling you tight against his body. You moan at the feeling of his already growing erection pushing against your belly and he ceases the moment to slip his tongue between your lips.

You find the hem of his shirt and slide both your hands underneath to feel his warm skin at the same time as you grind your hips into his just a little to see how he reacts. With a growl, he breaks the kiss for just long enough to pull his shirt over his head and discard it, giving you a perfect view of the dark hair on his chest until his lips are back on yours. He lifts you up with ease, wrapping your legs around his waist. As you pull your own t-shirt off he walks you both towards his truck, leaning you against the sun-heard metal. You yelp and he pulls you back up.

Shit, sorry! Here let me... And he take your shirt and puts it behind you as a buffer. God you're gorgeous he takes you in for a moment, then nuzzles his beard into your neck and begins kissing and sucking at the sensitive skin. You squirm at the ticklish sensation but he's got a strong hold on you, not letting you get away. He works his way further down, unclasping your bra and taking it off before taking a nipple between his teeth and gently biting down while one hand pinches the other. At your enthusiastic moan, he does it again, making your rut your hips up against his body for any friction you can find.

You look down to see a devilish grin on his face before he comes back up to kiss you. You can't help another moan as he reaches his hand between your legs, cupping your pussy with just enough pressure to tease. Biting at his lower lip in revenge, you elicit a low groan. He moves his hand back to your ass, supporting you as he grinds his own, now fully hard cock against you. Panting, you bring your hands down to free him from his confines but your hands are quickly seized by one of his.

I don't remember giving you permission He all but growls, making you whimper with the loss of stimulation as he stills his hips.

Please, sir you squeak out, your brain already muddled with neediness and thankfully he seems merciful and releases your hands which immediately resume their task. Even with how shaky they are you make quick work of his button and zipper and, with an appreciative sound, finally wrap your fingers around his now freed cock. You press a line of kisses from his neck down his chest as he continues to rut into your fist, bracing himself with one hand on the car behind you. You work your way lower and lower, sliding down the hood until you hit the ground, now kneeling with his imposing endowment right at your eye level.

His free hand falls to your head as you give a testing lick to his tip before wrapping your lips around it. You slowly work him deeper until he hits the back of your throat and wrap one hand around what doesn’t fit, pumping at a maddeningly slow pace. But not for long, as the man above you gets impatient with your teasing and begins fucking into your mouth at a quicker pace. Your free hand wanders along his body until it reaches underneath to cup his balls, gently rolling and massaging them as a contrast to pace he has set. His groans and growls only spur you on, wanting to hear what he sounds like falling apart. You’re peripherally aware of your own arousal wetting your underwear, but the thought is overshadowed by your need to make him cum. Before it comes to that, he pulls out, holding your head back by the neck as you try to chase your prize.

Come back up here sweetheart he commands, voice deep and raspy with arousal and you obey, standing up. He reclaims your lips, moaning at his own taste on your tongue as he fidgets to open your trousers and gain access to your wet heat. You helplessly pant into his mouth as he begins rubbing your clit, giving you a taste of your own treatment as he starts a teasingly slow movement. When you try to rut your hips faster against him, he stops until you still again, quickly teaching you that he is in charge. In your effort to keep your hips still you wrap your arms around his torso again, hands raking over his back as you moan and pant at his ministrations. He pushes two fingers in, scissoring them to spread you open, groaning appreciatively at the way you clench around them. You whine when he pulls out, about to start begging when you notice he is lining up his cock to your entrance. With a pleading whimper, your wrap your legs around his waist as he enters you in one swift movement.

Your mind blanks for a moment at the stretch and the feeling of being so full with him that you don’t even realise he’s not moving. When you open your eyes, you find him staring down at you with a smug grin. Then he braces against the car and slowly begins pulling out, drawing a long whimper from you. With a snap of his hips he fucks back in, now setting a rapid pace that drives any and all coherent thought from your mind. As his thrusts become more erratic in chase of his own end he sneaks a hand between you and begins rubbing your clit again in quick, tight little circles. With a scream, you cum, walls fluttering around him which takes him over the edge with you, painting your insides white. You stay like this for a while, him buried deeply inside you as you both catch your breath. Then, he pulls out and begins cleaning you both with your shirt while you put your bra back on.

All cleaned up and satisfied he takes you in his arms You were amazing sweetheart. Now let’s get you home for dinner.

[rowanaelinn]

Fire on Fire - Chapter Eight

Chapter seven // Chapter nine

Warnings: suicidal thoughts.

It’s kinda rushed but it kinda fits with today’s prompt for rowaelin month! next chapter is going to be way longer :)

————

Rowan took a piece of towel and used it to remove the foam from his client's leg, revealing a tattoo he had been working on for four long hours.

It was a large bouquet of flowers, each one a different color to represent a member of the client's family, with writing in the Old Language with their names.

“Here it is,” He told her, holding a mirror above her leg so she could see all the details. Her smile grew as she took in her tattoo. It was one of his favorite parts of his job, the emotion on their face. He loved to be able to bring such feelings to the people he worked on.

“I love it.” She said and Rowan only nodded, a hint of a smile on his lips. He put away his equipment, throwing away the little pots of ink that he hadn't quite finished while his client left, thanking him, before going to sign the last papers at the counter. When he finished, Rowan joined her and gave the invoice to Remelle, their assistant.

He left to clean up his workroom before entering the break room, heading straight to the fridge to take out his food. He had spent an hour yesterday cooking pasta, chicken and cutting up his favorite vegetables to make a salad. Cooking had always helped him to keep his mind busy and these last days it was more than necessary.

A few minutes after Rowan settled down at the round table in the middle of the room, fork in hand and his dominant hand busy holding an Apple Pencil while he multi-tasked eating and drawing for his appointments, Gavriel entered the room.

Rowan tried not to stare at him, exactly as he had done all week. But today it was more complicated as Gavriel sat down next to him, getting his full attention. He tried with all his might to concentrate on the drawing in front of him, but the temptation was too strong. "How's..." He cleared his throat, the words hard to come out. "How's Aelin?"

He avoided any eye contact, his eyes fixed on the tablet even if his drawing hadn’t progressed in the last ten minutes. He hated the feeling of worry in his chest. Rationally, he knew she was physically okay or Gavriel and Aedion would be by her side now. But she had been good at hiding her emotions, so good that her family didn’t see anything worrying. Apparently, he was the only one who saw anything, and it did nothing to help his worry about how she was right now.

After long seconds without a response, Rowan dared to look up at Gavriel. His head was turned toward Rowan, fork a few inches from his opened mouth. His entire face was frozen. Rowan just raised his eyebrows, waiting for anything to come out of his mouth. His boss shook his head, seeming to come back to reality. “Yeah. She is, why?” He could see the confusion on Gavriel’s face but Rowan wouldn’t answer that question so he just shrugged.

Rowan managed to stay quiet a few more minutes, even if he could feel the awkwardness in their air, but another question was burning his throat. “Have you ever met Arobynn Hamel?”

This time he looked up to see Gavriel look at him as if he was an alien, but thank the Gods, he didn’t comment on his interest. “Once or twice, but very briefly. Generally, that was just when he was picking Aelin up.” Rowan nodded, still trying to understand what Aelin had meant by The furthest they are from Arobynn, the safest they are. She hadn’t said anything else, leaving him more confused than anything.

“How did she met him?” He tried to appear casual as he asked that, taking another fork of food in his mouth. The food tasted sour as Gavriel kept watching him suspiciously. He couldn’t ask these questions to Aedion, knowing his friend he would be too defensive of his cousin, especially if Rowan was the one asking the questions. Gavriel knew about Aelin and Rowan’s disdain for each other but he knew less than Aedion, he hadn’t seen the two of them yell at each other or hadn’t witnessed them doing absolutely everything to ruin the other’s day.

He didn’t dare to ask Lysandra either, he was sure the woman would stab him with her hells if he even dared to pronounce Aelin’s name.

So Gavriel was the safest choice.

He seemed to think about who to tell him before opening his mouth. “At a party, when she was sixteen or fifteen, I think.” He took a bite of his food. “Arobynn’s an old friend of her father, both went together to college and were best of friends there, but they lost contact and met again at a gala. They talked about Aelin and found out she wanted to work in the same industry as Arobynn. He’s been her mentor ever since.”

Fifteen? Maybe Rowan’s mind was just fucked up to think it was weird, maybe he was just influenced by what Aelin said the other night. He might not have found it weird if she hadn’t said anything. He was just thinking too hard, trying too hard to find an explanation for what’s happening to her.

“You think he’s good to her?” Gavriel was a wise man, he was trying so hard to be part of his son’s life and it included taking care of Aedion’s cousin. Surely, he didn’t notice the little things Rowan did, but maybe he noticed something else. Rowan’s boss only shrugged.

“He found her a place at her university, made her TA, and gives her a job every summer. So, yeah. I guess so.” And he was paying for her education, a fact Aelin hid from her family. Why would she? It was what didn’t make sense, what was weird with all that. “I’m even sure he’s the first person she went to see when she left her parents in Terassen.”

What?

“What do you mean, ‘left’?” He asked, his brows furrowed. It wasn’t the only thing that didn’t make sense, he knew for a fact Aelin came to the house first. He hadn’t talked to her that day, he and the boys were sent to their room as if they were teenagers the moment a crying Aelin knocked at the door. He had lingered longer than necessary in the staircase, long enough to see her in a dress, shoes in hands, and cheeks filled with black makeup that had run down her cheeks.

Next thing he knew, Aedion spent a week at his father, trying to get Aelin better. Rowan had thought about this night for too long, Rowan always thought Aelin had partied too hard (because from her outfit, it was quite clear she had partied) and it was the straw that broke the camel's back for her parents. Even without wanting to, it had been impossible not to know about Aelin Ashryver Galathynius.

Pictures and videos of her in more than indecent dresses for her age were on page one of every magazine, when pictures of her sniffing coke had leaked it had even been made to National News. She had been sixteen at the time, and it had only been one of many times she had been caught doing what she shouldn’t have.

Before Gavriel could answer, the door opened to let Aelin appear in the doorway. She was holding flowers in her left hand, a smile on her face as she saw her uncle. Unfortunately, her face froze when she saw Rowan. Rowan’s entire body stilled, eyes roaming all over her body. She seemed okay, not skinnier than the last time he saw her, not hurt.

“Oh,” she said, opening and closing her mouth multiple times. She swallowed before clearing her throat. Only a blind person wouldn’t see her anxiety. “I didn’t think you ate there.”

He usually didn’t, having enough time to go back home. It was more comfortable to eat there, but he had been burying himself under work since he woke up in her empty bed. “You thought wrong.”

She was uncomfortable, and he both wanted to make her feel that way for hours and wanted to comfort her at the same time.

Sensing both of their unease, Gavriel stood up and went to leave the room. “I brought you those, your favorites,” Aelin said, giving her uncle the flowers. “I went to your favorite flower shop.”

Gavriel smiled and kissed Aelin’s cheek, earning a smile out of her. “Thanks.” He looked back at Rowan, he knew it was a warning glare but he didn’t care. He needed to speak with her. Gavriel left, pretending to have something else to do but it was all an excuse to let them speak.

“So, you’re alive.”

Aelin snorted. “I don’t know if you look relieved or sad.”

He fought his lips from rising. “Anything to say?”

Aelin looked at him, her bottom lip between her lips and her hands fidgeting. “Your shirt is ugly.”

It was his turn to snort. Of course, she wouldn’t go straight to the point. He arched a brow, waiting for a real answer. Even though he was the one sitting, he held more power than her now.

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t want you to say anything,” he said as he closed his tablet, letting his fork down on the plate to have his hands free. “I just want you to act like the adult you are, and it doesn’t include running away in the middle of the night after telling someone you want to die.” His voice was hard, it made Aelin flinch.

“I never said I wanted to die.”

“You said you didn’t have the strength to live, Aelin.”

“Yeah, never said I wanted to die.”

“But do you?” He had to ask, because if she did… He would do what was necessary, he couldn’t let her die. She was already killing herself slowly, between the sex and the alcohol… She told everyone she was sober from drugs but she had been lying for so long to everyone he had a hard time believing it.

Rowan got his answer when she avoided his gaze, focusing on the floor. His heart broke, he needed to help her and he doubted sending her to a psychiatric hospital would help.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, voice heavy with emotions. With his head, he made her sign to sit next to him, and to his surprise, he complied. She turned her chair to face him, their knees brushing. He could see the dark circles around her eyes from that close, her lips dryer than usual and dotted with small wounds that he knew were due to her teeth.

“I’m coming back home.” He told him, finally looking at him. “I was around, I finished school yesterday and had to sign some things at Arobynn’s office. So I bought Gavriel’s favorite flowers to thank him, I didn’t know you would be here.”

“You hoped I wouldn’t.” He stated and she only nodded. She looked broken as if she knew she could let her guard down after what happened between them Monday. He was happy she knew he would be here for her.

“I was ready to call the cops when I woke up alone, Aelin,” Rowan confessed. He needed her to understand people suffered from her actions. “I was going to until I heard Aedion complain to Lysandra about you leaving him for his father.” He exhaled a loud breath, trying to forget everything he felt that morning. “Aelin, I thought you were dead somewhere.”

Her hand gripped his, he couldn’t hide the surprise from his face. She kept her hand in his, her small fingers enveloping his. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from it, they had never touched like that. “I’m sorry,” her weak voice said. “I panicked. I didn’t think…” He looked back at her, letting her time formulate her thoughts. It was hard enough, she didn’t need to be pressed. “I didn’t think you’d care, to be honest. Nobody ever did, you said it yourself. Aedion was annoyed I was at Gavriel’s, not that I was gone. It’s always been this way, I’ve always been… free.”

It wasn’t freedom, it was negligence. But she didn’t need to hear this now, so he kept his mouth shut, just nodding in understanding. He linked their fingers together, delighted to see the surprise on Aelin’s face, at least they were even now. He squeezed her hand, accepting her apology. Two weeks ago he would have thought Aelin did it on purpose to have attention, but he began to realize he was wrong about her.

“It’s your birthday tomorrow.” He said, changing the subject. He had to get back to work soon, and he didn’t have the time to unpack everything he wanted right now. Aelin still looked at their hands, feeling too hard to describe on her face. She nodded.

“Lysandra and Dorian spent the week throwing a huge party for you,” It wasn’t exactly a surprise, Aelin knew there would be a party but probably thought it would just be her and her close friends. Lysandra and Dorian had another idea in mind. “If it’s too much, we can ditch. We’ll find an excuse.”

Finally, her eyes looked back at his face. She had a small smile on her face, Rowan’s heartbeat eased at that. “No.” She shook her head. “A party is what I need right now.”

Rowan wanted to disagree on that, but she was an adult. She knew what was best for her. “Then let’s party.”

Her eyes widened. “You usually don’t come to my birthday.” She was right, he had avoided these parties full of teenagers as much as he could, but he wanted to stay with her.

“I thought were an English major,” he teased her, pulling at her arm slightly making her smile. “What part of ‘you don’t have to be alone anymore’ don’t you understand?”

At that, she smiled so brightly Rowan could have sworn it lighted up the entire room.

————

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[uuujeewriting]

may I request HCs for Albedo, Childe, Kaeya, Diluc and Xiao realizing their fem!darling is a yandere? like how would they feel and react?? ( i hope u don't make it too angst :(( ) - if u don't feel comfortable wrting this, i am deeply apologize, feel free to ignore this :<

stop it [albedo, childe, kaeya, diluc, xiao]

they find out their darling is a yandere! how will they fight to fix them?

tw: UNHEALTHY/TOXIC RELATIONSHIP, gore, violence, cuss words, manipulative behavior, obsessive and possessive behavior, murder

albedo x fem! reader, childe x fem! reader, kaeya x fem! reader, diluc x fem! reader, xiao x fem! reader

a/n: just a note that this behavior should not be romanticized and should not be followed! i believe that the boys would not condone this behavior either. sorry that this took a while nonnie! hope this is to your liking.

i would like to clarify that if any of these scenarios/hc's of mine are similar to other writers' works, it is unintentional and i apologize

not proof read

albedo

it came to him when he started picking up on your possessive behavior

he first found it quite unusual, how defensive you were when people–even his own students–pointed out how much you hogged the man to yourself

it was no secret you loved him, albeit maybe you did a little too much 

for the first few days of this repetitive behavior of yours, he didn’t seem to take it too seriously, he even indulges your fantasies when he found the time to do so

calling him yours alone and how everyone wouldn't matter, just as his queen said

how foolish of him to feed into this obsessive mindset of yours, he now knows

the kreideprinz was a fearless man, never submitting even to the most nerve-wracking of consequences

you should earn an award for making him tremble

face to face with your gruesome figure, albedo hesitates to move

finally, you break the tension

��what’s wrong, my love? is something bothering you?” you ask, taking a step forward

“stay back. don’t you dare touch me- i-..” he grows speechless

you slowly retreated to your space, pouting

“is it this corpse? i’m sorry, but she was getting in the way! always asking about your whereabouts and such, truly a burden-”

“sucrose was my assistant! why the hell wouldn’t she ask about me?!” his heart rate quickened, the blond has never experienced this much terror in his life

you grew silent, taking in the chief alchemist’s words

he feels his heart drop to his feet when he sees you smile slowly

“well, there’s nothing we can do about it now, hm?” you hug albedo after throwing the bat you used to bash open your victim’s skull, tainted with putrid crimson 

you laugh and bury your head in his chest but you notice droplets of water falling to your scalp

you look up at your quivering love and he stares back at you

“i’ll fix you, i’ll do whatever it takes to change those despicable temptations of yours and i’ll get you back, y/n.”

childe

childe was naturally clingy, never letting you out of his sight for more than two minutes. as a result, he didn't pick up on the subtle signs of your toxic behavior

what made him question this was your unreasonably foul attitude towards his family

one night, you and him visited his siblings in snezhnaya to have dinner

he was jubilant to say the least, the love of his life will finaly get the chance to meet the people he loved just as much as her!

"why are you so excited to see your siblings?" your question left him dumbfounded

did you not want to see them?

"well, y/n my dear, if there was anything i loved nore than you; it would be my beloved family!" he chuckles

when you reach his house, he's so excited that he misses how your eyes darken when he knocks at the door

"big brother! you're here!" teucer jumps in joy and hugs his sibling, the brother in question hugs back lovingly

how you hated it, make it end already

"teucer! i've missed you, too. how are sister tonia and the others?" childe smiles

was your presence suddenly not the most important thing anymore to him?

oh no, you're not going to let this happen

you cough and childe looks back at you, apologizing

"sorry, babe. come inside, i'll introduce you to the others." he takes your hand and guides you indoors to the living room

at the sight of their dear big brother, the group of siblings raced and laced their arms around him one way or another

childe laughs and attempts to stretch to hug all of then at the same time, only being able to circle two of his siblings

you felt inadequate again, damn siblings.

as childe introduces you to his family as his girlfriend, you didn't bother to mask your dislike for them

this concerns your beloved to the highest caliber

dinner rolls around and uncharacteristically, you offer to help out with preparing the food

childe was reluctant but overall, he couldn't deny a chance for you to finally change your views on atleast one of his siblings

"thank you for allowing me to help, tonia." you smile, feigningly to clarify

"it's no problem, i should be thanking you for insisting." she laughs and leaves the food on the counter to grab a condiment placed on the opposite side of the kitchen

quickly and silently, you scan the premises for what you needed

you find a container of rubbing alcohol in a compartment

grinning, you took it and spilled half the container into the water jug to be served

discarding of the half-empty bottle and putting the jug's lid back on, tonia returns and continues preparing the food

perfect.

when the food and tampered water was served, you replaced childe's glass of water swiftly

one of the siblings drinks the water and after a few minutes, he excuses himself while coughing

tonia was next and then teucer, childe was going insane and growing more and more concerned

finally having enough, he checks the food and once he smells the strong scent of alcohol in the jug of water, his eyes widen

he turns to you, his heart sinking at your triumphant expression

"y/n, how could you?!" he furrows his eyebrows, what happened to his beloved?

"they were taking you away from me. what was i supposed to do?" you raise an eyebrow

he clenches his fist. when he hears his siblings suffering, he heaves heavily

"we'll talk about this later and i swear to the gods i will change your attitude."

kaeya

kaeya is perceptive, he may have picked up on your despicable views earlier than the rest

how? don't question, it's his responsibility to take care of you

he does nothing at first, finding your obsessive behavior harmless at the present time

however, he draws the line after one particular event

"haha, well- if it weren't for how you sneaked through headquarter grounds, i wouldn't have had to waste my time tracking you down." he peers sarcastically at rosaria, he latter scoffing

"it's none of my business what you find suspicious." she sips on the wine she was holding

kaeya lets out a 'tch' and looks away, clearly upset

he arrives home to you cooking supper, his arms snaking around your waist

you smile, "bad day?" you ask, you know how he gets when he's dim and gloomy

"not particularly, but just had some trouble with sister rosaria."

what?

"what about her?" your grip on the ladle tightens

"nothing, it's really not a big deal." he palms your hand, kissing your neck

"oh, alright. if you say so, love." you state, but he should've watched what he says

you had your mind set and there was no stopping you

around 2-3 am you sneaked out of your shared home with the captain.

grabbing a cloak and satchel which incased your belongings, you head out into the streets

'where could that damn nun be at this time of night?'

you ponder for a good few minutes until-

bingo; clearing camps.

sneaking past the knights is rather easy, distract them with a rabbit and all is good

pulling the hood of the cloak lower to hide your face, you speed into the wilderness in search of rosaria

you find the preoccupied nun vanquishing a camp of hilichurls around the whispering woods, too busy to notice your presence

opening your satchel, you take your mask and secure it to your face

time to go through with the plan you'd devised.

"huh-?" rosaria hadn't reacted fast enough and you managed to tackle her to the ground after the last hilichurl was disposed of

she chokes on your hold and attempts to shove you off, only for her attempt to whiff

grabbing the polearm she had in her dominant hand, you twirl it and use it to replace your hand on her throat, choking her with ger own weapon

"w-who in t-the world..?" rosaria glares and struggles to keep herself conscious

you smirked, putting more pressure on the polearm

she grows more and more panicked, you bask in her expression of utter helplessness

she should have known better than to mess with you

to mess with kaeya

this is what she gets

you are going to have your way

yes, almost there-

"not quite, fiend."

suddenly, you get pulled back by the hood and you gasp in shock

rosaria recovers quickly and stands up, snatching back her weapon from your distracted figure

"though i hate to admit it, you sure can be a helpful comrade, cavalry captain." the nun scoffs

your blood went cold

"now who in the seven nations might this rodent be?" kaeya frowns, you attempt to struggle from his grip but to no avail

he takes off your disguise and you purse your lips

"..y/n?" rosaria questions, much more confused than your lover

"i had a feeling." kaeya remarks, surprising both you and the nun

"kaeya, you understand right? she upset you, she made you go through all that work just for you to find out it was some shady bitch roaming around the fucking city!" the two wince at your vulgar language, clearly not having any of it

"what's done is done." rosaria states and goes ahead to return to mond

kaeya lets you go and crosses his arms, disappointed in you

"you should know better, y/n. i'll have you know that although i love you dearly, this behavior of yours is not what i want from you." he reprimands you and you furrow your brows

"it's just me showing my love for you, i don't see what's wrong."

your statement makes the knight sigh

this is going to be a long night for the both of you

diluc

diluc wouldn't be too busy to spend time with you, but he'd be too busy to take notice of your toxicity

you lived in the manor, because of this, you had access to everything in the site

and when i say everything, i mean everything

yes, he trusted you too much and that's his downfall

not his, but rather a maid's

you were aware of his darknight hero duties and he made sure that you did, kissing you goodbye before leaving to rinse the land of roaming dangers

one night in particular, a certain head maid had made you quite envious

offering diluc a glass of grape juice, fixing his collar before he goes on about his daily stroll, even daring to clean his shared bedroom with you! my, how audacious she is.

after giving you a tender kiss, your lover heads out into the night and leaves you with the maids, giving you the opportunity to continue on your devious ways

calling adelinde into the garden, she comes along with the items you requested

two towels, a fork and a plate

of course she questioned it but who was she to deny her master's sweetheart?

with shaking limbs, she made her way towards the garden

"ah, finally. you're here," you make your way towards adelinde and she gulps

"i-i have the items you requested, miss y/n," she hands you the three objects that will serve a huge purpose tonight

"thank you," you smile at her as she attempts to smile and bow respectfully

"if that is all, i shall take my leave." she retreats into the manor

or atleast, she thoughts she was going to

quickly, you roll the towel and gag adelinde with it, tying the towel together and stabbing it to her nape with the fork with brute force

she screams for a split second and you smile, quickly bashing her head with the plate.

looking down at your doing, you grin impossibly wide

"miss y/n, why couldn't you have simply knocked her out first as to avoid her creating a rather loud shriek?" elzer sighed

"i wanted to hear her in agony, is that odd?" you raise an eyebrow at the chairman

he shakes his head, "no, not at all, master."

the next day, diluc is faced with a rather odd feeling of dread

as he finds adelinde, ironically, nowhere to be found, he immediately asks elzer which in turn is sworn to secrecy by you

it completely drove him mad, and you tried to take his mind off the maid yet he only pushed you aside

this angered you to the core

"what–is that maid more important than me now, after all this work i've done for you?!" you yelled at him and he huffs in annoyance

"what do you mean work?!" he yells back

"what could you have possibly done for me-" "i got rid of that bitch!"

he freezes, what did you just say?

you, there's no way. you aren't serious right? he must've misheard you, there's no fucking possibility that his head maid was de-

"she's gone. i made sure of it."

diluc feels a boiling sensation in his stomach and he takes your wrist to drag you to the outside of his office

"y/n, you better tell me where she is or i swear to barbatos i'm going to-"

he stops himself. what was he going to do? the same thing you had just done?

you smile at his realization, circling him

"see? you were just about to be hypocritical there, love." you chuckle

diluc gritted his teeth and steadies himself

he's going to teach you a lesson one way or another, but never in his life will he come to commit the crime you'd done

xiao

the adeptus neither cared nor disliked the things you do for him, however, when you stepped out of line one day, he began to watch over you like a hawk

it was when the traveler, lumine, visited your adeptus lover

you were excited to see xiao, you had two plates of almond tofu in hand and was stepping up the staira to the balcony

you hummed a little tune to yourself

"first hilichurl got sick, second hilichurl took care, third hilichurl gathers medicine, fourth hilichurl prepares-"

you halt your singing when you hear laughter

laughter from a woman, huffs from a man

an adeptus

your adeptus

"xiao, thanks for meeting up with me today, i really appreciate it." lumine smiles at the yaksha, "we would've been at a loss if it weren't for you."

frowning, you step back and watch them from behind the opening of the balcony

"i am in no need of your reassurance, puny mortal. it was a necessity for rex lapis' sake, do not take it any other way." he says, although the flush of his face was an obvious indicator that he also cared for his friend

"yeah, whatever you say xiao." paimon laughed and lumine soon after

fuck. you felt something break on your foot.

xiao and the traveler snapped their heads to your direction–

only to find nothing there

"i'll go check on it," lumine offers and xiao simply nods, finishing the tofu she brought for him

the blonde traveller walks to the scene and sees a plate of almond tofu in bits and pieces

"eh?... what's all this?" she questions

she crouches down to observe the scene

her fault.

"AH-!" lumine tumbles down the stairs with you on top of her

not giving her time to react, you punch her in the face repeatedly

"don't-" smack in the face

"try-" punch up her chin

"to-" bash her head on the floor

"take-" punch to the left

"him!" punch to the right

verr goldet and paimon cries for you to stop, the former prying you off the bruised blonde

xiao hears the commotion and sees the traveller's nose bleeding and your figure heaving on the ground, fists clenched

if verr goldet hadn't pulled you away, you would've killed the girl

xiao huffs and shakes visibly

"what is all this?" he angrily mumbles, "care to explain yourself, y/n?"

"xiao-" you begin to cry, "why would you spend time with her? i'm hurt of course!"

"you intend to tell me you're the only one i can talk to?" he raises his tone

"yes!" you whimper

unbelievable

"..verr goldet, bring the traveller to a healer, y/n, come with me." he holds a stoic expression

he was beyond angry

following him to the balcony, he keeps a distance from you, about three steps away.

finally coming to a stop, he faces you.

"i don't know what got onto you, but we're going to solve this," he crosses his arms, "right here, right now."

[hopelikethemoon]

Bright Star || Moonbeam II || (Ezra x Reader) {Werewolf AU} [smut]

Title: Bright Star Rating: Explicit Length: 5,300 Warnings: Smut (slight cockwarming, Ezra being a menace, sex) and gratuitous poetry reading.  Reader Details: To the best of my knowledge, there are no references to Reader’s physical details, beyond being a bisexual woman. I tried my best to keep it as vague as possible. Notes: Oops, I wrote another chapter (one of hopefully many more). It’s spookytime and I’m a monster fucker that can’t be tamed. Part two of Moonbeams (read it before you read this chapter!)

Taglist: @thedaysarenotfull​ @princessbatears​ @djarin-junk​ @absurdthirst​ @hdlynn​ @legally-a-bastard​ @opheliaelysia​ @heather-lynn​ @sabinemorans​ @crazinessgraveyardsandcartoons​​ @pedrospunk​​ @maybege​​ @chews-erotically​​ @katlikeme​​ @lose-eels​​ @youmeanmybrain​​ @theindiealto​​ @irishleesh93​​ @seawhisperer​ @hdlynn​ @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol​ @theindiealto​

When you first returned to Lykaois, Ezra refused to let you into his transport-turned-home. He peered out at you through the barely cracked durasteel door and told you that he needed another day alone. 

He promptly sealed the door closed and left you standing in the brisk morning air. You left War & Peace sitting outside the door, but took the cheese back with you. He could have one — but not both. 

You went straight back to your own transport, despite the strong temptation to venture out beyond the now-familiar path. You weren’t sure if it was Ezra’s warnings — or the stories you’d heard back on the Block. 

Shiva had been horrified that you wanted to return to Lykaois. You hadn’t told them about Ezra and maybe you should have. But who would’ve believed you? 

“I’ve met a very unusual man who happens to have a very talented mouth. Don’t worry, he’s just a reclusive werewolf who can’t leave the moon he lives on. I’ve decided to forgo the next steady harvest cycle to stay with him between full moons.” 

There was no way Shiva wouldn’t drive a stun gun into your thigh and have you checked over on the next medical freighter to dock at the Block. 

Especially not after Shiva had rattled off a long list of failed voyages to Lykaois. The rumors were not without truth. Miners gone missing, survivors raving about great beasts, and a few failed voyages from the infected who went mad somewhere in hyperspace. 

You were desperate to get your hands on the list — the names of those that had allegedly perished on Lykaois. You wanted to know if Ezra was on them. But you didn’t want to pry. 

In the short window of time that you had spent with Ezra, you had gathered that he was a private sort of person. He kept himself distant from the others who were like him, he spoke often of solo missions, and he provided only a scintilla of information about his life before Lykaois. 

You had done a lot of foolish things over the course of your life, but Ezra was the wildest endeavor yet. 

He wasn’t like anyone else you had encountered — and not just because of what he was. It was his books. You were good at very little, but you prided yourself on your collection of books and his own collection could rival yours. 

Ezra knew quotes by heart that you thought only you had memorized, stowed away in your soul in case you ever lost your books or your sight. There was very little to care about beyond the greed that had torn the galaxy apart. But books always mattered. 

The passing of written knowledge separated man from beast, didn’t it? Perhaps that was what had kept Ezra grounded, when the others had lost themselves. 

The next morning brought with it the same cool weather from the morning before. 

So you ventured just outside the door of your transport, with Northanger Abbey clutched in one hand and a small stool in the other. 

Ezra had said he needed one more day. If he was ready to see you, he could come to you. You weren’t going to risk the journey through the forest, just to be shut out again. 

You understood why. He had just transformed into a monster — he needed time. But it still stung to have the door slammed in your face with very little explanation. 

Hopefully he was enjoying War & Peace and the litany of annotations you had made in it, up until the point you had left it at his door. You hadn’t had quite enough time to finish reading it through. 

A branch snapped somewhere just beyond the clearing where you had landed the transport. You narrowed your eyes, scanning the forest line hesitantly. 

“Ezra?” You questioned hesitantly, your voice raised just enough to pierce the nearest parts of the forest. 

Another branch snapped and your fingers tightened around the spine of your book. Maybe you should go back inside —

A stag emerged from the treeline, at least one that looked not so dissimilar from the etchings you’d seen once. Larger perhaps than what people used to see, but with wide-reaching antlers and tar-colored patches of fur. 

The stag seemed disinterested in you, more concerned with finding a grazing spot for himself and the flock of does that trailed from the forest behind him. 

Cervos. You had seen them mentioned in one of the fauna pamphlets Shiva had found whilst planning how they would rescue you from Lykaois. 

You sank back against the hull of your transport, crossing your leg over your knee and propping your book open there. You could coexist with a herd of cervos enjoying a crisp morning feast. 

The moon hadn’t been fully explored — for obvious reasons — but from what you had seen, beyond Ezra and his kind, most of the creatures were docile. 

You let yourself get lost in the first handful of chapters of Northanger Abbey, sucking happily on one of the honeysticks you had found for Ezra. 

If he didn’t show up today — the cheese and honey would be off the table for this trip. You’d given him War & Peace because he needed something to do to pass the time, especially if he was still recovering from his transformation. Food would be reinforcement only if you got to ensure he was alright.

You cared and maybe that was the problem. Ezra hadn’t fully warmed up to the idea of you coming back to Lykaois, right up until the last few minutes before you left. 

A harsh growl interrupted your thoughts and your eyes snapped up to see the whites of the cervos’ eyes as he and his herd tore off across the clearing. A beast — a true beast — emerged from the forest, eyes lingering on you only briefly before chasing after the cervos. 

You scrambled. Blood rushing in your ears as your heart pounded in your throat. Your favourite shawl caught in the hermetic seal of your door as you made it inside and you didn’t even care — not so long as you were in one piece. 

That didn’t look like anything you had seen in the pamphlets Shiva had shoved in your face. That seemed… large and terrifying. 

A bi-ped beast that stood well beyond the height of any mortal man. Was that what Ezra looked like? Was that Ezra?

Maybe you should leave. Head back to the Block and jump on whatever shitty enlistment was left on the rosters. Probably the Green — they loved sending the low-draws out on those missions. 

But even fear hadn’t soured the honey-sweet taste on your tongue. Ezra had said he needed one more day. You would give him one more day. 

Hope waned as the sun dipped down below the horizon. You sat in the cockpit of your transport, watching the last light slip out of view through the nav-window. 

Ezra hadn’t shown and as badly as you wanted to go to his transport and tell him you were leaving — you were haunted by the face of the beast you had seen. Intelligent eyes on a fearsome form. 

It had to have been Ezra. Even like that there was something about his eyes. Kind eyes. Warm eyes. 

A knock echoed through the quiet corridor of your transport. Once and then twice. 

You kept one hand on your weapon, keeping it holstered at your hip as you moved to open the door — just a crack. You peered out through the space into the inky black night. 

“I know I’m late, moonbeam,” Ezra said as he stepped into your line of view, the faint glimmer of stars above lighting his face. 

“I was going to leave,” You told him, keeping the door partially closed. 

He chuckled wryly. “I wouldn’t have blamed you.”

“Are you… are you okay?” You questioned, opening the door a fraction further. 

“As well as one can be after the full moon.” He sighed heavily. “I can come back in the morning.” 

“No.” You knew you were taking a risk, but you pulled open the door anyways. “Come in.” 

Ezra seemed to be carrying a weight on his shoulders as he stepped over the threshold. He needed new clothes. You hadn't thought to bring any this time — but he had on the same threadbare khaki green reg shirt he’d worn last month. 

“I thought about coming this morning,” He admitted to you, awkwardly shifting on his feet. “But after breakfast I was exhausted. I’m still exhausted.” 

“So you slept?” You questioned, taking a shuffling step backwards, before turning away and making yourself busy with ensuring the transport was secured for the night — though you’d already let the danger inside. 

Ezra hummed quietly, “I fell into the most illustrious of slumbers, little lamb.” 

“I have so many questions,” You admitted, glancing back at him. “But I don’t want to pry.” 

“You have been quite magnanimous with me,” He pointed out, folding his arms across his chest. “I think you’re justified in your questioning.”

You turned back to face him and held his gaze, “What do you look like when you change?”

His brows furrowed, but there was no light in his eyes that told you that he knew that you had seen him — or a creature like him. “I’ve never seen my own reflection, but… the beast that attacked me was larger than a bear.” He scratched at his jaw thoughtfully. “Broad.”

“I see.” You looked down at your feet for a moment before reaching out to touch him, fingers brushing over a fraying spot on the shirt, just below his collarbone. “I resisted the urge to do my own research.”

“Really?” Ezra cracked a faint smile, meeting your gaze. “I thought you would’ve returned with volumes of forgotten lore about my kind.” He waved his hand grandly. 

“Easy there Edgar Allen Poe.” You tapped your thumb against his collarbone. 

“There’s someone I haven’t read in awhile,” He hesitantly reached out and trailed his fingers down your side to rest at your hip. “Thank you for War & Peace and for the notes…”

“I made it through half of the novel before I started back here.” You brushed your fingers up the column on his throat, cupping his cheek. “Maybe I’ll add more notes before I leave again.”

“I think I would like that,” Ezra murmured, leaning in to kiss you. His hand snaked around from your side to the small of your back, pulling you towards him as you brushed your lips over his. 

You grabbed at his side, fingers sliding over the soft fabric of his shirt as you leaned against him. You let him guide the kiss — savoring the quiet hesitation of his movements as he explored your mouth all over again. 

Ezra guided you backwards, pinning you against the cool durasteel wall. He felt so much larger than you — all that wiry muscle felt like a solid mass beneath your fingers as you ran your hand up his chest. 

A quiet growl rose up in the back of his throat as your fingers slid through his hair, tugging at it just right. The sound reminded you of the beast — the massive hulk of a monster that could have torn you in two with his hands. 

You tensed and Ezra must’ve noticed the way your body went rigid beneath him. He rested his forehead against yours, “You found the honeysticks.”

“What?” You blinked up at him, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Oh! Yes. I have the cheese for you too.” 

Ezra exhaled heavily, before taking a step back. “I apologize if I ever overstepped—“

“No.” You shook your head, grabbing at his forearm before he could slip out of your hold. Maybe you should tell him what you saw. “It’s I, um.” You chewed on your bottom lip. “It’s new for me.” 

His eyes narrowed briefly as he studied your face. “Right.” Ezra breathed out, “Am I right in my recollection, that you have a lovely copy of Keats?”

“I do,” You slid your fingers down his arm, taking ahold of his hand and guiding him down the corridor to your quarters. It wasn’t much. 

A thin mattress topping the alcove bed that was just large enough for two. In a tight transport vessel, space had to be used wisely. A panel slid down from above the bed, transforming it into an additional desk space — not that you needed it. You had more than enough space for just you. 

“Make sure yourself comfortable,” You told Ezra, releasing your hold on his hand to move towards your stack of books. You knelt down, skimming your fingers over the spines until you spotted the book you were looking for. 

Carefully, you pulled it from the stack, balancing the other dozen books just right so they didn’t tumble over. “Keats’s Poetical Works.” You said as you brandished the worn green book and ran your thumb over the gilded gold design along its spine. “Which is your favorite?”

Ezra had crowded himself into the alcove of your bed, scratching at his scruffy jaw. “Ode on Melancholy.” 

“I don’t know what I expected,” You shook your head offering him a wry grin before flipping open the book to the index page, finding the number and turning to it. “No, no, go not to Lethe, neither twist. Wolf’s-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine; nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kiss’d.”

“Wolf’s bane. I had forgotten that line.” Ezra mused, his eyes raking over you briefly, before settling back on your face. “Go on.” 

You cleared your throat, shifting somewhat nervously on your feet before continuing. “By nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine. Make not your rosary of yew-berries. Nor let the beetle, nor the death-moth be. Your mournful Psyche, nor the downy owl. A partner in your sorrow’s mysteries; for shade to shade will come too drowsily. And drown the wakeful anguish of the soul.” 

Ezra watched you with a quiet reverence that you weren’t certain any other lover had looked at you with. It was hard to rectify the beast you had seen in the morning, with the man laying in your bed. 

You closed the book abruptly, faltering on the last few lines of the poem. “Sorry.”

“Little lamb, what is it?” Ezra questioned, his jaw clenched tight as he scooted to the edge of your bed. “I can go. There is no reason for me to overstay your—“

“I saw you this morning,” You blurted out, biting down on your bottom lip until you swore you tasted blood. 

“What?” He stared back at you blankly. “How is that possible?”

You blinked slowly, “Maybe it wasn’t you, but I saw someone this morning.” 

Ezra swallowed thickly. “Did it try to hurt you?”

“No.” You shook your head, closing the distance between the two of you, sinking down onto the edge of your bed beside him. “I was sitting outside reading and this herd of — I think they’re called Cervos — were grazing. This… this thing came out of the woods and.” You drew your knees to your chest, resting your chin there as you stared straight ahead. “I saw it’s eyes… your eyes.”

“I thought I had control.” Ezra’s voice wavered. “When you showed up yesterday, everything was still on fire.” 

“It’s been days since the full moon.” You tilted your head to look at him, “Are you using the lunaxium?”

“Yes.” He dragged his fingers through his hair as he hung his head. “I knew you were coming back, I wasn’t looking to ruin this. Not like this.” 

“Ezra,” You whispered, reaching out to curl your fingers around his shoulder. “You haven’t ruined anything. I’m here, aren’t I?” 

“Foolishly.” He reached up and took your hand off his shoulder, rubbing his thumb over the back of it as he brought it to his lips. “You should’ve washed your hands of Lykaois. There’s nothing here for you.”

“You’re here.” 

“And what am I?” He questioned, a sharp edge to his voice. “I don’t do pity. That may flatter others, but I’m not one of them. This can go nowhere. I will either hurt you or you will get bored and frankly, I prefer the latter.” 

Your mouth felt dry as you turned to stare at him, “I don’t do pity, either.” You managed, “And for someone who seems so hellbent on convincing me to leave, you’re holding my hand awfully tight.”

Ezra looked down at your entangled fingers.

“I could’ve left after what I saw this morning—“

“You should’ve.” 

“But I stayed.” You squeezed his hand tight. “And I let you in.” 

“I could hurt you.” 

“We’ve been through this, Ezra.” You held his gaze. “I nearly went back to jump on a voyage to the Green — I’m aware of imminent danger.”

“A dangerous journey to be certain.” His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip. “I wonder if I ate the cervos.”

“What?”

“I woke up starving, not at all like I’d just eaten my fill of a fresh kill.” His brows furrowed together. 

“I didn’t stick around to find out.” You made a face, leaving him with Keats as you got up from the bed to retrieve a honeystick from a pouch hanging off the corner of your shelf. “Here.” 

Ezra caught ahold of the stick as you tossed it to him. “You are an angel among the stars, moonbeam.”

“And you’re stuck with me.” You told him firmly, hands on your hips. “Not just because I bring you food.”

He flashed you a crooked grin that didn’t last nearly long enough as he sank back into the alcove of your bed. “You have blessed me with both companionship and the comforts that my belly has not known in many moons. Even if it’s a fool’s errand.” 

You watched as he tore open the end of the stick and sucked the honey from the tube. “I believe it tasted sweeter on your lips.”

“You’ve been among poets for too long.” 

Ezra winked at you, “Again and again, their spellbinding words keep me comfort on my loneliest nights.” He gave you a curious look, “And who keeps you warm at night, lamb?”

“Jealous?”

He pursed his lips, “I don’t think a man bound to a moon has any place to be jealous. I am simply curious to know what life is like for someone beyond my little world.”

“I’m not terribly exciting,” You admitted with a shrug as you sat down beside him again, removing your holster from your belt and settling it on the floor by your foot. “My last dalliance was two years ago?” You questioned, trying to recall just how long it had been. “We met at the cantina on the Block.”

“Gambling?” He questioned, before licking at the honeystick to get the last sticky drops. 

“I won the lion’s share that night.” You smirked at him. “Beat her less than fair and square and still woke up to her in my bed.” 

He nudged your leg with his knee, “Impressive.” 

“She was.” You arched a brow at him. “Played the long game too, because she stole a unit of cabalton from my room before she left. Worth more than anything she gambled away the night before.” 

Ezra laughed, shaking his head. “It would seem you have a type.”

“Oh?”

He nodded slowly, “That little trick sounds like the cunning games I once got up to. Perhaps this is karma.” 

“Well, karma was kind enough to allow me to cross paths with you.”

Ezra frowned, picking at a bit of fuzz on his shirt. “I suppose you’re right.” 

“I’m going to bring you new clothes when I come back,” You told him, reaching out to bat his fingers away from the fraying spot where the fuzz was. “Would you like that?”

“You have only been here one day, little lamb. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” 

You ignored him, “What size shoes do you wear?” 

Ezra sighed heavily, “You’ll have to get me out of them to find out. I haven’t a clue, honestly.” 

“Men.” You huffed. “I’m sure you’ll be out of everything sooner or later.”

“So sure of yourself.” 

“Says the man who tried to pin me against the wall within minutes of me letting them inside.”

“I—“

“I would be lying if I said I hadn’t envisioned something exactly like that since the last time.” You waved off his worries. “Will you read Keats to me?”

“Of course,” Ezra plucked up the book as you shuffled your pillows around so you could prop yourself up at his side. 

You were lulled into an unfamiliar contentment as he breathed steadily beside you, your eyes fixed on a little patch of belly that was visible where his shirt had ridden up from his pants. 

He licked the tip of his thumb as he turned the pages to his poem of choice. 

“Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art— Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night. And watching, with eternal lids apart, Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite. The moving waters at their priestlike task of pure ablution round earth's human shores or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask. Of snow upon the mountains and the moors—“

You were transfixed by the way his tongue never faltered over a word, his eyes scanning the page like he was revisiting old friends that he once knew as fondly as you knew them. 

“No—yet still stedfast, still unchangeable, pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast. To feel for ever its soft fall and swell awake for ever in a sweet unrest. Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, and so live ever—or else swoon to death.”

You should have known he’d choose Bright Star. Of all the poems, of all the pieces, it’s quiet longing, the comparison of nature and man’s unwavering steadiness — it seemed right.

Ezra tilted his head to look down at you, warm eyes meeting yours. It was hard to rectify what you had seen at the forest’s edge with the man beside you. They both had the same soft chestnut hair, the same kind eyes, but one looked made to tear you apart and the other looked—

“Does Keats always have such an arousing affect on you, little lamb?” He questioned, setting the book aside so he could curl his arm beneath you. 

You felt a warm flush burning at your cheeks as you tilted your face towards his, “I think it had everything to do with the man reading Keats.” You traced your thumb over the scar on his cheek. 

Ezra ran his tongue over his bottom lip, working his jaw slowly as he searched for his words, “After what you saw this morning, I understand if you would prefer that we just rest.” He told you, dragging his fingers over your side. 

“I should be afraid,” You brushed your fingers through the hair that fell against his forehead, combing them back to toy with the blonde patch of hair. “But I’m not, Ezra.”

He caught your hand, rubbing his thumb over your palm. “Did you think of me while you were gone?” Ezra questioned, looking hungrily between your eyes and lips. 

“Yes.” You felt a shiver race down your spine as he slotted his fingers in between yours, sliding his fingers against yours before curling them around your hand tightly. “But my fingers are poor substitutes for your cock.”

Ezra growled as he crawled over you, roughly dragging your arm above your head and pinning your hand back against the mattress. “I could still smell you in my bed.” He told you, pressing his thigh between your legs.

Your free hand slid under his shirt, greedy fingers sliding over his warm skin, nails scraping down his back. “Can you smell me right now?” You asked, rolling your hips towards the knee he had pressed between your thighs. 

He pressed his face into the crook of your neck, breathing heavily. “I could smell you yesterday morning,” He told you, releasing your hand and sliding his fingers down your forearm. “My sweet little lamb, coming to my door with thoughts of our last encounter burning at her core.”

“Ezra.” You moaned softly, curling your fingers into his hair. His mouth was a menace — his tongue flicked out over your pulse point, lips hot on your skin as he breathed out raggedly against your throat. 

His teeth scraped over your skin before he pulled back to meet your eyes. His warm brown eyes, were dark— pupils blown as he focused on you. “Tell me, little lamb… did you wish you had found more of the beast, than the man yesterday? Was it tempting fate that made you wet?” 

You inhaled sharply, sitting up to help as Ezra peeled your shirt off your body. His questions swirled in your mind and you wondered if he knew that those words alone had made that knot of arousal coil tighter within you. Because maybe they were true — before you had seen the beast for yourself. 

“Maybe,” You retorted, less certain of your voice than you realised. “We can talk about our twisted fantasies after you fuck me.” You tightened your grip on his hair and dragged him down for a kiss. 

Ezra growled against your lips. You both fumbled with each other’s pants, struggling to divest yourselves of everything that kept you from each other. 

You did have a twisted fantasy. You had lost count of how many times you’d revisited it in the time away from him. Running through the forest — hunted down by a fearsome beast that made your blood run hot in your veins. 

Ezra swore under his breath as he slid off your underwear, tossing them into the pile of discarded clothes alongside your bed. “I wish you knew how sweet you smell, little lamb.” His hand wandered down your stomach, slipping between your thighs to part your slick folds. 

Your head fell back against the mattress and you moaned out his name as he teased you. 

The beast always caught you. Claimed you. They were such vivid dreams — ones that you woke up from drenched in sweat and clenching around nothing but the memory of Ezra slamming into you. 

You scraped your nails down his back as you looked up at him, eyes half-lidded as settled between your thighs. 

“Can you take me, moonbeam?” He murmured, gliding the head of his cock over your sensitive cunt. 

You nodded and that was encouragement enough.

Ezra gripped at your hip hard enough to bruise as he buried the entire length of his cock into you with one swift thrust. 

“Don’t be gentle,” You urged him, tugging at the hair at the nape of his neck as you wrapped a leg around his hips, trying to drive him on. “Come on, Ezra.”

“Shh.” He murmured, brushing his fingers over your cheek as he looked down at you. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” You didn’t hesitate — even if you should’ve. 

“I want you to come for me. Just like this.” Ezra dropped his voice low. “I want to feel you come on my cock. Can you do that?” He questioned, brushing his thumb over your clit. 

“Fuc— yes!” You nodded your head, curling your fingers around the back of his neck as you looked up at him.

“Is this what you thought about?” He questioned, his eyes staying locked with yours as he stroked his thumb over your clit, keeping his cock buried within you. 

You bit down on your bottom lip, rocking your hips towards him as you arched your back up off the bed. “Never felt this good before.”

Ezra flashed a wicked smirk, “Always gonna think of me.” He dipped down to kiss you, his tongue playing over your bottom lip, seeking entrance into your mouth. 

He swallowed up your moan as you felt your body start to shatter around him. Your inner walls pulsed around the thick length of his cock as he kept a steady rhythm with his thumb against your clit. 

“Oh stars.” You hissed out, grabbing at his shoulders for support as he started to move above you, his fingers bit into your hip roughly, holding you steady. 

Ezra’s eyes fell closed, your name on his lips like a silent prayer as he rolled his hips. He barely gave you any time to come down from your high, before fucking you into your mattress. 

It was like white-hot pleasure coursing through you and you let yourself get swept up in the power of it all. Last time hadn’t been a fluke. 

You traced your fingers over the scars that curved over the back of his neck, guiding him back down for another kiss. 

Ezra’s teeth dragged over your bottom lip as he broke away from the kiss. “You covered?”

“Stim.” You promised him, shifting your arm enough for him to catch sight of the slightly raised patch on your arm. “Don’t stop.”

And he didn’t. 

Ezra caught your hand in his, intertwining your fingers and pinning your hand back against the bed as he filled you — again and again. His pace was brutal and you had a distinct feeling that you’d be feeling this tomorrow and the day after. 

He pressed his face against the hollow of your throat, breath hot against your skin as he stiffened above you, his release spilling within you. 

How were you supposed to just leave Lykaois and forget this? Where else could you find a man who loved to read as much as you did, whose honey-sweet voice spun golden webs of magic for your ears, and fucked you like a—

Beast. 

You lazily dragged your fingers through his hair. In a world where nothing was certain, nothing was guaranteed sometimes it was worth it just to pursue the things that made you feel. No matter how dangerous they were. 

Ezra rolled off of you, wedging himself into the space between you and the wall at the back of the alcove. “Damn.” He chuckled, raking his hands over his face, before nearly folding them against his chest. 

You rolled onto your side to face him, reaching out to trail one finger down the back of his hand. “That good?” You teased lightly. 

He nodded his head, before tilting his face towards you. “This has been good for me.” Ezra told you. “I can just forget for a few minutes.” 

“It’s been good for me too.” You pressed a kiss to the curve of his shoulder, running your hand down his chest, over the soft skin of his stomach, before curling your hand around his waist as you settled into his side. “You’re not going to run me away, Ezra.”

“I don’t want to,” Ezra admitted, kissing the top of your head, exhaling heavily. “But if I’m not as in control of it.”

“When I go back to the Block, I’m going to do more research on Lykaois.” You explained to him, sliding your fingers over his side. “There has to be more that we don’t know.”

“I can…” Ezra dragged his fingers through his hair. “I can try to make contact with the others. Maybe they know more.”

“Have you ever interacted with them?”

“In the beginning.” He shrugged a shoulder, scratching at his jaw. “They’re feral even when they’re like this. A glimpse into my cruel future.” 

“Ezra—“

He shook his head, “I have had five years to accept that one day, I will no longer be me.” Ezra tilted his head to look at you, a sad smile on his lips. “If only you had turned up earlier.” 

You closed the distance between the two of you, pressing your lips to his. “I’m here now.”

[barnesandco]

Eat the Rich: Chapter 2

Eat the Rich Masterlist

The Avengers are tasked with tracking down an elusive thief, and retrieving the grand amounts of money she has stolen. Even after capture, she turns out to be impossible to break, save for a mystifying interest in Bucky.

Written for @mermaidxatxheart​ ‘s #jamiesmadwritingbash, under the Robin Hood AU prompt.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: mentions of Bucky’s Hydra days, and a short mention of dissociation. Disaster Avengers having breakfast.

A/N: I really really really love that people are saying they like the reader bc that’s the character people envision themselves as when they insert themselves into this kind of fanfic. I hope you enjoy what more we get to see of the reader here. So enjoy, and please continue to reblog and comment -- it makes this so much fun!

I’m not doing taglists, but you can follow and turn on notifications for @ayeshaupdates​​ to be notified when I post.

Divider by the fantastically talented @whimsicalrogers​​!

The dispute that had ensued after Bucky had voiced his wish to Steve had turned to resigned acceptance by the time the first slivers of dawn had started to creep across pristine floors, and Bucky found himself victorious. It's a grim glory that accompanies him down the hall and into the cell you had been moved into for the night. There's no mode of observation for this room, save for the presently closed viewing panel in the door. It's really early, and even though he doubts that you're asleep, given the stressful circumstances, his hand pauses where it's about to knock on the door.

With Steve having left for his run with Sam, and the others asleep or inactive in some way, shape or form, he's alone in the silver hallways of this portion of the Compound. Hand still in the air, tight fist, white knuckles and lip bitten red, and then he composes himself. Stepping away, he sits down on the floor, back against the wall and knees pulled up. 

While he waits, he listens, even if all he can hear is his own heartbeat and the faint, collective chorus of the birds chirping. The sturdy walls and doors between your bed and his floor prevent any speculation on your activities, since the only monitoring permitted is that of vital signs so an alert can be raised if there is danger. He could open the panel, but that might wake you and he doesn't want that. Whether this disruption, and how it is sure to initiate the crucial dialogue he’s here for, is undesired for his sake or yours is unclear. 

His head meets the metal behind him, and the cold stings at his scalp, but Bucky stays that way. Likes the cold bite of it, on occasions such as these, when he needs the ice-crystal clarity of mind, and he knows it'll warm up soon, under his touch. Likes knowing that Hydra doesn't control him all the time, that he can feel the prickle of freezing skin without having a debilitating flashback to cryostasis is indicative of how far he's come. He's no longer the man Steve flew to New Zealand for a month after he had a hellish dissociative episode courtesy of New York's first snowfall.

The metal thaws behind him, sunlight through the thin sliver of window at the top of the wall slides higher on the door. Opalescent solar glare on silver steel, half a rainbow in his exhausted eyes, and the weight of evaporating dew in the air is what precedes a conversation that has his stomach in knots and crosses.

The digital, holographic clock strikes nine above the cell door. 

Rising to his feet, Bucky can feel every single one of his 103 years in his back, the avoirdupois of a century's lamentable events on his weary shoulders. So he does a breathing exercise before he tries the door again.

Allowing his lungs to expand to their full capacity, and then holding that breath there until his alveoli scream, before exhaling in a rush of sweet-cereal scented breath, makes him feel less stone-like. More muscle than metal, soft and pliable and open. Steve would argue that that's perilous, here, in front of a woman who's so touch-and-go, all breakneck smiles, but he's not an Avenger when he enters that room -- he's Bucky Barnes, looking for more pieces of himself, pieces that he'll never find if his eyes are shut tight against the impact.

You answer upon the second knock. "Come in." Your voice lilts to a light taunt, but it’s effect is minimized by the drowsy scratch of your voice. Opening the door after letting it recognize his irises, Bucky thinks that the same can be said about the Christmas-just-came-early spark in your eyes, when they're underlined by dark bags. You're still wearing the green hoodie.

" 'Morning," he says softly, pausing in the doorway. The cell contains a metal chair of the same style as those in the interrogation rooms, and the cot you're sitting up in, back against the wall behind you. There's a small door in one corner that he knows leads to a toilet cubicle.

"To what do I owe this extraordinary pleasure, Mr. Barnes?"

"Bucky," he blurts unthinkingly, and your eyes widen in surprise and amusement. His guard is down, and he needs to be cautious. "And you can thank yourself for being so goddamn persistent and getting on everybody’s nerves."

The smirk brought to your face is aimed at your hands, bound loosely in front of you. A more tender expression than most seen before. The long, fretful night seems to be taking its toll on you. Perhaps you’re slipping. Or perhaps you’re pretending to, his instincts warn. He sighs, clenches his hands into fists, lets his nails dig into his palm. Metal whirs, purrs, and he releases when you move both bound hands towards the chair in front of you. 

Bucky sits down, rubs his palms back and forth over his thighs, lets the grainy feel of the denim under scratch at his hands. "You know me,” he begins.

"Not nearly as well as I'd like,” you say with a grin, looking up from your hands. He glowers. 

"I'm serious."

Your smile widens. "So am I. Come a little closer. I don't bite,” you tease, and he decides to take you up on it. Gets up and sits on the cot a couple of feet away from you, folding one leg up so his foot is under his thigh and keeping the other on the floor. You’re unfazed at having your bluff called. "...Unless you want me to,” you finish, and he ignores it. 

"You kept asking for me while you were being questioned.”

“You were watching? Did you like what you see?”

The temptation to roll his eyes is strong, but he manages to hold it in check, and fixes a strong focus on you. This is important. It’s about his life. “You wanted to talk to me, so here I am. Now let’s talk.”

“Where would you like to start?”

“How about your name?”

“Oh, you’ll have to get to know me a little better if you want me to give up that secret. Try again," you urge, and he huffs. Like drawing blood from a rock. 

Every question he could ask, every query he needs an answer to is being whirled around in the chaotic storm in his head, and it's so difficult to pick out just one. “Have we met?” He decides upon, momentarily forgoing the alternatives: Who are you? Why do I feel like I know you? Why do I feel like you're important? What part of me do you hold in those bound hands of yours?

Head tilted upwards, you consider the ceiling while searching for an answer. “Briefly.” And then you pause. Bite your lip, look down, make a so-so motion with your head. “Well, I wouldn’t say met, exactly. I wreaked some havoc and you watched.” That tells me jack-shit, sweetheart.

“When?”

“February of 2013," you respond instantaneously. Good memory. That's useful. 

“So I was with Hydra," he assumes, instantly going down all the roads he might know you by. A mission, a murder, more violence, another apology. Were you partners in crime, or his target? Or were you just in the way?

“I don’t agree with that phrasing, but yes, I suppose so."

“Did we work together?” He dares to question. 

There's a change: a tangible shift in the atmosphere, like the scent of ozone in the air before a thunderstorm. The stiffening of your posture, how you sit up straighter but hunch your shoulders against some invisible attack tells him he's touching a nerve, nearing cyclone waters. It takes a moment for the mask to fall back into place over your face, before you're able to answer, with venom, repulsed. “God, no. I would never work for them.” It's the most sincere emotion he's heard from you, this disgust. It eases him to know how strongly you feel about Hydra, but he’s wary of your raw response to it.

So, he treads more kindly. Softly. On eggshells sharp and off-white, feeling his way around the balance of your temper. “Then how did we meet?”

“I was on a heist,” you say, matter-of-factly. In your tone of voice, now even and professional, it sounds like the most natural thing in the world. As though stealing from megalomaniac neo-Nazis is just another day at work.

“What kind of heist? Who sent you?” Bucky observes the way you're pulling the edges of your sleeves over your hands as much as you can with your restraints. At this question, your smile returns, and he relaxes. Can now feel his leg falling asleep under him now that he's not so tense.

“Nobody sent me. I’m a free agent. I work for myself,” you announce, chin up. 

“What were you going to steal from Hydra?” He asks, and your head turns slowly towards him, firework sparkle meeting level, cool, sky-blue, a hurricane simmering behind his irises.

“You.”

“We did not sign up for this,” Barton grumbles from his second cup of coffee -- addicts, the lot of them -- adjusting his hearing aid with a frown on his face at the turn of events. 

Sam clears his throat, setting down a half-empty glass of orange juice next to Natasha’s espresso on the table and speaks next, “That’s messed up, man, that’s really, really messed up.” This is said with a shake of his head, and Bucky, having no response to either Barton or Sam, addresses Steve.

“There’s something she’s not telling me, Rogers.” He uses the last name to revert to the days of talking shop in green tents with the gravity of impending shelling in the air. Life or death, and though the circumstances aren’t quite so acute right now, this is a grave matter, too. Steve's standing hunched over the kitchen island, arms outstretched and hands flat on the granite surface, studying the pattern like it holds all the answers. 

Bucky watches him think, but Stark, in Spider-Man PJs and the bed-head of the century, strolls into the kitchen at a leisurely pace and interrupts. “There are a lot of things she’s not telling you. Who she is, where the money is, wh--”

“She’s not telling me why," Bucky interrupts a tirade that he knows could continue forever, given the chance. “People don’t go around stealing super soldier assassins for the hell of it.”

“Maybe she’s working for someone who wanted you to work for them instead of Hydra," Peter suggests over a ridiculously large bowl of ridiculously colorful cereal at the breakfast nook.

“She doesn’t work for anyone. Says she’s a free agent."

“And you believe her?” Sam wonders. It's a genuine question, curious but not dismissive or doubtful. 

“Barnes has quite the built-in lie detector," Nat tells Sam from next to him, her yoga-pant clad legs splayed across another chair. Yeah, he’s good at telling when people are being dishonest, but there’s also the fact this woman is way too fearless, fucking crazy to be made to do anyone's bidding. No chance in Hell does she takes orders. 

Tony slumps in an orange loveseat. “Must be a Russian thing," he quips, and then breaks out into a yawn.

Bucky puts his hands on his hips and glares at all of them, by turn, sharply. "Would you let me finish?" He demands. "She couldn't tell me why she was going to steal me from Hydra, but she said she'd show me." One could hear a pin drop in this room, now, the bustle of Avengers replaced by the obviously preposterous proposition Bucky's relaying. "Just me," he adds.

"Me?" He asks, voice rising in pitch and volume, and he fights to control both, rising to his feet. "Why would you steal me?"

"Have you seen you?" You ask back, eyes scintillating, glowing with mirth. "Gorgeous hair, those eyes, and hands that I'm sure know how to treat a girl right.”

Bucky looks daggers at you, and you look back. "I'm serious."

"I thought you were Bucky,” you say innocently, and he thinks he could scream in frustration, but he drops down, kneels just beside where you sit, and holds onto the edge of the cot like it’s the end of the world he’s falling off of.

"I don't think you understand how important this is to me. You know something about me you won't say. I've been trying to put together my past so I can understand myself better and you have a piece of my history. I need to know,” he enunciates each word as if it’s his last. Needs to convey the severity of the situation, how he has been trying to rebuild himself into a new life from the scraps of the old ones. He’s aware that he’s complete as he is but he also makes choices for himself now, and he chooses to know.

You look down, and although it’s your hands that are bound, you offer a golden prayer. "Let me show you." A lifeline, something he doesn’t want to believe and doesn’t know if he can trust. Hence, the question:

"What?"

A sad shrug of your shoulders is the first answer, and it all starts to unravel from there. "I can't tell you, I really can't. It's complicated and a really long story--"

Bucky elevates himself on his knees, his fingers dig in a little tighter, and the metal of the bed begins to creak ever so slightly. "The way I see it, we have all the time in the world, darlin'," he says in a thick voice, emotion simmering at the corners of his lips.

"Darlin'?" You can’t help but ask, without any flirt this time, any teasing, just a question in a tone as surprised as he is at the slip of tongue.

Bucky decides to ignore the interruption. "So let's start at the beginning.”

Fervently, you shake your head. "I can't." At his wide-eyed disbelief, "I mean it, I can't."

"No, you can, you just won't,” he insists.

"We could have a grammar lesson if you want, or I could show you why I was going to steal the Winter Soldier."

"What do you mean show me?" Bucky asks, moving to sit on the chair again. Leaning forward, he places his hands on his thighs, looks into your eyes to pull forth the words you won’t give him.

You blink, unbudgingly. "I have to take you somewhere. It's the only way to explain."

A sharp bark of a laugh escapes him, and he shakes his head as it recedes into chuckles. Your face is now blank and expressionless, gauging how to handle this, and he gives you the first response that comes to mind. "You're full of shit."

"What happened to darlin' ?"

Meeting your eyes, he says, “You want me to let you out so you can escape. A five-year-old could see through that.” Then, Bucky leans back in his chair, crosses one ankle over the other as well his arms. His hooded gaze is at a stalemate with yours, and it’s a hopeless tug of war. So this is how it ends. A night spent sleepless in vain, a few battle bruises and the tug of disappointment in his belly.

A dismal, and last-ditch sigh ripples through the air, from lips dark and worried bloody. Your eyes look overcast and you open and close your mouth repeatedly to say something, but do not voice your thoughts. Giving you the time to formulate whatever perfect sentence you’re trying to utter is torturous, but he waits. Until you stop, speechless, and he gets to his feet. Turns to the door, and then you speak from behind him, while his hand hovers over the handle.

"Let me take you, and only you, to the place you need to see, and I'll cooperate. I'll give you what I have left of the money, and I'll plead guilty in court and serve my time.” Bucky freezes. "Just come with me,” and you’re the one making requests, making pleas now. It’s inexplicable, he knows he should be looking this particular gift horse in the mouth, and he convinces himself that he will, in time, but right now, he accepts.

"Was that an innuendo?" He asks, still facing away, the question indicating a truce.

"If you want it to be," you say, and he turns around to look at you. "What do you say, Barnes, are we going on a road trip?

Hope swells somewhere in him he thought had been long abandoned for darker days and arduous nights. The same intuition that taught him to ask for this piece of himself tells him something is coming. Something that’s going to make a difference.

"Bucky. It's Bucky. And yeah, I guess we are.”

[greydoesthearts]

A Visit With Marvin : The Holiday Part 1

Outside, the storm continued on, raging against the sky and streets so they couldn't tell if it was day or night—they were lucky it hadn't yet knocked out their power, as the clocks became a reliance for the two sharing the small apartment.

Something positive about it, though, was the fact that they were even together. Chase and Marvin hadn't seen each other for a few months, so when Marvin called him up a few days ago with an invitation to the mall for some not-quite last minute holiday shopping, Chase took the opportunity in an instant, despite how strange he initially felt.

It had been four days since then, and the time they'd spent together had proven beneficial for both of their mental health, but the arrangement was still set to end in the next week.

"Hey, I made something for you," Marvin whispered, walking into the living room with a tray and two big mugs. "Coffee, with a little something special."

Chase smiled, backing away from the fireplace shelf holding two stockings that Marvin swore up and down he'd bought on accident. Chase didn't have the means to dispute it, putting them up for them and sneaking folded up drawings into the one Marvin had claimed, so he had something to look forward to on Christmas, since they hadn't been able to get out again for more gifts. "Thank you."

"Mhm." Marvin set the tray down on the coffee table and lead the way to the couch, beckoning Chase closer and pulling the blanket up around him. They grabbed their drinks and Chase watched Marvin take a big sip from his first, before trying his own.

"Eggnog?" he asked quietly under the sound of the fireplace crackling. "It's good, I'm not complaining, but very..."

"Strong?" Marvin helped. "Yeah, I know. Figured you could use the kick since I can't get you any alcohol right now with this weather."

Chase paused, staring into the depths of his cup and keeping his voice quiet. "I'm not supposed to drink, anyway. You know that. Don't feed into the temptation just to make me happy while I'm here."

"Because it's temporary and you don't want to get attached?" Marvin asked, watching as Chase's head shot up, but he continued quickly with, "Because it doesn't have to be."

Chase set his mug down, curling his arms around his legs. "What do you mean by that?"

"Well, I know we said the holidays, but if you'd like, I can easily clean up some more and give you the extra room to yourself. You don't have to go back to the others if you don't want to."

Chase scratched the back of his neck. This was the first time they'd talked about this since the first day. "I don't know. I lost my phone and can't talk to any of the others because of it, or my kids once Christmas actually comes. But at the same time I feel so not caged here. You let me be myself, and you always did stick up for me when the others tried to boss me around."

"I've always only wanted the best for you," Marvin admitted, setting his cup down, too. He watched the tree lights twinkle, almost distractedly mumbling, "You're something special, Chase."

"What?" Chase asked. Marvin shook his head but didn't answer more. "I mean, I guess I feel the same? I don't know. Like I said, you let me be myself, but you're so aloof sometimes I didn't know how to approach you. You're unpredictable, and sometimes your magic goes haywire with your emotions, and-"

He stopped, looking at the tree to try and see what Marvin was seeing. He hadn't taken his magic back off the branches after they'd bought the thin, scraggly tree, leaving it with a slight glittery effect that you'd only see if you were specifically looking for it. But Marvin's focus wasn't on that, it was on the ornaments—specifically the ones he'd let Chase pick out the day they got here. "The little snowman one. Why did you refuse to grab it at the store?"

'Then Chase stopped, a small ornament of a snowman on a dark blue backdrop catching his eyes. It had a black top hat and a blue and purple scarf, light blue glitter surrounding it like Marvin's own magic.'

Chase put his legs down, turning his head to look at the clock. "Not sure. I guess... I knew what the others would have liked, but I didn't want to disappoint you with my choice."

"Is that a legitimate fear? Disappointing me?" Marvin asked, collecting himself enough to grab his dark blue mug again and take a couple big gulps of the warm liquid.

"Maybe," Chase said simply. 'But it doesn't have to be,' played Marvin's earlier words in his head. "I think it's going to be a reason I would want to leave. You know me so well, but I don't know you at all. I could get over it with time, but I only have a week until Christmas is gone. Do I want to stay? Yeah. Do I think it'll be awkward? Also yeah. I just..."

"It's late, Chase," Marvin interrupted. He smiled at Chase as he looked at him. "It's all right. Mull it over a while. You have more time than you think. And whatever you choose, I can't be mad. I promise, it will all be okay in the end."

Chase nodded. "Yeah, you're right. Maybe not being so tired will make it easier. And it's just some books in the room, nothing you need to get rid of. We can just organise some, tomorrow, yeah?" He stood and stretched, waiting for Marvin's response, though it was quiet when it arrived.

"Tomorrow."

"Betcha I can get ready for bed before you," Chase challenged to break the tension, spinning to meet Marvin's teary blue eyes. He ignored that, hoping for a more hyped response, but just getting a tired smile.

"Get a head start, I'm going to clean up the dishes. Good night, Chaser."

"Night, Marv," Chase smiled back. When Marvin stood, he went for a hug, grunting at the unexpected force the magician put into it. "Okay, okay, can't breathe, dude."

Marvin finally let go on his own, letting Chase walk off with a small bout of laughter bubbling out of him. He did the dishes, listening to Chase mess with the bathroom faucet, before finally hearing his door close and seeing the light go out. He put his head on the counter, then got ready to leave, feeling bad for the small lie, but knowing Chase was always quick asleep. As long as he timed it right, he'd never know he left.

.

Jackie hopped along the rooftops carefully, his boot treads catching into them to ensure he wouldn't fall, but having a couple near misses here and there. He preferred roofs with steeper tops so that his hands had something to latch onto as a rest spot, but they were extremely hard to find normally, let alone in this storm. He also normally wouldn't have gone out in weather like this, but when Chase had left a phone number with a note that just said, "Meeting Marvin, see ya later," then not returned, he felt the climbing urge to investigate. Even if Marvin had left quietly, he'd always thought it slightly suspicious, but then coming back and targeting Chase of all people? There was nothing more he wanted than to give that bratty magician a piece of his mind.

As of yet he'd been completely unsuccessful in tracking him down, but he felt he was getting closer each time he tried. He didn't have any leads, exactly, but knowing Marvin he really wouldn't have wanted to stray far.

He stopped, holding the peak of one of the buildings. It wasn't tall, he would barely twist his ankle if he fell, but that still didn't make it appealing. It was just his best bet to take a look around for anything that might seem familiar—the scent of magic, or something similar. He sniffed the air, mostly getting the smell of people cooking a late dinner, but vaguely in the distance, the leathery scent of Marvin's magic. The wind had to be pushing it closer, because it was so faint he almost thought he was making it up, and that didn't make it enough of a clue.

He started to move to the next roof, when all of a sudden the scent hit him like a wall, knocking him back. He caught himself before he fell, and spun toward it, finding a faint blue outline standing on the street under him, the aura peeking ever-so-slightly through the snow. "What are you doing?" it called, and he'd know that voice anywhere. His breath caught, but before he could try to get down to it, the scent got somehow stronger as it teleported right behind him, grabbing his arm. "I'll ask again, what are you doing?"

Jackie spun again, digging his heel into the roof. "Marvin," he replied, awestruck. Snow was gathered on his dark hair and the shoulders of his cloak, glowing nearly ethereally in the night. His mask that used to be a pristine white had a burn on the left side, the same spot a scar was peeking from under it. Any other words got lost on his tongue as he stared, but he noticed Marvin was starting to grow impatient. "I wanted to check on Chase, a-and you."

Marvin scoffed, letting Jackie's arm go with a slight shove that barely made him budge. "You mean you want him back. You don't care about me. He's perfectly fine, I would never hurt a hair on his head."

"No, I, I know that," Jackie said back quickly. "I was just worried. We haven't heard anything from him in days; his phone was left at home, though, so that's understandable..." he trailed off, the snow drifting onto them in droves. He looked toward the sky, clearing his mind a little. "He could have come home, I know it's your fault he hasn't."

The accusation settled in the air between them.

"And what if that weren't the case?"

"That's what I know to be true. Chase wouldn't just decide something like that by himself."

"Maybe you don't know him as well as you think."

Jackie tensed, looking back down at Marvin, setting his feet like he was about to take off into the air. "Liar."

"What? Can't handle that you aren't the sole decider for anybody younger than you? That they're not babies you can just boss around? The others will turn on you, too, eventually. Chase hasn't been this happy since I was still around-" Jackie laughed suddenly, but Marvin kept on- "and you just can't accept that." Then Jackie did what Marvin thought he was going to, kicking off the roof, his eyes lighting up bright white through the snow in a blatantly fear-induced anger. He tried to go higher, but Marvin was quick to grab him by the foot and pull him roughly back to solid ground. "Admit it!"

"No, because it's not true!" Jackie realised he'd yelled and took a breath, saying the next bit slowly. "I'll call tomorrow. Just... tell him I want to check in. Give him this." Jackie shook Marvin off and pulled out Chase's phone, setting it in Marvin's waiting hand. "And you know what? I overreacted. I don't really care if he wants to stay with you, so long as you're taking care of him," he lied, squinting his eyes under his own mask. "Have fun while you can, though. It won't last with him. You're going to want him gone as soon as he has his next breakdown."

He started to go again, and Marvin let him, but not without some parting choice words. "If that's how you actually think of him, then I'll tell him that! He'll never trust you again!" He stepped toward the edge of the building, watching Jackie fly off, before suddenly finding he'd teleported back to his own apartment by some subconscious need. He checked to make sure Chase was still sleeping, then returned to his own bedroom. He'd have to make the best of this week so that Chase would absolutely want to stay with him. Since when had Jackie become such a controlling, petty jerk, anyway? Yet another mystery within their little group that he'd have to figure out.

He shucked out of his clothes and barely made it into his pyjamas before promptly passing out, the exhaustion taking it's toll.

[darkpoisonouslove]

A Fairy Stripped Down

Summary: Innocent banter turns into some not so innocent teasing that makes it hard for Faragonda to gather her mind and help Griffin put hers at ease.

This is the fic I’ve been meaning to edit for almost a month. I was clearly messing with some prompts but this time I tried to go easy on the angst and emotionality and focus on the smut (more or less). I thought it was time to write Griffin as the initiator/top.

CW: explicit sexual content, teasing

Griffin emerged in the doorway to the kitchen, a light dress–by her standards anyway–thrown over her sleep-laden frame. It was a rare occurrence for her to be the one waking up to breakfast and Faragonda savored it while she could. She just wished she could mark the occasion better.

“I’m all out of tea.” She looked if she’d need to catch Griffin's lips in a kiss the moment the corners of her mouth dropped under the disappointing news.

“I can do with coffee,” Griffin leaned on the door frame, gaze pinned on Faragonda like she was a rare flower that would run away without the light of Griffin's eyes. “This time.”

Faragonda would be running to the store as soon as breakfast was eaten and her legs were no longer made of jello. “How do you take it?” She almost knocked down the sugar in her instinctive search for the honey.

“As dark and bitter as my soul.” The curve of Griffin's lips soothed the alarm rising inside her. They were good. Good and dramatic.

“So pink and sparkly then?” Faragonda tapped the mug before offering it to Griffin, the swishing liquid inside changing colors faster than Griffin pushed herself off the door frame.

“Did you just call me a fairy?” The steam from the coffee swirled around Griffin, swept by the flow of her magic.

Faragonda held the mugs close to her chest where Griffin wouldn't knock them out of her hands. “You are in love with a fairy.”

“That’s as close as I’m getting to one.” It was hard to take in anything other than Griffin's breath with her face shoved into Faragonda’s, the proximity speaking of the nature of the bite.

“There are fairies that are malevolent and cause trouble.”

The coffee swirled, black again in both mugs, when Griffin extracted them from her grip and left her hands squeezing into nothing despite the witch’s closeness. Grasping at her was all her mind and body were capable of.

Griffin set down the mugs on the table slowly without breaking eye contact. “If you were properly familiarized with a witch, you wouldn’t argue. And to think you’ve been living with one for so long. I’ll have to make you pay closer attention.”

Faragonda was pressed between Griffin's body and the kitchen counter before she could utter a single sound of protest. The debate slipped away from her mouth with Griffin's lips tickling her cheek in a pseudo innocent smile tantalizing her. She was in for the long haul.

Her hands clamped down on Griffin's shoulders, the world crumbling under her feet when Griffin hoisted her up on the counter. Griffin's mouth was drinking in the erratic pattern of her breath in the hollow of her throat. Her hands only brushed over Faragonda’s breasts resisting the temptation to study their rhythm of rising and falling. Instead, her fingers traced between, her magic making the buttons on Faragonda’s shirt pop open to expose the skin underneath to Griffin's kisses.

She trailed a heated path down to the waistline of Faragonda’s skirt. The fabric dissolved in the magic of her touch to let her trace feather-light caresses with her fingertips over Faragonda’s excited flesh.

She bucked into Griffin's palm when the witch hooked a finger under the waistband of her panties. She’d scratched her sensitivity raw with her phantom strokes. She needed a firm touch, as strong as her tugging on Griffin's dress, useless as it was with her magic out of reach and Griffin so firmly grounded in driving her wild with yearning.

Faragonda wrapped her legs around Griffin's waist. “Griffin, please.” She swallowed the stillness of anticipation stretching around them like background music for her desire to drip to.

Griffin touched her forehead to Faragonda’s, keeping her lips just out of reach. “Are you wet for me yet?” she left her panties alone instead of slipping a hand in them to check for herself. Her fingertips marked Faragonda’s thigh with their gentle presence while her other hand pulled on the clasps of Faragonda’s bra. She was disregarding her magic and her own desire to torture Faragonda.

“We’re past that point,” Faragonda rasped. She’d grind against her if Griffin weren’t holding down her hips, a discreet hum slipping from her throat at Faragonda’s eagerness. “What more do you want?” She’d offer anything even if she’d kept nothing to herself. All her need was on display where Griffin had pulled it with ease and no resistance from her.

Griffin leaned in against her ear, the breath from her parted lips becoming a shiver in Faragonda’s naked being. “To remind you of the witch you’re dealing with.” She sucked on Faragonda’s earlobe driving Faragonda’s nails into her sides hard through the fabric of her dress. It drew a quiet whine between Griffin's lips, her voice prickling directly over Faragonda’s ear and deep inside her.

“How can I forget?” Griffin was all over her, always. Her touch on Faragonda’s skin, her heat in Faragonda’s heart. Even dimensions apart, they were still each other’s.

“I’ll make sure you can’t.” The playfulness of Griffin's voice slipped on the raw note behind it.

Faragonda’s love confession plunged back into her throat as she sucked in a breath in tact with her bra dropping off her shoulders. She hadn’t noticed it springing free under Griffin's deft fingers but it stripped her thought away. All that was left was her exposed skin and Griffin's wet mouth sucking on one hardened nipple to tease her with an echo of the throb between her legs that were forced to release the witch and give her room to work.

Her breathing turned heavy with her breasts in Griffin's palms and the witch’s wicked tongue stroking wet heat over her sensibilities slowly and purposefully. Her mind was slipping off the edge of the pleasure-torment Griffin was holding her on.

She slid a hand in Griffin's hair to tangle herself there, her fingers drawing a hungry moan that freed her nipple from Griffin's lips. Her hands stilled on Faragonda’s chest, her mouth hanging open to let through her appreciation of the tugs and caresses to her tresses. Her eyelids shut in the brightness of her eyes as bliss took over her features. Her pleased purrs reverberated through Faragonda to feed the intensity of the want pulsating inside her. Griffin was tempting her without lifting a finger, the only thing rising the pitch of her voice.

Griffin's warm fingerprints on her hip startled her with the disappearance of her underwear. Another play of Griffin's that had slipped through her fingers in her distraction. And now the witch was following, dragging the wetness of her lips over her belly again and making the muscles underneath clench in anticipation.

Faragonda gave her the slack to drop to her knees but kept both hands in the purple locks to hold Griffin no more than an inch away from her body at all times. An inch away from where she wanted her was all Griffin left in the room as she paused. Even Griffin's breath was held safely in her lungs where it wouldn’t disturb the loaded atmosphere and Faragonda mirrored her, stilling her hips as they strained to buck into the pleasure of Griffin’s mouth.

In the quiet of the kitchen Griffin's magic hit like an earthquake shaking Faragonda’s perception and making her stomach drop. They followed through the void of space to a cushioned landing on their own bed.

Griffin's tongue thrust inside her to fill her instead of disorientation. She gasped and trembled at the fullness, her voice strangled in the lack of oxygen in her lungs. Her eyes welled up at the sudden cut through the emptiness inside her only for the water to settle again with the retreat of Griffin's tongue.

“Your thighs are already shaking,” Griffin was so close to her arousal her husky voice was almost muffled. Her fingers lazily drew patterns in Faragonda’s thighs even though she didn’t have to look to know the witch’s eyes were darkened with desire to a perfect reflection of her own. She would torture herself just to torture Faragonda. To prove a point that had no place between them. Even with the emotional distance of fights they’d gotten into, it had never stood between them and would never get the chance.

“Don’t tease me,” Faragonda heaved, her grip on Griffin's locks tightening to cause a hitch in the witch’s breath tickling her heated flesh.

Griffin had her moaning in return as she dipped her head in again to leave the wetness coating her lips over Faragonda’s lower belly. “If you don’t like my teasing,” her teeth grazed the sensitive skin, “then why are you moaning?”

She flashed her a big, bright smile before her tongue darted out to lap at the place where Faragonda’s thigh met her hip and she was lost. So close to the pleasure she wanted and so far away, wrapped in Griffin's presence all the same. Her fingers twitched in Griffin's hair, never tugging hard on it, just enough to hear a low groan from Griffin between her own even though she could pull Griffin to pleasuring her by the hair. She was all Griffin's to take at whatever pace her witch’s heart was operating at.

A whine of protest tore from her to crash into Griffin where she was climbing up her body. Griffin's kisses appeased both her heart and the witch’s agenda. She only writhed when her hands were pried out of Griffin's hair and pressed into the mattress. Griffin's body pinned hers down so there was space only between their faces. Space Faragonda strained to overcome to bring their lips together.

Griffin pulled back, keeping them apart far longer than necessary. “Careful now.” Her voice was mellow again as if Faragonda’s arousal had been rich honey in her mouth. “Once you taste my lips, there will be no leaving my world. That’s the only way in which I could ever resemble a fairy.”

Faragonda surged forward and captured Griffin's lips. The witch melted into her embrace that had always been saved for her.

[artificialqueens]

Everybody Knows You're High, 4/4 (Rajila) - Dartmouth420

Summary: It’s not just the weed this time, Raja’s in love, and Manila’s about to make a confession.

A/n: this is one long-ass chapter of feelings and lesbian porn lmao. this is specifically for the anon from a few weeks ago who requested manila smut, here ya go :P also thank u to V&albatross for your encouragement and for letting me play in your world lol <3

tw: weed, mild second-hand embarrassment, smut: 80% sexy, 20% disgusting, 100% dumb ;)

Manila stood in her steamy bathroom leaning against the edge of the sink, with a towel wrapped around her body, and stared at herself in the mirror.

Last night had been… a lot.

She’d just gotten out of the shower, and there were dark circles under her eyes from the late night, the stress and the hangover. The hangover wasn’t as bad as Manila thought she deserved. Chugging straight vodka from the bottle in a state of emotional turmoil had been a terrible idea.

However, a part of herself that she’d been suppressing for too long was raising its head, this time with hope. Parsing out what Raja had been trying to say last night had practically required a cryptographer, but Manila was like eighty-seven percent sure that Raja had said she liked her, and was interested in… maybe dating. Or something. It all got a little blurry after she’d kissed Raven.

Manila stuck her tongue out at herself in the mirror and left the bathroom, walking quickly down the hall in her towel to her room to get dressed. She examined one of her nicer shirts, and that corduroy mini-skirt she liked, and then decided not to get her hopes up. She pulled on a pair of dark blue sweatpants with the college’s name written across the butt. But her hand lingered over her one of her nice bras, an elegant black one with red lining, and after a brief but eventful internal wrestling match, she put it on. And covered it with a T-shirt and a hoodie.

After having breakfast, drying her hair, scrolling through her phone, cleaning the bathroom, killing time and receiving no texts from Raja, but not sending any either, Manila put her hands on her hips and sighed.

Manila had two choices. She could go across the street and actually talk to Raja about her feelings, or she could drop out of college, move to Canada, change her identity, burn her fingerprints off with acid and start again as an entirely new person.

Despite the strong temptation of option two, Manila chose option one and rushed out the door before she could psych herself out. She hurried up to to the familiar house across the street and a few doors down. Manila took a nervous breath as she knocked on Raja’s front door, immediately regretting that she hadn’t texted or something before just showing up. Maybe Raja wasn’t awake yet, or maybe she didn’t want to see her after she’d been so messy last night-

The door opened and Raja stood there. Her long black hair was wet and brushed straight like she’d just showered, and her loose, green linen shirt was damp where the ends sat on her shoulders. She looked suspiciously fresh and clean for the day after a party, but then Manila remembered that Raja had been sober the entire time.

“Hey,” said Raja, with a goofy, knowing smile.

Manila’s palms began to sweat, and her heart leapt out of her chest and prostrated itself on the floor.

“Uh- hi,” said Manila.

Raja stepped aside and Manila walked in to the living room, slipping off her shoes and glancing at the familiar couch. An empty bag of chips and a couple loose video game controllers sat abandoned on it. Usually she’d go right in and sit down, but that didn’t quite feel right today. Carmen’s voice drifted over from the kitchen, one half of a conversation she was having over the phone.

“We could talk in my room?” suggested Raja, rubbing the back of her neck nervously. Her deep brown eyes were without expectation.

“Sure,” said Manila decisively, and walked quickly to the stairs and up to Raja’s bedroom, the first door on the left.

Raja’s room always surprised Manila. The first time she’d seen it she’d expected a total stoner disaster zone, but instead it was surprisingly neat. There was a beautiful piece of blue and gold paisley fabric tacked up on the wall, some clothes piled up on the back of the chair, and several mugs on the nightstand. Books, her laptop and some weed paraphernalia were scattered on the desk, but the floor was clean and the bed was pretty much always made.

Manila sat down on the edge of the bed, and wiped her sweaty palms on her pants. Raja sat down next to her, close but not touching.

“So…” began Manila, drawing out the word and wondering what exactly she was going to say. She didn’t want to be the first to admit her feelings. Part of her still felt afraid, instinctively evasive when talking about how she felt. “You like me, apparently.”

“Yeah,” laughed Raja, amused, flipping her damp hair over her shoulder, “Yeah, I said that.”

“Mm,” acknowledged Manila, already a little flustered by how Raja had just openly admitted it, like it was that easy. Everything was so easy for her. “Are you mad at me for kissing Raven?”

“For like a minute last night, but uh, it seemed more like you were mad at me, actually.”

“Yeah, I was kind of upset-” said Manila, and hesitated. Talking openly like this was outside of her comfort zone and she felt too warm and too awkward and… she would rather all of this be a big joke, to laugh it off again and hide how she really felt behind the humour.

“I’m sorry I decided to make that joke about you missing your opportunity when I was trying to be all serious or whatever,” said Raja quickly, all in one breath, “That was really stupid. I really did mean everything I said, except for that part.”

Manila nodded, the hurt rolling back over her for a moment. The feeling of rejection had been awful. But maybe that was how Raja had felt the first couple of times Manila had rejected and mocked her for expressing interest.

“It’s okay,” said Manila, cracking a smile, “You are incredibly stupid after all.”

“But I’m still getting better grades than you,” replied Raja, raising her eyebrows and grinning.

Manila looked at her hands. Raja was next to her, but she felt simultaneously closer and farther than she’d ever been. They were steering out of familiar territory towards something Manila both hopelessly longed for and horribly feared.

“I didn’t do anything with Yara, by the way,” confessed Manila, the words spilling out of her mouth before she could stop them.

“What, really?” replied Raja, cocking her head to the side.

“Yeah I lied about that, she and Alexis love each other so much it’s gross,” said Manila, rolling her eyes. “I thought you’d been acting differently around me, so I… said that.”

“They do seem to love each other a lot,” confirmed Raja, nodding, a sneaky grin growing on her mouth, “You wanted to see if I got jealous?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t believe in jealousy,” sniffed Raja imperiously, “Love should be free.”

“You’re such a fucking hippie,” said Manila, shaking her head, amused, “And you were jealous, you were stomping around like a six-year-old having a temper tantrum.”

“Fine, maybe a little,” acquiesced Raja, with a laugh. “You were really winding me up, though!”

Manila laughed as well, following the shift of energy between them into lighter territory. She twisted her fingers in the sheets on Raja’s bed for a moment, and sat up straighter, looking at Raja carefully. Raja’s green linen shirt draped elegantly over her tall, angular frame and it suited her nicely, despite the damp shoulders from her hair. A curl of interest announced itself in Manila’s core.

“So, uh,” said Manila, regretting her decision to wear sweats and wishing she’d at least tried to look nice. Raja’s expression was open, but her shoulders were a little stiff, almost nervous. Manila wanted to ease the tension, she wanted Raja to be comfortable around her again, and get rid of this stupid distance she’d built up between them.

Manila decided she was going to be brave, and asked, “Do you still wanna make out?”

Raja blinked in shock and then grinned and gave a happy little shrug, and said, “Yeah, totally.”

Before Manila could stop herself, before she could let herself think, she leaned in. Raja did the same, and shifted closer to her on the bed, pressing their legs together. Manila hesitated for a moment, the tension between them burning hot, more intense and awful than it had ever been, before Raja brushed her lips over Manila’s and they captured one another in a soft kiss. A high-voltage thrill shot down Manila’s spine, turning to instant, uncontrollable heat between her legs.

Raja’s confidence was contagious, and Manila kissed her back, tentatively parting her lips and tasting Raja with her tongue. Raja touched Manila’s waist, her other hand going to the back of her neck and tangling up in her hair. Manila’s body was taking over completely, the thrill drowning out her every doubt.

-

Raja was very pleased with how the morning had progressed so far, as Manila broke their kiss to push her down on the bed, a look of pure, unadulterated desire in her eyes.

“Oh, hello,” purred Raja as Manila straddled her, and Raja shifted a little so that she was at a better angle, her head propped up on her pillow. Manila lifted her hoodie up over her head, and the plain T-shirt undershirt underneath hiked up so that Raja caught a glimpse of her toned stomach before Manila threw the hoodie to the floor. Raja’s breath quickened, and she fumbled at the buttons of her shirt. She was so happy that this was finally happening, that Manila wasn’t angry with her and seemed quite interested in being more than just friends. There were so many fun directions this could go-

“Hi,” breathed Manila, leaning forward and quashing Raja’s efforts to get her shirt unbuttoned. Manila kissed her again, this time taking charge in a way that Raja found very sexy indeed. Raja caressed her waist through the thin fabric of her shirt. Manila stroked Raja’s still-damp hair, her hands exploring Raja’s scalp as they made out thoroughly. The smell of Manila’s lavender conditioner filled Raja’s nose.

Manila ducked her head, going for Raja’s neck. Raja sighed, gasping when Manila introduced her teeth to her skin. Oh, this was excellent, this was lovely. Manila was so much more than Raja had expected, and pleasant excitement filled her mind. Raja’s hands drifted from Manila’s waist down her back to grip her beautiful, muscular, college-logo-emblazoned ass.

Fuck yes.

Manila laughed quietly into her neck, pausing for a breath, and rolled her hips against Raja. Raja pushed her thigh up a little to give Manila something to grind on, if she wanted to. Even the hint that Manila was truly letting her guard down and trusting Raja like this was very exciting-

Manila breathed in sharply, her face still pressed into Raja’s neck, and rolled her hips again, and Raja felt Manila’s warm body through her thick cotton sweatpants. Raja took her opportunity and lifted her head slightly, kissing Manila’s neck in return, still gripping her ass and encouraging her to grind against her thigh.

“Raja-” breathed Manila as Raja kissed what must be a sweet spot. Raja couldn’t wait to learn all her sweet spots.

Manila sat back, pulling Raja with her so they were both sitting up, Manila still straddling her lap.

“Can I…?” murmured Manila, touching the buttons on Raja’s shirt.

“Yeah, for sure.”

Manila fumbled to undo Raja’s shirt buttons and Raja kissed her neck again. Now that they were sitting up, Raja touched Manila’s lower back and guided her to keep grinding on her thigh, since they were in an excellent position for her to do so. Manila bit back a little moan, visibly distracted from her task and it sent a tingle throughout Raja’s entire body. Manila was getting so hot and bothered already, and they were still practically fully clothed.

In fact, Manila’s hips were moving quicker now, rocking against Raja’s thigh, but she finished with the buttons and pushed Raja’s shirt back down to her elbows, then blinked with surprise.

Raja wasn’t one to wear a bra unless it was absolutely required of her.

“You can touch me,” whispered Raja, kissing Manila’s ear.

Manila did, gently palming Raja’s small breasts, and continuing to roll her hips. Now Raja could really feel the heat between Manila’s legs and let out a surprised half-moan herself as Manila caught her nipple between her fingers. Manila’s expression was hazy with lust, as she bit her lip and rutted down even harder, and Raja was almost surprised that Manila was so turned on by this minimal amount of contact.

“Is it okay if I-” said Raja, and touched the front edge of Manila’s sweatpants.

Manila nodded semi-frantically, and Raja went for it, reaching past her waistband to feel how gloriously warm and wet she was, even through her underwear. Manila moaned aloud, and ground down against Raja’s fingers and Raja, absolutely thrilled, slid her fingers inside her underwear.

Manila inhaled sharply at the skin-to-skin contact, rolling her hips hard and fast and clutching Raja to her. Raja decided to go for more, gently slipping two fingers past her folds and up into her soaking wet pussy-

“Oh my god, fuck-” managed Manila.

Manila’s back arched and her hip thrusts became erratic, quick, and she let out another barely suppressed moan, burying her face in Raja’s neck, panting hot breath against her skin, clenching around Raja’s fingers with a sudden gasp-

Suddenly Manila stopped moving, she pushed herself back. She flopped backwards off of Raja’s lap onto her ass and covered her mouth with her hand, eyes wide, her expression utterly surprised and embarrassed.

Raja realized what had happened.

“You are so into me,” stated Raja, unable to resist the urge to tease Manila for it, wiping her fingers unceremoniously on her sheets and laughing. “You came from just that? Really?”

“Don’t,” whined Manila, covering her face with both hands and curling up into a ball.

“We’ve barely been going for five minutes-”

“It’s just been a while for me,” complained Manila, her voice muffled behind her hands, “I’m sorry…”

Raja crawled over to her, taking her hands away from her face and kissing her.

“No need to apologize, you’ve got more where that came from, right?” asked Raja with a grin. The dull ache of Raja’s own arousal was still present between her legs.

“Yeah…”

“Great, hopefully this time I’ll get to actually take your clothes off.”

“Only if you ask nicely,” replied Manila dryly, sitting up. She looked slightly less embarrassed, pushing a few stray curls back out of her face.

Raja kissed Manila’s face again, unable to stop herself from smiling, smug. It seemed like Manila did actually like her, or was at least very, very attracted to her. Raja appreciated the vindication, and imagined the afternoon ahead. It looked like they’d be spending it here, making out and having sex, and taking a few breaks for food and weed, and that seemed most excellent.

“What do you want to do?” asked Manila. She reached out and hesitated, before running her fingers across Raja’s collarbone and then down her arm. Raja vaguely remembered her shirt, which was mostly off, open with the sleeves caught around her elbows. She took it off entirely. Raja was comfortable with her body and didn’t mind being naked, especially when it was making Manila so distracted.

“I want to…” began Raja, before shrugging, “Actually, I just want to roll a joint and share it with you, if you’re into that, and then eat you out for like forty-five minutes.”

Manila laughed and rolled her eyes, “Yeah, let’s get a little high, it won’t hurt.”

“It might even help you last longer…” teased Raja gently, not that she really cared. If Manila got off so quickly and easily, then Raja would gladly spend the entire day making her come over and over and over-

“Stop!” protested Manila, but she couldn’t help her smile.

-

Manila was so embarrassed that she’d pretty much finished immediately from the barest of contact like a desperate, touch-deprived lunatic, but luckily the feeling was fading. Raja didn’t seem to mind, despite her gentle teasing.

Manila had surprised herself more than anything. She was usually a bit… well, stiff maybe wasn’t the right word, but during hookups or sexual encounters she wanted to make sure she came off as sexy and fun, and that she did everything right. This was always particularly strong in her mind when she was with guys. But what was right was a vague and every-changing notion, a bit of a performance, kind of acting like girls did in porn except more chill, and trying to read what the other person liked and expected of her. It was difficult to relax. Certain walls always remained up.

But not today.

Today, Manila had completely melted the second her lips had touched Raja’s. Her body had taken over, unmitigated. Tasting Raja’s neck, grinding on her thigh, touching her skin and feeling her hard nipples, and Raja slipping her knowing fingers inside of her had made Manila feel so alive-

Maybe this was what it was supposed to feel like.

They had the entire afternoon ahead of them, so Manila lounged on Raja’s bed in her sweatpants while Raja got out a jar of weed and a grinder, confident and relaxed and wonderfully topless.

“Ugh, I left my rolling papers in the living room again,” sighed Raja, leaning over to give Manila a lingering kiss that sent a thrill right down her spine again, “I’ll be back.”

With that Raja got up and strolled across the room, opening her door-

“Don’t you need a shirt?” asked Manila.

“Nope.”

Manila laughed as Raja left and padded down the stairs. Her voice drifted up from the living room.

“Hey Delta.”

“Hey. So it’s a tits out kind of day?”

“Yeah, have you seen my rolling papers?”

“Over there.”

“Thanks! Did you hook up with that guy last night?”

“Yeah, and he was surprisingly good in bed-”

Manila tuned out the conversation, remembering her nice bra and wondering if she should just take her clothes off now and maybe fix her hair and find some way to recline on the bed so she’d look hot when Raja came back up-

But then Manila realized Raja didn’t care about that, and that really, she didn’t either. Manila lay back down on her side, breathing in the smell of Raja’s pillow. It smelled just like her hair, and honestly, Manila would be totally happy just to exist right here in this moment and never leave it. The voice in the back of her head chimed in, you know you still haven’t told her how you really feel-

“-yeah, she’s up in my room, I think we’re figuring it out.”

“Oh thank god! You’ve been stressing about that for ages. So that’s why you don’t have a shirt on…”

“Yeah, we might get kinda loud, so… sorry in advance.”

There was a smug evil to Raja’s voice, and Manila couldn’t help but feel smug as well. She imagined what exactly she could do to make Raja get loud…

“I was planning to go to the library anyway, bitch, I’ll send the bat signal to Carmen.”

Manila smirked at Delta’s sarcasm.

“Love you too!” sang Raja in response, and then Manila heard Raja’s footsteps on the stairs again. Her heart beat faster in anticipation. She should probably tell Raja about her stupid feelings. Raja had confessed her own, and while it was all still a bit vague, things were changing between them. Hopefully for the better.

Raja reentered the room, and flopped down on the bed next to Manila. Manila sat up and watched as Raja put a few weed buds into her little grinder and ground them up. Then she balanced a rolling paper in her palm, and carefully tipped the weed into it. Raja’s tongue darted out and wet the paper before rolling it into a cylinder, and something stirred in Manila’s core while she watched. Raja still wasn’t wearing a shirt, and Manila couldn’t help her eyes lingering. Of course this too was easy for Raja, she didn’t seem self-conscious about her body at all. Manila was always a bit in awe of Raja’s effortless confidence.

The joint was ready before Manila knew it, because when it came to weed Raja was nothing if not efficient. The sun outside broke through the clouds and streamed in through the thin curtains on Raja’s window, hitting the side of her face, and she was so beautiful that Manila’s breath hitched with disbelief. Raja brought the fresh joint to her mouth, grabbed a lighter from her bedside table and lit up, breathing in deeply with a contented sigh.

Raja passed Manila the joint with a suggestive smile, and Manila took it, putting the filter between her lips and drawing in a deep breath, the gentle smoke seeping deep into her lungs.

“I-” said Manila, passing back the joint and coughing, “I should probably tell you something.”

“Mmm, what?” replied Raja, taking another hit and leaning in, nuzzling Manila’s neck.

“Uh,” continued Manila, now very distracted by the feeling of Raja’s luxurious lips on her warm skin, the slightly smoky air and the joint that was now in her hands again. Did she even want to tell Raja she’d been idiotically in love with her for like two years? Would it ruin everything?

Manila took another pull and blew the smoke out into the air, while Raja kissed her neck and snuck her hand into her shirt, tracing her waist with delicate fingertips.

“I’ve actually,” whispered Manila, noticing with interest the way Raja had pressed herself into her side, her nipples getting pointy again, “I’ve actually been into you for a while.”

“Really?” purred Raja, without stopping what she was doing. It felt really good. Manila passed her the joint and Raja took it, turning away from her neck only momentarily to inhale the sweet smoke.

“Yeah,” said Manila quietly, desperately wanting to make it all a joke, somehow, worried her confession would completely freak Raja out. But maybe it wouldn’t. “I’ve kind of had a crush on you like since we met.”

Raja pulled back from Manila’s neck. But instead of laughing at her, or looking awkward and pushing her away, Raja’s expression was open and curious.

“No way,” said Raja, cocking her head to the side, “Even that time I got those fireworks from my dealer, and we accidentally lit that tree on fire?”

“Yeah?” replied Manila, confused. “I mean, Delta was the only one with the wherewithal to call 911, but we survived.”

“Even that time I spilled coffee all over your good white shirt?”

“Yes,” said Manila, flatly, recalling the incident. The shirt had never recovered. And the burn had hurt.

“Okay, but what about when I was too high in the grocery store a few weeks ago-“

“All of the times, Raja!” exclaimed Manila impatiently, practically squirming with the discomfort of having confessed her feelings, “Every dumb thing you did, I still liked you. So I, I don’t know, maybe that makes me the stupid one.”

“Nah, you’re like the smartest person I know, other than me,” chuckled Raja affectionately, taking another drag on the joint and exhaling the smoke slowly, so that it drifted up around her face, ethereal, “I’m learning so many cool new things about you today.”

“Well,” sputtered Manila, defensive and insecure, “I don’t know if it’s cool-“

“It totally is,” continued Raja, utterly confident, “Why didn’t you say anything before?”

“Because, you know,” shrugged Manila, taking the offered joint and hoping it would calm her down a little, “You obviously prefer casual hookups or whatever, and I couldn’t really stand being just that to you- I just didn’t want to have to say it was totally fine and chill if you didn’t like me back-” Manila paused with horrendous panic, “I mean, you do feel the same way, right?”

“Yeah, I-” said Raja, her face suddenly shifting into to an expression that normally appeared when she was trying really hard to beat Manila at Super Smash Bros, “Wait, so you thought I’d think you were too intense or something?”

Manila passed her the joint and looked away, already knowing that she was too intense, that her feelings were nothing other than a humiliating mess and always would be. Well, she thought wistfully, it had been nice while it lasted…

“Manila,” sighed Raja, and Manila looked back at her and Raja was smiling, and blowing smoke into her face, “I can’t predict like the entire future, you know with the Mars colonies and stuff, but I really like you. Maybe you like me a little more than I realized, but that’s good because I thought you weren’t into me at all. So like, it’s cool. Let’s just see where it goes?”

Manila nodded, as her heart beat faster and she felt herself blush. She supposed she’d just have to trust Raja, and herself.

“But you really fucked up with Raven when you two were dating,” stated Manila, unable to stop her doubts from surfacing.

“Well… ” said Raja, hesitating, and then she sighed, “Yeah, I did. The whole relationship thing was her idea and I went along with it because, well, I wanted things to be easy… but I should’ve found a better way to end it.” Raja paused, and took Manila’s hand, weaving their fingers together and squeezing, “I feel super differently about you, and about this. We’re friends first, right, before anything else.”

“Okay, yeah,” murmured Manila, plucking the joint, which wasn’t much more than a tiny roach, from Raja’s fingers and inhaling deeply, burning it right down to the filter. It seemed like Raja was genuinely on the path to some kind of self-awareness.

Manila reached around Raja to stub the end of the joint out in the decorative glass ashtray, and then let the smoke out through her nose with a giggle. Raja laughed along, and Manila finally began to feel the relaxed buzz under her skin. Getting high was nice, no wonder Raja did it all the time… Manila leaned in and kissed her again. Raja kissed her back, her hands going immediately to her waist again, pushing up under her shirt to touch her skin. Manila stroked Raja’s hair, and delicately held the back of her neck. Raja was already topless, but Manila was getting very interested in taking Raja’s shorts off as well…

They just had to trust one another, figured Manila, and maybe everything would be turn out alright.

-

Raja was happy and relaxed now that she’d had some weed and they were making out again. Manila had seemed stressed when she’d admitted her years-long crush, and while Raja was certainly a little surprised, more than anything she was pleased that her instincts had been right. It was making the strange new feeling in her chest glow a little brighter. But maybe that was just the weed.

“I want to take your shirt off,” murmured Raja. She’d seen Manila out running in her sports bra enough times to be real curious about what was underneath…

“Yeah, go ahead,” said Manila, moving her hand from the back of Raja’s neck down to her chest, running her thumb over her nipple in a way that sent a jolt of interest directly between Raja’s legs. She tugged Manila’s shirt up, and Manila lifted her arms and was momentarily caught with her shirt under her chin and around her elbows and Raja laughed at her and eventually they got it off.

Damn. Manila looked good, cute and toned and was wearing a suspiciously nice bra…

“You knew this was going to happen today, didn’t you?” said Raja.

“I might have suspected something,” said Manila with a smirk, sitting back on her butt as she easily tugged her sweatpants off of her legs.

“You’re so sneaky.”

“It’s my tragic flaw.”

Now that Manila was just in her underwear, the animal part of Raja’s brain kicked in. In an instant, Raja wanted to kiss Manila’s entire body, fuck her thoroughly, cuddle all night, move in and have a baby together, raise a bunch of feral kids and dogs, run a full-scale weed grow-op out in the country somewhere and just chill in the glorious California sunset until the end of time. Hmm. Raja decided that odd little fantasy was definitely just the weed talking, and took off her shorts and throwing them over the side of the bed, revealing her plain blue cotton underwear.

Now, that they were both pleasantly stoned and significantly more naked, things were starting to get interesting. Raja scooted closer to Manila, and ran her hands up her legs, letting out a weird gremlin-like giggle.

“You so don’t get to accuse me of being the horny one anymore,” chuckled Manila, taking Raja’s face in her hands and kissing her.

Raja sat back and pulled Manila into her lap, taking her time to kiss her. They explored one another, gentle and stoned. Raja stroked her way up Manila’s smooth back, her fingertips extra sensitive, and felt the band of her bra, reaching to undo it.

“Wait, don’t,” said Manila, and Raja’s hands stilled. Was something wrong? But Manila hadn’t pulled back, in fact she was pressing little kisses on Raja’s face, and kissed the shell of her ear in a way that sent a shiver throughout Raja’s entire body.

Raja dropped her hands to Manila’s hips and had a brilliant idea.

“Turn around,” suggested Raja into Manila’s ear.

“Mm, why?” replied Manila, shifting to kiss Raja’s neck.

“Because it’ll be fun…"

Manila laughed at her reasoning, and turned around so that she was sitting in Raja’s lap with her back to her. Raja immediately hugged Manila close, pressing her naked chest into her back and taking the opportunity to nip at her neck, eliciting a little yelp.

Raja ran her hand up Manila’s stomach touch her chest through her bra. Manila ’s breath hitched in response, and Raja took that as a positive sign, and reached up to ease her bra-straps off her shoulders.

“I don’t want to take my bra off,” stated Manila and Raja stopped again, trying to hide her disappointment.

“Do you not like being touched there?” asked Raja, momentarily nervous that she’d overstepped an invisible boundary, as Manila twisted in her lap to make eye contact.

“No, I like it, but,” said Manila, and hesitated.

“But?” asked Raja, in what she hoped was a gentle way, planting a little kiss on Manila’s shoulder.

“I just don’t like people looking at my tits.”

“Why not?”

Manila hunched a little, looking uncomfortable, and said, “Uh, this girl in middle school used to tell me they were a weird shape and I’ve kind of never gotten over it.”

Raja glanced down at Manila’s chest. Her breasts were contained in what was a truly nice bra and Raja found nothing weird about her body whatsoever.

“Well, fuck that bitch, she can die,” said Raja, in full seriousness.

Manila burst into laughter, “What, you’re gonna murder some girl from my seventh-grade gym class?”

“Yeah, what’s her name?”

“Jenny.”

“She sounds basic, I’ll shove her into traffic.”

“That’s very sexy of you but I’m still not taking my bra off,” chuckled Manila, blinking slowly. Her eyes were a little bloodshot, but her body was relaxed with trust again, leaning back into Raja. Raja wrapped one arm around her waist and squeezed her close. As badly as Raja wanted Manila to be fully naked, she respected her wishes.

“I went to alternative school on what was basically a gay hippie commune,” murmured Raja, gently kissing the spot behind Manila’s ear, and tracing her fingers down her stomach, “There wasn’t really bullying. We all made flower crowns, ate quinoa, studied beekeeping and Buddhist philosophy, it ruled.”

“No wonder you’re so weird…” sighed Manila, with a little gasp as Raja ghosted her fingers over the sensitive skin just above the edge of her black underwear.

“Yeah, but you like me anyway,” purred Raja, now running her fingers over the distinctly damp fabric between Manila’s legs and then kissing her neck again. Manila shuddered and let out a whine, the sudden note in her voice that reminded Raja of how easily turned on she was. “And so do most bees.”

Raja shifted a little so Manila was more comfortable in her lap, and Manila spread her legs and Raja stroked the inside of her thigh, moving slowly closer to her centre. Manila didn’t seem to know what to do with her hands, and after a moment of confusion she rested them on Raja’s arm across her waist.

“You’re like really hot, you have nothing to be insecure about,” murmured Raja in her ear, resting her head on Manila’s shoulder and wondering how she felt about praise and dirty talk.

Manila whined and arched a bit, trying to press into Raja’s hand. Then she turned her head, catching Raja’s mouth with her own in a sudden, intense kiss. Raja kissed her in return, and Manila reached back, tracing the back of Raja’s head and stroking her hair with a loose, exploratory hand.

“You’re definitely the hot one,” chuckled Manila, “But I really need you to start touching me, like right now.”

“Ask nicely,” purred Raja.

“Hmm…” hummed Manila, drawing it out, and then, her voice breathy and demanding, whispered, “Please?”

Raja’s own breath caught hearing her beg, and she immediately slipped her fingers past the waistband of Manila’s underwear, finding her clit in no time and stroking her with slow circles. Knowing how very sensitive Manila was, Raja went about her task with utmost delicacy.

Manila’s hand grasped into a fist in Raja’s hair on the back of her head and she arched her back and moaned aloud. It seemed she was lot more expressive after the weed and the conversation about their feelings. It sent electricity directly into Raja’s core, and she squeezed Manila to her with her opposite arm around her waist. Raja couldn’t help but increase her pace, Manila’s reactions were so exciting.

Raja slipped her fingers down lower, stroking experimentally over Manila’s folds to feel her utterly soaking wet pussy. Yes.

“Do you like this?” asked Raja.

“Yeah,” breathed Manila, tilting her head back to rest on her shoulder.

Raja slipped her fingers inside of her once more and Manila tried to rock her hips for more friction but Raja held her in place and began to move her fingers, agonizingly gentle, teasing and testing for the right spot that would make Manila lose her mind.

Raja found it, and Manila bit back a broken moan, her body jerking forward a little as she grasped Raja’s arm around her waist, her fingers digging in. Raja kept going, rubbing against Manila’s clit with the base of her thumb and pressing her fingers inside her, hitting the spot that made her react, again.

Manila panted and gasped, arching her back, and Raja kissed her shoulder. There was a sheen of sweat on her cleavage from the warm, sunlit room that Raja really wanted to lick, but she wasn’t in the right position to do so. Oh well. This was also very good, Manila’s wetness was dripping all over her hand as she gasped and rutted down with her hips.

“I’m- I’m getting close,” gasped Manila, digging her nails into Raja’s arm.

Raja then decided to something utterly evil.

Raja stopped, and slid her fingers out of Manila entirely.

“Wha-” panted Manila with desperate frustration as was she left on the cruellest edge, “Why are you-”

“Lie down on your back,” said Raja, letting go of her Manila’s waist, a plan forming in her mind.

“You are the worst-” complained Manila, and she shakily got out of Raja’s lap and crawled forward, giving Raja an excellent view.

“Have I ever told you that you have a fantastic ass?” commented Raja, shifting up onto stiff knees and cracking her neck in anticipation of the task ahead of her.

Manila glanced over her shoulder with a pouty, false-innocent look that set something inside of Raja on fire, and then she flopped down on her back, propping herself up on her elbows.

Manila looked so beautiful laid out like that that Raja paused for a moment just to admire her, the sheen of sweat on her chest, her messy hair, her blown-out pupils and the look of intense arousal on her face.

“Are we going to be here all day?” challenged Manila, pouting.

“Wow, someone’s a little brat,” teased Raja, leaning down and kissing Manila’s stomach.

Raja quickly hooked her fingers in Manila’s underwear and pulled them down her thighs as Manila lifted her hips to help. Then Raja lay down on her stomach between Manila’s legs and ran a finger over her wet, sensitive pussy, amazed by how turned on she still was. Raja couldn’t help but be flattered by the physical effect she had on Manila.

“When it’s my turn I’m going to make you suffer,” said Manila, but her threat was very much undermined by the broken moan that left her as she arched her back and bit her lip as Raja stroked her again.

“Ooh, I can’t wait,” smirked Raja, heady and pleased.

Raja ghosted gentle kisses around her thighs and her lower belly, and then laughed as Manila practically growled at her. But she wouldn’t make Manila wait much longer, Raja ran her tongue experimentally over her folds, the taste and sensation firing constellation-like synapses in Raja’s mind. Manila let out another whimper as Raja swirled her tongue around her clit.

Mmm, pussy.

Raja went to town, spreading Manila’s legs a little wider and adjusting the angle of her neck to stay comfortable. She built it up, keeping the rhythm on her clit with her tongue as she pressed her fingers up into the lovely wetness once more.

“This feels so good,” sighed Manila, and Raja flicked her eyes up at her expression. Manila’s cheeks had flushed pink, and she reached her hand inside her bra to play with her nipple, her eyelids fluttering momentarily with pleasure. She looked absolutely excellent, far more relaxed than Raja had ever seen her before.

Raja continued, building up her rhythm as Manila began to gasp and moan and roll her hips against Raja’s face. It felt so good to please her friend like this, the ache of Raja’s own desire still warm and insistent between her legs.

Raja hooked her fingers, finding her g-spot once again, and flicking her tongue over Manila’s clit, hard and rapid while Manila clenched her thighs and arched her back even more and moaned, pressing herself up against Raja’s face until Raja had to hold her firmly against the bed with her opposite hand. Raja steadily increased the rhythm on her clit, and Manila got louder and louder, cursing over and over, and moaning Raja’s name until Raja felt her movements get erratic, and her internal muscles clenched and-

Sudden liquid dripped out onto Raja’s hand, as Raja brought Manila through an orgasm so good it could move tectonic plates. Manila moaned pathetically, her breath heavy, clutching desperately at the sheets as she let Raja take care of her.

Someone banged on the door.

“Oh my god, Raja, this is excessive even for you-”

“Go away Carmen!”

“Sorry, Carmen,” called Manila in an unsteady, breathy whimper of a voice.

“Wait, you’ve got Manila in there? Congratulations, bitches!”

Raja laughed, and sat up, wiping her face clean on her loose shirt before flopping down next to Manila and curling in to her side. Manila propped herself up on one elbow and swallowed dryly, shaking her head, her eyes glazed over in amazed disbelief. She looked like she’d been thoroughly fucked, thought Raja with keen affection, along with immense satisfaction on her own part.

“Ugh, that was really nice, that was so good,” repeated Manila, rolling onto her side to face Raja, and Raja practically glowed with the praise, “But how do Delta and Carmen both already know about this?”

“I’m not great with secrets,” shrugged Raja, nuzzling Manila’s neck and cuddling up against her.

Manila didn’t respond, instead she cuddled back into Raja with a happy little sigh, shutting her eyes. There was nothing in Raja’s gently stoned brain but post-sex satisfaction. After a few minutes Raja sat up, tracing her finger down Manila’s body from her shoulder to her chest, then down the dip of her waist and up and rise of her hip.

“You’re a bit of a pillow princess,” teased Raja, with a smirk, “I’m not sure what I expected, but you’re such a bratty little bottom-”

“No I’m not!” protested Manila in offence, sitting up.

“Yeah, you are,” taunted Raja, with a what-can-you-do shrug.

“Bitch, I’m about to destroy you,” said Manila, stretching her arms over her head and cracking the knuckles in fingers intimidatingly. She gave Raja an evil smile that was only slightly off-set by her blissed-out expression.

Raja gulped, now regretting her choice to tease her friend. She knew Manila was competitive, but what beast had she awakened?

“Now show me where you keep your vibrators and get on your back,” ordered Manila, with a deliciously authoritative grin.

Raja’s heart leapt and the warmth between her legs, which had much been waiting for this moment all day, flared back to violent, excited life. She told Manila where the sex toys were and rolled onto her her back, pulling off her underwear and tossing them aside, so glad to be fully naked. Raja couldn’t wait to see what Manila could do.

Finally.

-

Manila selected a small purple vibrator from Raja’s extensive collection in the plastic bin under her bed, and sat back up. Raja lay out before her, stretching like a happy cat, a pleased expression on her face under her half-lidded, bloodshot eyes. Her body was beautiful, long and lithe with subtle curves. Manila couldn’t help but feel honoured that Raja was showing herself to her like this. A few days ago she’d have never thought this would happen in like, real life, outside of her fantasies.

The earth-shattering orgasm from a few minutes ago had been, uh. Phew. Manila’s body responded strongly to Raja’s presence, and she felt tired and a little faded. But the opportunity to please Raja in return was one Manila couldn’t pass up.

Plus, she kind of liked the whole bossy thing that Raja was bringing out in her.

Manila crawled on top of Raja and gently kissed her neck, holding herself barely an inch above her so that their bodies weren’t quite touching. All those abdominal workouts at the gym were proving handy. Raja’s neck tasted amazing, and she made a sound that was somewhere between a moan and a purr that Manila really really liked. Raja caressed her waist, and arched her back, pressing herself up into Manila, their skin practically tingling where it met.

“You’re so beautiful,” sighed Raja. “I’m like so lucky,”

Manila smiled to herself and then sucked down hard on the corner of Raja’s neck where it met her shoulder. Raja let out an undignified squeak and Manila bit her just a little, knowing she’d have a reddish purple hickie bloom on Raja’s light brown skin later, and Raja moaned and arched into her further, wrapping her arms around Manila’s back and holding her close.

Manila tried to make some more space between their bodies, but Raja wasn’t really letting her. But Manila managed to sneak her hand between their bodies, flicking on the vibrator, and slid it between Raja’s legs, which she spread eagerly for her with a happy sigh. Raja was incredibly uninhibited, and that only encouraged Manila, making her bolder. It was so freeing to be intimate with someone like this and not worry about judgement. Or maybe that was just the weed talking.

But Raja was moving against her, rubbing herself up against the vibrator pressed between them, tangling her hand in Manila’s hair as she kissed her neck. Manila couldn’t help but fantasize about what else they might do as she held the buzzing device against Raja, drawing her pleasure out, from lazily fucking all afternoon to maybe a few more hardcore things… hopefully involving strap-ons, she was fairly sure she’d seen something like that in Raja’s box of sex toys.

Manila shifted the vibrator to a slightly different angle and Raja whimpered into her ear. Manila moved it gently against her, and reached between them again with her opposite hand to toy with her nipple.

Raja seemed to really enjoy that, because she arched her back and moaned something incoherent, rutting against the vibrator. Manila shifted down so she could lick and suck on Raja’s opposite nipple, pinching the other one as Raja let out an exhilarated yelp, and clutched Manila close, pressing her fingers into her back and rolling her hips. Raja’s body lithe arched and her breath was heavy, and then she slowed her hips, with a final little twitch.

“Did that feel good?” asked Manila, as she stood back up on her hands and knees and clicked the vibrator off, tossing it aside. She couldn’t help but ask, she wanted the approval.

“Mmm, yes,” replied Raja, sitting up and kissing her lazily. “But I’m not done, I want more of you…”

Manila smiled, almost blushing at Raja’s raw, simple statement of desire. But then Manila had an idea, and she turned on her back, lying next to Raja, who cuddled into her instinctively. It was so cute that Raja was physically affectionate, both platonic and romantic in equal measure, just like the way she’d been with her since they’d started being friends, but now with a different energy.

“Get up and sit on my face,” ordered Manila.

Raja blinked at her, and then grinned and got up with a slight grunt, straddling Manila’s chest with her long, beautiful legs bent at the knee.

“Have you ever done this before?” asked Raja, looking down at her, her long dark hair framing her face.

Manila narrowed her eyes, trying to keep her gaze on Raja’s face and not just stare at her pussy, which was really very much in her line of vision. Instead she ran her hands up Raja’s thighs and gripped her hips, pulling her closer.

“A lady never tells.”

“Oh, so you’re a lady now?” chuckled Raja, brushing Manila’s hair back so that she didn’t kneel on it as she shuffled forward, holding herself just above Manila.

“I’ve done it a couple times, it’s not that hard, come on,” whined Manila, vaguely realizing that her vow to tease Raja and make her suffer wasn’t going very well at this rate. Somehow she’d ended up being the one begging, again. In the future, when Manila had gotten used to this and was a little more, uh, composed around Raja, Raja would be the one begging. Definitely. For sure.

But Manila had a lot more important things to focus on, as Raja carefully lowered herself onto her face and Manila tilted her head back slightly, and held Raja’s hips. For once Manila didn’t doubt herself, they were figuring all of this out after all, emotionally and physically, and had plenty of time to do so.

-

If Raja was the kind of person who felt embarrassment about sexual situations, she might’ve felt a little embarrassed sitting on Manila’s face right now, or even embarrassed by how badly Manila seemed to want her. Luckily, Raja didn’t really feel embarrassed about sex, especially when she had a little weed in her. So, she very carefully held herself in place, sitting down but not putting the entirety of her weight on Manila’s face. She really didn’t want to break her friend’s neck, and/or accidentally suffocate her, that would not be a fun way to end the afternoon.

Manila lapped gently at her folds, quickly locating her clit and swirling her soft, velvety tongue around it. Raja exhaled through her nose, pleasure mixing with the hazy sensation in her mind, her aroused body quickly shifting back into gear. Mmm, Manila was so soft…

Okay, maybe she was a little more than soft, because she holding Raja’s hips very decisively, and encouraging her to rock against her. While Raja definitely didn’t want to hurt her or put on too much pressure the temptation to move was really strong. So Raja did, just a little.

Vaguely aware that she her own bodily juices were dripping all over Manila’s face and chin, Raja leaned forward slightly try to get a grip on the wall, her palms flat out.

“Is this- are you okay?” asked Raja, the shake in her voice giving her away as a a ripple of pleasure went through her body.

Manila nodded, confidently wrapping her arm around Raja’s thigh and pressing her in even closer.

“Mmh-” managed Raja, grinding slowly against Manila’s nose and mouth as Manila flicked her tongue against the delicate, tender skin around the entrance of her pussy, before pushing her tongue up inside her.

The wall wasn’t giving Raja much support, her sweaty palms were slipping and she didn’t know what to do with her hands. But this felt so good, the precarious feeling like she was unravelling. Manila’s lidded gaze flicked up to meet hers, and Raja was sure her face must have been ridiculous, her mouth open, panting and desperate with pleasure. Manila’s gaze was mischievous. Damn it.

A moan escaped Raja, and she wondered if it was the weed that was making her hyperaware of her hands right now, as Manila slipped her tongue in and out of her, building her up, and Raja ground herself on Manila’s face, hoping she wasn’t hurting her, babbling, “This feels so good, I- oh my god, fuck, Manila-“

This only seemed to invigorate Manila further, as she sucked on her clit in a way that made Raja’s eyes roll back in her head, as she felt the slick of sweat on her back. Raja slumped forward, and her hands managed to find the low board running across the head of her bed, which she’d forgotten about until this moment. Raja gripped it with one hand to make sure she wasn’t putting all her weight on Manila, and looked down again.

Manila’s beautiful hair was all shoved up behind her head to keep it safe from Raja’s knees. Raja tangled her hand in the beautiful black curls, the texture practically alive under her extra-sensitive fingertips. Manila somehow managed to nod that that was okay, and it electrified Raja even further and the entire world could have been burning and Raja wouldn’t have noticed, gasping as the pleasure wound higher and higher and her entire body tensed and unravelled.

After a several long moments of white-hot pleasure and astral-projection into outer space, Raja blinked and shuffled off of Manila, shivering from the aftershocks. Manila blinked, and turned her head to the side, cracking her neck. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, attempting to clean up the combination of Raja’s slick juices and her own saliva that was all over half of her face.

“Is your neck okay?” said Raja, her voice weak as she slid down next to Manila to cuddle. “Also, you might need a towel.”

“Yeah, my neck is fine,” replied Manila smugly. “Did I destroy you?”

“Yeah, you really did,” sighed Raja, pressing her face into Manila’s neck and breathing in, “I knew this was going to be awesome.”

Manila laughed quietly and kissed her cheek.

“I think we should have a nap,” whispered Raja, hazy relaxation taking over her limbs, “Then a snack, and some more weed, and then we can make out again later. Do you want to stay?”

“I have that research assignment I should be working on…” replied Manila, but she didn’t make any effort to get up, instead she reached over to the other side of the bed and grabbed the end of Raja’s blanket, pulling it around them both and snuggling in, “…but a nap sounds nice too.”

Raja couldn’t help but smile, slipping her arm around Manila’s waist and holding her close as she relaxed into a a gentle doze.

They’d finally stopped joking and dancing around each other, and it felt really, really good.

-

“I’m like so happy you rescued me from the grocery store that time a few weeks ago,” sighed Raja, reflecting on how it had all began, and passing her joint to Manila, who was tangled up in her lap on the living room couch.

After the excellent sex-filled afternoon a week ago, and several more conversations about feelings and boundaries, Raja and Manila had arrived at an arrangement of casual dating. They’d both just handed in major assignments and as such, were taking a break from the endless deluge of schoolwork to chill out. The relationship so far was great, relaxed and low-pressure enough for Raja to feel comfortable, but intentional and committed enough to suit Manila’s needs. Raja hadn’t felt this way about anybody else before, and was still working out what it meant, if anything. But more importantly, they were being honest with each other, and that was very sexy, and things felt really fucking good.

“Ha,” chuckled Manila, inhaling and blowing smoke back into Raja’s face, “Anytime, Raja. You’re a ridiculous human.”

“No, you are,” said Raja affectionately, kissing her ear and then moving a little lower to gently nuzzle her neck.

“They’re disgusting,” stated Delta from their left side, with a smile at the edge of her mouth as she played Super Smash Bros with Carmen, “I knew this would happen.”

“Yeah Raja, you’re so embarrassing,” laughed Carmen from their right side, leaning forward with the controller, and competing with Delta on the screen. Manila laughed along with her, and poked Raja’s side, teasing her.

“Aren’t you gonna fight her for my honour or something?” whined Raja to Manila in complaint.

“Nope,” chuckled Manila, kissing her cheek.

“You’re right, they’re terrible,” complained Carmen to Delta, but she accepted the joint that Manila passed to her anyway, with a smile.

Something interesting stirred in Raja’s stomach at Manila’s casual threat and she cuddled her a little closer, already excited to head up to her room later.

“We should make some ground rules,” stated Delta, jabbing at the controller, “No sex on the couch, for example.”

“Yeah, we already broke that one,” said Raja, with an evil grin.

“Oh my god, the couch is communal!”

“Wait, this couch?” demanded Carmen, mildly disgusted, glancing down at the cushions she was sitting on.

“Do we have another one?”

“No…”

“Okay, let go of me,” said Manila, gently removing Raja’s hand from around her waist and leaning forward, reaching for a controller. “I’m gonna join the melee.”

Delta and Carmen finished up their round as Manila got set up, and Raja reached past Carmen’s back to the side of the couch for some chips. Mmm, salt. Raja didn’t particularly feel like playing video games today, she just wanted to keep smoking and relax, but she didn’t mind if her friends did so around her. She shuffled so that she was sitting with her legs open with Manila between them, leaning forward. Manila’s body language was focused, and her thumbs moved rapidly over the joystick and the letter buttons, her grip was confident on the plastic controller.

Without needing to ask, Raja gently took Manila’s hair out of it’s ponytail, and carded her hands through it. Manila gossiped back and forth with Carmen and Delta, letting Raja gently weave little braids into her hair while they fought and trounced one another on the screen.

An easy, affectionate feeling came over Raja, one that was both familiar and new, glowing in her chest. Raja wondered vaguely if it was just the weed talking, again.

No, Raja realized as she heard Manila laugh and smiled to herself, this feeling had nothing to do with weed.

It was love.

[oohnoniall]

The Lantsov Emerald [Kaz Brekker x OC] - Chapter Three (Anastasia)

 Warnings: cursing, fantasy violence, family drama

Chapter One

Chapter Two

       Her head pounded from the night before. Vasily had been too drunk to stop her from getting into the spirits. Nikolai would have given her small sips from his glass throughout the night. She wouldn't have gotten nearly so messed up had that been the case. He was irresponsible but somehow, he knew what he was doing. At least, that's what Anastasia had been certain of for the majority of her life.

        Her head felt as though it were filled with pounding hammers and Nikolai's favorite revolvers. Every bump of her spoon in her porridge bowl made her want to wince. The only reason she wasn't was the fact that both of her parents were at breakfast. It was such a rare occurrence that she knew something was bound to be wrong.

        She and Vasily had stayed silent for a majority of the meal. Waiting for their father to say something. Anything. Anastasia thought about screaming in order to cause something to happen.

        "The Fjerdan's will be sending an emissary in less than a week," her father's voice was strong, not showing a sign of last night having any effect on him.

        Anastasia clutched her spoon slightly tighter. 

        "I suppose they're anxious to see what our Sun Summoner can do," Vasily drawled, his voice raking against her ears and making her feel sick.

        The whole thing made her feel sick. She was being sold like cattle. There was nothing anyone could do to stop it either. Not even Nikolai would have been able to save her from this fate.

        "Yes," Pytor nodded his head once. "They'll want to make sure your sister is a proper lady as well."

        He spoke as though she was not sitting just on Vasily's left. She understood that she didn't mean nearly as much as either of the princes and yet, it still managed to hurt. She wasn't seen as anything but a hassle. Something he needed to sell off in order to rid Ravka of debt or hopefully bring more peace. Even if his own marriage had done nothing.

        She tried to bite down on her anger as she focused on her breakfast. Her head was pounding too hard for her to make up some sort of melody. She was too angry to turn the beating of her heart into one of the waltzes that she adored. Her life was a game and she was not the player. That much was clear.

        The side door opened nearly silently. She would not have normally heard it. The hangover had made her far too sensitive to sounds. She doubted that she would ever again drink as much as she had the night before. She had not thought it was a lot. Apparently, Anastasia had no idea how much liquor she could actually hold.

        A messenger slipped into the room, rushing toward the long table as quickly as he could. Anastasia straightened in her chair, her eyes following the messenger as he made his way towards the table. Her parents had not noticed him yet. She doubted they would unless the message was for them.

        The man made his way over to her. She felt as though he was moving slowly, as though his legs were encased in molasses. It was just her hope for Nikolai's letter that made her want time to move faster. For him to run forward and drop whatever note might be in his hand. She was almost angry at how long it was taking.

        "Your Highness," he murmured softly to her, a slight smile gracing his lips. The smile made him look younger, the lines by his eyes seemed to disappear. "A message from your brother."

        The letter seemed smaller than others she had received but she would not complain. It held his pale blue double eagle, it held that scent of sea breeze and salt. She thanked the messenger before quickly excusing herself from the meal.

        Vasily said nothing, but she noticed how his grip had tightened just slightly on his butter knife. Anastasia would not pretend to know what was wrong with him, but she assumed it was jealousy. She was allowed to leave when she pleased. He wasn't. Crown Prince was a blessing and a curse it seemed. 

        She hurried to her rooms, nearly running down the corridors. The guards would say nothing. No one would reprimand her for not acting like a lady. Not when most of the other ladies who resided in the Great Palace were nursing hangovers or worrying about what mood the Queen would be in. She was free to run about the castle, chasing the eight-sixteenths rhythm of her heartbeat.

        A guard opened the door to her chambers for her, not bothering to smile at her. She nodded her head once at him before she slipped inside.

        Her rooms were the smallest of the three siblings. A large four-poster bed set in the middle of the room, a small nightstand beside it of imported cherry wood, and a matching desk on the left side of the room. Her vanity sat at the right, next to her balcony. The large window made the glass and crystals bottles sparkle and created small rainbows in the height of summer. The walls were painted a pale pink color, with Ravkan blue along the borders of the walls. She felt as though she lived in the middle of a summer day. 

        Anastasia did not bother to note any of her furnishings as she slid into the plush leather chair that sat at her desk. She tore open the letter, using the golden letter opener that Nikolai had given her. He had told her she needed some form of protection in her room.

        He wasn't fond of trusting her safety to people he didn't know. They'd only had each other for so long that Nikolai had become a protector as much as he had been a brother. He'd kept her out of trouble while he spent his days getting into it. He kept her away from their parents as much as he could. If only to have her avoid their disappointment.

        She hadn't realized how much she had needed him until he was gone.

        My dearest Stacie. Her heart ached at the nickname. It had been so long since she had heard it from anyone. She could hear the low timbre of his voice, drawing out the 'sta' and ending it with the soft sound of the 'sea'. She was going to murder Nikolai when he returned. How dare he leave her to miss him.

        Ketterdam is dull, the university life is not one for me. Daily, my classmates are tempted by the Barrel and I alone must stop them from giving in to the temptation. Tell mother that at the very least. She worries enough about me being gone, although I'm certain that you're having a rougher go of it. I apologize for my letters being irregular. Life has become a hassle. It seems as though fate wishes for me to suffer greatly. I wonder if I could tempt fate into giving me a break?

        Anastasia rolled her eyes. Nikolai was ridiculous in front of most people. She was certain that he was at his absolute worst around her. But that had been what she needed as a child. Someone to protect her, to make her laugh. He'd always been a good big brother. He deserved more credit for it.

        Giving you updates on my courtship with fate is sadly not the reason for this letter. I've heard that we have a new Saint in our home. One that summons the sun? Stacie, send word if this is true. I'd love to see the birth of a Saint with my own eyes. I've come to realize it's a remarkable affair. 

        Of course, that was why he had written to her. The Sun Summoner. She did not blame the girl. Nor did she even blame Nikolai. It just hurt to realize it had not been because he had missed her. Maybe the ache that she felt was not the same to him. They did not have the same bond as the Shu's kebben, but she had always thought they would at least always be together. Until she was sold off.

        I'll be home soon. Vasily will have someone else to throw his anger at. We'll speak about your training too. Some of the guards have told me your aim is remarkably horrible. Really, Ana, you would embarrass me like that? 

        I love you, little sister, 

        Nikolai Lantsov.

        She traced his name with her pointer finger. It had been three years since she had seen her brother. Three years of wondering if he was alright, of hoping that he would come home soon. She hated to admit that she missed him. She hated to admit she was beginning to forget what he looked like. She doubted he'd ever come home. She didn't trust the letters, didn't trust that he would find it within himself to come back.

        Anastasia knew how easy it would be to leave Ravka and never return. She dreamed of it sometimes. Though it was not something she'd ever truly do. When she left Ravka, it would be to wed a man that she did not know. A man she didn't want to know.

        She wiped her eyes once, the burn of fresh tears blurring her sight, before stuffing the letter into her desk. She wouldn't dare try to write a reply until her hangover had vanished. Until she was certain that she would not embarrass herself by leaving tear stains on the parchment. As far as Nikolai was aware, Anastasia had taken his absence well. She refused to tell him how alone she felt. How it seemed as though she were floating alone, in the middle of an island in the depths of the True Sea. He would have called her dramatic and then pretended that he was the only one who had any right to dramatics.

        A knock on her door quickly cleared her of her thoughts while making the pounding in her head worsen. She wouldn't call for a tonic, it would only make things worse in the long run.

        "Come in," her voice was soft as she fumbled for a piece of parchment and a pen. Pretending to work on her correspondence would at least give her a reason for sitting aimlessly.

        Vasily strolled into her bedroom as though he was already the king of Ravka. She wondered how he could be so self-assured. It wasn't exactly something that she would ask him about. She watched as he perched on her bed, his arms casually crossed across his chest as he stared at her.

        "Did our brother have anything interesting to say?" She swore venom was in his tone. 

        "He's curious about the Sun Summoner," Anastasia stated as she looked up at him. "And he says he'll be home soon."

        "He's been telling you that for three years, Annie."

        Anastasia glared at him. He knew just how much she hated that name. It made her feel as though she were a child. Someone who was reprimanded easily. "Vasily, I'd rather not talk about what Nikolai plans on doing or when he plans on returning home."

        The corner of his lips twitched, as though he were about to smile but had thought better of it. Vasily often hid his smiles, unless it served a purpose. Her brother had been raised to be a man who wore many masks. It was one of the reasons why he liked cards so much. Vasily did not think Anastasia knew about his vice, but she did. She had followed him once. 

        Nikolai had only been gone three months at that point. She had been bored and lonely. She had seen Vasily sneaking across the grounds as though he had something scandalous to hide. She had thought that it would be worth it to share a secret with him. Maybe then they could become nearly as close as she and Nikolai.

        Had it just been a girl, she would have left instantly. But no. Vasily had slipped into a Lordling's home, she had watched him from behind bushes as he played a game of cards in front of the large dining room windows. She had assumed he would go after a game, but she had given up long before he had.

        Vasily had lost more money than she had ever dreamed he would that night. He had been red-faced the next morning at breakfast. Anastasia had thought it best not to tell him that she had watched him. She didn't wish to bring more shame to her oldest brother. 

        She'd allow him to think he kept this secret to himself. Even if she knew that others must be well aware.

        "There seems to be an issue with our Sun Summoner," he admitted to her, falling back on her bed. His hands covered his face, she did not ignore how they were as soft and smooth as her own. "Not that anyone save Kirigin knows about it."

        "What is it, Vas?" Anastasia hated knowing that he knew more than she did. Even if it was a common occurrence.

        "Don't let father find out," it wasn't the pleading tone of a boy. It was the exasperation of a man who was tired of living in shadows. "But our Saint has disappeared. I heard two of Kirigin's men speaking about it on the way to your room. It seems last night's party brought a tracker to our midst."

        She instantly thought of the guard she had not known. Nikolai Vanzin. It had felt like a false name that night. He hadn't noticed her at first. Not to mention he looked both too hard to be a guard and far too pretty. None of her father's men had looked as though they could cut a diamond with their stare nor their cheekbones. She left that to the Grisha of the Second Army.

        "There was a guard last night," she spoke softly, fingers tapping on her desk as though she was gently tapping the keys of a piano. "I had never seen him before."

        "How many of the guards do you know?" Vasily did not look at her as he spoke.

        "All of them."

        Vasily was not aware of Anastasia's training. Nikolai had told her it was a secret between the two of them and the guards. He had made damn sure those men knew what it would mean to betray their trust. It would mean losing his friendship. Nikolai was definitely the nicest of the royal family when it came to things of that nature. Not even Anastasia would have been that kind.

        "You're not doing what I think, are you Annie?" Vasily pushed himself up on his elbows, his eyes boring into her.

        "Of course not," she gave him an annoyed glare. "I wouldn't put my marriage at risk like that. I just needed someone to talk to with Nikki gone. He likes being updated on them."

        Vasily continued to stare at her, though the look was less annoyed, less ready to pounce if she was doing something she shouldn't. He looked tired. He looked hurt. She did not know why he would be. She had never been close enough to Vasily to be able to tell the reasons behind his moods. She had enough trouble figuring out Nikolai's.

        "You could've talked to me," his voice was tense, his knuckles white as he clenched his fists. "I'm your brother too, Annie."

        "You've had more pressing matters at hand," she knew the words were not enough. She felt guilty almost. Had he been just as lonely as she and Nikolai? Had he craved a companion? He had been raised to be the King of Ravka since they were children. While she and Nikolai were running about the grounds with wooden swords, he was trapped in meetings that he did not care about. 

        She felt as though she should have noticed. Should have tried to bring him in on their games. Nikolai had always wanted Vasily's attention as a child. She had thought one brother was enough. Anastasia could not help but to blame herself for whatever he had gone through. She knew she wasn't at fault but that did not assuage her guilt.

        "That doesn't matter," Vasily moved to stand then, wiping his palms on his pants. "Tell me about this guard you didn't know."

        "He said his name was Nikolai Vanzin," she was glad for the change in topic. "He had these eyes that were like diamonds. They could kill you if he looked at you too long. Beautiful really."

        She felt the flush on her cheeks before she noted the look in Vasily's eye. She couldn't tell if he was amused or if he was pissed about her description of the man. It didn't matter. She had to press on.

        "Sharp features, it was very noticeable. His accent though ... It was strange. He spoke Ravkan as though he wasn't quite used to it. But I couldn't place the accent. It wasn't rough enough for Fjerda, he didn't have the complexion for Fjerda either. I don't think he was from Ravka at the very least."

        "Is there anything beyond pretty eyes and a pretty face, Annie?" His eyebrow rose, watching her closely enough to cause her to grow somewhat embarrassed. She didn't know why. It wasn't like he hadn't had his own dalliances.

        "I think he'd been injured at some point in time," she said, thinking back to the guard that had so amused her the night before. She wondered if he had thought of her at all that morning. Considering he was probably on the run with their Sun Summoner by now, she highly doubted it. "He walked with a limp. Otherwise, he was perfectly normal. I just ... I had assumed he'd been hired before the fete."

        "I would have been told if there had been any additional security hired," he almost spat out the words. She could see that there was something brewing in his mind. A plan taking form.

        She highly doubted it would be anything good.

        "Did you make any sort of connection with this man?" Vasily asked as he began to pace the room. "Did he say where he was going or what he was doing there?"

        "No," she sighed as she shook her head. "Vasily, I spoke with him for about two minutes before the presentation. I got his name, that was it. He said his mother thought he'd had luck being named after a prince."

        "Probably a lie." Vasily stared at the same spot on the floor as he paced. She worried he would create a rut in her rug. 

        "I'm sure of it," she worried her lip as she began to think. Straining her memory for anything that might help. "I told him I would see him today. You could check in on the training field. Ask if anyone's seen him?" 

        Vasily nodded his head once as he began to leave her bedroom, his head once again up and his focus back on the world around him. He paused in her doorway, his left hand resting on the oak wood of her door frame. He lightly tapped the wood with his index finger, hesitating for a moment before turning his head to look at her.

        "Stay here," he told her, his eyes searching her face. "I ... I don't want to see you getting hurt. I don't trust anything that's going on here."

        It was the most brotherly he had ever seemed in her entire life. Her heart wanted to sing a ballad of sorrow at the lateness of it. She knew that nothing he said or did would stop her. Nikolai Vanzin had lied to her. He had given her a false story and had a false narrative. He could have been stopped that night. She could have been the one to stop him.

        She'd been blinded by pretty eyes. A dangerous smile. She wouldn't let that happen ever again. She would find Nikolai Vanzin and discover the truth. She was unsure how she would end up finding him. She couldn't exactly use the resources at hand without alerting her brother or her parents. She had to have permission to leave the Grand Palace. She was too precious a commodity to let leave without a guard. But she would find a way.

        If Nikolai had taught her one thing it was to be resourceful. She knew that finding things out would be difficult while trapped in the walls of the Grand Palace but she also knew that she had access to certain documents. She could at least find out how false the name was. How many laws this asshole had broken.

         She buried down these thoughts, buried down and locked behind iron bars that would only open upon her soul singing a soft melody. Or if Nikolai showed up and just looked at her once. She had a very hard time not telling her brother anything. At least with Vasily, it was easier for her to lie.

        Anastasia looked him in the eye, the portrait of a serene young woman. "I'll stay right here, Vasily," she gave him a gentle smile. "I promise."

[angst-fairygodmother]

Light Fingers (The Umbrella Academy)

Diego’s vigilantism brings him repeatedly across the path of a young cat burglar. But as he finds himself developing feelings for the thief, he begins to wonder if there’s more to her than meets the eye, and whether they’re really on opposite sides. And as their relationship deepens, it brings with it a plot involving his estranged adopted father, and threatens to destroy all of them.

CHAPTER 1: CAT AND MOUSE

Word Count: 2406 Pairing: Diego Hargreeves x Reader Warnings: Canon-typical violence Rating: T Cross-posted to AO3: here

Masterlist

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Twenty minutes. Maybe more, if the neighbors were particularly unobservant, but twenty minutes was a sure thing.

Gently, you tested the doorknob, shocked and almost a little insulted when the latch clicked and the door swung silently inward under your guidance. What kind of smug prick leaves home and doesn’t lock the front door behind him; sure, the neighborhood was nice, but it wasn’t that idyllic. Still, gift horses and all that. You shrugged and proceeded in, closing the door again behind you, no need to draw attention, and ghosting up the stairs to the third floor.

Keeping your light low, you looked around for something that matched the description of the painting that would be hiding your target.

“The painting contains three apples and a lemon,” your informant had said.

Unfortunately, nothing in the veritable gallery of this home office was one of those weird fruit still-lifes. Scanning all of the images for some fruit, especially with the variety of art styles on the walls, would take time. You cursed under your breath as you set to work systematically.

It wasn’t like you could hold it against your informant that much. She was a disgruntled and bitter but still scared and reliant employee telling you where to find maybe not all but certainly the most fungible of her shitty boss’s assets. You could permit her a little crypticness, so long as it didn’t blow up in your face in the end. Which, since this bloody fortune was made in arms deals, there was always the possibility of, literally.

Three apples and a lemon, three apples and a lemon, three apples and a...

“Gotcha,” you murmured, the first real sound you had made since entering the house.

The tall painting took up most of the corner where it hung, and the fruit was not particularly prominent, but there they sat, in a bowl on the table of the young couple featured in the image. That was good enough for you. The frame lifted easily off the wall, and behind it, set in was a small steel door with three combination dials in the center. It was cute that he thought that would protect him from you.

Within minutes, the last of the tumblers thunked into place and the door popped open.

“Hello my lovely,” you purred, plucking out a padded box, opening up and gazing briefly at the way the finely cut gem glittered beneath your fingers. “I have a new home for you.”

You snapped the box shut, reveling at the way it echoed through the empty house. It was reckless, but you had earned a little bit of that. There was no one close enough to hear and if there was a security system, all it would pick up was a blip of sound, a glitch. Tucking the gem, and several other treasures from the safe into your bag, you put everything back to the way it was with expert precision.

Nineteen and a half minutes. You should be smart and get out, you knew, but there was no sign of concern, interest, pursuit. And this was the sort of man you wanted to take more from than money. You bit your lip, hesitating. And then you made your way to his desk, which was scattered with files and papers, a treasure trove of corporate secrets and proprietary scandals.

Suddenly, the file you were reading was knocked from your hand and you jumped, startled by the heavy sound of something metal striking wood. Looking down, you saw the glint of a knife sticking out of the desk not more than an inch from your hand. You had been so engrossed in the numbers and figures, math and profits painted in blood, that you hadn’t noticed that you were no longer alone.

“Shit!” you shouted, recoiling.

Leaning in the doorway, another knife in hand, was a man dressed all in black, leather mostly, his eyes covered in a domino mask that really didn’t do much to hide his face. It might stop you from picking him out of a crowd, but if you were to try, you could probably figure out his identity. In fact, as you stared at him in the dim light, you were sure that he looked familiar, a fact you filed away for later, if he didn’t kill you.

“You know, solid black isn’t actually that great for creeping around in shadows,” you said, fighting back control of your voice. “And if you’re looking for Mr. Sullivan, I’m not him.”

“Good thing I’m not looking for him then,” he answered with a smirk. “But it does beg the question: what are you doing in his office?”

“Would you believe me if I said I’m his secretary and he asked me to stop by and pick up a file?”

“In the middle of the night, in the dark, dressed like that?”

“Yeah, I didn’t think I’d get that one to work. Listen, whatever you came here for, I won’t get in your way if you don’t get in mine. We can both walk out of here with no one the wiser.”

“I came here to stop you. Heard about a lurker on the radio and got here faster than the cops. But a lurker looks to me more like a thief.” His head tilted to one side.

“No point in denying it then. I was hired by one of his competitors to try and steal some blueprints for some new grenade design,” you lied, hoping he didn’t know enough about the man to know whether that could be true. “But I don’t see it here, and frankly the payday isn’t worth getting almost stabbed. So how about I just…go and we forget this ever happened, yeah?”

You kept your hands in the air where he could see them and slowly circled the desk, away from the man blocking the doorway, closer step by careful step to the window. You studied it out of the corner of your eye. Heavy, leaded glass. That was going to hurt, but you’d been through worse.

“I’m not going to let you just walk away after you broke in here.”

“Technically all I did was enter, there was no breaking. Asshole left the front door open. Practically an invitation.” You gestured as if to say you were helpless against the temptation.

“Oh in that case…” you couldn’t tell from the distance, but the tone of his voice made you fairly certain that he was rolling his eyes at you. “I’ll be nice and not pin you there,” he gestured again with the knife, pointing at the wall behind you. “But I’m not letting you go anywhere.”

“Oh I dunno…strong handsome guy like you, I might like you pinning me,” you smirked. “But I’ll have to take a raincheck on it. Places to be and all that jazz.”

You had managed to position yourself directly in front of the window now, the light of the full moon shining around you like a very misplaced halo. He was watching your every move closely, tensed like he expected an ambush. Instead, you blew him a kiss.

And then you turned and leapt, smashing through the window in a rain of shards which glittered magically in the moon. By the time he reacted, crossing the room in a flash to stare out into the night below, you were rolling to your feet and running, adrenaline letting you ignore the distance you had fallen and a miracle letting you escape without blood.

~

You encountered the mysterious man with the knives seven more times over the course of that year. It had become almost a welcome tradition, a warning that someone was onto you, with plenty of time to get out before the actual police showed up. No matter how many times he threatened it, he never hurt you, and he never quite managed to stop you (part of you wondered if this was intentional, as you had worked out early on that this was one of the members of The Umbrella Academy which you had grown up hearing so much about).

“Diamonds again?” he asked, leaning casually against another display case as you placed the glass back over where the necklace now in your hands had been.

“What can I say, I like shiny things?” you offered with a shrug, holding up the jewels before dropping them into the bag at your hip. “And in my defense, I checked the provenance. These were stolen long before they ended up in my hands.”

“So that makes it alright to rob a museum in the middle of the night?”

“Yeah, basically. Doesn’t it?”

“No.” His voice was flat but his face beneath that stupid domino mask was incredulous that you would even try such an excuse.

“What if I add in that the necklace contains blood diamonds and ethically, no one should have them?”

“But you have them.”

“Only until I can sell them. And then I’ll put the money to way better use…I’m thinking Thai food, first at least. Wanna come?”

“What?”

“I’ll fly a signal or whatever it is that summons you and we’ll get dinner. You can leave your mask on if you like.”

“I’m not getting dinner with you.”

“Breakfast then?”

He pointed at you, with the hilt of the knife, as he had started doing more often. “You’re just trying to confuse me so you can escape again. That’s not going to happen this time.”

“Isn’t it?” you cocked your head to one side. “I don’t think the saying goes ‘eighth time’s the charm.’”

“Even if you escape, you’re not in someone’s house or office this time. A museum will have a security system. You’ll get tracked down for this one.” He sounded almost sad as he said it, like he regretted that your game of cat and mouse was coming to an end.

You took a step closer to him. He tensed. A certain amount of distance between you had always been one of the unspoken rules. Another step. You watched him swallow nervously and found it hilarious, since he could definitely best you in a fair fight. Third step. His eyes flickered to the sides as if looking for an escape route. Maybe he knew if you ever decided to have a go at him you wouldn’t let it be a fair fight.

By the time you stopped moving, you were inches from him and he practically vibrated with tension.

“If I didn’t know any better,” you whispered, watching his eyes flicker down to your lips. “I’d say you wanted me to get away.”

“Don’t be stupid,” he snapped half-heartedly, licking his lips nervously. “You’re a criminal.”

“Then now’s your chance. Stop me.” You leaned closer, the motion with the double meaning of your words making your intention clear.

The knife he was holding clattered to the ground as his hand shot out to grab you by the wrist. But the gesture wasn’t used to restrain. No, he used it to tug you closer, making you stumble into his chest as your lips crashed together. And then, the kiss became a war. You were both all teeth nipping lips and tongues battling each other. One hand gripped bruisingly onto your hip, fingers digging into flesh and holding you against him. The other released your wrist and tangled into your hair, knocking aside the cap you used to keep it contained. For your part you wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer, closer, closer. The other clawed his shoulder, clinging to him to keep yourself upright.

Your head was hazy and overwhelmed with the taste and feel of him, with the wanting more of it. But, there was a tiny part of your mind that was still paying attention. Your hand danced, trailing touches easily disguised as passion, freeing the knives from his harness, collecting them quietly in nimble fingers. He released your hip, slid his hand down over the curve of your ass, making you gasp. You set the knives as quietly as you could on the top of the display case, just out of convenient reach or obvious notice. His hand hooked onto your thigh, an inviting gesture. Instead you pulled away.

“This…” you murmured, lips still just barely brushing against his, “…was a bad idea.”

He released you; you stepped back.

“It doesn’t change things,” he said. “I’m still not letting you get away again.”

“Of course not,” you smiled, soft. You knew the steps of your dance. “But I’m still going to try.”

You turned. Diego watched as you ran, sprinting over marble-tiled floors. He reached back to grab a knife, not sure what he was going to do to keep from hurting you badly, but needing to do something. He frowned, the sheath was empty. Your steps drew you further away, he moved to follow, reaching further, only to find that every sheath was empty.

He swore, shouting the curse after you, and you couldn’t help the laugh that echoed back to him.

~

Laying on his bed in the boiler room that night, Diego couldn’t stop thinking about her: the feeling of her hair beneath his fingers, the taste of her lips on his, her soft warmth pressed against him. But more than that, it was her smile, her laugh, the light-hearted way she had teased him from the very beginning, utterly shameless and unafraid.

Something tickled at the back of his mind that there was more to her than just a good thief, but he couldn’t put his finger on what. And every time he tried, instead he was assaulted with the memory of the way her flesh gave way to his touch and her hot breath tickled his face. He wanted to solve the mystery of her, but more than that, he just wanted her.

He got up with a sigh, knowing he’d be unable to sleep in this state. He loosely wrapped his hands before taking out his pent-up emotion on the punching bag hanging in one corner. As he worked, his mind seemed to clear, and a new thought occurred to him. The next time they encountered each other, and he was certain there would be a next time, at the very least he would get her name. A name to put to the face, and the other things, would be enough.

[hitsuackerman]

Unpredictable (Overhaul x Reader) pt.18

a/n: all i can say is... BRING BACK CHRONOHAUL :) hope ya’ll like the chapter!

warnings: this cannot be read solo

Links: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 19

Masterlist to my other fics: here :)

Overhaul’s waiting list: @jjk-biased @infinite-universe-love @dirtypride @blackymomo03 @azzie @purple-rabanito​ @meximorrita @awesomeee19​​ @celestial-kanzakii​ @laure-lo​ @team-wang-puppy​ @aydience-world​ @choros-main-hoe​ @but-kairis-not-that-smart  @colorseeingchick (i cant seem to tag again :( hope this lands in your timelines!)

“Kurono.” Overhaul snapped. “We’re done for the day. Take Eri-chan to her room and give the new toy to keep her busy.”

Finishing the last part of the job, Kurono pinned Eri’s bandages and carried her. Watching as Overhaul left the room, he felt the little girl trembling in his hold. The past few days, his boss had been a little harsher on the girl and it showed when he opened her up without being warned. Patting her head, the flinch did not help in the tense aura surrounding the base.

Once he locked her doors, he walked down the dimly lit hall and passed by Overhaul’s office. The faint sound of him typing away in his laptop made him stop in his tracks. It was rare for him to even look at his laptop. Something must be bothering him more than ever, for sure.

Knocking on the door, he was told to come in and entered silently.

“You’re on the laptop.” He commented and lazily flopped on the sofa. Taking his mask off, he rubbed his face and leaned on the back rest.

“I can see that.” Overhaul’s eyes remained glued to the screen. “Is there something you need?”

“D’you talk to her yet?” He yawned and stretched his limbs. Legs ready to bounce should his boss show any sign of rage.

“That doesn’t concern you.”

“Just askin’.” He shrugged his shoulders and fiddled with his fingers. “Eri-chan’s in her room now and the toy still didn’t lighten her mood. Not that it ever works.”

He merely hummed and continued typing.

“Mind if I ask what exactly happened?” Kurono sat up with perfect posture. His legs angled to the door, ready to make a run for it. The tension was too much. Even for the precepts. He could care less about the budding lovelife his boss had but the limit was drawing near.  Hearing the laptop slam close, Kurono stood up and inched his way to the door.

“You have absolutely no business learning what happened behind those closed doors. But, if it pleases your curiosity, the woman mentioned her time with Ackerman.” Overhaul impatiently tapped his index finger on the desk. The other hand massaging his temple. “Satisfied?”

“What else did she say?”

“She said that her emotions aren’t there for the bastard and that she has her eyes set on someone else.”

For someone who played shogi skillfully, Kurono had to admit that his friend was as clueless as  the word could imply. Using all of his strength not to twitch his eye at the ignorance being displayed, he let out a sigh and went back to the sofa.

“So why be pissed about it? Clearly she’s interested in you.”

“I am not pissed. I am merely agitated at the turn of events.” He stopped tapping his finger and stood up. Exiting himself out, he decided a long bath might cool his head.

“You do realize she only did that to rile you up. You’re losing to her game, Kai. I bet a shit ton of cash that she wanted to see if a reaction would suffice and looking at you now, she got exactly what she wished.” Kurono talked the fastest he’s ever attempted in his life. “I’ll also bet my money that you ignoring her only adds to her growing problems.”

“And what makes you say that, Kurono?” He was now facing the arrow-haired man. Fists clenched tightly.

“One of the men saw her entering Nighteye’s agency.”

“THAT Nighteye?” He cocked a brow and took a step closer to the sofa.

“Yes. Her car remained parked for quite some time. By the time she left, I was told she was speeding towards the precinct.”

Gathering his thoughts, Chisaki found himself seated across Kurono. His bird mask resting on the table between them. The surgical mask now on full display showing the shadows his face offered. Without realizing it, his brows were furrowed and teeth gritting.

“If it’s bothering you, why not just call her or send a message.” Kurono shrugged.

“If she has been spotted entering the agency, chances are she’s been part of the heroes schemes all this time.” He was nodding to himself. “And she had the audacity to act like she was part of nothing. Smart move for her but not careful enough.”

Squinting at the train of thought he had just heard, Kurono rested his elbows on his thighs.

“So, you think she’s teaming up with the heroes?”

“She is.” He leaned on the back rest.

“She told you?”

“Not outright.”

“What gave her away then?”

“The night I left, she mentioned how the heroes don’t have a clear map of the base and only an outline. That was either a slip or intentional. From the turn of events, it may have been accidental.” The memory of that night, having his body so close to yours made him fiddle with the hem of his gloves. The scene of having your flushed face so near to his made him smirk under the black mask. Glancing at the calendar, though there was no need, it had been three days since the both of you contacted each other.

“Do you think we’ve been bugged?” Kurono asked. His eyes darting from one corner of the room to the other.

“No.” Crossing his arm against his chest, he let out a long sigh. “Not yet, at least. But knowing them, it’s bound to happen and they will use (y/n) for that.”

“What do you intend on doing?”

“Buy me a new sim tomorrow, Kurono. It’s best if communication is cut. The Quirk erasing bullets are nearing its completion. Any upcoming hindrances would disrupt the plan.” Taking his phone out, he checked for any messages. Seeing as there were none, he turned it off and threw the sim card across the table. The small plastic landing inches away from the edge.

“You’re not going to overhaul it?” This was something he was not expecting.

“No. Burn it.”

“You’re…” He took the sim into his hand. “You’re really serious about this.”

"Those rats are on the move. The chances of her bugging our base is high. Knowing she's not the type to refuse, it is best to cancel out any communication." Picking up his mask, he let out a silent sigh and wore the said item. "No need to fret, Kurono. I've already prepared the necessary actions."

"Knowing you, there's no need to fret." He too took his mask and wore it as well. Fixing his hood, he stared at his friend. "What about the Fukuo Kai case?"

"That is in two months. The hype would have died down." Standing up, he fixed his coat and motioned Kurono to follow him out. "Besides. If (y/n) really has an interest in me, she would know the perils of harboring emotions. Let's go. I'm famished."

"Pardon?" Kurono stopped walking and stared at the back of his boss.

"Even the strongest villains need nourishment."

"Oh, uh, sure." Not sure what to do next, he rubbed the hems of hood. "Shall I ready the car?"

Seeing the nod, he blinked himself back to reality and went separate ways. Walking towards the garage, the blue-haired man replayed the events. He wasn't too sure but he could feel how your mannerisms were slowly rubbing off of Kai. Not that he minded, it was just… weird.

Taking the sim from his pocket, Kurono weighed out the options of burning or keeping the small object. Kai or even Overhaul wasn't too fond of keeping mementos, but his sense of gratitude was always strong. His ways of repaying debts were always admirable, no matter how absurd his methods may be.

Once he was now seated in the car, he knew exactly what to do with it.

The following day, Tsukauchi took his seat beside you. A brown paper bag now resting on your desk. After the heart to heart talk inside your car, you are more than glad that nothing has changed. He still treated you as his partner, as well as his close friend.

"Here are some updates for the Fukuo Kai." Reaching out for a folder, Tsukauchi pulled it with his fingertips till he finally grasped it. "We have detected some movements in their western branch. Me and the 4th division will be checking them out 3 days from now. Care to join?"

Checking your schedule, it was vacant and you agreed.

"So what're your plans now?" He asks while grabbing a small chip from your meal. "Nighteye?"

"Yeah. They’ll be discussing who’s who within the eight precepts.” Despite trying your best, you couldn’t help the slight slumping of your shoulders. Slowly nodding at the words that left your mouth, you chuckled and shook your head.

“Are you debating whether or not to tell him you're a part of the scheme?”

“I can’t but I feel like he’s caught up. I tried to call him last night. Yes, I know it’s cheap of me. But, his number was unavailable so…”

“He probably was off doing villainous deeds.” Tsukauchi patted your head and dragged his seat back to his cubicle. “He’d be a real jerk if he won’t contact you within the next few days. Trust me. Not even bad guys can resist the temptation of women.”

“You’re making me sound like a prostitute, Nao~” You commented while checking your emails. For now, nothing caught your eye. The occasional spam emails were present and one from Hawks but you could save that for later. Any more birdmen was not in your priority.

A few minutes passed and you were now engrossed in typing reports. When the lights of your company telephone lit up, your eyes darted to Namase’s door. It had been a long time since the both of you conversed, or let alone saw each other. The fact that he was calling you only meant bad news. Recalling every case you left unsolved, you were quite confident that this was nothing worth worrying about.

Picking up the phone, you braced yourself.

“Namase?”

“Bet you’re wondering why I called you, right?” Right. You forgot. This man held no filter whatsoever. “Well no need to worry. I just had to inform you that we received an anon caller. Do you wanna put him on the line?”

“An Anon caller? For what case?” You grabbed a pen and paper.

“For the Arson case.”

“Can you put him on the line?”

“Sure~”

Namase put the Anon caller thru and you waited till you were sure he wasn’t eavesdropping.

“Hello?” Even if you weren’t sure whether or not you should receive this call.

“Is this (l/n)-san?” His voice was low but clear enough for you to hear. “I think I have some good information about the fires.”

“I’d love to hear it but I had to hand over the case to the HPSC not too long ago. I can give you their hotline number if you want.”

“They scare me. I would prefer it if it was you who passed the message to them. Are you free later at 4pm?”

“Let me just check my schedule.” You knew you were free but you felt the need to look up the person. “Can I have your name, if that’s alright?”

“Tetsu.”

“Okay, Tetsu-san. Where do you want to meet up? Is a cafe alright? Or do you want a private room in the precinct?”

“A cafe please.”

“Alright, We can meet by the Nooks and Books. ’ll be the one wearing black. I’ll see you later.”

With no greetings, the line ended and you put the phone down. Gathering your stuff, you began to skim through each article you recently read about fires. Granted it had been a while since you last heard any news about fires, the tip was or could be useful. Of course having to talk to the HPSC was something you were not looking forward to.

“Nao, I’ll be taking my leave now. Anything you want me to bring when I come back?” You peaked into his rather messy cubicle. “Geez. Calm down with your cases, buddy.”

“This is only for the meantime.” He scratched his neck and stared at the scattered papers and folders. “I’d like a creampuff, though. A creampuff sounds nice in these trying times.”

“Aight. I’ll bring you a box later.” You said as you exited the floor.

It only took a few minutes but you were now seated in another desk. One where you wished you were not a part of. Greeting the heroes who had just entered the meeting room, you smiled at the sight of Deku and Mirio.

“(l/n)-san! Long time no see!” Deku greeted you and took the vacant seat beside you. “How’s work?”

“Work is work. How’s school? Are you holding up? Must be difficult to juggle this raid and academics.”

“It is but we have supplementary classes so I can manage.”

“Your classmates with Uraraka, Asui, and Kirishima, right?”

“Yeah!”

Exchanging a few more small talk with the heroes, you locked eyes with the hero sitting beside you. The scruffy hair, eyes that looked like they haven’t slept a single second, and the trademark scarf resting on his shoulders. Giving a shy smile, Aizawa merely responded with a lazy nod before Nighteye finally entered the room.

“As you all know, today’s agenda will be task distribution. Let’s get on with the details now, shall we?”

The tasks were distributed rather well. Fatgum Agency would be accompanying the front of the team. Right alongside Nighteye and Aizawa. The other heroes were tasked to stay outside and guard the entrance for any possible nuances that might occur. The police staff were divided into two groups. Being given ample time to assign which officers would be in the outer and inner group, you merely nodded and took the list of names.

‘Great. More work.’ Flipping the pages, most officers were people you had worked with before. At least things wouldn’t be so difficult.

“(l/n)-san?” Nighteye snapped your thoughts away. Adjusting his glasses, he rested his elbows on the desk and leaned in. “How’s the task of bugging Overhaul?”

“I haven’t been in touch with any of them for a few days now. I will be trying this week if the situation allows.”

“Alright. If that succeeds then things will go much smoother and will surely pick up speed. Best of luck. Any questions?”

“Are there any updates about the League of Villains being tied with them?” Deku asked.

“As of the moment, there’s no movement from them. So, it’s safe to assume that they only have minor participation in said event.” Nighteye replied without batting an eyelash. He really was confident in this raid.

Feeling guilt rushing through your veins, you shifted in your seat and silently exhaled. Once Nighteye gave the adjournment, you scurried out of the room and made your way to the cafe. It was a bit traffic but you would still be able to arrive on time. With the cafe being near the station, parking would be no trouble.

When things were now settled, you were now walking towards the cafe and found yourself now standing in front of the cashier and saying your order. Taking your number, you looked for a private booth and sat there. It rested in the corner so Tetsu wouldn’t be too uncomfy.

When the clock struck 4, you were now staring at the lobby waiting for that Tetsu to arrive.

Sure enough, a man with a hood entered the cafe and made eye contact with you. Seeing as he walked towards your booth, it was safe to assume that this was Tetsu.

“Are you Tetsu?” You asked the man wearing the hood. With the sunglasses and mask, you could only make out such little skin his face had.

“I cannot stay long. But I came to hand this over.” He slid a small brown envelope. His head hanging low making sure you wouldn’t catch a glimpse at his covered face. “I hope this can assist your case.”

“To be fair, please stay while I go through the contents of this envelope.” Taking the envelope, you slid the content out only to have a sim card laying flat on your palm. “What kind of information does this hold, Tetsu-san?”

“That information is sensitive so you can check its contents before handing it over.”

“But, I’m not part of the Arson case anymore. Would you still want me to hand this in or redact a few messages.”

Overhaul did not mention you were no longer part of the case. Cursing at how blank his mind was, Kurono glanced at the environment before he exhaled deeply.

“I will only say this once, so listen carefully.” He uttered.

“This isn’t about the Arson case now, is it?” Sliding the sim card back, you carefully placed it inside your bag and focused on Tetsu. The words that came out of his mouth made your heart beat faster. Clenching your fists, you braced for whatever he would say next.

“Kai has been on edge and it’s been such a pain in the ass. I don’t know what the hell made you decide to mention Ackerwacker but you got what you wished for.” Kurono’s voice was low. Barely audible due to the cafe’s music. “But, it would be a lie if I said he hasn’t been more human ever since he met you.”

“Can you take your mask and shades off?”

“You’ll probably just arrest me right here.” Kurono took his shades off revealing familiar gray eyes.

“You were that guy from the restaurant?” Your eyes widened at the realization that Overhaul had interfered that early on. “Not that I’m complaining or anything, but ya’ll did me a great favor.”

A slight smirk appeared on his lips as he took the mask off. It felt different having his face exposed after a long time.

“I can see why he took interest in you.”

“Why meet me, though? Wouldn’t this only risk in you being overhauled and shit?”

“I have my ways. Kai instructed me to get rid of his sim card but I don’t know. Perhaps you can make use of it in your private life.”

“Well, to be honest, the heroes don’t fully trust me.” You shrugged. That was nothing new. “It sucks having to juggle work and personal feelings in this particular case. Guess both of us are in a pinch.”

“Perks of being with Kai.”

“You should probably get going… Chronostasis, right?” Putting his disguise back on, a switch flipped in your mind. “Hey you mind if I get your number? If you have one, ofcourse.”

“Why?”

“I like to make my connections.” You winked. When he took out his phone, you in turn took something out of your pocket. Placing it on the table, you pushed the small box towards the villain. “I’ll text you the instructions later, aight?”

“What’s this?”

“You’ll know when you open it.”

With that, Kurono pocketed the small box and left the cafe. When he was out of sight, you rubbed your face and groaned.

“Damn it.”

- - - - -

a/n: hohoho Kurono now enters the picture! hope ya’ll enjoyed this chapter! :) Mimick is still writing down Overhaul’s waiting list! if you guys have any questions or just wanna be tagged :) feel free to spam me! take care!

[wesenschau]

Sharp Arrows of the Mighty, with Coals of Juniper

Psalm 18 (17 LXX) (same prayer as found in 2 Samuel 22) is a beautiful synthesis of many biblical symbols and narratives, drawing and connecting them into the grand arc of God’s sustenance of the world through man. I am going to particularly focus on verses 7-16, but even just focusing on 9 verses there are countless concepts that go over my head, and I would love to hear what others learn from this poetic prayer. In Ps. 18:7-16 (2 Sam. 22:8-17) we find a synthesis of the 120th Psalm (119 LXX), Noah, the story of Jonah (particularly ch. 4), 1 Kg. 19, Is. 6, etc. Before we can establish the connecting point in this array of passages, we need to establish the sacramentality of the symbols present.

In the 120th Psalm we hear the cry of a mourning precant: 

In my distress I cried unto the Lord, and he heard me. Deliver my soul, O Lord, from lying lips, and from a deceitful tongue. What shall be given unto thee? or what shall be done unto thee, thou false tongue? Sharp arrows of the mighty, with coals of juniper. Woe is me, that I sojourn in Meshech, that I dwell in the tents of Kedar! My soul hath long dwelt with him that hateth peace. I am for peace: but when I speak, they are for war.

The calling of Isaiah in Isaiah 6 uses language very reminiscent of this Psalm --  “Woe is me! for I am undone; because I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lip” (Is. 6:5). In both the Psalm and in verse 6 of the Prophet’s account we are given a solution to this false tongue / unclean lip: 

Sharp arrows of the mighty with coals of Juniper / Then flew one of the seraphims unto me, having a live coal in his hand, which he had taken with the tongs from off the altar: And he laid it upon my mouth, and said, Lo, this hath touched thy lips; and thine iniquity is taken away, and thy sin purged. 

To the Orthodox Christian these passages are evidently eucharistic -- the passage in Isaiah is referenced by the priest in the liturgy in reference to the eucharist, saying “Behold, this has touched our lips! This has washed away our iniquities!”. Further evidence for a eucharistic reading here can be seen in a holistic structure of Isaiah, with the calling of the prophet being a foreshadowing of what will happen to Israel/the world as a whole. What happens to Israel/the world as a whole? We see God’s holy mountain established in Isaiah 25:6 for all people. It is on this holy Mount that the LORD establishes a feast of wines, and He destroys the veil that is spread over all people. It is this mountain that draws the nations in, causing them to beat their swords into ploughshares, and their spears into pruning-hooks (Is. 2:4) (note the eucharistic aspect of ploughshares [grain/bread] and pruning-hooks [grape/wine]). We are also told in Isaiah 66:20 that gentiles will bring a offering (minchah) unto the LORD. Minchah is the name of the tribute offering in Lev. 2 and Num. 15 and involves bread/wine (Note how in the old covenant nobody drinks the wine in the offering, but in the new covenant we must partake in the bread and wine / the body and blood of Christ). 

In Is. 6:4 we read of door posts moving/shaking at the voice of God and smoke filling the atmosphere. We find very similar language in Ps. 18:7-8.                  Sg. 5 (v. 2) describes something similar to Is. 6 (v. 4) where the bridegroom knocks on the door, and the bride reaches out to answer with her fingers dripping in myrrh (myrrh as a symbol of death/burial). The love between the Bride and the Bridegroom is what draws the bride out of her chamber to seek for her bridegroom, resulting in her unveiling by the watchmen. What is this attractive love which draws the bride out other than the flame of YAH /  שַׁלְהֶ֥בֶתְיָֽה /  šal·he·ḇeṯ·yāh (sg. 8:6) -- the same flame of the eucharist. This same flame burned the coal that purged Isaiah’s iniquities -- the same flame that fans the rough wind in the day of the east wind by which the iniquity of Jacob be purged in Isaiah 27:8-9. 

The same phrase for east wind is used in Jonah 4, describing a fierce, hot climate and is also used in Exodus 14 describing the baptism/passage of Israel from the old world into the new through the red sea. This reveals a deeper connection between the sacrament of baptism, wind, coals, fire and the eucharist. Jonah, having served in the courts of Jeroboam II knew of the wicked state of Israel -- and given Jonah’s obvious knowledge of the song of Moses he would have known idolatry and wickedness would lead God to make Israel jealous with the gentiles (Deuteronomy 32:21). This explains the mourning of the righteous and Holy Prophet under the (gourd?) plant in Jonah 4, which is reminiscent of the mourning of Moses over Israel in Exodus 32:30-34 and Numbers 11:12-15. The plant withered and the fiery wind of God raged, revealing the foundations of the world (Ps 18:15), the same wind which the Lord flies upon, bringing coals of fire and thick clouds of dark water (Ps. 18:8-11). The hebrew name Jonah, means dove and calls us back to the waters of Noah and the wind (Gen. 8:1) that caused the waters of the flood to subside, bringing Noah and the ark out of the deulge and exalting them to the Holy Mount with the help of the dove. All of these connections go to bring these different symbols and stories together sacramentally, ultimately culminating in the life and work of Christ. 

[Note that Holy baptism is the ecclesial and personal recapitulation/participation in the sign of Jonah (Mt. 12:38-41), which is, on one hand the crucifixion and resurrection of Christ; but is also the procession of the divine presence to the gentiles and the whole earth with it’s ultimate reversion to the Holy Mount Zion in Is. 66.]

 The special plant under which the Prophet prayed calls us back to the Juniper tree in 1 Kg. 19.

There are few times that Juniper trees are mentioned in scripture. Only one of these times (other than Psalm 120) are coals mentioned in the same context. 1 Kings 19, where right after speaking judgement upon Israel and demonstrating the power of God over false prophets (note connection to prophecies in Is. 1-5 and the story of Jonah) Elijah, declaring himself the only one left is called by the Angel of the LORD to anoint a threefold sword (Hazael, Jehu and Elisha) to whittle Israel down -- just as Isaiah’s prophetic calling was to make their ears heavy and shut their eyes, whittling Israel down to the one truly righteous intercessor: Christ (Note connection between Isaiah 6:8-13 and 1 Kg. 22:19-23) (also note the threefold whittling of Israel in Ezekiel 5 and the sacramental language of fire/famine/eating sword/arrow and wind/fury). Before Isaiah could participate in this calling he had to partake of the divine coal given to him by the seraph. In a similar manner: before Elijah could continue in his prophetic calling he had to eat of the Holy bread (which was cooked on coals -- interesting detail to include in the passage if there is no real significance to it) and drink the Holy water which sustained him for 40 days and nights. In Matthew 4:4, after Christ’s 40 days and nights in the wilderness, He refused demonic temptation, quoting Deuteronomy 8:3, saying: “Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God”. As we know from John 1, Christ is *THE* Word of God and as such it is only through Christ and through our assimilation into the divine Word that we can live, as anything outside of God’s mind is an infinite step towards non-existence (interesting to note the theme of 40 days and food throughout the scripture. See how Moses lived purely by the Word of God for 40 days [Exodus 34:28] and how after 40 days of wandering the scout of Numbers 13 returned to the camp bearing ripe fruits [vv. 21-25] as a symbol of Israel entering the promised land after 40 years of wandering). This means that, just like the manna which fed Israel for 40 years (exodus 16:35), what Elijah was given was not just bread and water but a divine foreshadowing of the true bread and the true drink, which is the body and blood of Christ (John 6). 

We can see in Isaiah 27:1 the mighty sword that slays the leviathan; and we have the sharp arrows of the mighty (Ps. 120:4) which are used alongside the coals of juniper to deal with false tongues (note how the Hebrew root for “arrow”/ “archer” / “ חָצַץ” [Strong’s 2686] literally means “to divide”. It is related phonetically to the words qatsir [harvest] and qatsar [to reap, cut down]). What are arrows of the mighty other than children of the youth (Ps. 127:4) who have been born into the spirit in baptism (John 3, 1 Peter 1, Romans 6), who have become as little children (Mt. 18:3) desiring the sincere milk of the word (1 Pt. 2:3). Just as Christ, the only begotten Son of the Father is *the* chosen arrow of God (Is. 49:2), we are made sons and arrows of God by grace (1 Jn. 3:1). These arrows are scattered (Ps. 18:14) and fill everything (Eph. 1:23) for we, the Church, are unto God a sweet savour of Christ, in them that are saved, and in them that perish: To the one we are the savour of death unto death; and to the other the savour of life unto life, (2 Cor. 2:15-17). 

[Side Note: Seraphim Hamilton, in his video on Michael Gorman’s Inhabiting The Cruciform God, explains that Christ was sent by the Father as the Word that shall not return void (Is. 55:11). I find Seraphim’s use of the language of arrows particularly interesting, as he explains that Christ’s work in the incarnation was to descend to and assume every aspect of creation into himself, in order that every arrow within every aspect of creation may point towards God through participation in the Logos. Contrast this to the wicked woman in Sirach 26 who will open her mouth as a thirsty traveller when he hath found a fountain, and drink of every water near her, by every hedge will she sit down, and open her quiver against every arrow. (v. 12). This calls back to the serpent in Genesis 3 who is cursed to eat dust (dust meaning dead men [think: ...to dust ye shall return... ]). Similar to Sir. 26:12 is the description of the whore of Babylon in Rev. 17 who is drunken with the blood of the saints, the blood of the martyrs of Jesus Christ. Eating/drinking something is the most basic means of assimilating something into your being -- this is why the eucharist is the heart of the divine liturgy, it is how we are assimilated into Christ’s very being. This also explains the texts about Ezekiel and John eating the scrolls, and why Christ spits the lukewarm church in Laodicea out of His mouth in Rev. 3:16.]

Sword and flame are the two sacrificial items/tools throughout all of scripture. This starts in Genesis 3:24 where, in order to regain access to Paradise, man must ascend through the fiery sword of the Cherubim. This explains the Levitical dividing and burning of the sacrifices. This is ultimately fulfilled universally in Christ’s total sacrifice on the cross and our sacramental recapitulation/participation in that, through the sword and fire of Holy Baptism + Chrismation and the Holy Eucharist. Christ came to bring a sword, (Mt. 10:34) that he may set fire on the earth (Lk. 12:49) and once and for all fulfill the passing through sword and flame for Man. In giving your enemy bread to eat and water to drink you heap coals of fire upon his head and the LORD shall reward thee (Prov. 25:21-22).

Let us recall the establishment of the marriage supper of Mount Zion in Isaiah 66. How is this eucharistic table on Mount Zion established? Isaiah 66:16 has the answer:

For by fire and by his sword will the Lord plead with all flesh: and the slain of the Lord shall be many.

The solution, therefore, to the Davidic cry of Psalm 120 is the sacramental and ecclesial participation in the victory of Christ over death, who sent from above, draws us out of many waters (Ps. 18:16).

We see in the story of Noah God rained upon the earth and this acted both as a curse to the wicked and a blessing to those in the ark. The possibility to reject the Christ is always present and is something we must always guard ourselves against -- lest we be divided and slain like the leviathan or burned like Nadab and Abihu in Lev. 10 -- lest the coals of fire hail (Ps. 18:13) upon us like Sodom and Gomorrah. There is huge significance that can be drawn between this, 1 Cor. 11:23-30; Hebrews 9 and Lev. 16, but that is for another time and is a much broader, and more important, topic.

[bonemarroww]

Something Else - Trans!(O) Amajiki Tamaki x (A) F!Reader

Summary : “You’ll get there someday!” Mirio always says. “You’ll do better next time." Tamaki doesn’t want to get there someday. And if every Alpha always does, well, maybe he’s something else then.

Warnings : None.

(I do not own the picture)

AO3 Link

Prologue

————— Chapter 1

Once again, Tamaki’s head was glued to the wall just outside his classroom, as he breathed deeply. Class had started a few minutes earlier. It was the day he was supposed to make an oral presentation to the class about his internship with Fat Gum; but his teacher had allowed him to go out and take his time to be ready to face the class. Mirio and Nejire had given him thumbs up on his way out of the classroom, and once already the blonde had peeked his head through the wall to ask him if he was alright.

He was not. It was such an important presentation, that would mark the mid semester as well as a summary of his experience so far as a hero. He had worked hard on it for several days already, but now that it was just a matter of talkingin front of the class, his throat felt tight from tears he was holding back.

The whole thing was spiraling to a whole new level of anxiety, and had he not followed extensive hero training, he might not have heard the sound of footsteps coming his way.

“Hey, are you alright?” A soft voice pulled him from his thoughts, as a sweet verbena scent wafted in the air, surrounding him in a calming wave.

It evoked in him the warmth of a fire in winter, the security of a known place and the peace of a deserted park; and immediately, Tamaki felt like he could breathe better. His thoughts, still as tangled as they were before if not more, slowed down slightly.

When he lifted his gaze from the wall, it was met with that of a girl his age, that he did not recognize immediately. She was dressed for the cold weather, her nose still a bit red from having been outside in the cold, but her little smile was warm. So was her palm, that she had settled around his back in some sort of weird distant half-hug he did not mind so much.

“Hi. What’s your name?” She asked nicely, as more of her scent exuded from her, and Tamaki realized the panic inside did not feel as vivacious anymore.

“A-Amajiki Tamaki.” He hesitantly answered.

“That’s a pretty name, it suits you well.”

Tamaki blushed from the compliment, looking down and fumbling with his presentation papers as he thanked her timidly.

“Is there something wrong, Amajiki? Do you want me to stay until you’re okay?” Her voice took a more serious, concerned tone.

It didn’t click until that moment that this wasn’t just a friendly girl coming to distract him. This was what Mirio did daily and that he could not. This was the first duty of any self-respecting Alpha, the first instinct there ever was, the natural tendency he had observed time and time again growing up, as he stayed behind.

She was comforting an Omega in distress.  

The realization was enough to send him in a daze.

“It’s- it’s nothing...”

One of her palms went to stop his trembling hands, bringing to her attention his presentation papers, which were wrinkled from the way he was gripping them. The subject of his anxiety was now obvious to her.

“It’s okay, you’ll do great, I can feel it.” She squeezed his hand and spoke with faith.

Before he could figure out what to answer, a loud voice called her from the other end of the corridor, and only then did Tamaki realize they weren’t alone anymore. Another girl, her face worried, was tapping her foot on the ground and looking around as if afraid of getting caught.

“Come on, we’re already late! Aizawa is going to shred us to pieces !”

The nice girl hushed her with obvious irritation at being interrupted, before turning back to him. Her hands left him, and Tamaki immediately felt their loss, leaning further into her touch as if by reflex. The Alpha he brought her hands to her neck and started to remove her scarf.

“I’m afraid I have to go. Take this...” She rolled the scarf around his neck. “Deep breaths, and everything will be fine, okay?”

As if in a trance, Tamaki saw himself nod, and after one last little smile, the girl was gone, running to her friend and to their classroom.

When the sound of her footsteps disappeared in the next hallway, the boy shyly brought the scarf to his nose, breathing in deeply the calming scent of the Alpha girl.

He entered the classroom as if on autopilot, ignoring the curious looks the neatly rolled scarf attracted, and started his presentation feeling oddly serene.

At the next free period, Tamaki had recounted what had happened to Mirio and Nejire; omitting the part where the verbena scent of the girl was the most pleasant thing he had ever smelled, and that it still took everything from him not to nuzzle the fabric until he got drunk off that scent. He had removed the temptation after his daze had dissipated, shoving the scarf into his schoolbag and blushing from the attention it had gotten on him.

To say Nejire had been amused by the situation was an understatement. The only reason the Omega was not rolling on the floor laughing was her mate holding her up.

“Chicken-heart, mistaken for an Omega? Oh, I must know who this Alpha was!” She laughed long after school, as they walked back to their dorms.  

Tamaki walked with his head hung low, half in embarrassment and half in haste to get to his dorm room already. Eventually, Mirio noticed that Nejire’s hilarity did not reach their friend, and diverted her attention to something else –which Tamaki was grateful for.

Usually, Tamaki would hang out with the couple for some time after they reached the dorms, maybe do his homework with them in the common room; but as soon as they got there, Tamaki excused himself and practically ran to his room.  

Locking the door, he put his backpack down, and frantically searched for the scarf.

When its scent wafted in the air, Tamaki sat on his bed, pressing the soft fabric to his nose and breathing deeply.

It was not the first time Tamaki found an Alpha’s scent attractive –merely the first time he was in possession of an item carrying the smell. It was an odd thing for someone of his nature, he knew. An Alpha’s scent was generally strong, and traditionally used as a mark of territorial dominance over possible rivals. Many would call him a lesser Alpha for liking the scent of a potential competitor.  

For a long time, he had wondered what was wrong with him. He did not fit the traditional description of his second gender; never had and, after many years, he was starting to suspect he never would. His Alpha was as tame and shy as he was, and the way people expected him to behave made Tamaki uncomfortable.

He did not like to be reminded of his nature, nor did he like the responsibility it thrust upon him. He did not relish in the attention the way most Alphas preened when complimented on their power.  

Drunk on the sweet smell, Tamaki let himself lay down on his bed, rearranging his covers in a comfortable round pile to which he added the back-up cover and pillows he occasionally lent Mirio when the blonde would sometimes have a sleepover in his dorm room.  

Finally satisfied, Tamaki let himself rest. His entire bed now smelled like calm and verbena, and he let himself enjoy it, knowing he would have to rearrange and probably wash everything later.  

It was something he had found comforted him greatly, but that he had not yet dared to indulge in in his dorm room, lest Mirio might see. The blonde had a nasty tendency to pop his head through the wall at any time of the day, and so without knocking.

It was not that Tamaki was afraid of Mirio’s reaction; but he wasn’t sure the carefree Alpha would understand, especially with all his talk of “you’ll get there someday! ” whenever the shy boy expressed how hard it was for him to play his role as an Alpha.

Tamaki didn’t want to “get there someday”… He had often wondered if maybe, he was one of these “sensitive Alphas”, but even that idea was quite unappealing to him.  

He had not known either what it was he felt within him, and it wasn’t until a couple of years prior, when he had stumbled upon a certain book in the library, that he had gotten a semblance of an answer –or at least, a lead. Several characters in it described this same feeling of inadequacy and disconnection with their inner Alpha –or Omega. He wasn’t the only one, he had learned with shy glee, as he read avidly their experiences –some quite similar to his own. A few felt an affinity with the other penchant to their second gender, and eventually, one of them ended up actually undergoing a hormonal treatment to be more on par with their identity.

It was the first time Tamaki had wondered if, maybe, he was truly was not an Alpha, but... something else.

Ever since then, he had discreetly experimented, on his own, too timid to draw definite conclusions, but learning a lot about what he liked and what he did not.

One thing had emerged slowly, and that was his love for nests. While he had never previously dared to make one in his dorm room before, he had on occasions made some in his own room at home, always more disheartened to have to take them apart to keep up appearances. Eventually, one had found its way permanently laid in a corner of his room, and Mirio had found himself invited to the Amajiki household less regularly than he used to. In that, moving into dorms had been both a torture and a relief; practically living with his best friend without having to dismantle his nest, but being far away from it for most of the week.

Fortunately, and without the need to have a big, anxiety-inducing argument, his parents had understood that he was going through something, and had showed him quiet support, buying him books on gender identity and even that little guide, obviously meant for young Omegas, on different ways to make a nest feel as personal as possible.

Tamaki knew bringing an Alpha’s scent into one’s nest was a big deal, especially without said Alpha’s knowledge; but this one was temporary... It couldn’t hurt, could it?

As he felt sleep slowly creeping over him, Tamaki mused that not once, through his encounter with the Alpha this morning, had he felt anxious regarding his role or his nature.

Nejire was quick on her determination to know just who helped him the day before. At lunch break, as Mirio and Tamaki were eating together out in UA’s green esplanade, far from the rush of the cafeteria, she found them, dragging behind her a semi-willing girl Tamaki recognized from the day before as his- the Alpha.

The slight wind did not help, bringing her scent to him.

“Chicken-heart! I found her!” The bubbly Omega grinned, and Tamaki hung his head low in embarrassment over the nickname.

He did look up timidly at his savior of the day before, when Mirio enthusiastically introduced himself. The Alpha smiled back, giving her name in return. She was in class 2-B, Tamaki learnt; she had joined the academy one year later than she could have, making her the oldest of her year. Tamaki absorbed the information, all the while fumbling with his hands wondering if he should just tell her, or say nothing?

Sensing he would not dare talk to the girl from 2-B in front of his friends, Mirio dragged Nejire a bit farther from the two, and watched from afar their interaction.

The shy boy avoided the girl’s gaze, his own having darted to his feet as soon as Mirio had left them. He wondered where to start. Would she believe him when he would tell her he had not meant to take up her time? Oh, and she probably wanted her scarf back; he had put it in his backpack even though he had not had the time to wash it, having fallen asleep clutching it and woken up a bit too late for that. He certainly didn’t want to be an even worse Alpha and give it back to her dirty, but he had found himself mindlessly reaching into his bag for her scent several times in the morning, under his friends’ watchful gazes.

He was such a creep, he scolded himself, to even think about all this in front of her...

“I’m sorry.”

Tamaki startled when he heard her voice. She was... apologizing?

The girl’s smile was sheepish and guilty, an odd look on her features.

“Your friend told me you are an Alpha, though you don’t smell half bad for one...” She shook her head, sensing she was drifting off topic. “I didn’t mean to misgender you yesterday, I sincerely thought you were an Omega. So, I’m sorry.”

Tamaki swallowed thickly before looking away shyly. She was formal, but not hostile. She gave him the impression of apologizing out of his comfort, not because she thought it an insult to be called an Omega.

“It’s okay.” He whispered bashfully. “I did not mind it...”

There was a moment of silence, and Tamaki saw from the corner of his eyes the way the second year was slightly swaying, as if hesitating on what to do next.

It then clicked in his head, of course, she would want her possession back.

“Your scarf...” He frantically searched in his bag, nearly emptying it on accident, before offering timidly the fabric to her. “I did not have time to wash it, I’m sorry...”

Only when the Alpha accepted it, saying it was fine, did the shy boy realized his scent must be all over it. He felt like dying when the girl subtly sniffed it; now she probably knew he had spent hours breathing it in as he rested.

“Did it help a little?” She innocently asked, though the seriousness in her gaze meant one of two things; either she was making fun of him, or she genuinely cared to know if things had gone well after her hasty retreat the other day.

Instincts and his timid self were leaning towards the latter, and so, Tamaki shyly spoke.

“It went fine, j-just like you said.”

She nodded with a smile, before gesturing to the spot he had previously occupied with Mirio, waiting for Nejire to have lunch with them.

“Can I sit with you three? I mean, now that I’m here...”

Any doubt Tamaki might have had considering Mirio and Nejire’s eavesdropping was lifted when the energetic girl yelled that she could stay with them three and become their new best friend.

For once, the shy boy silently agreed with his overzealous friend.