#and its so fucked up realizing how many people have seen me in vulnerable states and gone ��ah! i want in on that”

[doodleoogles]

Reconnect - Part 3

Al clumsily sunk on the backseat of Brent's car, "I'm so full, I want to sleep now…" he muttered, but it's still loud enough for us to hear.

I sat on the passenger seat and tugged at the seatbelt. It won't budge so I pulled harder.

Brent smiled apologetically, "I plan to get that fixed soon." A car passed by on the opposite highway, its' headlights casted a glow inside the car and I noticed the soft features of his face.

I looked away, "It's fine, I can manage." the seatbelt finally slid into place and I buckled up.

"Where are we????" Al blurted out, I looked behind me and saw him rubbing his head, eyes closed.

"Let's drop him off first." Brent said, switching the gear into drive "Then tell me where I should drop you off."

The thought of being alone with him in his car is making me lose focus for some reason. It should be a normal car ride at 1AM, we haven't seen each other in awhile so we should simply catch up as any normal friends would. So why is my brain getting all hazy? I looked outside instead, watching the empty streets of the metro.

"You know what?? Why don't you just take her home with you Brent?" Al said loudly from the backseat. "Go ahead, bring her home."

"Jesus, Al. You're drunk as fuck tonight." he didn't budge at Al's outburst. He looked relaxed as he navigated the road.

After a few minutes, he pulled over in front of a tall white gate which I assumed was Al's house. Al, as clumsy as he got inside the car, got out exactly the same way. He wiped invisible dust at the side of his pants, flashed a wide grin at us and did a salute before running towards the gate of his house.

"You know what," Brent said, checking his phone quickly before returning his eyes on the road, "I still wanna grab a few drinks, what say you? I don't usually drink a lot when I have to drive. There's Al to consider, he's like my unofficial boyfriend every damn time we go out."

"True, you've been having way too many bromance dates with him." I looked at my watch, 1:48AM, "I don't mind, I didn't drink much either."

He googled a convenience store nearby and drove towards it. We parked and I got out of the car. He gave me a couple of bills so I can get some drinks while he do his business at the public restroom beside the store. When I went back outside, he's checking his phone while leaning on the hood of his car. He returned the phone to his pocket when he noticed me striding towards him.

"I think this is the part where we catch up?" I asked, handing him his beer.

We talked for more than an hour. I didn't realize how much has happened to our own lives before today. He's one of the few people I know who has a laudable outlook in life and relationships. Hell, there was even a time in my life where I cried my eyes out to him when I was stupid enough to fall for a married man. He's a good listener, gave very sound advice, and never once tried to take advantage of my vulnerable state. The "kinda hookup" happened long after that, when I was all better. I didn't realize how mature he really is, and it makes me wonder why someone like him would still be single. He probably has as many issues as I do.

"You should come tomorrow," he said as I was grabbing my phone to book a ride home. He offered to drive me home but I refused. I can't be close enough like that.

I wrinkled my nose, "I will think about it. I'm really enjoying this new aunt mode where I spend my evenings reading a good e-book then relaxing with some cucumber in my eyes."

He held my hand, "It's an event for a cause. Come on."

I dismissed the thought of how soft his hand felt, but I didn't pull my hand away, "I said I will think about it, Okay?"

"Good enough." he let my hand go, came to my side and hugged me from that angle. He gently pulled me close and run his hand across my waist before wrapping me in a tight hug. He burrowed his face in my hair and I slightly tilted closer to him. My phone vibrated in my other hand, thank God I was saved by the notification.

"I gotta go." I peeled myself away. I watched as the driver entered the empty parking lot where we stood a few meters away. I glanced back at him and noticed his gaze is still fixed on my face. I leaned forward for another hug before leaving. He whispered something I couldn't clearly understand but it sounded something like an empty meaningless "love ya."

Somehow I felt like I am very close to making shitty decisions once again. I better have more control on this. "It should be easy," I thought before opening my phone when I got home around 3:30AM. Instead of trying to sleep, I scrolled through our messages, trying to recall why the hell did we never work out.

[wandaromanova]

Lost

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of cancer, death, cussing

A/N: hello! i’d like to put a disclaimer that i am not in any way knowledgeable of the medical field and all of the terminology and information used in this fic was found through research! happy reading <3

anon requested: hiiiii !! can i request like an angst into fluff natxfem!reader one shot where the reader has a really bad day and takes it out on nat and hurts her feelings and so they go to bed angry. but the reader realizes their mistake and the next morning just wakes her up by showering her with love and then takes the whole day to do cute little date things with her? like making her favorite meal or like dancing in the kitchen to their favorite song late at night or just super fluffy things? if not, that’s okay!! have a good day <3

Summary: The heavy weight of her profession gets to Y/N and she takes her anger out on her loving girlfriend; Natasha Romanoff.

Word Count: 3K | navigation

please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work. reblogs, likes, and comments are always welcome. <3

Becoming a doctor was no easy feat.

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Once high school is completed, one must receive your bachelor’s degree before taking the MCAT exam and applying to medical school. After four years of medical school, you must endure a year as an intern before being promoted to a resident. 

Depending on what specialty one has selected, residency can span from three to seven years. Fellowships follow after but are typically an optional course that provides extra training. 

Yes, there are a lot of necessary steps to take in order to set foot into the medical world, but somehow, the years of foreplay could never compare to being a full-fledged physician; and you knew this all too well.

You are a pediatric oncologist and your job was to diagnose and provide treatment to children and teenagers who had cancer. You specialized in hematology; the treatment of blood disorders.

You were the head of pediatric oncology in a Manhattan hospital. You dealt with a lot of patients, but a two-year-old little girl named Sarah was secretly your favorite. 

Despite being diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia, Sarah’s positivity and playful personality never faltered.

Even if she didn’t understand the circumstances because of her young age, you knew she was suffering. Regardless of it all, every session you had with her was endearing.

You met with the child once a week to administer chemotherapy. Her enthusiasm never failed to have you awestruck. Most of your patients were exhausted from the treatments, but not Sarah. 

She was a hyper child who would attempt to sing Frozen songs, performing as you tried to fight a smile from taking over your features. She had a stuffed Olaf doll that she brought with her to every visit and it was heartwarming to see her hug the doll close to her chest. 

Sarah would even bring you drawings every week that you would keep in your locker. You’d admire each and every one of the drawings, even if you couldn’t really tell what they were.

You’d grown fond of the little girl in the past two months you had been treating her. You were also relatively close to her parents, who were probably the kindest people you’ve ever encountered. It made sense that Sarah was the ball of sunshine she was, she obviously got it from her parents.

Most times, parents were on edge and extremely short-tempered. If parents saw you often, that meant that their child was diagnosed with some form of cancer. Understandably, they would be rather hostile whilst interacting with you, but you never took their behavior personally. 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

If you were in their shoes, you were positive that you wouldn’t be very friendly either. 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

You had grown fond of the beaming child. You were aware that growing emotionally attached to patients was unprofessional, but how could you not? 

You adored children and for that very reason, you had chosen a specialty that allowed you to help kids as much as medicine would allow. You always had a soft spot for kids and you found joy in helping them as best as you possibly could.

Sarah had a very good chance at pulling through. With consistent treatment and her young age, her survival rate was around 68%. Those were considerably good odds in these circumstances. Not to mention, the chemotherapy seemed to be paying off. At the rate she was improving, she was predicted to be out of the woods soon enough.

However, the child had developed a bacterial infection. Since she had been receiving chemotherapy, the treatment had damaged her white blood cells which are responsible for fighting off infections. 

All you could do was provide antibiotics to try and fight off the infection. You had monitored her for some time in hopes of seeing any sign of improvement, but unfortunately, it wasn’t enough. Her immune system was extremely vulnerable and there wasn’t any way to reverse the damage. 

Your heart was torn to pieces when you delivered the news to her parents. They broke down in the hallway outside of Sarah’s room as you informed them of Sarah’s rapidly shortened life expectancy. It was only a matter of time before the young child would pass and honestly, this was what you hated most about your job.

You hated that you couldn’t help every single patient. You hated how cruel the world could be to take away an innocent child from their loving parents. 

You allowed her parents to spend time by her bedside. They laid on either side of her bed, clinging onto her for dear life. What broke you the most was the paleness of Sarah’s once glowing skin. Her smile was still present but didn’t quite reach her eyes like it used to. 

Her parents quietly sang ‘Love Is An Open Door’ to Sarah. You felt your heart clench in a bittersweet way as you silently watched. Normally, Sarah wouldn’t hesitate to join in, but her lack of breath prevented her from doing so. All she could do was close her eyes and lightly nod her head along to their voices. 

Sarah passed hours later and it was an extremely somber experience. Hearing the cries of parents who lost their children wasn’t easy and it never would be. Your job had its pros and cons, and this was the biggest negative.

You fought back your own tears as you exited the room, giving the two mourning parents some privacy after you recorded Sarah’s time of death. You found the nearest restroom and allowed the tears to fall down your face. 

A pure soul had been ripped away from the world, never having the chance to experience the great things life had to offer.

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

4 Hours Later

You trudged into your loft, immediately taking off your coat and hanging it up before tossing your keys on the small table by the front door. 

Your girlfriend, Natasha, had heard your arrival and quickly exited the bedroom to greet you, a wide smile on her face. However, her smile fell when she noticed your defeated state. 

Your shoulders were slumped as you slouched slightly and your eyes were dripping with sadness. 

“Honey? What’s wrong?” Natasha approached you while you stood frozen in front of the door. Her hands came up to cup your cheeks as she stared at you in concern, her eyes scanning over your features. 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I lost Sarah.” 

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Natasha’s eyes widened and her heart sunk at your words. She was aware of how much you adored the two-year-old. Once a week, you would rave about the child and how adorable she was at the dinner table. You would go on and on about how Sarah would sing to you, draw pictures for you, and bring along stickers to place onto your coat.

The redhead loved how happy you looked whenever you spoke about any of your patients, but most especially Sarah. It brought Natasha some joy of her own to see you speak animatedly about Sarah; your happiness was her happiness. 

So, the news hurt her almost as much as it hurt her. She knew how much you loved Sarah, despite never saying it straight out.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I know how much you cared about her. Are you okay?” Natasha’s voice was oozing with sympathy. You couldn’t help but feel irritated by her question. 

You tore her hands off of your cheeks and walked past her and into the kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of water as the redhead watched you intently. 

“Am I okay? I’m fine! It’s not like I lost an extremely young patient today or anything. What kind of stupid fucking question is that, Natasha?” You took a sip of cold water to try and calm yourself damn, but your attempt was futile. 

The redhead made her way into the kitchen, standing on the opposite side of the island as you took another sip of water, eyes burning a hole into her head over the rim of the glass. 

“I know, that was a dumb question. I just want to help you, Y/N/N.” Natasha remained calm and patient as she spoke to you. She was no stranger to the loss of a person she desperately tried to save and knew all too well the sadness and anger that accompanied the tragedy. She was an Avenger, after all. 

“I don’t want your help and I don’t need you!” You slammed your cup onto the counter as you raised your voice. Honestly, it was surprising that you hadn’t shattered the glass with the amount of force you exerted. 

Natasha felt an ache in her chest as you yelled at her. She knew that you weren’t in the right state of mind and didn’t take it personally, but that didn’t make your words hurt any less. 

“You save entire cities and I can’t even save a single fucking person!” You were turning red at this point, tears of frustration streaming down your face. The redhead hated seeing you cry, but she knew better than to approach you at this moment. 

“Babe, you save so many pe-” Natasha’s tried to speak, but you quickly interjected. 

“If you’re going to try and spew some philosophical bullshit to me right now, I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear another god damn word from your mouth.”

The redhead looked down defeatedly. She had never seen you so upset, let alone direct your frustrations towards her. Her eyes fell down to the marble counter between you both before looking up at you. You were breathing heavily, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you tried to catch your breath. 

Without another word, Natasha retreated back to the bedroom, shutting the door softly behind her. You watched her until she was out of your view and let out a sigh. Your hands gripped the edges of the kitchen island, supporting your weight as you shut your eyes. 

You brought a hand up to your face and pinched the bridge of your nose. After a few minutes, you made your way into the living room, chucking off your shoes before collapsing onto the couch. You didn’t feel like interacting with Natasha anymore tonight, knowing that you most likely wouldn’t be able to control your temper. 

You were just so fed up with the painful losses you had to endure from your profession. 

You knew that being a doctor was more dark clouds and thunder, than sunshine and rainbows, but you just wished that for once, the weather forecast would work in your favor. 

The emotional day had finally caught up to you. Your body relaxed as you sunk further into the couch, eyes fluttering shut as you succumbed to a much-needed slumber. 

Unbeknownst to you, Natasha was still awake. She laid flat on her back and stared up at the ceiling in thought. She was mad at you, as much as she didn’t want to be. Natasha had gone through the same thing and never lost her cool with you as you had with her. 

The redhead calmed down slowly, turning on her side and facing the empty space beside her which you normally occupied. She reached one arm out, her skin colliding with cool sheets, already missing the warmth of your body. 

Natasha hated sleeping without you by her side, She didn’t feel complete when you weren’t steadily sleeping next to her, your arms wrapped around her body. However, she hoped that things would improve in the morning.

And with that thought in mind, she drifted off into a dreamless sleep, clutching the sheets firmly in her hand. 

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

 The Next Morning

You awoke to a blinding light, the morning sun shining through the windows and landing directly onto your face. You let out a groan and slowly sat up, stretching out your limbs with a groan. The couch wasn’t the most comfortable place to sleep, you were aching everywhere. 

You sat there for a moment as the events of the day before caught up to you. Not only had you lost Sarah, but you upset Natasha. You immediately felt guilty as you recalled the harsh words you spat at her in a fit of rage. You felt like a complete asshole, and rightfully so. 

You quickly stood up and entered the kitchen, retrieving some bacon from the freezer and eggs from the refrigerator. You grabbed two separate pans and washed your hands, making sure to get the coffee pot running before you began cooking.

Your girlfriend absolutely loved bacon, eggs, and coffee. She described the combinations as a ‘party in her mouth.’ So, this was going to be an ‘i’m sorry for being a bitch last night’ apology breakfast. 

You got started on the meal and by the time you finished up and had the stove off, Natasha stalked out of the bedroom slowly. She eyed you carefully as she approached, you sent a soft smile her way.

“You made breakfast,” Natasha spoke and you shyly nodded your head. You moved away from the stove and rounded the counter. The redhead stood in her spot as you wrapped your arms around her waist, her arms reflexively going around your neck.

“I was an asshole last night.” You stated and your girlfriend nodded her head in agreement. “Yeah, you were a total pain in the ass, the absolute worst.” You rolled your eyes at Natasha’s teasing tone.

“I’m sorry for how I behaved. I was just so upset about… Sarah. I didn’t mean to take it out on you and I can’t even begin to tell you how bad I feel for yelling at you when all you wanted to do was help me.”

Your voice was full of emotion, your eyes boring into her emerald irises as you poured your heart into every syllable you uttered. Natasha smile gently at you, her fingers lightly tugging on the baby hairs on the nape of your neck. 

“It’s okay. I know you weren’t mad at me.” You let out a sigh of relief as the redhead stared at you softly. She let out a small chuckle at your dramatics before continuing.

‘I understand how you feel. The team and I, we try our very best to save as many civilians as we can, but sometimes it’s completely out of our control. It’s the exact same situation.” 

One of Natasha’s hands found its way to your cheek, gently cupping the skin as you leaned into her touch. You were listening intently to her every word, mesmerized by the calming rasp of her voice.

“Don’t dwell on what you couldn’t do, but give yourself some credit for everything you did do. I may not know what happened, but what I do know is that you tried everything you could, no?”

Natasha questioned you and you nodded your head. “I gave her antibiotics to fight the infection, but it was too severe.” The redhead rubbed her thumb against your cheek. 

“All that matters is that you did your best and that’s all anyone could ever ask for.” Natasha ended her little speech as she placed a soft kiss on the tip of your nose. You couldn’t help but smile, an overwhelming feeling of happiness taking over. 

“Thank you. I love you and your… what was it?” You furrowed your eyebrows in concentration before your face lit up. Natasha raised an eyebrow at you. “Philosophical bullshit. That was the words.” The Russian let out a laugh, shaking her head from side to side at your antics. 

“Seriously though, I’m so grateful for you. You’re so amazing to me even when I don’t deserve it. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Natasha’s laughter died down as your tone turned serious. Your eyes were so full of love and adoration as you stared into her eyes deeply. 

“Well, let’s hope you never have to find out.” Natasha smiled once more and you couldn’t resist pressing your lips against her plump ones. Your mouths moved in tandem at a slow pace, enjoying the rawness and love that accompanied each movement. 

You broke the kiss when air became an issue. Nat’s eyes fluttered open as you wiggled your eyebrows at her playfully. 

“So, are you ready for some breakfast? Maybe after we eat, we can go on top of a rooftop and I’ll serenade you with a rendition of ‘Sorry’ by Justin Bieber.”

Natasha’s head flew back as she laughed uncontrollably at your words. “What? Do you not like the Biebs? If you want, I could play ‘Baby Come Back’ by Player from a boombox and hold it over my head, instead.” The redhead continued to laugh profusely and you soon joined in. Your arms tightened around her waist as your giggles subsided. 

“I think cuddling on the couch and watching the Kardashians eating ridiculously large bowls of salad will do.” You nodded your head in agreement but didn’t make a move to release Natasha from your grip. She didn’t let go either. 

The two of you just stood there, basking in each other’s embrace, a comfortable silence falling over you both. 

Natasha never failed to say the right things to pull you out of the dark abyss that was your mind. She was completely right, as always. There would always be bad days, patients who were progressing one day and deteriorating the next. 

However, there were also good days, and you shouldn’t allow the bad to overshadow all the good you’ve done. Like with Natasha, she wasn’t always the superhero she is today. She took her dark past and turned it into a bright future. 

Nat didn’t let her bad days define her and neither should you.

Of course, you would always remember every single patient you had lost, but now, you would take the pain and turn it into motivation; motivation to improve yourself, not only in your professional life but in your personal life as well. 

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You would do right by the ones you’ve lost and the one who stuck by your side; Natasha Romanoff. 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

───────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────────

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[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Draw your swords, pt.4

Summary: In his attempt to get to know his wife, the Darkling realizes he might be getting too close.

Warnings: angst, swearing, sexual innuendoes, slightest bit of fluff

Part one // Part two // Part three   

=================================

Y/N couldn’t sleep that night. Not only did she agonize over the slightest possibility of his words being true, but the lingering of his lips on hers even hours after they’ve left tormented her mind. Instead of sleeping, she sat outside in the darkness with nothing but stars to keep her company. She shuddered with the cold wind as it chilled her, even the kefta didn’t protect her as well as she thought it would.

Sighing, she smiled up at the night sky, watching the stars in their celestial dance. It’s undeniable, she’s envious of them – their freedom is undisputed, their beauty unmatched by anything earthly. No one can force a star to marriage, no one can dull its brightness.

“Are you alright?” Genya spoke up, startling Y/N into a loud gasp.

Turning around, Y/N giggles in slight panic, a hand resting on her chest. “You scared me!”

“I didn’t mean to”, she chuckles too, coming closer to Y/N who let out a relieved sigh, only to look up once again.

“I couldn’t sleep”, she explains, “So I came here to watch the stars.”

“Most people are afraid of the dark”, Genya raised an eyebrow as she fixed her gaze on Y/N instead. She studied her carefully, unsure if she should invest all her hopes and dreams in her – no matter how striking she is.

“Oh, I’m scared of the dark!” Y/N exclaims, pointing up at the sky, “But the night sky is littered with lanterns, meant to guide you home. My mom always told me to look up whenever I feel lost, because the stars will help me find answers to any worry.”

Pursing her lips, Genya frowned, “Does that mean you doubt your plan?”

“No”, Y/N replied with haste, “I am simply trying to understand some of the chess pieces I thought I had figured out.”

Looking back at the Palace, Y/N’s eyes found the window of her room in an instant. A dark figure passed by it, the candlelight revealing the figure is pacing.

“He’s not a bad man, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Holding her breath, Y/N’s eyes find amber ones, “That’s not what I’ve heard. His deeds have spoken plenty about the strength of his character.”

“He’s fighting a war, not just with the outsiders, not just your father, but those on our side as well.” Pausing, Genya steps before her, “Do you know what they call him?”

“The Darkling”, she states, “A starless saint, a demon, a shadow king.”

“So many of those names are meant to demonize him, to shun him from society simply for the power he was born with”, licking her lips, Genya reaches for Y/N’s hand. “His own people are dying simply for who they’re born as – humans, Shu, Druskelle, they’re all sharpening their swords. If he’s not feared, we’re all dead.”

Nibbling on her lower lip, Y/N closed her eyes. Exhaling, she faced Genya once more.

“Does that mean I should applaud him for the way he’s treated the First army so far? How can you defend him when he’s the one who brought you here…to the emperor?”

Retracting her hand, Genya flashed a smile – one too strained to be believable. “He tried to defend me and got himself punished for it. So I’m here and I’m telling you to give him a chance.” Walking past Y/N, Genya stops just a few paces behind her, “He might surprise you.”

All the things Genya said became faint echoes inside Y/N’s head. When she returned to the room, she was ready for a new quarrel with Kirigan. Despite her readiness, he was sound asleep as she slipped her kefta off. With trembling fingers, she lifted the comforter only to stifle a laugh upon a surprising sight. Not only had there been a pillow to separate them, but three to ensure she wouldn’t accidentally roll on his side during the night. Perhaps she did smother him the night before and for once, she didn’t feel ashamed, rather satisfied. If he’s so insistent on sharing a bed, why would she make it any easier on him?

Tossing the pillows aside, she slid onto his side. Pressing her lips in a thin line, she tried to wrap an arm around his middle, but she couldn’t do it with her heart clenching wildly inside her chest. She drew back, forming tight fists at her side as she glared up at the canopy in frustration. If she’s going to play well and win, she’ll have to swallow her pride and withstand some discomfort.

Staring daggers at the back of his head, Y/N held her breath as she half climbed atop of Kirigan. Waiting to see if he’ll wake, Y/N finally released a shuddered breath. Burying her nose in the crook of his neck, she finally felt herself warm up after being outside for so long.

Closing her eyes, she inhaled his scent – woodsy and clean as if he had just had a bath. She never realized it before, but he smelled the same way on their wedding day…and night. But also earlier when he was pressed against her, devouring her mouth. Just the thought of his arms around her, his tall frame against her and the feverish kiss they’ve shared had caused her heartbeat to quicken with no shame.

And while she drifted off, she failed to realize something else – the Darkling was very much awake.

Instead of moving away when he felt a weight atop of him, he struggled to even his breathing. She smelled like spring, like lilacs and oddly enough, he enjoyed it. Most times, he’d crinkle his nose in disgust for strong, flowery scents made him nauseous, but she didn’t have the heavy, unbearably thick air of perfume cling to her – it felt like it’s her natural scent.

Smiling, the Darkling allowed himself to relax once her breathing calmed down and while her hands and feet felt like icicles, her cold nose brought most of the discomfort. Once she warmed up, by stealing his body heat, the Darkling began to drift away too. After all, he was winning.

A single ray of sunshine came through the window, its heat tickling Y/N’s nose. Sleepily, she brushed at it then tried to turn away, but something blocked her way. She lazily opened her eyes and saw the strange bed canopy overhead. When she remembered where she was and how she fell asleep last night, she felt her face grow hot as blood rushed to her cheeks. Even her body seemed to blush. She moved her head toward the other side of the bed and looked at where her husband’s supposed to be, yet he was gone – only the pillows she could have sworn she removed remained.

There was no way of knowing it, but each morning, the Darkling opened his eyes and looked at her first. No matter if she was drooling or her hair matted on her face, he quite enjoyed his view. She seemed gentle, almost like a saint sent to remind him light can exist along with darkness he’s been shrouded in.

Disgruntled, she sat up and huffed. She wanted to wake up at the same time as he did. One, she wanted to see his reaction and laugh, two, she really wanted to discuss the kiss from before. Then again, she just wanted to see the general at his most vulnerable state – waking up disheveled, just like any human would. His perfectly styled hair unnerved her and she couldn’t help but wonder if Genya used her power on it because she had never once seen a hair out of place, not even after their kiss.

For the rest of the day, Y/N tried to catch him alone. Unfortunately, she barely saw her husband at all. A fleeting glance of acknowledgement was all she received as they passed each other in the hall, both surrounded by others.

At night, she laid awake in hopes of speaking to him before bed. The faint candlelight on the bedside table kept the darkness away, relieving her fear. Would he laugh at her if she admitted to it? After all, isn’t he the one who can create darkness out of thin air? Perhaps he’d shroud her with it and prove he truly is cruel, but she had no way of being sure. He must never know of it and she truly hoped never to see his display of power.

Lost in her thoughts, she blinked and it was morning.

Wide eyed, she sat up and looked to his side. It was unmade, the pillow dented right where his head was and yet she can’t remember hearing him arrive in the night or leave in the morning. She never does.

“Fuck”, she mutters under her breath as she slams a fist in his pillow. Grunting, she buries her face into it, muffling her frustrated scream.

“Are you done?” Genya frowned at her, waiting by the door while Y/N screamed at the top of her lungs into a pillow.

“YOU’VE GOT TO STOP SNEAKING UP ON ME!”

Scoffing, Genya rolled her eyes. “You need to be more perceptive about your surroundings.”

A knock on the door had startled them both, enough for them to both let out a strangled scream. The door opened before either of them gave the permission and once they realized who it was that entered, they didn’t need a reason as to why.

“Ah, you’re awake.” The Darkling grinned at his wife who narrowed her eyes at him immediately.

“Your voice gives me a headache”, Y/N complains.

Squinting at her, the Darkling wondered if a woman could be so infuriating without wielding some mystic power to make her so.

“I believe you agreed to ride with me.”

“Oh”, Genya smirks, “She’ll ride you –“, covering her mouth, Genya giggles as she sees Y/N’s glare is on her, “I meant, with you.”

“I’ve prepared the horses”, he waited for her to respond, to give him reason to dislike her yet she didn’t.

“I will keep my word”, Y/N stood with her formidable gaze on his. She dared not look at his lips for they brought memories and self-loathing she’d rather avoid. After all, what kind of a woman quivers for her enemies touch?

“Wonderful”, he smirks, “I’ll wait for you to dress.”

Remaining in his spot, his hands at his sides, Kirigan raised his eyebrows as both women stared at him.

“Get out”, Y/N waves him off and he clicks his tongue.

“You may not let me touch you, but I can look.”

Angry, she narrowed her eyes at him, “That didn’t stop you from pinning me to a door.”

Genya’s eyes widen, pressing her lips to stop herself from commenting on their little exchange.

Shrugging, he stepped closer. His eyes raked over her body, the nightgown leaving little to imagination. “You didn’t seem to protest”, he leans in, “Especially since you proved you could easily escape me.”

Swallowing thickly, she exhaled through her nose. She couldn’t argue with that, now could she? If she wished, she could have forced him to unhand her. She could have fought him, but she didn’t. She may have been startled when he kissed her but she barely tried to push him away and still, when she had the option to back away, she was the one leaning in for a kiss when he lifted her onto the table. He played a game with her and she lost that day and now he gets to be smug about it.

“As your husband, I promise to protect you from all others. If anyone harms you, they’ll part with their life. For that alone, I deserve an occasional view.”

Winking, he takes a step back and sends a smile in Genya’s direction before turning on his heel and walking out.

“YOU KISSED HIM?!”

Groaning, Y/N throws her head back, “Sort of. It’s more like he kissed me and I didn’t fight him on it.”

“So, does this mean you like him?” Wiggling her eyebrows, Genya squealed in excitement. “Are you bringing him on this plan of yours?”

Holding out her hand, Y/N shook her head, “No, no and no. I don’t trust him one bit and he isn’t exactly a man who’d go along with it.” Exhaling loudly, Y/N decided, “He must be removed along with the emperor.”

When she walked outside, Y/N breath was caught in her throat. The sight of the general on a horse truly felt like a fabrication. Never had she seen a man as majestic as him, as proud and aggravatingly cocky all at once. With his black kefta and the cape, he rode on a black stallion as if he were a mere extension of his will.

She wasted no more time in mounting her white mare, chasing after the Darkling who seemed to only then notice he’s not alone.

Her horse was not above average size, but she was alert and slender-limbed. Her muscles and good nature allowed Y/N to keep up a fairly good pace, never too far behind the black stallion her husband rode. The stallion was clearly riled up, competitive by nature. Anyone else on its back would be a great danger for the rider, but he clearly trusted Kirigan.

The wind blew her hair back and the cold was rather unforgiving on her skin. Passing him narrowly once they entered the woods, she didn’t look back. Instead, she gripped the reigns tighter and continued to breathe as the cold air made her mouth dry and throat scratchy.

Feeling his gaze on her, she relents, looking back at him.

“Where’s your coat?!” He shouted after her and only then did she realize it must have fallen off. Genya made it pretty for a romantic ride, not quite as practical for a race. But that’s not what truly made Y/N’s heart skip a beat. The hint of worry laced in the words of an angry general is what betrayed him and she couldn’t help but wonder – what if it’s more than just lust for him?

“It was slowing me down”, she couldn’t suppress a victorious smile just as he couldn’t suppress an annoyed grunt. Yet they both slowed down, neither of them speaking as they turned around and headed straight to the palace.

“You’re an avid rider.” The general conceded as he dismounted. Before she could blink, he was beside her, his hands on her hips as he pulled her of the horse and effectively stole her breath away.

The rosy colored cheeks left him defenseless as he stared at her too, a little too intently for it to be innocent. Taking her hands in his, he brought them up to his mouth, blowing at them. She kept her gaze at him, undoubtedly in shock as her cold hands started to tingle with the warmth of his breath.

“I’ll have to leave for a few days”, he speaks before she has a chance. “You’ll have the bed all to yourself.”

“Don’t I have to come? If it concerns my peo –“, she began, but he silenced her.

“It’s got nothing to do with the army. I’m merely doing an errand for the emperor.”

Looking at her hands still in his, she pursed her lips. “Doesn’t he have enough servants to do his bidding?”

A breathless chuckle escapes him, “Why? Will you miss me?”

Rolling her eyes, she snorts, “Why? Do you fancy yourself as someone of importance?”

He looked at her like she's the Sun, angrily squinting at every second she spent in his presence. He never looked at her other than in frustration. At least she thought so. It’s how he looked at her a month ago when they first met on a field stained with Druskelle blood. He stood there, alone and victorious as she stepped over the bodies after arriving on this side of the fold with a Sandskiff.

All of their conversations were arguments – she’d narrow her eyes and he’s squint at her, throwing jabs at each other every chance they get, but this felt different. Something changed after the wedding and she wasn’t entirely sure what.

Achingly aware of their closeness, she couldn’t help but ask. "What is this between us?"

Pausing, he looked at her with wonder. If he could put it to words, it wouldn’t make any sense. His mind could hardly fathom what exactly she meant to him other than being a nuisance, but he didn’t exactly hate her as he believed at first when he admittedly hoped she’d find herself eaten by Volcra while crossing the Shadow fold. What he hated was not having a choice. He hated how arrogant she is and how little respect she has for her superiors. He especially hated her mortality, her species and all the atrocities they’ve committed against him and his kind.

He didn’t love her, that he was sure of. He couldn’t possibly care for her either. Lust, winning this game, feeding his ego by having Zlatan’s daughter at his feet is what he longed for. So no, he didn’t love her, but a part of him feared he might love her in time. For the first time in a very, very long time, the Darkling had a fear and it carried her name.

Perhaps that’s why he reacted the way he did when she asked him if there is something between them.

"Nothing." He grabbed the back of her neck, his lips pressing against hers hard.

He was right, she realized. There was nothing between them, nothing between their lips, not even air.

Pulling away, he smirks as she inhales sharply.

"Did you feel a connection?" He looks her in the eye, his lips set in a firm line.

"Yes", she whispers shakily.

His eyes harden as an ache in his chest reminds him of his fear. Someone like him must give up anything he could possibly love for the loss and disappointment are inevitable. She’s mortal, an enemy behind his borders he can never trust. So he will shut his heart out. Love is not an option for the Darkling, he reminds himself. The last time he allowed himself to love was also the day his heart turned to stone. So, he will not love her and she will not love him. He will destroy that possibility, cut any ties that bind them. Lust is the only thing he will let fester.

Leaning in, his lips brush hers softly as he whispers against them, "That's why you're a fool." Stepping back, he heard her gulp. “The connection you feel is lust, that’s all we have and it’s all we will ever have. Accept it.”

“Is that true or are you just afraid?!” Her voice wavers and she instinctively steps toward him, asserting dominance she felt was lost.

“General”, Ivan calls out, just in case Kirigan needed an excuse to leave.

“Afraid?” The Darkling chuckles dryly, averting his gaze to Ivan who waited for him at the entrance. “I’m not afraid of anything”, he remarks as his eyes lock on her lips again, “Certainly not of my wife.”

As he stepped back, the Darkling caught the strangest look in her eyes. It looked like clarity, total and complete sobriety from the ecstasy his presence gave her. She stood proud, despite the self-loathing in her previously warm eyes that slowly turned them back to the ice she held when she first laid her eyes on him.

=============================

Tags: @bruxa0007 @rangotangomango @kaitlyn2907 @thestoryofmylife9 @shelivesindaydreamswme @hxrgreeves @safetyhtom @kaqua @savannah-elliott @all-art-is-quite-useless  @azure23x @girlmadeofavocados @ashdab2611 @acciorudolphx @ladyblablabla @wckedheart​

Part 5  

[genshin-no-simp]

Alpha!Kaeya x Omega!Reader (Smut)

Pairing: Kaeya x You/Reader (Female Reader)

Warnings: Sexual content starts below the cut.

Extra warnings: slight breeding kink and possessiveness.

--------------------------

Alpha's were too possessive.

Beta's were little bitches.

And Omega's were too needy.

Nobody could deny these statements, nor could they determine what you were. There were many disputes on this matter. Many claimed you are an Omega due to your small and petite stature common among all Omega's. Others called you an Alpha with your feisty and somewhat aggressive behaviour, a trait common to Alpha's, though anyone would be on edge having to hide their scent all the time. So often people determined you were a Beta and left it at that.

Of course not all of them dropped the issue, the matter of fact that you concealed your scent was suspicious, it was something that not many did. Some put it down to the fact that you were still unmated with so more often than not, many over confident Alpha's who were in their ruts, would approach you, their scents stronger and muskier, more alluring than usual, trying to draw out yours, for you to only turn your nose up in displeasure, calling them disgusting.

Which wasn't a lie, all the Alpha's you have met had an over powering scent which was quite unpleasant, you desired something more sweet and alluring, something smooth and soothing, you realized that you would not find that person in your hometown so you chose to move to Mondstadt where you soon would find it.

Now even after you moved away from your hometown to Mondstadt, Alpha's would hound you daily, most of them gave up on trying to figure out if you were an Alpha, Beta or an Omega, you were a gorgeous and mysterious woman, who wouldn't want to mate with someone like that?

And today was certainly no exception.

"Come now cutie, I don't mind what you are, just come play with me, I can show you a good time," an over eager Alpha smirked, confidence dripping with every word. You held your breath, refraining from inhaling his pungent scent that made your stomach recoil.

"Yes so you and every other Alpha in this town claim." You scoffed turning from him, hoping he'd get the hint that you are uninterested. Instead he grabbed your hand pulling you to face him again.

"Unlike them I'm experienced." His scent became muskier with arousal, which only turned your stomach more.

"I could hardly care about your experience, I doubt you're that great anyway," you rolled your eyes pulling your wrist out of his grasp.

Losing his temper the male forcefully pinned you to the wall with a snarl, "you ignorant, untamed, feral bitch, you don't have any idea how many women want my pups. You should be grateful that I'm choosing you." He said it as if it was something to be thankful for, if anything you thought him feral. Before you could retort, you caught whiff of a familiar scent, a scent that sent you into a frenzy, your stomach filled with butterflies but you maintained your composure as you watched a hand grip the males shoulder as they dug their nails in deeply, the male let out a pathetic yelp as he released you to clench his fist and swing at the unknown third party behind him. His fist was easily caught and the males face turned pale as if he saw a ghost.

"C-c-captain Kaeya," his voice trembled, his once self-assured scent filled with fear.

"Lawrence my fellow Knight, I am quite disappointed in you, this behaviour is unbefitting of a Knight of Favouius," the ever cool Cavalry Captain spoke with a low voice.

"I-I apologize, perhaps my rut got the better of me." The named knight Lawrence shook.

"Its not me you should apologise to," Kaeya narrowed his eyes, nails digging deeper into his shoulder, you were certain he drew blood. Lawrence swiftly turned to you and bowed deeply.

"Please miss (Y/N), accept my deepest of apologies," he didn't move from his bow.

"Fine, just go away," you didn't care at all for his apology you just wanted him gone.

"Yes of course! You won't see me again!" Kaeya removed his hand from the other knight and he ran for it. Leaving you and the blue haird captain alone. You sighed deeply slumping against the wall you were still leaning on.

Kaeya reached out but decided against the notion, for he feared of your rejection. Although it wasn't the first time he's interacted with you, and even if during those numerous times you never told him to go away, or to go fuck himself, he still kept his distance. He didn't know when your attitude might change.

"Are you okay?" Kaeya spoke softly with concern. Even his scent that smelled like sweet wine and snow pine was etched with concern. Your face flushed, trying to keep yourself concealed was getting harder, the fact that you were going into a heat cycle right now didn't help, his scent was quicken the process. Around any other male it was fine, since their over-bearing scents had the opposite effect on you.

"Yes I'm quite alright Sir Kaeya," you smiled softly. The Captain couldn't help but chuckle.

"Come now, just Kaeya is fine," he gave a smile, not one that he showed to other people, but a genuine one.

"Alright then...Kaeya." It felt nice saying his name like that. If you stayed with him any longer, you knew you would do something you'd regret. As if he read your mind he spoke.

"Here, allow me to walk you home." He tilt his head to the side motioning his hand in the direction of your house. You gave a curt nod and walked with him to your house. It wasn't a long trip to begin with but it ended far too quickly for your liking as you soon found yourself standing outside your door.

"Thank you for taking the time to walk me home." You unlocked the door and turned back to give him a grateful smile.

"It was my pleasure. Have a good night (Y/N)," he gave a small bow before turning on his heel walking away.

Quickly you entered the comfort of your home, letting out a small whine, finally able to stop restricting your scent, the strain on your body lifting as the hallway was quickly filled with your smell. Your body began to burn, a fever being brought on by your heat. Swiftly you made your way to the stairs, but stumbled on your way. You reached out with your arm to the dresser in the hallway, your body slamming roughly into it causing the vase to fall and shatter loudly. Too caught up by the burning in your body you curled onto the floor letting out deep breaths. All you could think about was Kaeya, which all it did was made things worse for you.

Outside Kaeya hadn't gotten even three feet away before his ears picked up on the commotion coming from inside. His body tensed, as he rushed to the door but stopped. He wasn't the type to just barge into a lady's house but this was you he was talking about, he would never forgive himself if something had happened and he could've done something to prevent it. He'd apologise later for entering unannounced. So he opened the door and before he could even take one step inside your scent hit him in the face like a ton of bricks, your sweet yet salty Omega scent. Gods, you were an Omega after all. He breathed it in deeply, his wild and primal Alpha instincts were telling him to take you there and then but he shoved those feelings down as he watched you lay on the floor hot, bothered and so very, very vulnerable. He's never seen you like this, he's certain nobody has ever seen you like this. In your haze you could smell him, it smelt so good, so comforting.

"Kaeya," you mewled softly. His body froze, did you just call for him? Snapping out of it he swiftly closed the door, locking it, he didn't want anyone else getting in the way, he also took his boots off placing them next to your shoes. Slowly and gently he made his way over.

"Yes, I'm here," he called out ever so softly. You were startled, in a daze you sat up leaning against the dresser you had previously tumbled against, you weren't expecting him to actaully be here, or perhaps it was your mind playing tricks on you. Yet his scent was too real, but you were still unsure so you spoke.

"Are you real?" Your face reddened from your fever your hand reached out towards him. Instantly he took your hand in his and pulled you to him, you were surprisingly light. He held you tight against his chest, as he sat against the wall.

"What do you think?" He whispered softly. He held you close, your face pressed into he crook of his neck, where his scent was strongest. You pressed your nose against his neck inhaling deeply as you gripped his clothes. Kaeya let out a shaky breath feeling your breath against his skin. He could feel his control slipping but he had to keep it together, he would let you lead tonight, or until given permission.

"Kaeya, it's too hot," despite your statement you pressed your body closer to his, your hands delving into his clothes.

"I know," he spoke softly, he used his cryo power to cool his hands sufficiently and touched the back of your neck to try and cool you a bit. You arched your back letting out a desperate moan.

"Kaeya please," you whined now pawing at his clothes. His eyes thinned his voice low and husky.

"I don't want you to regret this, if you let me do this, I'm claiming you, marking you as mine. I won't allow anyone else to touch you," his cool hand that was on your neck moved to your chin to lift your head up to look at him. Despite your hazy state you understood what that meant, if he claims you, he would be your mate for life and you didn't want it any other way. So in response you smashed your lips against his with need.

Kaeya let out a small groan gripping your hips tightly. His tongue slipping into your mouth, his tongue rubbed against yours, caressed the inside of your cheeks, delving deep into your cavern, tasting you, unable to get enough. You moaned into his mouth some saliva dripping down the corner of your mouth. Breaking the kiss, Kaeya removed his lips from yours, he smirked and licked up the saliva. You out a needy sigh leaning in to meet his lips again, for Kaeya to lean away putting his finger your lips.

"Come now darling, I don't think this is the place," he wanted to make sure you were comfortable, after all this was about you. You couldn't help but growl softly when he stopped but appreciated his consideration.

"My bedroom isn't far," you spoke softly against his finger giving it a quick lick before grabbing his wrist and pulling him up with you.

"My, someone is certainly eager," he teased as you practically dragged him up the stairs. Throwing the door open you made your way to your bed where you made your nest, where many pillows and blankets were built up. Kaeya felt a tingling sensation, you could've taken him to a different room but you took him here instead. Holding himself back was indeed a challenge and then some. You had let go of his wrist a few seconds ago now, you were sitting in the middle of your nest looking at him.

"Kaeya why are just standing there? Come here." You patted the space beside you. You were inviting him in, into your sanctuary, into the place where you spend most your time nurturing and raising your little ones. The tingling sensation inside him grew. He was becoming unsure so he asked again.

"(Y/N)...are you sure?" His voice low as he stood at the edge of the bed.

"Kaeya I may in heat and needy but I'm not incapable of choosing my mate," You held out your hand to him with a smile. Kaeya returned your smile and took your hand. The bed dipped as he leaned his body weight onto it. He crawled into the centre with you as he watched you lay down onto your back offering your submission to him.

And just like that, the last string of Kaeya's restraint snapped. Grabbing the hem of your blouse he ripped it from your body. You gasped lightly in surprise, it was unexpected. Kaeya did the same with your bra freeing your breasts. The moment your chest was bare his face was buried into your neck. His tongue lapped on your scent gland, your back arched pressing your chest against his. In response he pushed down against you pinning you to the bed. You let out a mewl wrapping your arms around his neck, a hand finding it's way into his luscious blue locks. You tilted your head to the side, giving him better access to your neck.

"Kaeya please." You pleaded rubbing your leg up his side, instantly you felt his teeth sink into your neck.

He has marked you.

He has claimed you.

You are his now.

And nobody can take you away.

"Kaeya~" you moaned loudly.

Your mind began to swim, you couldn't think straight. All you wanted was him. You needed him.

"Kaeya, my Kaeya, my Alpha, please," you panted softly, "please fill me, give me your pups, please." Your sincere desperation drove him insane.

Kaeya removed himself from your neck to make quick work of both your clothing. He watched as your pussy glistened with your slick. As much as he wanted to plow into you right now, he knew he should prepare you so it wouldn't hurt as much, so he slid two fingers into you. You gripped his hair slightly arching your back, a gasp type moan escaped your lips. His fingers easily entered and exited your pussy. He made a scissoring motion, stretching out your walls. Your legs twitched in anticipation. Being impatient Kaeya deemed that you were ready. With the fingers coated in your slick he stroked himself a few times before lining his dick up with your pussy.

"I'm going to fill you real good baby, so good you won't be able to think of anything else but me." With that he pushed himself deep inside you, until he was fully inside.

You let out a cry of ecstasy, throwing your head back, "yes Kaeya!" With your neck exposed to him once more he latched onto it, leaving multiple love marks all the while thrusting mercilessly into you. Endless moans escaped you lips as you gave yourself to pleasure and instinct. Kaeya lifted his head from your love bitten chest. His fingers dug into your hips as he watched your wither beneath him. The sight of your disheveled body aroused him greatly. Hooking your legs over his arms, he spread your legs further, this new angle allowed him to hit that delicious spot inside you. Your walls clenched around him with every thrust to your g-spot. Kaeya growled deeply feeling the knot form at the base of his dick. Once it swelled he wouldn't be able to pull out, releasing inside you would be inevitable. But you did ask for it and he won't disappoint. You could feel his knot start to form, your hand gripped the back of his neck pulling his face close to yours.

"Don't you dare stop Kaeya," you warned him. He couldn't help but chuckle.

"Wouldn't dream of it princess. I told you, I'm going to fill, I'll fill you with my pups and I won't stop until I do. Until your stomach is swollen with my pups," you moaned into his ear you before biting down on his scent gland, marking him as yours.

Claiming him as yours.

"Fuck," he groaned feeling his need for release approaching like a storm.

Kaeya captured your lips in his.

"I promise I'll take good care of you," he panted, sweat coating both your bodies. He gave you a small smile as you gave into your release. Spurred on by your release and the tightness of your walls, Kaeya came deep inside you. You felt his seed warm up your insides making it's way to your womb. You let out a satisfied moan.

Slowly and gently Kaeya put down your legs giving them a small rub. He caressed your hair as he waited for you to come down from your high. Once your breathing returned to normal you opened your eyes and met Kaeya's blue orb as he gazed down at you lovingly. Your heart fluttered.

"I won't be able to move for a few minutes so bare with me okay." He spoke softly moving into a more comfortable position for both of you, rather than staying on top of you. Instead he moved onto his back so you could lay on his chest. He held you close rubbing soothing circles into your back. You closed your eyes in content.

"Kaeya, did you mean what you said?" Your eyes opened to look up at him still resting your head on his chest.

"About what? I said a lot things." He chuckled softly. You blushed softly twirling his hair.

"Well about everything."

"Of course I did," he cups your cheek leaning in to kiss you on the lips sweetly, lingering long enough for you to want more before he pulls away ever so slightly, "I love you."

You blushed with a smile, "I love you too," you said capturing his lips with yours.

[slutfor-fictionalmen]

Easy lovings(Denki edition)

Denki x Tsundere! F! reader

Y/n sets out to tell denki of her unrequited crush on him, maybe all isn’t as she thought. Slight smut, fluff

Y/n brushes past her unknown peers to sit at the back of the seminar, swiftly submersing herself into her phone in attempt to avoid all human contact with people she didn’t care about. Well, at least she tried to avoid it.

Her former schoolmates/ now friend group all huddle together with Y/n in various rows, chatty and carefree despite their powerful reputations. “Y/n!! how dare you try to find seats without us!! you KNOW we were all gonna sit together!” Y/n jumps as the shrill voice of the pink girl breaks through the voices to harass her ears.

“I’m not your mother, you can find your own way. And besides, Isn’t your dick appointment attending too? Can’t you go fuck with someone else right now?” Y/n sighs, staring at the blonde man she’s loved since their second year, while he’s immersed in a conversation with their shared lifelong friends. “No can do baby cakes, i’m here for you, and besides, i wanna have my pick of seat before Mineta tries to get his slimy hands on a seat next to us.”

Y/n laughs at the thought of their known associate, it’s been a while since she’s seen him but she still remembers vividly his attempts to grope all the girls in the class. She loved those carefree days, she misses the times where their only real worries were being strong enough and what their crushes thought about them. 

Y/n never had to worry about what too many guys thought about her, she never really cared what anyone thought, she had enough to worry about, screw  juvenile crushes and unnecessary feelings. She never cared about anyone, with the exception of one guy she liked.

The only guy she’s ever really liked

Denki.

Mina noticed y/n lost in thought and staring at him. She knew that her advice for the stubborn girl was always in vain, but it never stopped her from trying. ”You need to tell him y/n. He feels the same, he always talks about you, it’s time for you to be happy.” 

Y/n never listened, but something hit this time. She wasn’t a schoolgirl anymore. She was a badass pro hero with a sharp mind and a kind heart, so what if he doesn't feel the same, just means one less thing to worry about. ‘shoot your shot y/n, you can do this’. Y/n hyped herself up before putting on a brave face and looking at her best friend.

“I’m gonna do it, i have to..... right? i mean what if something happens and he never knows, i would hate that, but what if he doesn’t feel the same i-” Mina grabs her shoulders and shakes her out of her ramble. “shut up and do it.” “i can do this” Y/n walks away, not before hearing her best friend shout “YOU CAN DO THIS” from across the hall.

Y/n shakes, alarmed at her show of emotions. She’s never been one to be emotional before getting to know someone. But this is denki we’re talking about, the most kind guy she’s ever met, funny, sweet, smart, reminding her of a golden retriever in some ways. ‘Mental note, don’t compare him to a dog.’

Y/n approaches the leather clad man with a stoic look on her face, but not before giving him a small smile. “Excuse me, can i steal this man away from you for a sec?” The stranger nods and walks away, leaving Denki waiting awkwardly for her to initiate conversation.

“You ok Y/n? What do you need?” “can i talk to you in private?” “Denki blinks a few times before nodding and following the girl into a secluded area of the building. “Is everything alright?” He reaches out to rub her shoulder as a sign of affection but unknowingly making the plush girl more nervous.

“You know how i never dating anyone in school? Or showed interest to any man of woman in any way?” Denki hesitantly nodded, leaning in. “Well that was because i liked you then-” The blonde laughs running a hand through his hair and letting out a sigh of relief,”So that’s what this is about! Y/n I thought you were dying or something, you can’t scare me like that!.... and to be fair, i was very oblivious, so i’m sorry if i hurt you back then in any way. i would have-” 

“Oh my god shut up i’m not finished yet!” He went silent and stared with wide eyes. So much for the emotional presentation. “i liked you then-” “i know-” “and i STILL like you now, I don’t expect you to feel the same, but i cant let my unreciprocated feelings for you affect my ability to work. I’m in love with you, and i have been for years. Now if you’re disturbed or disgusted, too bad. I’m a grown woman and i can feel however the hell i want to feel. and if you feel you can’t work with me, i get that too, i-”

His lips were suddenly on hers. Y/n felt electric, she felt alive. Everything fell away while denki shut her up with a kiss. “For someone who doesn’t open up very often, you sure do talk a fuck ton.”

He gently set his forehead against her own while he backed her up against the wall. Y/n set her hands on his chest, stabilizing herself due to his sudden shift of positions. “Halfway through first year. That’s how long i liked you. And graduation is when i realized i loved you. After school you never answered any of my texts and ignored my calls. The only way i saw you is if we both happened to be invited to the same event. you make it really hard to read how you feel, you know that?” “That’s kinda the point, i don’t open up... that’s why it took so long to tell you.”

Denki smiled, and moved to kiss her forehead, cheek, nose, and lips. She melted into the kiss, relishing in his gentleness, ecstatic to experience his love first hand, not just to imagine it. 

Y/n wrapped her arms around his neck, allowing Denki to kiss her deeper and hold her closer with his hands on her hips. Y/n moaned into the kiss as his grip tightened. He pushed her farther into the wall, spreading her thighs with his knee. 

He Kissed down her neck to the top of her outfit, pulling it down slightly to mark her neck. Y/n moans as he nips and sucks at her collar bone, allowing her to tug at his hair while he ground his knee into her mound. “God i love the pretty little noises you make, but i would prefer if they were louder.” Denki smirked at the girls flushed state, continuing the friction on her clothed privates, listening to her sweet moans. 

Denki thanked whatever god was up there that he got to see a goddess in this vulnerable state. He memorized every move of her mouth, the curve of her face, the way her face looked contorted with pleasure. He knew that he wanted to see this sight again for the rest of his life, that his only longing would be to please her.

All thoughts were interrupted as the announcer ordered all pro heros to take their seats. Denki looked her in the eye with a smile so bright it could put the sun to shame. He gave her one final kiss and pulled away. “We will continue this, later.”

And for the first time in a while, the flustered y/n was left with a smile on her face.

OMFG THIS TOOK SO LONG TO WRITE AND ITS SO BAD, IM SO SRRY.

[kevindayscrown]

The one where Kevin Day falls in love with an ice hockey player.

Part 11

Weight

[TW: Panic Attacks, Nightmares, Alcohol, Mentions of Violence, Riko Moriyama]

Anything included in this head canon takes place the semester after the Foxes won the championship against the Ravens.

Disclaimer: I know next to nothing about varsity teams in the United States so excuse any false information. Head over to the directory to find the previous parts.

The winter holidays were a nightmare.

Maybe Kevin had the tendency to exaggerate things. Though, who could really blame him?

The Foxes – before they all departed for their holiday destinations – were approaching Kevin in extremes. Either as if he was a wild, caged animal ready to snap at everyone, or as if messing with him was the highlight of their day.

“If you miss him so much, call him,” Nicky had said, ever so casually.

The thing was, that Kevin knew he had messed everything up. There was no chance he was going to call or text Eric after what had happened during the winter banquet.

Partially because he thought Eric wanted nothing to do with him.

Another part of him, of course, simply wanted to punish himself. He had something in his grasp, something other than Exy, and he let it go, just like that.

If no one would bat an eyelash at Andrew and Neil, or at Jean and Jeremy, maybe Kevin could for once, do something for himself.

Disgusting.

Even after his death, Riko’s ghost would not let Kevin be happy. It was all so much, that he hardly thought he had the spine to actually call and apologize to Eric on his own volition.

Coward.

Kevin just knew Christmas would not be pleasant. It should be; it was the first Christmas when he was really free.

It didn’t really feel like that.

He’d thought that perhaps going to Columbia with Andrew, Neil and Aaron would help him forget.

Alcohol would help.

Apparently, however, those plans were ruined too, when Wymack told Kevin it would be a good idea for them to spend Christmas together.

“Abby said it- it might be a good idea. We have a lot to talk about,” Wymack had said, the night before they were to leave for Columbia. “The Foxes will be gone. We will have some fucking peace and quiet.”

Kevin knew he couldn’t say no. He’d kept the truth from Wymack for so long.

Selfish.

Kevin had agreed. He didn’t wake up as Andrew and Neil left; Aaron apparently, had arranged to retreat somewhere with Katelyn.

The dorm room was empty. It was unusual. The quiet was unsettling. No matter how much Kevin wouldn’t admit it, the voices, the bodies moving to an everyday routine, helped him focus.

Thankfully, Wymack had arrived early to pick him up from the dorms. They wouldn’t do anything special; just spend the holidays at the Coach’s apartment.

The first days were calm. Due to the awkwardness however, no talking was done. Not the kind of talking Wymack had implied at first, at least. The two men simply coexisted. The quiet became deafening in Kevin’s ears. Nights were the worst.

His fingers itched to be wrapped around the neck of a bottle. He didn’t like the way his thoughts – intrusive, nasty things – would fill in the silence when he was sober.

Relapsing however, would be yet another sign of cowardice. Kevin hadn’t drunk in months. He hadn’t felt like he needed it. The high of their victory, the busy start of the semester, training the new recruits, had all distracted him from the aftermath of everything that had happened in the span of a year.

Facing an identity crisis was not exactly what he needed.

Not when he blinked and saw Riko’s face during the night. Heard Jean’s screaming.

Christmas Eve was when it all reached its peak.

Homosexuality is disgusting, Kevin. Aren’t you happy you have Thea? Oh, don’t think I’ve not seen you sneak out at night to meet her. That’s why you will always be number two. You are so vulnerable.

Riko’s knife felt way too real, even as Kevin’s eyes snapped open and he jolted up from the couch. The lump in his throat and the tightness in his chest were definitely real.

“Kevin?”

Kevin had not realized that he had been screaming until he saw Wymack standing there, until he tried to speak but his voice was too hoarse.

“I- I-,”

Vulnerable.

He hadn’t had a panic attack in months. Almost half a year. He was aware it was happening at that moment, but he was too numb from shock to do any of the exercises Bee had shown him.

From shock or from the shortness of breath.

“Breathe with me, Day.” He felt hands on his shoulders, holding onto him, managing to only keep him grounded. He tried to match the pace of Wymack’s breathing but his own breaths would come out short and sharp.

“He is dead, Kevin. He is fucking dead. He can’t touch you.”

Kevin knew that. Knew he could be whoever he wanted to be now; he’d almost achieved that. He’d gone from Number 2, to Queen of the Exy court. He was no longer in Riko’s shadow.

Then why was it so hard to let the fuck go?

Kevin half expected Wymack to hand him a bottle of alcohol, like he’d done so many times in the past. Kevin wanted it as Wymack stood up, apparently to do just that. He clenched his left hand, waiting to feel the reassuring weight of a bottle as it started going numb.

Of course, that’s when he had to remember about Eric.

Stop clenching your fist like that. It’s better to have something to hold onto.

We all have our own weights. The question is whether you’ll allow someone to help you carry them.

Kevin rushed to the duffel bag he’d brought with him. He searched inside, making a curious Wymack halt when he noticed Kevin’s weird behaviour.

He found the puck and gripped it in his hand, as he sat down on the cold floor and threw his head back against the wall. He closed his eyes and, with something to fiddle, he finally had the chance to do the breathing exercises.

Breathe, one, two.

Hold, one, two.

Release, one, two.

It took Kevin at least ten repetitions to calm his pounding heart and rapid breathing. When he opened his eyes, Wymack was still there, alert and clearly unsure of what to do.

“Kevin?”

You can’t lie and pretend you didn’t feel anything.

It was because Kevin felt too much, that he became numb. But finally, as he sobbed, he let himself lean against his father and let it all out, allowing someone else to help carry the weight.

Wymack gripped his shoulder and held on for as long as Kevin needed it. He wasn’t exactly one to comfort people with soothing words, but he’d faced enough broken kids to know how to hold on.

It took Kevin until morning to finally calm down and fall asleep again. The bottle of vodka was left forgotten on the coffee table and neither of them touched it.

Christmas Day was a bundle of mixed feelings. Kevin felt lighter, having faced something like that and letting everything out. He wasn’t sure though how he felt about having trusted someone with this.

As days went by, he realized that carrying the weight, not only helped preserve that feeling of lightness, but also brought him a bit closer with his father.

It was only after New Year’s, three days prior to the start of the semester, that things had settled enough to help him make a decision.

The Foxes had come back, and Kevin greeted them with:

“Drive me to Atlanta.”

Nicky was ecstatic, though Kevin was mostly irritated by Allison’s smug grin as she turned on her heel and went to find the hockey team and get them to give her Eric’s address.

“Finally came to your senses?” Matt asked with a fond smile.

Kevin said nothing.

Next morning, as Kevin got in the car, he looked at Neil through the rearview mirror. Neil gave him only a nod as Andrew finally started the car.

Kevin was still filled with doubt.

But at the same time, he felt the same sense of certainty as when he had held a racquet on his left hand and strode to face Riko.

[unlikely-course]

The tl;drs of this very long post, which is about Gideon’s arc and her relationship to Harrow:

-Gideon’s arc in gtn is a corruption arc because tlt is not just goth but Gothic

-Gideon “forgives” Harrow because of Trauma and that’s definitely not the endpoint of how she feels about Harrow or their past

-The narrative knows what it’s doing

When Gideon says “For the Ninth!” as she dies, and thinks “this is the loyalty they always said I lacked, this is me making good” that’s not growth, that’s part of the tragedy of the moment. Like, the Ninth does not deserve her allegiance! It is, as Gideon was the first to remind us, rotten to the core. When she dies, it’s for Harrow, and her saying it’s for the Ninth does represent on some level that she’s come to new understanding about who Harrow is and how Harrow views herself *as* the Ninth, but like this is, I mean. Bad. Harrow herself does not deserve Gideon’s loyalty! Gideon gives it to her because it is a relief. Gideon is very good, yes, but the forgiveness is a response to trauma. The second Harrow shows even the slightest vulnerability or regard for Gideon, Gideon is eager to make amends because she has been starved for any positive association to others for her entire life, and Harrow was literally the only peer she ever had to associate with. She correctly identified that resistance to Ninth society was vital to her survival and selfhood, but also that shit is exhausting. That resistance is also partially formed by that society conveying to her: we have no place for you, we have no use for you as you are, and that makes you hateful to us.

Her response to Harrow and the cavalier role then is pretty classic! It is a relief to have a place, to be able to stop fighting, to give herself over to a structure sold to her as one in which she can support and be supported, to resolve the central conflict and most complicated relationship of her life. I maintain that you the reader are also supposed to feel initially relieved and even cheered by Gideon and Harrow growing closer and then gradually unsettled when Gideon embraces cavalierhood and the increasingly invasive demands of the trials, and has her mindset adjusted in increments toward sacrifice. To feel her thoughts turn in this direction is alarming! This is purposeful, and it is purposefully mixed in with good feelings, the same good feelings that Gideon is getting, to distract from and inoculate you against what is happening just as Gideon is inoculated against it.

In addition, Canaan House is a very particular crucible. This is not only the first time that Gideon has ever been bombarded with new people and experiences, but also the first time she’s faced these unknown external threats, which pushes her to unite with the familiar (Harrow) against them. Her past and present environments have made it so that the compassion she comes to feel for Harrow gets bound up in the idea of being loyal to her house, the ‘contract’ of her new role, and the positive interaction it gives her until the idea of her offering her life to Harrow is not simply necessary in the moment but good and right. Redeeming, even, when we as readers know she has nothing she needs redemption for. 

Gideon is so very angry when she comes to in htn, and it is not merely anger at those who have wronged Harrow or anger at Harrow for endangering herself. On the First, she made a simple deal: her life for relief from the emotional state she had to live it in. Forgiveness for some kind of peace. And when she wakes up that exchange is refuted. Gideon frames Harrow’s actions as a rejection of herself out of low self-esteem but also in an attempt to deal with unresolved anger she has towards Harrow, anger that cannot fit into the cavalier role she wants to embody, anger that she attempted to trade away but in actuality can’t. Because the role she was sold, the type of relationship the cavalier and necro is supposed to be, is ultimately false. It encompasses very real and deep relationships, as we have seen, but the framework uses these real elements to its own ends, the Empire’s ends, and despite its proclamations of mutual care the relationship is always at the cavalier’s expense.

This is what it means to say Gideon’s arc in gtn is a corruption arc. It’s not that she becomes “bad,” it’s that the corrupting forces of the narrative have reached out and altered her, worn her down, seduced her even. This is Gideon’s first contact with the wider Empire, in the seat and seed of its wretched power, and it has used her goodness, her capacity for connection (and yes for forgiveness as well!) against her to further ensnare her, to draw her in line with itself. And then she dies for it, as it demands! Wow. And the we have the other side of that, which is when Gideon says “For the Ninth!” she’s signaling to Harrow that she has come to value what Harrow values, just as Harrow herself, watching in horror, has come to realize her values are very fucked up.

And Harrow has indeed realized that by that time! Harrow really does travel such a distance in gtn, but this is largely obscured from us just the same as plot details are in the book, by the limits of Gideon’s perception. And let me be clear: this is a feature, not a bug. It is not a weakness. It is vital! Integral! To the above, and all it entails for Gideon as a character and the overall themes of the series, that Gideon forgive Harrow without Harrow having “earned” it or made real amends. The fact that she does conveys to us everything I’ve just been talking about!

Furthermore, this story is in conversation with a rather particular type of Christianity, but Gideon’s Jesus parallels are even more widely applicable. Forgiveness is kind of a whole theme with that guy, and the book is also plenty interested in what it costs for a human to forgive as divinely as scripture demands (to forgive as the bond demands, as the empire demands). In some ways there are good things that may come of it, sure, but it is not a purely redemptive force for the giver or receiver. It does not necessarily resolve.

I myself can’t say that I ship Gideon and Harrow in the way people traditionally think of shipping, nor as I have traditionally shipped other characters. Still, I reject the notion that that way of relating to each other is not a central part of the questions the book is asking. Like before, when I was talking about Gideon finding something to believe in in the way the adept/cavalier bond is sold to her—although we see that bond encompass many different types of relationships it is in Gideon and Harrow’s case speaking to how romantic love (much like that forgiveness!) is not immediately and entirely redemptive. I mean, Muir does say the series is about how love can be redemptive, but I think can be is the operative phrase here, in that it’s also first demonstrating the ways it’s not, or at least not always the way we think it will be--the limits and then the power. Trying to set that aspect of the relationship aside (like a “sisters” route or something similar) is a weak and queasy side-stepping of the issue.

Remember that interview where Muir says something along the lines of like, she didn’t write it as necessarily romantic but definitely homoerotic? Yeah. 

Despite all that I do want to make it clear that I hope Gideon and Harrow work it out in the end. Just don’t assume the narrative does not understand what working it out might entail. And who knows? I might have the read all wrong. Maybe Muir doesn’t understand what she’s doing. But I feel pretty compelled by the textual evidence.

[endcant]

i used to be very active in the cottagecore realm in 2018. im not alone in this, but i had my cottagecore blog before the word “cottagecore” was coined, and thus before it was presupposed that the lifestyle and aesthetic being posted about had anything in particular to do with cottages. a lot of the relevant posts found their way to me through other tags— dirtcore, plantcore, grandmacore, solarpunk, diy, etc— or just through the sheer natural popularity of the posts that ended up defining the cottagecore style

over the time between like 2016-2018, i had been pivoting away from my 90s/arcade themed aesthetic that i had fostered since like 2013 or something, because the colorful carpets and cheap plastic toys and bubblegum dispenser candies and slimes were beginning to be presumed to be part of something called “kidcore”, and kidcore was having a problem

the issue at hand for kidcore (and stim tumblr as well) was that ageplay and other controversial/triggering kink accounts were openly interacting with and advertising themselves on posts that were either meant for kids and age regressors, or themed around the original poster’s own childhood. as a result, kidcore/age regression and ageplay/kink were getting weirdly and uncomfortably conflated. it was a huge issue that i found really offputting, so i just bailed from the use of that visual language in general

the way that many, many kidcore and stim bloggers responded to these kinds of issues was to diligently put a DNI banner at the bottom of every single post, no matter how unsightly or combative that seemed. at the time, i thought that this was kind of a hopeless exercise. i thought that kidcore as an aesthetic would never really manage to extricate its content and reputation from that offputting area of kink tumblr, but it seems like i was wrong. through just like the sheer saturation of in-post DNI banners, it seemed to work. kidcore was more safe for kids and age regressors to blog and reblog about without getting weird fucked up interactions, and people seemed to be under less scrutiny for having a kidcore blog at all because it was no longer uncomfortably conflated with kink to that degree

the thing i admire most about this is that so many kidcore and stim bloggers decided all on their own that they wanted make it clear who their blog was and wasnt a safe space for. more of them could have decided to ignore the issue, more of them could have said that naysayers “just dont get it”, and more of them could have decided that they didnt mind added traffic, no matter who it came from. but these posters were uncomfortable with the issue, so they made that discomfort known at every opportunity.

this sort of stands in contrast to how most cottagecore bloggers ive seen have responded to the realization that cottagecore was growing to be popular with ecofascists and weird patriarchal tradcath & colonialist bloggers, esp since like 2019 or so. some bloggers sacrificed the simple aesthetic by adding DNI banners, but compared to the DNI saturation of kidcore bloggers, these were few and far between. also, weirdly, most of those banners also pertained to the kink-related boundaries that kidcore and stim bloggers had to set, and generally said little about politics except sometimes that terfs were unwelcome. anecdotally, i dont personally recall ever seeing a banner that said something like “dont interact if youre an ecofascist or christian nationalist!” or anything like that underneath any of the crafty and pastoral cottagecore imagery that ive encountered over the years.

the most common response that i saw from cottagecore bloggers to all the criticism and suspicion in 2019-2020 was every cottagecore blogger going on the defensive— “the accusations of cottagecore bloggers being right-wing or colonialist are false and not worth our time. anybody who spent any time in our community would know that plenty of us are leftist or poc!!” — for roughly one or two posts, and then never responding to the criticism again unless it came to their askbox specifically.

in short, the message a lot of cottagecore bloggers sent with their posts was not “ecofascists are unwelcome here,” but instead “critics who point out the ecofascist issue are unwelcome here.” and ecofascists and their ilk kept reblogging the same mushrooms and lace curtains and transparent homemade pie pngs as everybody else, unperturbed. there was no concerted effort to make it clear at every fucking turn that fascists were unwelcome

i ended up just drifting away from the cottagecore tag family over the course of 2019 to focus my gardening/naturalist/diy energies more directly on leftist environmentalism rather than aesthetic. since then, ive been thinking about the difference between cottagecore and the previous tumblr aesthetic i unintentionally joined and intentionally abandoned, kidcore. i have watched the response of both groups to these kinds of issues from a short distance, and i feel like kidcore posters better rose to the challenge of community infiltration by parties with harmful views and intentions. less kidcore bloggers have their DNIs directly in their posts nowadays from what ive seen, but the popular DNI banner phase of the kidcore world seemed to be essential and effective in establishing who the tag was and wasn’t meant for. no effort like this has been widespread on cottagecore tumblr, particularly among popular cottagecore posters, and so the reputational damage and the failure to exclude literal fascists from the main bulk of the aesthetic’s ecosystem continues to persist.

i guess overall the stories of these aesthetics (as i witnessed them) are just an interesting anecdotal comparison of how tolerating individuals that make vulnerable/marginalized members of a community feel threatened lead to that community becoming de-facto dominated (or assumed to be dominated) by those who are making others feel threatened, as vulnerable/marginalized members leave and additional vulnerable/marginalized people are deterred from ever joining. whereas proactively stating boundaries again and again and again leads to the creation of a better safe space, as well as a culture of awareness about the issues at hand

[silkylious]

Safe (Kaminari Denki x Reader)

Warnings: slight angst/insecurities, comfort, fluff Pairing: kaminari denki x reader Prompt: #58 “You make me feel safe”

A/N: idk why but i hc that kaminari is actually very insecure but jokes around and shit as a coping mechanism. can you sense the self projection here. hope you enjoy this, it was very fun to write!

You sprung forward, eyes wide awake with alarm. Your mind struggled to catch up with your body; phantom sensations still lingering on your skin, static scenes of vibrant blue flames scorched into your brain as your heavy breaths died down into a slightly more regulated rhythm. This was the fifth time this week. It’s been two full months since the training camp, two full months since you’ve moved into the dorms and you still weren’t over it yet. The nightmares just wouldn’t stop.

You plopped back down on the mattress, exasperated and thoroughly annoyed at having your precious slumber cut short. Again. Honestly, for such a prestigious school, U.A. has probably the worst counseling team you’ve ever seen­– or haven’t seen, because despite several of your classmates showing painfully obvious signs of trauma, the school staff has barely stepped in. You huffed at the administration’s incompetence, turning on your side to glare at nothing in particular. A ping interrupted your train of thought, drawing your attention to the device laying on your nightstand. You snatched your phone, unlocking it and immediately squinting at the brightness before checking the time. Three in the morning. Who the hell would text you at ass o’clock in the morning? You knew who.

Pika pika⚡: [image] [image] [image]

some maymays for when you wake up 😌😌

You: they’re called memes ffs

Pika pika⚡: you’re awake??👀

You: no.

The message was left on seen, though the interface of the messaging up was replaced by that of an incoming call. You rolled your eyes, though a slight smile stretched your tired features at the picture of you and Kaminari grinning at the camera. You accepted the call.

“Why are you up?” His voice came through mildly distorted but still as loud as ever, too loud for three in the fucking morning.

“Can’t sleep,” Your answer was slightly muffled by a yawn, betraying just how exhausted you were. The silence that proceeded was deafening, neither of you uttering a word, but you could faintly hear his even breathing. It was oddly calming. You sigh, lids blinking to fight off your drowsiness.

“…You’re still having nightmares?” Words tinged with worry, his voice was much quieter now, gentler. If anything, Kaminari was a great friend. He’d proven that to you time and time again. He was the only one that could tell when you were drowning in hushed misery, seeing through your well-constructed front like it was second nature to him. For someone so astoundingly moronic, he was extremely socially intelligent, and even observant when he wanted to be. And for the umptieth time, he’s showing you just how easily he could pick up on the small traces of discomfort in your voice, the silent plea left unspoken from your lips.

“Yeah…” The reply didn’t come out as resolute as you’d wished it would have been. But it couldn’t be helped. No matter how hard you willed yourself to level your tone in hopes of fending off his concerns, you knew it would all crumble at some point. Go figure your strong façade would fall apart in front of him. It’s always been him. For some reason unknown to you (yet), confiding in him just felt right, secure.

More silence ensued.

Denki was a natural at detecting people’s emotions, but that’s as far as his expertise would go. Sure, he knew how to encourage others, pushing them past their insecurities was as easy as breathing to him. With bright, golden hues and an obnoxiously dorky grin, all he had to do was utter a few optimistic words and that would get the job done. But comfort? Vulnerability? That was so far beyond the shallow waters he’d grown accustomed to. Sentimentalities weren’t his thing, he simply didn’t posses the wisdom and eloquence needed to deal with such situations. His immediate reaction would be to crack a joke, fruitless attempts at lightening the mood but he knew there was a time and place for jests, and this wasn’t one of them. Awkwardness and half-hearted jabs were his immediate reaction… because that’s how he dealt with his own problems too.

“Hey… can I come over? We can play animal crossing or something,” You sure as shit wouldn’t be able to sleep, not in this state. You needed a distraction. A friend.

“What if we get caught?”

“Would you even care if we got caught?”

A light chuckle. “No,”

“Exactly. I’ll be there in a bit.”

The line went dead, he stared at the blank screen of his phone before flopping onto his back. Why you’d be so open with him of all people when he saw just how uneasy around his other classmates, he didn’t know. The list of people he thought were more deserving of your trust was almost unending, and he wasn’t even close to the top of it. One thought brought forward another, each one getting progressively more deprecative, and the sloppily sewn patch over his self-doubt started to tear, ripped off its poorly embedded stitches. He was confident in himself, until he joined class 1-A that is. He just felt… there compared to his peers. His body was nothing to laugh at, but his build was still considerably lean compared to the people he was around. The fact that such a talented, hardworking person had taken interest in him was frankly baffling. He wasn’t as flashy as Todoroki, or as powerful as Bakugo, or as brainy as Midoriya. He was just him. Lackluster, average him. It only added insult to injury when he’d witnessed how they looked at you. They pined for you, and he couldn’t blame them. He craved you too. But god, the nagging thought that you were wasting your time hanging around someone like him, that he was stealing you away from people who were (in his opinion) glaringly more worthy of cherishing you than him, it just wouldn’t go away. You had so many stronger, smarter, better options out there that he couldn’t help but be reminded of how lacking– inadequate he was compared to seemingly everyone else. And yet you chose to get close to him. In a superhuman class full to the brim with prodigies and workaholics, you picked him. It didn’t make the slightest bit of sense.

He was fished into reality and away from his sea of self-doubt when he heard three consecutive knocks on his door. Just how long had he laid there, wallowing?

The door creaked open and you were greeted with the glorious sight of Kaminari in a Pikachu onesie, a ruffled (adorable) tuft of electric, blonde hair peeking out from under the hood. You snorted.

“Nice pj’s,”

Denki blinked, looking down only to realize that he hadn’t changed out of his onesie because of his overthinking session. An embarrassed chuckle escaped him as he scratched at the side of his cheek, a lopsided smile and a cherry tint creeping up his complexion.

“What can I say, I always have to be on brand.”

You loved that about him. He seemed so laid-back, uncaring, willing to roll with whatever punches were thrown at him, playing off jocular comments and rude insults alike with practiced ease. Giggling past him, you situated on his bed, ready to forget about your nightmares and just have fun with your friend. And if Denki was a genius at anything, it was having fun.

Hours flew by at the pace of minutes, it was now six in the morning, the sun had begun to show its yellow glow and you’d spent the entirety of dawn kicking Kaminari’s butt at Mario kart, sharing laughs and fleeting touches. He liked this, you liked this. Despite knowing that he wasn’t by any means the best suitor for you, he couldn’t halt the need to monopolize you. How could he, when your very presence (unbeknownst to you) shoved his insecurities unceremoniously into the backseat in favor of enjoying the moment with you? He hadn’t a clue how you did it, but you always managed to shoo away his doubts just by being there, and he selfishly couldn’t (and wouldn’t) let go of that. You immersed him in riveting ventures of the now, miles and acres away from his overbearing thoughts. All without even trying, without even knowing it.

It was the weekend (thank fuck) and sleeping in sounded like heaven on earth right now. If it weren’t for your nightmares. The fear of recounting those horrid memories in horrific detail again barred your eyes from sleep, regardless of how spent you were. Apparently, Denki’s spidey-friendship senses kicked in again, because he immediately noticed the apprehension on your face, the stiffness in your movements as you were preparing to leave. He knew exactly what was up with you, and he couldn’t let you leave like that, it would eat him up for days. He grabbed your wrist as you turned for the door.

“Do you wanna stay?”

Maybe it was your exhausted mind finally turning into mush, or maybe it was the softness in his voice, the docile concern in his eyes that made you agree on staying. Your compliance surprised you both, honestly. You were both very aware that you wouldn’t have accepted the offer had it been anyone else. But in retrospect it seemed rational. After all, throughout the whole night, not once did you think back to the horrors that would visit you in your sleep, not once did you feel the crippling anxiety clawing at the frayed edges of your psyche. Instead you felt secure, sound. Safe. And you came to an epiphany. Maybe it wasn’t the idea of sleep that scared you, maybe it was the impending loneliness, isolation and uncertainty that you’d often experience without him.

“Yes,”

You laid there, facing each other, a considerable distance between you. No words exchanged, yet you could tell there was a lot on his mind. He decided to voice it all in one question. He knew you were smart enough to catch the underlying self-doubt in his vaguely worded inquiry. Whether you pointed it out or not was entirely up to you, however.

“Why did you say yes to me?”

The articulation caught you off guard, you’d never seen him so… unsure before. Your mind raced with the different possible implications behind his wording, though you decided to quell them all with one single sentence. You smiled, soft and lazy, moving closer to seek out some of his warmth.

“You make me feel safe, Denki.”

And he really did. Even though you came to the revelation mere minutes ago, you accepted it swimmingly, it felt right to do so. It startled you how ready you were to embrace the newfound feelings, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Kaminari was stunned, to say the least. He hadn’t expected that response from you and he honestly still couldn’t rationalize it completely either. But for now, the budding feeling in his heart trumped over his ever-present uncertainty, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[pomegranates-and-blood]

Madness, pt.2

Madness, pt.1

My Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader, Sigurd/Blaeja (mentioned, alluded?)

Summary: So, I wrote a sequel to Madness, I really don’t know what to put in this summary. This takes place in the expanse of a few months/year, but hopefully the pace of the time passing is clearish in the story ;)

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: Mentions or allusions of death, mentions or allusions of abduction/kidnapping, mentions of (hypothetical) rape, and I don’t really know what else. Does blood kink count? Cause, subtle blood kink.

A/N: First of all I want to thank all of you for the amazing reception to Madness. I am so thankful, and so humbled you guys like my writing and this story. Really, thank you so much for your feedback, your kind words, and your support. Means the world.

Second of all, I’m sorry it took so long to get the sequel out. I wasn’t exactly planning one but ngl, I have fun writing these two, and I hope this doesn’t dissapoint. Love ya! <3

Putting up the act of being dragged a hysterical, frantic mess of a woman all the way from the docks to the King’s dungeons was not that difficult. You had kept the nervous energy within you ever since you accepted getting on that boat, and finding a release to it was…cathartic, in a way.

The King’s bodyguards that kept firm hands on your upper arms as they took you to the prison that will be your home for who-knows how long don’t push or shove you into the cell, making you wonder how many people are truly aware of this ruse.

The moment the door is closed, the moment you are safe behind the iron bars and away from the crown and its reach, you cannot help the laugh -hysterical, hoarse, crazy laugh- that leaves your lips, that breaks its way out of your lungs.

You are free.

You lay on that cell for so long you forget to keep track of the time, but small little laughs leave your lips every once in a while, as you lean on the tips of your feet to look out the small window, into the foreign sky.

Free.

You laugh again, shaking fingers enclosed around the iron bars, and you hear a shuffling sound behind you.

“These people say I’m crazy. I wonder what they’ll have to say for the Princess that laughs at her own imprisonment.” King Ivar states, squaring his shoulders and standing tall on the other side of that cage door.

You smile, “You did it. You promised, and you did it. You got me out of there.”

“I keep my promises,” He states, resolute, before continuing, “Any other woman would be terrified, not delighted, at being on a Viking’s cell.”

You shrug, “Maybe they are right, maybe I am crazy.”

The King considers you in silence, clear eyes piercing as they take you in, and after a few heartbeats, shakes his head minutely.

“No, not crazy.”

____

You have learned more and more of these Norsemen’s language, and in turn you’ve taught King Ivar more of your own -it didn’t surprise you when he ordered you to teach him, saying when he negotiated with Alfred he didn’t want some meddling translator-; and you’ve learned of their traditions, and their Gods, and their honor.

Heartless, Godless, nothing but barbarians; they used to say. But you’ve seen the mothers loving their children like any Christian would, the faithful honoring their strange Gods in their own way.

They know nothing but bloodthirst, they care for nothing, love nothing; that’s what the soldiers used to whisper to terrify the maidens. But these are a people alive like any other, and yes, they are cold and harsh and brutish, but if their King is anything to go by, they are as capable as humanity as any other.

If you believed their tales, which you never truly did, thanks to King Ecbert’s lessons; it would have all still crumbled to dust and lies before your eyes as you grew closer and closer to the man that ‘abducted’ you.

All their tales of cruelty and ruthlessness and bloodthirst, they are more than true, of course; but they forget to tell of the awkward gentleness with which he holds your hand and presses absent kisses to it; they forget to tell of the cautious vulnerability that shines in those pale eyes when the sun sets and it’s just the two of you and your secrets and your promises; they forget to tell of the shuddered breaths over your lips, the eyes that fluttered closed when you lean close enough, that fill you with warmth to your very core.

They forget many things. Hopefully, they forget to tell about you, too.

Let you be forgotten by those people that killed your mother; let you be forgotten by the God that never looked upon your family with none of his mercy; let you be forgotten by the boy you may have cared for but never loved, not like this.

You spent a fortnight -maybe?- in that cell. It didn’t surprise you, a believable claim that you willingly came with King Ivar to Scandinavia would mean the leverage to return you to Wessex would be null. What did surprise you, though, was that you were very often visited, almost every day, by the King.

He is a fascinating man, he was to you since that first moment. He never ceased to be, even now, after months of secrets and pried truths and reluctant vulnerability and him.

Shortly after, you were allowed more performative freedoms, and it didn’t cost you much to put up an act that slowly waned and disappeared that you feared, hated even, the heathens that took you captive.

You’ve seen the ashen faces of those who returned from battle against the Vikings, you’ve heard the tales of the women that trembled at the memory of the raiders, you’ve known of their fame ever since your mother was gifted her uncle’s head by one of these Norsemen.

It is not hard for you to imagine why a woman -a sane woman, maybe- would fear them. And so, the act is not hard, the ruse is not difficult.

And let them think the King broke you, let them think a poor maiden was stolen from her home, let them think you long to return to your home, let them think you feel nothing but cold. In the meantime, you will be free, and safe, and growing to love a King that gives you nothing but warmth.

____

“I want to learn how to fight.” You tell him one evening, as you watch the sun set over the distant waves, and hear the training warriors somewhere near the longhouse.

He hums at your words, lifting your hand and absently pressing a kiss to the back of it before he asks, “Why?”

You offer a shrug and a small smile as you retort dryly, “A Princess, alone and surrounded by savages, she should have some means of defending herself?”

The King offers a side smile at your jest, and it feels like a tiny victory. Always does. It always has, ever since the first time you saw him, you don’t even remember how long ago.

“I could let someone teach you.” He finally drawls out, slowly, meticulously.

You cannot mask your enthusiasm, you realize too late, “Really?”

“For a price.” He clarifies.

“I wouldn’t expect otherwise. What is your price, my King?”

But he shakes his head, “That secret is mine to keep for now,” Lifting his eyes to yours and knowing he won, King Ivar insists, “Do we have a deal?”

“Yes!” You say quickly, surprising even yourself.

“Are you su-…” The King starts, even as some strange softness teases at his expression. You realize that you have startled him, and somehow that makes the excitement bubbling in your chest greater.

“Yes!” You interrupt, biting your lip and offering a sheepish shrug in apology when he glares at you, “I’m sorry, but yes.”

“Sit down, no one is going to train you now.” He chastises, but you know his tells by now. And the gentle tug of his hand on yours to bring you closer again is not even needed for you to understand he wasn’t ready or willing for you to part form his embrace. You concede with a breathed laugh and a smile that you press against his own lips, and rest against his side with a sigh.

“Thank you.” You whisper, so quietly you barely hear yourself.

“Hm. You know, I never convinced myself you aren’t at least a bit crazy.” He muses, with what you know -but he’d deny to his grave- is a soft kiss pressed to the crown of your head.

____

“Fuck!” You gasp out, Ubbe’s sword a hair’s width away from your neck, “Shouldn’t there be…wooden swords, or something?”

“Don’t you trust me?” The Prince asks around a smile. You answer with widened eyes and pushing his sword away from your neck with your own.

“Not when you hold a blade to my neck, my Prince!”

The Viking laughs, genuine and young, and you find yourself smiling back. You both assume your positions again, even if you are certain you are one sneeze away from being gutted.

“Why did you want to learn anyways? Aren’t you West Saxons supposed to sue for peace instead?” Ubbe starts as he guides your arm through a motion to break out of a block.

“I am Mercian, but yes, we do prefer talking.” You answer, focused on following his indications.

“Then why learn to fight?” The Prince insists.

“I want to be able to defend myself.”

King Ivar calls your name from behind you, a greeting and a demand of your attention as he approaches you and his brother. You turn around, and he inserts himself into the conversation you were having with Ubbe,

“Defending yourself also includes not starting fights you cannot win.”

“Ladies don’t start fights.” You shoot back quickly, side smile on your lips.

You hear him snort a laugh and your smile widens.

“But you do,” Ivar says, just as you deviate with your sword Ubbe’s attempt to strike your leg. “For someone so…”

Pushing back against the other son of Ragnar, you interrupt him.

“Don’t say small.” You grit out as you turn around, fight on pause.

“Small,” He supplies anyways, emphatically. He looks maddeningly delighted when you furrow your nose in annoyance, “You surely seem to love starting fights.”

“If by ‘starting’ you mean not letting you get away with-…”

“Get away? You get the last word every time I e-…”

“Brother, Princess,” Ubbe calls out, eyeing you strangely before motioning with his head, “Training.”

You nod, getting your focus back into place, and try getting used to the unfamiliar weight of the shield in your hands as you face the bearded man again.

Ivar’s voice cuts into your thoughts again, and your concentration evaporates along with your patience.

“Why are you standing like he does? You are half his size, you can’t mimic him and expect good results.”

You face him with gritted teeth, “Well, if my teacher did something other than berating me I could-…”

“You asked for my help.”

“I…shut up,” You sentence, turning back to Ubbe and correcting your stance to something you feel grounded and able to move on. The older Prince looks at his brother, considering, and then takes the shield from you. You let go of it with ease, but still question, “My Prince?”

“He’s right. You are small.”

“Thank you.” You sentence dryly, and the other man chuckles in response.

“I mean we can’t have you fight like you would in the front lines. Instead, fight like you would in an ambush.”

You shrug, because you have no idea what he means, and let him guide you through the movements.

____

You know what he’s going to say before you even hear him.

“Again.”

“Everything hurts.” You groan as you sit up from the cold dirt.

“I don’t care,” Ivar is quick to retort, and you have a feeling he can sense you rolling your eyes, because a taunt is quick to follow, “You Saxons may stop when you are in pain, but Vikings don’t. Again.”

Gritting your teeth and letting one or two curses in your native language leave your lips, you stand up and lift the sword. Prince Hvitserk smiles, hands toying with his axe as she studies you for a moment.

For once, you attack first, slashing towards his side, but the wooden hilt of his axe stops the movement. Not hesitating, you pull back and try again, making the Viking take a couple of steps back.

He breaks the block with a twist of his weapon’s hilt, making your sword slide off and your balance weaken. The victory is his as he raises the great axe over his head with a yell, but you lift the sword, stopping him even as you are forced to grab the blade with your free hand to give more strength to the block.

Blood pours from between your fingers and sharp pain follows, but you keep your attention on Hvitserk and wait for the moment you see him decide to push instead of retreat and attacking again. When his strength focuses on his upper body, like he did to you many times before, you place your boot on his inner thigh and kick outwards.

The force of your kick sends you stumbling back, but you catch yourself. The Viking falls down in his back though, and with enthusiasm you hold the tip of your sword over him. Victory.

You allow yourself a small smile, and Hvitserk shoulders his great axe as he stands up, fight over.

“You are getting better, Princess.” He praises gruffly, and you thank him with a nod.

Whatever dignity you tried gaining with the composed gesture is blown by the way you cannot seem to stop the excited pitter-patter of your feet as you walk back to Ivar.

“Did you see?” You ask. Your cheeks hurt from smiling so wide, and you could swear a little bit of your enthusiasm gets to the King, who smiles at you somewhat softly.

“He went easy on you.”

“I know that.” You answer with a roll of your eyes.

“And you are bleeding everywhere.” Ivar points out, signaling with his head to your hand. Reminded of your wound, you bring up your fist but Ivar is quick to catch it in his own hand.

You open your palm to see a cut running down your palm and similar ones -although not as deep- in your fingers. Your eyes follow the trail of a thick drop of blood that slithers down the side of your hand to your wrist.

Apparently, Ivar’s eyes followed the same droplet, for he moves your hand to his mouth and quickly licks off the offending drop.

“Ivar!” You chastise, tugging softly at the braid at the back of his neck, stopping his tongue from continuing trailing maddeningly the skin at your bloodied hand. He laughs, his eyes darkened when he looks up at you, and you cannot deny the rush of heat that look sends through you.

“I like it when you call me that.” He says, side smile still bearing the mark of your blood. You have the errant, traitorous thought to kiss the stain of blood off his lips, and because you can, because there’s no shame in lust or love, you lean down and do exactly that.

The metallic taste of your own blood on his lips makes you wonder if you could convince him to forget there’s a kingdom past your bed if only for a few hours; steal him away so he can think, taste, or feel nothing but you, so you can think, taste, or feel nothing but him.

Instead, trying to gather your wits and keep your voice even, you answer, “It is your name.”

“But you also call me ‘my King’,” He says, hand still holding yours and moving it so that he can see the wound more clearly. You keep your eyes on his profile, and find yourself startled when he suddenly looks up at you, head cocked to the side. Thankfully he doesn’t notice your eyes tracing the shape of his lips, and instead asks, “And you don’t really mean that, do you?”

You huff a laugh, “You are King of Kattegat.”

“But am I your King?” Ivar insists, eyes narrowed.

“I…” You start, stopping yourself when you realize you have no quick answer to give. You are not Viking; but you also have sworn no fealty to no king or kingdom, not since the ruse of your ‘capture’ was started. Still, you give him his answer in a soft voice, “No.”

He seems almost pleased, his smile turning more sincere when he states, “Call me by my name from now on then.”

You agree with a nod, the only answer your lips give is a smile, before you lean to speak by his ear. You will never cease to be delighted at the wonder mixed with desire that darken his eyes whenever you remind him of how much you want him.

Turns out stealing a King is way easier than you thought. You needed only a whisper in his ear and a sway of your hips.

____

“You are getting better,” The King starts that night, and you turn your attention to him with a smile. The people have months ago stopped staring at the crazy Mercian Princess, and the whispers about how happy she looks even as a captive have quietened; and for the first time since your mother died you have felt safe and comfortable. King Ivar continues, “For a Saxon.”

“You could just compliment me, you know.” You offer with a side smile.

The King uses the hand he holds in his -he always does, he always finds a way to be touching you and your hands seems to be a preference of his- to tug you closer where you sit on the bench next to him, and it is with a breathy chuckle that you find yourself pressed against his side.

He considers you for a few moments, before leaning close to your ear and whispering, so low only you can hear,

“You are a maddening woman, you know that?” His fingers intertwine with yours before he continues, “A maddening, infuriating, crazy woman. The most beautiful and fascinating woman I’ve ever met. The woman I…”

His words die, because they always do. Even if they always do, even if he has never admitted anything, even if he has never said he cares for you, or loves you; your heart still skips a beat every time you dare hope he just might.

But because you’ve grown to know him, to understand, you do not feel pain anymore. You let yourself believe he loves you when you feel his hand reaching for you in the dead of night, as if to make sure you are still there; you let yourself believe he loves you when you are the last one to open your eyes after you make love and find his eyes on you, his expression that of wonder and peace, you let yourself believe many things.

And so, you give the answer to the words he hasn’t -can’t, wouldn’t, shouldn’t- say,

“I love you.”

As always, as every time you tell him of your love since that first time, Ivar’s expression softens, his shoulders drop, as if you bring relief to a part of him you don’t notice is always on edge.

Because he has his tells, and he knows by now you know of them.

And when you tell him you love him and you are alone in the safety of his -your? You don’t remember sleeping anywhere else- room, his eyes close and his lips pull into the smallest of smiles, soft and content.

And when you tell him you love him in the great hall, like now, he drops the tension in his shoulders and claims your mouth, sealing the words against his own lips as if to prove they are real, they are true.

He has his tells, and they betray that even if he does not dare say the words, he does feel the same.

____

You wake up at an absence in your bed, and missing Ivar’s warmth you sit up. You find him sitting by one of the chairs near a window, his hand by his mouth and a furrow in his brow. His eyes are intent on a map of England he keeps on a nearby table, and you realize what kept him awake without needing to hear a word.

“Word from Winchester?” You ask, getting out from under the furs but only moving to the foot of the bed, where you sit with your legs underneath you.

“Mhm. Alfred demanded proof you are safe, and the letter you sent was enough. But, since you are safe, he asks now that you are returned to him. In exchange for Lindsey.”

“Lindsey? Ivar, that’s-…”

“It’ll allow me to take over half of Mercia, I know” He doesn’t seem thrilled at the idea, even if he showed you, you don’t know how many moons ago, that having free access to that region would give him a great advantage. “And Alfred knows too. He knows what you are worth.”

And so the reminder of what this deal entails -your return- falls on your stomach like a dead weight. Of course, of course show could you forget? A Princess stolen in exchange for a ransom to be paid by those who want her back, a while of freedom bought until the offer is made, and if the offer is enough, you’ll sail back to Alfred and need another way to get away from there. One King walks away with new lands, the other with a bride.

But you remember those days spent in Winchester, before he was King, before Blaeja was Sigurd’s wife, before you were his ‘prisoner’; and you remember him asking what if he didn’t wish to return you to Alfred.

You remember that, and you remember every day since; and so you hope, and taking a deep breath and steeling yourself for the response, you ask,

“What will you do?”

He considers you in silence, with cold, calculating eyes. But with a grunt, he throws something he was holding in his hand and takes his eyes away from yours. You startle, but say nothing. You don’t think there’s much -if anything- you can say.

Tension is written all over his form, and after a few calculated breaths, he meets your eyes again.

“Marry me.”

“What!?” You squeak. He calls you a mad woman then comes up with these ideas.

But Ivar settles with calm, with certainty, in his madness. Like when you’ve seen him plan an attack, you realize he has thought of the alternatives, the outcomes. And, like in strategy, like in chess, he has certainty in what the next move must be.

He stands, using the crutch to move closer to you and sits next to you on the bed. His hand runs through your hair and settles comfortably at the back of your neck.

“I took a Princess from him, but he won’t take a Queen from me.”

“W-What are you saying?”

“They won’t make Queen of Wessex and Mercia a woman that was made wife to a Viking, much less Queen of Kattegat.”

Your heart beats madly in your ears, you feel like one of those trapped rabbits you saw the hunters bring back. You only look back at him with a knot in your stomach and wide eyes.

“And Lindsey?”

“We’ll threaten to send you in pieces if he does not send those papers, if he doesn’t concede. When he does, we’ll announce we’re married. They’ll think I stole you away and forced you, but they won’t be able to take you away, since we’ll be husband and wife.”

“In the eyes of your Gods. It will be nothing but pagan nonsense to the church. They’ll annul it, claim I was raped and so I am still fit to marry Alfred.”

And in the blink of an eye you are back in that hidden room in Winchester’s palace, sneaking thanks to Blaeja and her Prince to meet with the man that promised to steal you away; exchanging ideas and hopes on how to make this work.

“We’ll marry before their God too.”

He says it certainly, with no hesitation. He truly thinks of it all, doesn’t he?

And you wish you could say yes, you wish you could accept and finally seal your future away from England’s hands. You truly do, but…

“No,” You whisper, feeling the tears threaten at your eyes. The moment the simple word leaves your lips, you have another man standing before you. Closed off, with an edge of cruel madness shining in his gaze. “I’ll find another way. I won’t marry you for a business deal.

With a snarl of anger making his nose furrow, his jaw tighten, the King lets you go. You stand on shaky legs and walk a few steps to where he used to sit, eyeing the map of the land that saw you be born.

The land that might see you die, if they give you no choice but to return.

But Ivar calls your name, and interrupts your dark thoughts. It is the uncertainty where before there was strategy, the vulnerability where before there was confidence, the softness where before there was steel; what makes you turn to him with a new kind of tension taking over your body.

“T-Then marry me because I love you.” He whispers, a twitch in his expression speaking of how unmoored he is, how uncomfortable with the confession, with the possibilities it opens before you. With the power it gives you.

It should thrill you, to know you hold power over him. He has held power over you for so long, he has had your love for so long, it is only fair you have his heart in exchange. But the fear you see shining in his pale eyes startles you, softens you, breaks you.

So you step closer, so close he can reach up with one rough hand and set his touch at your waist -he always finds a way to be touching you, he always does- and he does, his eyes following his hand before meeting your own again.

“This is madness.” You whisper, and his lips curve into a smile, because he understands, he knows.

And the answer leaves your lips as easily as your feet jumped into that ship, and you whisper your yes against hungry lips, forgetting there’s a world past the two of you.

____

So, that is it! Hope you liked it, and hope you didn’t mind the lil Persephone’s abduction imagery sprinkled about, I am way too invested in Greek mythology atm for it not to show in most of what I write lol.

Btw, Lindsey is a region in the Kingdom of Mercia, here’s a map in case you were curious :)

Would love to know what you think, and thank you so much for reading!

[cherrysha]

1.english is not my first language so sorry if something sounds strange. I realized that the requests are open and I would love it if u wrote something with the feitan pls. maybe a headcanon of him dealing with a very affable s / n (?) kkk i can't explain but like he is disturbed because she is accepting very well the fact that she was kidnapped and now she is forced to fall in love with him, and he is like "me I'm a fucking criminal, why are u so calm?"

It doesnt sound strange at all! This went in a completely different direction and its part headcanon but mostly just a short drabble. I’m not one hundred percent happy with this piece, but i wanted to get it out there!

Also, This is a universe in which I deny the fact that he sounds horrible in the dub. We only stan subbed Feitan over here. 

word count: 1572

My requests are open atm

Warnings: TORTURE. thats it. thats all it is. just one big torture scene. 

 So if his s/o didn’t resist...

• He’d prolly just think they were biding their time

• He wouldn’t ask, he’d just straight up assume that they were playing the long con

• And a few months of it and he’d be sick and tired

• They were so agreeable, they let him touch them even when he was covered in blood

• And I don’t see any way this doesn’t end in torture

• He’d be really pissed off abt it

• Probably goading you the whole time

• “It doesn’t have to be like this if you just tell me.”

• And in truth he knows no plan would work, but he just wants some confirmation that you were going to try to escape

-

“Plan for what?” And he sighs. Part of him knew this was going to happen; that you’d still feign innocence. And that same part of him revelled in the course of action he’d decided to take. Basking in the chance to finally cause you pain. It’s a deeply rooted desire, one he isn’t accustomed to controlling. He wasn't one to pass up an opportunity such as this one.

You’ve been tied, arms above your head as the balls of your bare feet support the weight of your full body on the unforgiving concrete floor. The blindfold he had used to lure you into the room with is now converted into a gag as its shoved into your mouth. He’s done listening. Maybe when he’d given you incentive to be more... forthcoming, he’d remove it. The knife glints in the low light, the sight of it seemingly manifesting out of nowhere is startling to say the least. He takes a minute to ponder the situation. The apprehension on your face. You’d never seen him like this, only ever catching glimpses of his profession in the blood soaked clothes you washed so diligently. Was that not enough of a warning? He makes quick work of cutting off your top as well as the bra underneath. He deftly moves behind you, the sound of something heavy being picked up as he opens his mouth to speak. “This is going to hurt.” And it’s the most warning he’s given any of his victims. The suspense they felt, the jagged breaths they took as he circled their body like a hawk; it was part of the excitement for him. The whip cracks against your back one, two, three times before he takes a break. Your mouth opens in a wretched scream, but Feitan has become accustomed to the noise. It’s as irrelevant as the sound of the overhead light buzzing in the background. Blood seeps from the places the whip had licked your skin. Dark red as it lazily rolls down your back and soaks into the top of your cotton shorts. He stands back and admires the way your muscles bunch up under your skin in a useless effort to pull away from the pain, lifting you off of your toes until your feet lazily swung away from the ground. He was starting to enjoy the weak noises that left your throat. You don’t even notice when he forces your shorts and underwear down your legs. There’s a pool of cloth lying at your feet, dainty fabric that had been soaked with blood and cut into ribbons. He hits your thighs and ass with the next five strokes of the whip. Before moving again, he stutters, torn between being forgiving or continuing his endless assault of your soft flesh. The way your head falls limply to your chest, a sheen of sweat coating your body as crimson red rivulets silently descend to the ground below you, as if it’s their duty to entice him. To push him over the edge with need until he couldn’t take it anymore. It makes him give in, seven more and then he drops the instrument in an attempt to contain himself. He takes a moment to look at his work. Lover’s blood, he’s sure that he’s read something about the beauty of it. But seeing it for himself, hearing your shallow breaths as you succumb to the pain and your body slackens against its bindings, is more beautiful than he’d imagined. - He wakes you with even more pain. A faint trickle of something searingly hot burns down the fresh wounds that mar the opened flesh of your back. The scream you let out is the loudest yet, and he takes pride in the fact that he was able to wrench such a sound from you. A noise that no one else had heard and it was all because of him. “It’s just a disinfectant.” In all actuality he knows the level of pain you’re experiencing is probably on par with receiving the injuries, but he can’t stop himself from teasing. He finishes with a sigh and walks around to your front, smiling slightly as he sees your face. You looked wrecked, completely sinful as ribbons of pink tinged liquid dribble down your legs. It’s an encouraging thing. Feitan was the only one to see you this way, would only ever be the one to see your face streaked with tears and sweat, eyelids drooped and breath heavy from the excruciating pain he’d given to you. It makes his own breathing heavier. The spit slicked gag is ripped away and you don’t budge, head still slack against your chest as you stare dazedly at the floor. “Were you hoping to gain my trust so you could try to escape?” He whispers. And you almost don’t hear it over the sound of your own breath. You stutter out a feeble ‘yes’, because you know it’s what he wants, but it doesn’t seem to placate the man. He’s done this long enough to know when someone is lying to him. He’d previously came to the conclusion that you were just good at telling him what he wanted to hear, the paranoia settling over his mind like a heavy blanket as months stretched on and you’d remained unwavering in your acceptance. He can see it now, the truth of the matter enclosed in your feeble attempts of stopping the torture. He takes a step forward and smiles at the slight hitch in your breath at his sheer proximity. You were finally giving him a reaction he was accustomed to, one that he knew all too well. “See, I’m not so skilled at keeping people.. alive” he twists the blade in his hand, eyes shying away from your own as if he’d just revealed a weakness to you. He’s deep in thought, mulling over what exactly to do so as not to harm you too bad. You had told him the truth, after all. “This.. this is where I’d sever your leg from your body.” The knife is red hot as he pierces it through your skin, successfully drawing the image onto you. “At the joint.” After doing the same to the right, he digs it into your lower stomach, “if I had cut here, your entrails would cause such a mess.” Groans leave your throat in your attempt to breathe through the pain, rolling your head back to avoid looking at him. Its hard to contain the excitement he feels just from looking at your debauched state. You were enticing to him, enough so that he had gone out of his way to pluck you from your miserable life and let you start fresh with him. But right now, all he could really think about is how alluring your body was. Bloody and raw, so vulnerable in every sense of the word. He closes his eyes and lets out a puff of air through his nose in an attempt to contain himself. After he has, he continues his earlier ministrations. “The arms would be next, as you’d imagine,” And the lithe blade penetrates the meat of your shoulder as he continues with a downward stroke. It’s debilitating at this point. In a desperate attempt to block it all out, your eyelids involuntarily dance closed. Your body felt utterly destroyed, but your mind was in even worse shape; Choosing to forego the pain, black dots clouded your vision as you felt yourself being quickly tugged under and into unconsciousness. It’s a gentle slap, in his opinion, a warning to keep you alert. He didn’t want you to block this out. Not yet. He’s talking more than usual, a pent up frustration at the fact that he didn’t get what he was looking for. That he was denied the satisfaction of making you admit your wrongdoing. So, he snatches it from the crunching noise of your body hitting the floor. “If I did that, you’d die. Do you think I want that?” You only have enough strength to nod ‘no’, and your answer gains you a swift kick to your gut. He knew you were lying. “I’m not going to kill you.” He lets out something akin to a shaky laugh, the revealing sort that lets you glean just how unhinged the man truly was. He only meant to punish you, to force the truth from your mouth. But once he had a taste of the way you shrieked at his touch, how sweat made your naked body glow in the dim light, he knew this would be the first of many punishments to come.

[sourwolphs]

Like an Animal - Bucky x Reader (6/8)

Read on Ao3 (for better interface + formatting)

Summary: Reader is an enhanced Omega kidnapped by Hydra and trapped in a cell with Alpha Bucky Barnes. Tags: A/B/O, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending Warnings: Rated M, Self-hating inner dialogue  A/N: I ended up writing this chapter from both Reader's and Bucky's perspective because I couldn't choose between them, and had to puzzle piece my favorite parts together. 

A few hours after Steve left, Bucky found himself dozing slightly on the couch in his dark living room. He’d long abandoned his book on the side table, leaving an old black and white rerun of The Lone Ranger on mute on the TV, flashing light across his stretched out form.

When he’d first come back to the compound, before Shuri had removed the words from his brain in Wakanda, he’d spend many nights outside of his body, doing nothing just like this— the sound of the TV too overstimulating, words on the page swimming away from comprehension, unable to focus on anyone or anything for long. Instead, he’d just sit and drift, letting his mind go blank. Sam had called it “disassociating”— whatever the fuck that means. He hadn’t been like this in a few years— this out of himself— not after Wakandan’s powerful therapies helped him escape some of the more acute terrors of his brain.

He was startled out of his state by a soft knock on the door. He felt a flash of irritation at Steve’s overprotectiveness, before his hackles raised as he scented Y/N of all people faintly through the door. He jumped up in a panic from the couch, his socked feet silent on the floor as his eyes took a rapid inventory of his apartment. There was a sweaty pile of gym clothes on the other side of the couch that he first hurled into his closet. Then, he flicked on the lamp and the soft kitchen light, quickly looped his fingers through a few mugs cluttering the coffee table, and dropped them in the sink before he approached the door.

Without allowing himself to think too hard about why she was here— Did she figure out the gifts? — or take a deep breath— he opened the door.

Despite his held breath, her scent hit him all at once— a rush of spicy-sweet peppermint, the crisp, clean smell of snowfall— strong enough with its source right in front of him that it burned his nose a bit on the inhale. Bucky swore his heart skipped several beats.

She was dressed in a cozy-looking, quarter zip pullover and a comfortable pair of black joggers, just like the kind that Nat wears— functional, clean lines, hugging her form in all the right places. Her hair was slightly mussed, as if she’d just gotten up from the couch after a nap. It was so cozy, so domestic, it made his heart ache with renewed want. But underneath her sweet peppermint smell lay the warm and familiar newspaper-ink scent of Steve. Paired with her cozy, slightly disheveled state, it was as if she had just extricated herself from his arms to show up at Bucky’s door.

Bucky’s inner Alpha fought between roaring in possessive rage and wilting in cowed rejection, but he forced his expression into careful neutrality.

They stared at each other for a moment, neither speaking. Her facial expression looked stricken, and Bucky realized how weird he was being. He’d puffed out his chest without noticing— all Alpha instinct and posturing at the whiff of Steve’s scent— and he quickly readjusted, folding his form into a more relaxed lean against the door.

What do you say to the gorgeous Omega you violated, avoided for a month, and then left creepy gifts to when she shows up at your door at 10pm? Before he could mumble out something to break the awkward silence, she interrupted the panicked swirl of his thoughts.

“Hi,” she said. Her voice was high and tight, like she was trying not to inhale. Even Steve had said his apartment smelled. He felt shame curl tight in his gut, and he had to stop himself from closing the door to shut himself and his depressing stench away. “I’m sorry, I came here to talk to you about something, but I’m feeling kind of— dizzy?” Y/N’s expression looked dazed, and she started to sway a little on her feet.

Bucky’s Alpha instincts immediately kicked into overdrive, urging him to scoop her into his arms, hold her tight, snuggle her into his den until she was healthy and clear-headed. But now that she was here, the rational part of his brain was much more terrified at the possibility of scaring her off. Act. Normal.

“Do you want to sit down?” he said, swallowing hard as he opened his door further. Inviting an unbonded Omega into an Alpha’s den was toeing the line of socially acceptable— at least when he was growing up in the 30s— but she didn’t seem fazed by the invitation, nodding and slipping inside. He gestured towards the couch, giving her a wide enough berth that she wouldn’t feel caged in— surrounded by his scent as she was— and she chose to sit in the same, still-warm spot where he’d just been lying, sinking back into the couch cushions. Bucky felt equally satisfied and pained at the thought that her smell would cling to his favorite spot for weeks. He plopped across from her in the armchair where Steve had been just hours before, aiming for nonchalance.

“Sorry,” she said again, waving her hand next to her head. “I think I’m just… overtired or something.” She yawned, kitten-like. His Alpha roared inside him, fingers twitching with the urge to reach out, to touch, but he held himself perfectly still.

“It’s okay,” he said. “So…” He trailed off, clearing his throat awkwardly. Bucky Barnes, ladies and gentleman. God, he was a fucking loser.

Y/N took a deep, steadying breath, bracing her hands on her thighs. “I came here to apologize.”

——-

After the movie ended and Sam finished showing us 6 deleted scenes and 10 YouTube interviews, I finally slipped quietly out of my new blanket nest and away from the steadying comfort of the Alpha-Omega sandwich. I paced for a bit in the hallway outside Bucky’s room, gearing myself up for what would likely be an awkward confrontation with a man I knew well intimately but hardly personally. As much as I’d like for him to sweep me off my feet and into the safety and comfort of his den, he’d probably tell me I was delusional and that he was avoiding me because he wanted to be left alone. That’s why I figured it was probably best to start with an apology.

What I did not prepare for during my anxious pacing was the overwhelming Alpha scent that washed over me the minute he opened the door. It was like getting hit in the face by a truck full off pheromones designed specifically to reduce me to a shivering, keening puddle on the floor. Every clever thing I planned to say flew right out the window as I swayed under the strength of his gaze and the delicious cedar wood and bonfire scent that curled around me.

Inside his apartment wasn’t any better. I should have asked to meet on neutral ground, I thought immediately after stepping through the door. Everywhere smelled like him. Even the couch underneath me was still warm from where he was probably curled up before I’d interrupted. It took all my strength to quiet the dizzying rush of hormones in my head, breathe in deeply through my mouth, and spit out what I came here to say.

“I came here to apologize,” I said, gulping down the ridiculous, submissive words my hindbrain wanted to follow up with. I’m so sorry, Alpha. It wasn’t my fault. I can be better for you.

Bucky looked… confused. “Apologize?”

“Yes. Apologize,” I said, feeling my cheeks heat up with embarrassment. “I know we… did what we had to do. When we were trapped. And I’m sorry that I… reacted the way I did. I know heats are really intense. For everyone. I know I made you uncomfortable, and you probably don’t want anything to do with me.” I paused again, biting hard on my lower lip as my stomach roiled with embarrassment. I looked down at my lap, where I was digging my fingers hard into my thighs, and forced out the last few words. “But I couldn’t help it. And I’m sorry I went into heat. I think it was the purring. I’ve… never felt that. Before.”

I didn’t look up from my lap at first, wincing internally. Bucky’s silence after my lousy attempt at an apology hurt worse than anything so far. The least he could do is acknowledge that it wasn’t my fault.

I took a shaky inhale, and felt a lump build up in my throat. Goddamnit. Don’t fucking cry. Not now.

“I— This was a mistake,” I said, sniffling hard and willing the tears rapidly welling up in my eyes not to fall. I finally looked up from my lap, bracing myself to stand and backtrack the hell out of here, when I simultaneously saw the look on Bucky’s face and caught the scent of absolutely devastatedAlpha.

“Don’t leave,” he said, voice deep and rough, on the edge of an Alpha command. I froze instantly, though it wasn’t because he’d compelled me to. Alpha commands only worked on their bonded Omegas and their offspring.

No, I froze because Bucky looked… heartbroken. It was the only time I’d seen an ounce of vulnerability on his face, besides that moment in the cell when he’d first realized he was falling into a chemically-induced rut. My eyes flicked down to where his metal hand was fisted so hard in the arm of his chair that the seams were starting to rip.

Before I could blink it away, I felt one unruly tear slip down my cheek, though my own shame and embarrassment had taken a backseat once I’d recognized Bucky’s distress.

“I— Fuck,” he said. Faster than I could register, Bucky heaved himself forward, sinking down onto his knees on the floor in front of me, hands clutching at the couch cushions on either side of my thighs. Our eyes locked, and I lost myself in twin pools of grey-blue. His scent burned on my next inhale, sharp and distressed, the sour stench of guilt that lingered in the corners of his apartment.

“Why are you apologizing?” Bucky’s voice was a breathy, raspy growl. It sent a thrill up my spine, and for a moment, I didn’t register that he’d asked me a question. This close, I could feel the heat of his skin, see the stubble on his jaw, scent that delicious smell of him— like snowmelt, like the wind on your face, like a deep inhale at the summit of a mountain…

Bucky broke his gaze first, growling low and dark in his chest. “I should be the one apologizing. I should have already. But I—“ He cut himself off, lip curling in disgust as he leaned away from me. I felt a sharp, stabbing pain in my chest. Alpha doesn’t want you.

I inhaled hard, suppressing a sob, feeling more hot tears run down my cheeks.

I needed to leave. Now. I wasn’t in control of my emotions. This was embarrassing. “Clingy Omega sobs in disinterested Alpha’s apartment.” What would the pack think of me?

I moved to stand up again, but the low-grade growl in Bucky’s chest sharpened, and he lurched forward, crowding me back against the couch cushions.

Before I could even register the aggression in his action, or even think to be fearful of him, Bucky had already leaned back out of my space and silenced his growl.

“Fuck! Sorry— I’m. Sorry. Don’t leave yet. I won’t—“ He cut himself off again, shaking his head in frustration, before standing up to put more distance between us again, moving to lean on the back of the armchair across from me with his head in his hands. He took a deep, steadying breath before speaking again. “I should be the one apologizing. Because I… hurt you. I told you that you were safe. And you weren’t. Not from me.”

When he looked up to meet my gaze, his expression looked tortured, but his scent was worse— ashy and acidic, hatred and guilt. Guilt? Why was he…

I swiped hurriedly at the tears on my cheeks, feeling the lump in my throat clear as confusion and exasperation took over.

“What are you talking about? I’m perfectly fine,” I huffed. Well, as fine as one can be when they’re pining over an Alpha who can’t stand to be in the same room as them. Maybe he feels guilty about Hydra restraining me? That’s the only logical explanation I could think of.

“Tony got the cuffs off right when I got back here, it’s not like you could have removed them. They were Terrigen crystal.” I shook my head, and once again moved to stand and leave as the futility of this conversation dawned on me. “Whatever. I’ll just go.”

This time, I got in a few steps towards the door before that low growl started up again and he caught my wrist in his right hand.

I should have been terrified. I should have been running for my life. I should have frozen him into the floor. I was an unbonded Omega in a growling Alpha’s den, soaked in a combination of our distressed pheromones, held in his grasp and unable to leave.

But despite all the reasons I had to roll over and bare my throat in fearful submission, absolutely no part of me felt scared or unsafe.

Bucky’s hand on my wrist was gentle. Not holding me back, but pleading for me to stay. And the feel of his skin on mine made something hot, desperate and dark curl within me.

His voice was rough when he spoke again, my back still turned half away from him. “In that cell. I… forced myself on you. You trusted me enough to fall into a heat, and I took advantage. You shouldn’t be apologizing, because you should hate me.”

When I turned back around, the raw expression on his face made my stomach lurch. He looked… devastated. Ashamed. Vulnerable. Afraid.

Feeling hysterical, I couldn’t help a little nervous giggle from bubbling up in my throat.

All this time, this big, dumb, handsome, superhero Alpha had really thought he’d violated me in some way. Me. The Omega who had practically rubbed her entire body in his scent, who had stayed up for hours yearning for his Alpha purr, who’d had sex dreams about him dirty enough to make a pornstar shudder.

“Are you fucking with me?” I said.

Bucky frowned earnestly. “No… I—“

“So you’ve been leaving me secret gifts because you felt… guilty?” I said, knowing I was putting him on the spot. Something about being in his presence, in his den, was making me bold— finally giving in after a month of exasperation, of chest-aching pain.

Bucky’s eyes widened, and he had the sense to look a bit sheepish, dropping my wrist from where his hand still encircled it. “Uh. It wasn’t—I was just— I’ll stop if you—“ he said, stumbling over his words.

His nervousness, I noted absurdly, was charming.

That’s when I suddenly realized that here, surrounded by Bucky’s scent, close enough to touch, I felt lighter than I had in over a month. The dull ache in my chest had lifted, and in its place, all I felt was an incredible sense of rightness.

Comfort Alpha, my Omega murmured, crawling back up from the recesses of my brain where I’d shoved her away earlier.

And, well, I was tired of fighting her. Fuck it.

“Bucky,” I laughed, cutting off his sputtering. “You— You didn’t force anything on me. We were both out of our minds. Hell— I’m still out of my mind! I’ve been pining over you for a month. My fucking chest,” I said, reaching up to worry at my sternum where the pain had been centered.

“You— What?”

————

As soon as Y/N had settled into the couch, and Bucky’s inner Alpha had registered that she was within reach, soaked in his scent and looking gorgeous and vulnerable, he’d lost it a little.

First— confusingly— she had started apologizing. Then in just a few, rapidly devolving moments, he’d (1) made her scent spike with anger and sadness, (2) watched helplessly as tears clumped in her eyelashes and tracked down her smooth cheeks, and (3) acted like a territorial knotheadwhen she’d tried to leave— as if he hadn’t fucked things up enough.

And now she was… confessing her feelings for him?

That couldn’t be right.

“You— What?”

Bucky recognized that absolutely no part of this conversation had demonstrated his intelligence. He was actually starting to think maybe the serum had given him early onset dementia.

He took a step closer to her, knowing he was pushing it by crowding the Omega in his own territory, but too overwhelmed to care. “But… What about Steve?” he asked. Just being within feet of her, he could smell the newspaper ink scent of his best friend still lingering on her clothes.

Y/N quirked her head. “What about him?” She lifted her arm to take a sniff at her shoulder, seeming to scent what remained of him on her pullover.

Bucky bit hard on the inside of his cheek, fighting a scowl. He wasn’t that dumb. “You two are… you know,” he started, shrugging to hide the hurt. “Together.”

An amused smirk tugged at her lips. “What, did you think I was canoodling with Wanda and Sam as well? The whole pack? Because I smell like all of them, too.”

And, well, yes. This close, Bucky could pick up Wanda’s muted cinnamon smell, Sam’s citrus scent, and even a splash of rosewater from Nat.

Then, Bucky noticed that Y/N’s hand was still worrying at her sternum. In the very same spot where he’d practically rubbed holes in his own shirts over the past month. He matched the motion dazedly, reaching up to place his palm over his own chest. That same nagging thought that had dogged him for weeks in the Brooklyn apartment fought back to the forefront of his mind. Bond withdrawal.

“You feel it too?” he said, his words coming out softer than he’d intended, disbelief coloring his tone.

Bucky watched as her snarky expression melted away, eyes turning serious and contemplative. She took a step forward, now so close that they were breathing the same air, and nodded resolutely.“All day. Every day. Aching. And—” She paused, a fierce blush rising on her cheeks. “Your… purr. I feel like I nee—“

Before his higher functions could process the words coming from her lips, Bucky’s hindbrain took control of his body. He crowded Y/N back into the wall behind them, his arms on either side of her head as he leaned in to take a deep, desperate lungful right at the scent glands on her neck. She tipped her head back instantly, baring her throat to him and letting out a breathy moan that sent his head spinning, her sweet peppermint scent coursing through his veins like the best drug.

In the morning, maybe, he’d regret this.

But right here, right now? Omega really wants him. Fucking finally.

The sight of her bared throat made his Alpha wild with need— the same trusting submission he thought he had abused before, now presented to him without abandon. He replaced his nose on her neck with his lips and tongue, and her body arched against his, their hips lining up. She keened softly, and his cock thickened in his pants, forcing him to bite back a gratified growl as he ran his nose up and down the column of her throat. Her scent was changing, taking on an earthy, musky note, like fallen leaves and wet moss. Arousal. He felt his mouth water, and he could scent his own aroused pheromones filling the air, mixing with hers.  

Was he dreaming? This couldn’t be real. He didn’t deserve this— her trust, her want, her body beneath him.

But Bucky’s inner Alpha was crowing. The feel of her against him, her scent lighting his body on fire from the inside out— it stirred up the deepest, darkest, most possessive Alpha instincts buried deep within. Not Steve’s. Mine. My Omega.

Y/N snaked a hand up his chest, pressing her cool palm to the side of his face and nudging his gaze up to meet hers. Her pupils were blown wide, plush lower lip pulled between her teeth— almost shy. The look shook Bucky out of his mindless Alpha stupor. He had to be sure. Because once he was…

He pulled back slightly so she could breathe. “Is this— Do you want this?” he asked, voice rough with need.

“Yes.”

———

The moment the word slipped from my lips, Bucky finally let go of the tight restraint holding himself back. I knew he was desperate before, when he had his nose buried in my neck. And I could smell the musky, warm flannel scent of his arousal in the air— feel the hard evidence of it against my hip.

But as soon as I’d finally, finally convinced this stupid, perfect, frustratingly dense Alpha that this was what I wanted— what I had wanted from the start— he let out a mind-numbing growl that made my knees go weak and shaky.

Though I was at first anticipating a rough and frenzied claiming— especially after a month of needless separation— I supposed that with Bucky’s extreme handle on his inner Alpha, it would be anything but. And I was right.

His lips were surprisingly gentle where they met mine, but insistent, commanding as he opened my mouth against his, stubble scraping at my cheek. I did my best to match his intensity, kissing back with everything I had, trying hard to communicate with more than words what he hadn’t let himself believe. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me closer to him, and before I could prepare myself, he scooped me up into his arms like I weighed nothing and headed towards the couch.

“No, bed,” I gasped, tearing my lips away from his for a moment. Bucky honest-to-god whined, changing course immediately to carry me further into his den, kicking his bedroom door closed behind him as we entered the space where his scent was thickest. In the low light, I could make out dark furniture and a large bed, which he settled me gently in the middle of, sheets and blankets a delicious, cedar-scented tangle around me. I could feel my heartbeat pick up, arousal thrumming through every nerve ending in my body, slick between my legs coming embarrassingly fast as my Omega prepared for the Alpha my body desperately craved.  

He hesitated for a moment once I was settled, hovering his body above mine, and I could see the glint of his steely eyes tracing down my form. I knew I didn’t look the sexiest in my cozy clothes, and I squirmed uncomfortably underneath his scrutiny, letting out my own indignant whine.

He chuckled— a dark, Alpha sound, then sat back a bit on his haunches to free his hands so that he could trace them down the curve of my sides. He stopped at the hem of my pullover, eyes flicking to meet mine. I nodded, sitting up a bit to let him pull it over my head, taking my bra with it. Once it was off, he hurled it dramatically into the furthest corner of the room, taking the pack’s scent with it. I couldn’t help but laugh at his possessive posturing, before I caught the intense look on his face as his eyes roved over my bare chest and stomach, drinking me in like he was afraid to break the spell by touching.

Goosebumps pebbled the skin of my arms, though not from cold. I reached up to pull him down closer to me, and I could feel him trembling— still holding himself back.

“Bucky,” I pleaded, arching up my lower half to press my core against his leg. He remained still, flesh and metal hands holding my waist firmly in his grasp. “Alpha,” I tried.

That worked.

With a choked-out growl, Bucky surged up against me, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses from my mouth, down my neck, across my scent glands and to my chest, where he sucked and laved at my sensitive nipples.

“Fucking perfect, Omega,” he breathed, sounding pained. “Smell so good. Like you were made for me. Unbelievable.”

I whined in response, each inhale taking in more of his heady scent, making my head swim. He kissed a hot path from my chest down my belly, nosing at my hip and the waistband of my pants. “Didn’t think you wanted this, doll. Not with me,” he said, flesh hand gripping my side hard enough to bruise. My Omega thrilled at the idea of a mark left behind. Down, girl.

He hesitated at the drawstring of my joggers, his eyes flicking up to meet mine. “Can I make you feel good, Omega?” he panted, mouth slack and plush lips wet. I hitched in a breath at the sight of him, feeling punch-drunk and so overwhelmingly turned on I had to fight the urge to close my eyes. I nodded my consent, but reached out to tug at the shoulder of his shirt first, which he ripped over his head with one hand to reveal the sculpted, shadowy planes of chest. The hard lines of him looked like they were cut from steel. Jesus Christ.

“Please,” I pleaded again, canting up my hips, and he rumbled in response, dragging down my pants and underwear in one smooth glide down my legs. I tightened my thighs together reflexively— still wanting, but momentarily shy at being completely bare for him, and the the thought of the amount of slick he’d find between my legs.

“Perfect,” he practically purred, leaning in to kiss me softly, reassuringly, slotting his hips between my legs until I was spread wide beneath him. He kissed back down my body once my breathing slowed, his cold metal hand leaving goosebumps behind as it trailed down my side to behind my knee, where he lifted my leg to throw it over his shoulder. He paused at my navel, looking up at me one more time. “Okay, doll?”

I took in a shuddering breath, the need for him to touch me overpowering my nerves, before nodding. The corner of Bucky’s mouth turned up in a smirk, making my breath catch in my throat, before he dove between my legs with what could only be described as super soldier-like intensity. He sucked slowly, teasingly at the scent glands on my inner thighs before dragging his nose through my slick folds, lapping up my slick like a man starved. He found my bundle of nerves instantly, beginning a relentless tease with his tongue.

I’d never felt anything like it. A litany of uncontrollable whimpers and moans fell from my mouth as pleasure washed over me in waves.

“Taste so good, Omega,” he growled, throwing his metal arm across my hips to hold me down as I bucked up in need against his face. “Never tasted anything like you.”

My eyes rolled back in my head as I felt his flesh hand drag along the inside of my thigh before he pressed one thick finger slowly inside me. The sounds coming out of my mouth were sinful, and I pushed my face into the pillow beside my head to muffle them as I tightened around the digit.

“Alpha, please,” I begged, squirming as I teetered on the razor sharp edge of release. He carried on, increasing the intense assault with his tongue, before adding another finger next to his first, canting them both up towards my navel in a slow drag inside me. The fullness is what pushed me over the edge with a cry. He loosened his hold on my hips to let me ride it out against his mouth until I pulled away sharply with the sting of oversensitivity. He slipped his fingers from me drenched in slick, bringing heat to my cheeks, before licking his fingers clean with his gaze trained on mine.

“God,” I gasped out as my heart rate started to come down, feeling lightheaded and tingly all over from the best orgasm I’d ever had in my fucking life.

“Thanks, but you can call me Bucky.”

Did he— I barked out a disbelieving laugh at the absolute, shit-eating grin on his face— a carefree, pleased look I hadn’t seen before in the short time I’d known the Alpha.

He laughed with me, before moving back up the bed, pressing his burning hot chest to mine, and leaning in for a slow, lingering kiss. The waistband of his pants dug into my hip, along with the shockingly hard length of him.

“Oh, I didn’t—“ I broke away from his mouth, moving my fingers down to scrabble at the button of his pants, but he gently moved my hand away with one of his own.

“You don’t need to,” he said, his voice deep and rough— sounding just as fucked out as me, though I hadn’t even touched him.

I frowned. “But I want to. Do you not want me to—“

He cut me off with a kiss, before dropping his forehead to my chest. I could feel his breath fanning out across my skin, my nipples peaking in interest even though I felt thoroughly sated already.

“Jesus, doll. Of course I do.” He lifted his head up, meeting my gaze, and I could see his jaw clenching as he fought for the right words. When I’d first met him I’d chalked up his taciturn mannerism as a side effect of the rut, but now, I realized it was just another endearing facet of his personality. He liked to make every word he spoke count. Makes sense when you spent seventy years in a muzzle.

“I don’t want you to feel… pressured,” he finished.

This again? I leaned down, pulling a blanket up and over my frame to cover my naked lower half, and Bucky moved off me slightly.We probably should have talked more before Bucky decided to take me to the astral plane— but I certainly wasn’t complaining about the way things had progressed, and by the scent of proud Alpha that still lingered in the air, he hadn’t minded either.

“Bucky, I don’t blame you for anything that happened in that cell. Not even a little bit,” I began. He sighed, breaking eye contact to look down at his flesh hand, which he’d fanned out across my belly. I wasn’t a petite woman, but underneath his massive hand, I felt… small and safe in the best way. A way that made my Omega sing with pleasure at having found a match that could both provide and protect in the ways I needed him to. “It didn't even occur to me that I should blame you. If anything, I was grateful. You protected me and comforted me in a way that very few Alphas would have been able to while in rut.”

Bucky didn’t say anything, but his scent hadn’t sunk back into the sour distress of our earlier confrontation, so I knew he had heard me. He shifted to lie down on his back, lifting his flesh arm over my head to scoop me against his chest. I snuggled up to meet him, curling up against his side with my head pillowed on his massive bicep.

It felt… right— like two puzzle pieces finally joining— and I was suddenly reminded of the ache, or rather, the lack of it.

“You asked me earlier if I felt it too,” I whispered, the moment quiet and sacred in the muted light of Bucky’s den. I lifted my eyes to look at him to find he was already gazing down at me. “I know this is crazy for me to say, but this just feels so—“

“Right,” he said, finishing my sentence for me. “It feels right. And my chest doesn’t hurt anymore, now that you’re here.”

“It’s gone for me too. Bucky— god— I thought I was going crazy. I thought you hated me. I thought I was going to have to leave the pack,” I whined, feeling the low-level anxiety of the past few weeks rush back in one big wave. Bucky must have scented the intensity of my distress, because he shushed me softly, running a soothing hand up and down my back, before nudging my head onto his chest and starting up that painfully familiar rumble that I’d yearned for for weeks. His purr.

I instantly melted against him, feeling anxiety make way for comfort and bliss as every muscle in my body let go of the tension it was holding. I let out an involuntary moan of relief as I drowned in his purr and the cedar scent that surrounded me like a cocoon.

“’S fucking good,” I slurred, and I could feel Bucky’s laugh cut through the vibrations.

Reluctantly, I pulled my head away from his chest so that I could meet his eyes again. He was still staring, like I was a puzzle he couldn’t decipher. I shivered.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said. I immediately opened my mouth to protest, but he stopped me. “No, listen. I should have apologized to you as soon as we got back. But I was afraid.” He said it resolutely, unfalteringly. An Alpha admitting their fear was rare. But Bucky wasn’t a typical Alpha. “I was afraid of what I was feeling— of what you might be feeling. And when I saw you with Steve, I just thought—“ he paused, closing his eyes. “I thought I could move on. That you had made the right choice.”

Though my heart hurt to think of the turmoil that Bucky had put himself through over the past month, I had to smirk. Bucky might be different in other ways, but his jealousy over my imagined relationship with Steve was stereotypical Alpha.

“Is that why you started leaving me secret gifts?” I asked teasingly, feeling a smile curling across my lips. “Saw another Alpha swoop in and had to prove you could provide?”

Bucky flopped his head back against the pillow with a groan, scrunching up his eyes in embarrassment, and I laughed at his chagrin.

“I knew it was weird,” he said. “But it made it hurt less. To know I could… provide for you in some way. Sorry. I know I sound like a knothead.”

“Don’t apologize. That blanket will be perfect for our nest,” I said innocently, fluttering my eyelashes. Bucky stiffened under me immediately at the thought. I giggled, and the Alpha rolled back on top of me in a flash, letting out a teasing growl as his arms caged me in.

I squirmed underneath him as he pressed gentle kisses down my neck, tongue laving across my scent glands, sending a jolt of arousal through my thoroughly relaxed body.  

“How do you smell so incredible?” he grumbled against my skin, inhaling deeply. I took the opportunity to move my hand down across his bare chest again, sneaking towards his waistband, but Bucky caught my hand again gently, lacing our fingers together. He stopped his ministrations against my glands, and lifted his face up to meet mine again.

“Not tonight,” he murmured. “But will you stay?”

I nodded then, feeling suddenly shy and exposed underneath him. I wiggled down off the bed to pull on my soft pants and pullover, leaving my bra and slick-soaked underwear on the floor, while Bucky tugged off his pants, leaving him in black boxer briefs that showed off the rippling muscles of his thighs. God. Damn.

As I curled up again next to him, pulling the blankets up and over the tangle of our legs, a bone-deep tiredness settled over me, my body finally feeling relaxed and safe enough to slip into sleep after weeks of insomnia. He pressed a lingering kiss to my forehead, before looping his arms around me firmly and starting up his Alpha purr once again.

Tomorrow, we’d finish talking. Tomorrow, we’d figure out what was up with our strange connection. And tomorrow, it was my turn to make Bucky feel just as good as I had.

But right now? I nuzzled my face into his chest, savoring the cent of cedar and bonfire, and knew—irrevocably— that I was finally home.  

[transhawks]

In general, what’s your opinion on artists profiting off oc’s of there’s in fandoms? Like when they make little comics for them paired with a character, prints, etc from let’s say MHA? And they have people pay for exclusives such as Patreon and such. It’s ok if your not comfortable answering

Sorry about taking a while to get to asks. I'm really sick right now so finding strength to answer is hard. I don't think this is the right question. What we should be asking is should fandoms be profitable? And are there consequences if we have this mindset of profiting off of fandom?

Now, personally, I think OCs are much more fair game than characters that are the intellectual property of someone else, but everything else is very messy. I've paid artists for commissions and I think there's a lot of greyness here because people should be compensated for labor, but our current socioeconomic situation necessitates, more so than other generations, that we monetize our hobbies. That's definitely what's behind a lot of this - fandoms are profitable, artists especially can make livings off drawing fandom art, and I'd argue easier than with original art.

(there's another conversation to be had about the valuing of visual art over writing, especially in terms of fandom profitability. I've seen screenshots of zine runners outright telling writers that they weren't prioritized because people bought zines for art and I think this profit-maximizing hurts fandoms.)

When so much labor is spent on making art, and these days labor and time are expected to go into jobs full-time due to how high a cost of living is compared to stagnating wages worldwide, is it any surprise talented artists just realize that fandoms can be a primary source of income? No, not at all. But there's a question of how stable that is. Animanga fandoms also have issue of that Japan has long had a culture of doujins and unofficial works. I stumbled upon this article (it's a bit dated, though, as it's from 2011 and the landscape has irrevocably changed) while thinking how to answer this question and something stuck out to me:

So, I feel like doujins are like zines in this way - slim profits (though zines unfortunately have the staff hoping to make as much as possible over a good product) that typically escape the notice of the large copyright holders of the properties they portray. But more and more people are attempting to make money, and not just based on commission, which I understand a bit more as a person to person transaction. I'm specifically talking about patreon here.

Not to bring up Twitter/IG drama on tumblr, but this makes me think of the issue surrounding Sofia Samara and her art. Here's a link to an explanation. Now while there's SO MUCH to unpack there, I keep thinking about how a minor was able to make massive amounts of money drawing nsfw art typically for adults (and was paid by adults), all of off fan content. and there's several things I think are also worth paying attention to -

On one hand, fans afraid of cease and desists or who have gotten cease and desists for very specific content will usually capitulate and either completely take down their stuff, or edit (censor) it to the copyright holder's standards.

On the other hand, when artists and writers realize something is profitable, they'll likely focus in on that rather than perhaps experimental content specifically due to perceived worth/value. Sofia had this issue with when there were request for 'PoC' version of her art (kind of fucked given the characters are /Japanese/) and for a trans masc version of some of the characters she was already drawing. Her first impulse was to question whether these were popular/profitable and some of her comments really make it clear that this art was done with the intent of maximizing profit. The representation mattered only in terms of monetary value. So, I think this is important to note. On one hand, you don't want a fandom so scared of corporations and governments that it doesn't make content whatsoever. Issues of what is ethical to produce aside, China's ban on fan content and AO3 silences so many people, especially vulnerable gender and sexuality minorities. It's a state enforcing what is acceptable and not on its citizens and so often that specifically targets queerness, which fandoms have often a small haven for.

On the other hand, the mainstreaming of fandom and when artists and writers only approach their stuff with the idea of market appeal, the unfortunate dynamics we see in the rest of the world get replicated. Not that haven't already - but there's a bitterness in the idea that fandom will prioritize content made not by marginalized voices who might not have the same access to make content like others. Or in Sofia's case, she traced art with the intent to make money, adding a whole other layer of "iffy" to this.

In all, I seriously don't know if I have a stance on this as much a bunch of 'worries'. I have love for fan content and think it's as worthy of respect as other art or writing or other mediums. I also believe in the compensation of labor. But when people approach something like a hobby as a job, and a fandom as a market, there are going to be people shut out and hurt, and there's going to be a big change in what is made and prioritized by fandoms.

Additionally, when you add a barrier to access stuff, do you ask who sees your work? If I hid my best metas under a paywall, I'd exclude marginalized readers who cannot afford something like pay idk 10 bucks just to read my previously free content, would I? So I genuinely think this hurry to profit off fan content is something that should be questioned. We might lose a lot of the creativity and freedom that draws people to fandoms in the first place. We might shut out creators and consumers who simply don't have the resources compared to others to keep up. Is that really what we want?

[wastelandlovingscenarios]

kiss prompt #25 with crushing nb!sole and maxson? (sorry if this one is outta left field, I just like maxson qkdknekdkwnf)

i haven’t written maxson in a minute but damn do i miss writing him. (y’all should def request him more!) this turned out a lot longer than expected.

please enjoy!

kiss prompt #25: .. as a yes

-

Maxson:

every inch of his body regretted his decision, his choice to allow sole, the only person he’s cared about since stepping foot in the commonwealth, to lead a dangerous mission he couldnt partake in. he shouldve said no, wanted to deny the idea of them risking themselves just to complete a mission but much to his distress, he had no reason to do so. the only reason being left unspoken from his lips in fear of rejection and abandonment.

he remembers speaking to cade about it briefly, only allowing himself to show his vulnerability for a single moment and pulled away just as fast. but cade isn’t oblivious and stupid as the average wastelander, and maxson knows that. cause case knows in the end, maxson can deny, argue, and build boundaries around the words that spilled from his mouth but god knows he’s not able to take it back, even if he tries to beat it out of his officer.

he tried to excuse himself from the room as quick as he could but the words that left cades mouth before he could struck maxson in a way he didn’t favor. it left a bitter taste on his tongue and his heart had never dropped faster.

“everydays not promised, elder. though i’m sure we both know that by now.”

and he was no stranger to that phrase, often seeing people come and go during his lifetime. whether it was in terms of them coming back alive, dead, or not coming back at all, he still experienced it and it was a part of his everyday life. yet, the thought of his precious sole being one of those victims who’d succumb into those circumstance left him feeling sick and absolutely terrified. despite the dreading feeling haunting his mind, he bit back any signs that could express his worry and replaced it with his usual stoic and strict attitude.

maxson knew he had to confront them about it, so he had ordered one of his officers to fetch sole as soon as possible, regardless of the tasks they were doing. the sleepless nights and endless thoughts were eating him up inside and he couldn’t take it any longer.

a knock on the door cut him off from his thoughts and he sat up in his seat, straightening his coat. folding his hands together on the table, he let out a small cough, “come in.”

soles quietly entered the office, smiling shyly at the man in front of him and carefully closed the door to prevent making any unnecessary noise. it showed their politeness and consideration- that’s one of the many things he loved about them. “you requested for me, elder?”

he nodded, his eyes never leaving their form. “yes, i have.” for a moment, it stays silent. they both stare at each other without a word and with eyes searching for answers, both for different reasons. it doesn’t last long as sole lets out a confused hum, an embarrassed flush painting their cheeks at his hard stare.

“i apolgize, elder, but is.. is there a reason why you called me up here?”

a reason, he thinks. there is no reason. was it cause he wanted to see them? hear their voice? maybe even comfort sole before they departed? ... perhaps it was the idea that he needed comforting in the end. his mouth goes dry at this realization and his heart speed picks up but he brushes it off, simply standing from his seat to make his way towards sole.

they remained at attention, watching as maxson stopped in his tracks to face sole at a reasonable distance. “to call you up here without reason would be foolish of me,” he commented, “i simply needed an update about where you stand with the mission.”

they paused for a moment, silently thinking to themselves before properly responding. “its still a go, elder. i wouldn’t want to back down now that everything is moving.”

he wanted to call it off, send someone else to do it but knew deep down that sole was the only soldier capable of leading such a duty. “excellent. i hope everything is prepared and in place. if not, it’s best to inform me right now to prevent any possible issues.”

sole shook their head and sent him a smile. “not at all. i believe everything is set according to plan and will run smoothly.”

“that is all i needed to know, you’re dismissed. ad victoriam.” his mind screamed at him for not saying what he wanted and he could feel the dull ache in his chest bloom with every second he wasted. he needed to say something, he needed to do something, anything.

sole smiled at him one last time before saluting in acknowledgment. “goodnight, elder.” his heart began to beat out of his ears, seeing sole turn their heel to exit his quarters and he became paralyzed in panic as cades words replayed in his mind.

“everydays not promised, elder. though i’m sure we both know that by now.”

and that was more than enough to push him over the edge, his emotions ultimately taking over him in the end. he darted forward a little too quickly, lightly grabbing their wrist in an attempt to stop them. “sole, wait.”

the stunned look on soles face as they looked over their shoulder at him brought a flush to his cheeks. he had never used their name in such an unprofessional manner and found himself growing surprise at his odd behavior. “will-“ he swallowed, trying to force the words out. no, he needed to do it or it’ll just fuck him up all over again. “will you be okay?” it came out as a worried whisper and sole noticed this.

“elder?” they turned their body to face maxson with a confused expression. their face was flushed at the sudden contact but he did not pull away, not even for a second. he was afraid, afraid that if he released his grip, they’d be gone within seconds. run out that door, never to be seen again. before another word could escape, he grew closer to them, his hands trembling.

“promise me,” his words shook with fear and sole expression softened at the rare sight of his usual tough exterior breaking down right in front of them, “you have to promise me you’ll make it back.”

no, fuck that. he needed a confirmation that it’ll happen no matter what, even if the world was crashing down on them. “i take it back. it’s not a request, it’s an order.” he stated, composing himself a little better this time around, “i don’t care what you have to do to get it done, just please make sure you come back safe and as unharmed as possible, okay?”

he expected every answer; a denial, a word of uncertainty, and hopefully a promise or a simple yes, but what he didn’t expect was for sole to take a step forward, placing their lips on his without another word. the grip on their wrist slowly loosened in astonishment as he looked down at them, not processing the moment for a few seconds. the minute he felt their hand lightly tug on his sleeve, he closed his eyes, kissing them back passionately and desperately, his hands finding their waist and resting it there.

he wouldn’t realize how out of breath he’d be until sole pulled away with a heavy blush and a shy smile. it would take him a few moments to ground himself completely, a dazed expression on his face as sole kept close, their arm still resting on his bicep.

“i’m sure that answered your question.” they reassured, putting distance between them. oh how bad he wanted to pull sole back against his body and recreate that moment. instead, he pulled himself together and stood straight with his arms behind his back, sending sole a form nod. this was more than what he had bargained for but it brought him a great deal of comfort, so who was he to complain? his cheeks stayed flushed but his voice was unwavered, a small smile finding its way to his lips.

“i trust that you will follow your orders.” he remarked with soft eyes, “ad victoriam.”

sole saluted once more, turning their heel to go back to their own quarters. “goodnight, elder maxson.” they smiled at him one last time before shutting the door completely.

maxson fought every muscle in his body to not take them into his arms, protect them from the dangers in this chaotic world but he did so, making his way back to his desk. for now, he could wait until the day they returned and the moment they step foot back in the prydwen? he’ll be sure to return their feelings properly.

[athenaquinn]

Bury It || Ally & Athena

TIMING: Current (today) LOCATION: The middle of a forest in White Crest PARTIES: @alejandra-solano and @athenaquinn SUMMARY: Ally and Athena run into a spriggan. Everything is fine. CONTENT: very brief allusions to physical and emotional abuse

Even after everything, there was still a certain peace Athena felt in the woods. Peace and a sense of power. It was somewhere where she could take control and where she could deal with things however she saw fit without having to worry about other people. Usually, at least. Except for some hikers here and there, but Athena also often found her way into more secluded parts of the forest. Today’s venture was somewhere in the middle ground - not so secluded that she was all but guaranteed to be alone, but also not somewhere that she knew many hikers would be going. Especially as the Maine weather began to tease the coming of a proper spring, she knew she’d have to be more mindful of humans when she went out on her hunts. She felt goosebumps run up her arm, then - and so she scanned the clearing, trying to figure out where it was coming from. Eastward, she thought, if she let herself concentrate enough. Another benefit of not many people being around was that it was easier to locate. Rolling her shoulders, Athena began to walk in that direction, fingertips ghosting against her hip where one of her many knives sat, under her jacket.

Ally was going to figure out where that goddamned cabin was whether it was the last thing she did. People can’t just be forming towns in the woods. She trudged through the underbrush, something she had done a lot over the past few weeks. Being alone was something that Ally struggled with. She was vulnerable when she was alone, but the hobbies she took under her belt left her alone so often. She tried to shake the thought away and as she did, she realized she wasn’t alone. She heard someone walking parallel to her and she paused, peeking between the trees. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed what looked like a tree move. Again she shook her head, she had been awake for a long time. “Who is there!” she yelled, grasping the gun at her hip, and looking to the spot in the woods where she last heard walking. 

She had the option to leave town now, if she really wanted to. Leave and study somewhere else just like she and her brother hadn’t been permitted to do for college. Except she had reasons to stay here - Ariana, for one - and even if she wasn’t bound to her obligations in the same exact way as before, she still had a duty to protect people, and letting fae run amok all over town wasn’t something that would ever sit well with her. Athena continued to make her way through the forest, careful to not step on any branches, or knock over any piles of rocks. She felt her body tense up again - which had to mean she was headed in the right direction. A figure was moving between some trees. That had to be it, didn’t it? She regarded it (always an it, never anything more, when she was hunting - it was important to separate monsters into their own category), though noticed that it was beginning to approach another woman and for a moment she caught her breath, wavering. The other figure was human - or so she thought - but she felt a bit of doubt swirling in her chest. She could take them both out if need be, she told herself - though she would give it a few moments more, see what happened. Athena let her hand slip under her jacket, fingers wrapping around the hilt of her knife. She could at least guess that the fae was possibly a spriggan, at least based on size. That was one thing to go off of, and to watch out for.

Out of the corner of her eye Ally saw a tree move again. Damn, had she really been awake that long? Still she turned, and what she saw took her breath away. A being creeping through the woods. Was she dreaming? Her mind tried to wrap itself around this impossibility, not a vampire, not a person, not an illegal village in the woods. What was it? Before she could catch her breath it was moving toward her, and she leaped back, tripping over a rock and watching her weapon go flying in the other direction. She always joked about keeping her stake on her, and now she really wished she had. She felt a sharp pain in her ankle when she tried to get back up, watching the beast before her approach. “What do you want from me?” she yelled, pushing herself back. She felt hands wrap around her legs, holding her in place. Its eyes were locked on her badge, attached to her jacket. 

The other woman was human. Had to be, at this point. Or at least not fae - and if she happened to be something else, Athena would find a way to deal with it. What was most important was helping someone who was being hurt by a fae. That was always what was most important (at least in her mind, at least now) (her parents might well have had other things to say but she didn’t want them to enter her thoughts and mind again - not now - please, not now) and so that was how she would have to deal with it. Get rid of the fae first, figure everything else out later. She watched the woman fall and winced involuntarily, because that had to hurt (did hurt, she knew, recalling a memory from years ago) more than the mats in her family’s training room. Then the fae was on top of the woman and holding her down. If it was hurting her, then Athena knew she had double the reason to go on the offensive. “Stop that!” She called, suddenly, stepping out from her hiding place. The spriggan (it had to be, all signs pointed to that) took little note of her words, instead continuing to hold her down. “Try to push it off!” She called out, taking a few steps closer. “Knee it, or something. See if that works!” 

Ally whipped her head around as a girl appeared from the woods. Brave. Braver than she had been in the same situation. Not the time, Ally. She was wriggling under the hands of the creature and felt herself come up with a sarcastic response. Instead she swallowed and gathered all of her strength. With her good leg she gave a strong kick, flinging it back a little bit. That was when it split into two. “What the fuck is happening?” she yelled at the girl who seemed far too calm for the situation at hand. She felt her attention being pulled elsewhere, toward a moss covered log in the distance. Why did she care about a log? She pushed herself to pull her attention back as the two beings lunged toward her again, hands reaching for the glimmer of her badge. She grasped on to a branch, swinging it to swat one hand away, but the other grabbed her arm. “You knee it!” she yelled. 

Maybe asking a civilian, even a police civilian to handle this themselves was a stupid idea. Athena knew full well that at least most of the police were far too human - or not human at all. Either way, even if her parents had made certain she (and their family) were in the police department’s good graces, they also reminded her that there were too many things (countless, even) that she knew how to handle that the police simply could not. That she’d been designed to handle since she was a child. “That thi-that creature-being - is attacking you.” She resisted the urge to huff, because that would only distract her - and for once in recent times she actually felt like she had at least a bit of a handle on things. “Which I know is stating the obvious.” The spriggan continued to attack her, and part of Athena wanted to watch in morbid fascination - wondering what exactly it was that was making this one so keen to attack as much as it did, rather than just steal and leave. “I cannot knee it given that it’s closer to you.” She grabbed her knife, finally removing it from its resting place on her hip. “If you give it a kick, I can,” deal with it, “assist. I can also- ” her sentence cut off, she watched as the spriggan made another lunge at the woman, trying to pull at her hair and grinning, its eyes on the badge. Some spriggans kill after they obtain their desired object. She could see the words on the page in front of her, hear her father’s words. “Just- ” she took another few steps forward, the blade of her knife cutting into the fae’s leg, a small, surface-level wound. That was something of a start, though the spriggan hardly seemed to mind it.

Ally was finally locked in, pushing past the surprise of whatever was on grabbing at her. She could deal with the fact that even though she had spent her whole life researching vampires she had never seen a tiny horned one later. What she needed to focus on now was not getting bit and staying alive. She was annoyed by the girl before her, wondering why she wasn’t doing anything. She watched as she cut into the being with her knife and leaned against a tree, pushing it back towards the girl with her legs. A knife would do nothing if this was a vampire, she knew that, but maybe it would run off if it was inconvenienced enough. “The slicing and dicing isn’t really working.” she yelled, using the branch in hand to swing at the creature again as it leaped toward her. “Fuck this.” she exhaled, deciding that if the girl wanted this thing closer to her, she was going to help. “I hope you’re ready to assist!” she called. As it launched itself at her again she jumped at the creature, trying to pin it down. She was back on the ground and she felt it’s hand close in around her badge. “Now would be a good time.” she said, writhing beneath the creature as she felt claws dig into her skin. 

The slicing and dicing isn’t how I’d put it, but it will work, I know that much, was what Athena wanted to say, but held her tongue. Even if an adult was behaving in a ridiculous manner, they still deserved respect. Usually - so long as they weren’t vermin of some sort themselves. That was something that she doubted she’d ever fully shake (even if she knew she’d made at least one notable exception) - but it also wasn’t the worst behavior to have - after all, basic politeness did wonders, she’d found. She raised an eyebrow, impressed at the woman’s willingness to jump into action, though she knew that she had only a little time to work with as it jumped at the woman again. Athena ran over, kneeing the creature before it could grab the woman’s badge, watching with an amused smirk across her face as it crashed against a nearby tree. She didn’t have too much time to focus on the precision of her kick, because this spriggan was either particularly aggressive or particularly determined, or some combination of the two. She ran after it, knocking it to the ground and straddling it, holding her knife to its throat, letting the burn of the iron begin before she sliced it open. Except that the spriggan started to reach out towards her necklace - the one Ariana had given her for Valentine’s Day, and with that she sliced into its shoulder. “You know that thievery is illegal, don’t you?” She spat, watching a bit of blood fall to the ground, though it was still very much alive, struggling under her. She looked over to the woman. “How are you? Did it scratch you at all?”

Ally was sure this was how she was going to die. She always knew that it was going to be related to the supernatural in some way. How would they cover it up? What would they tell her dad? She thought of all the dozens of excuses she had given to bereaved parents in the past. She would soon be one of those. Suddenly the weight was lifted off her body, faster than she had time to register. She watched as the woman sat atop the creature, talking to it, as if she knew what it was. Too calm she remembered. When the girl addressed her, Ally snapped out of her shock. She looked at a small tear in her jacket, a scratch across her skin from it’s claw. “I’ll get a bandaid later. You know how to deal with this? I have a stake...” she fumbled, still stuck on the idea that this was a vampire. The world was too small for there to be anything other than vampires. Right? Ally searched the ground for something, anything to help, frustrated by how defenseless she was. She settled on another loose branch, slowly approaching the struggling pair. She watched as the beast lunged for the necklace at the girl’s throat again. “Watch out!” she called. This thing was injured but damn it was determined. 

Her parents had always said that she could use her size to her advantage - that being small was of incredible benefit. It had to have been true, after all - her mother was even smaller than she was and she was one of the most powerful - and, if Athena spent too much time thinking about it - terrifying - people that she could think of, and so it had to be. Use everything about you to throw people off your tracks, throw off any would-be suspicion her parents had said so many times that she had lost count. “I’ve got a bandaid and bandages - we just - there’s a few things to deal with, first.” Adjusting her position to ensure that the spriggan didn’t go anywhere, she blinked rapidly a few times. “A stake? I - no. The offer’s really appreciated and good on you for carrying that around but that won’t work for this.” A laugh escaped from the spriggan’s lips and Athena turned back, hitting it across the face. “I really wouldn’t laugh if I were you.” In her momentary distraction she didn’t notice the spriggan reaching for her necklace again. “The heads up is appreciated!” She called out to the woman, returning her knife to the spriggan’s throat, a smirk crossing her lips. Well, she always appreciated having to work for something. Though still rewarding, when fae put up no fight it made everything just a bit less fun. “Things like this rob and steal and can do much worse, if we let them.” She clicked her tongue against her teeth. 

Knives, a band-aid, who was this woman? The medic of the forest? Won’t work for this. What is this? It felt like the world was both expanding and collapsing around Ally. There was more to be afraid of, more to protect people against, and more to learn. The wind left her lungs and she slowly took in the information that the woman was offering up. She hadn’t noticed but the stick she was holding had dropped from her hands. The spriggan must have seen the opportunity because it reached out, grabbing a hold of her bad ankle. She let out a scream and kicked at it, her ankle in searing pain. Grabbing a hold of the stick she stabbed at the hand grasped around her ankle. “Let’s not let them, yes?” she expressed, wriggling. She was frustrated she had been caught in its grasp again. 

She had to say, if she had to run into any police officer in the woods, this woman seemed to be one of the best options she had. At least she was willing to jump into action and she’d yet to call Athena a kid, which automatically gave her bonus points, even if she was thinking it. Except that the spriggan had at least partially gotten out from under her and was grabbing the woman’s ankle, knocking her onto the ground. “Seriously? You’ve gotta give up sometime, you know.” Athena muttered to the spriggan, cutting into its arm, forcing it to let go of the woman’s ankle. “You know what happens if you misbehave, don’t you?” It continued to move, hissing and screeching as it attempted to grab at the other woman again.

Ally kept struggling and watched as the woman cut the being. As it’s hands slipped from her ankle, her boot caught on to it’s pocket. As she kicked it away, she watched a few small items fall to the forest floor. She didn’t think much of it, but was surprised to see what looked like roots spreading throughout the ground. “Is that normal?” she asked, feeling the earth developing beneath her. As it shook the being seemed to become more distressed, grasping at the ground, theoretically searching for whatever had fallen. The rage of losing the items seemed to send one more surge of strength through it, as it started flailing around. “Can I help? Do we...?” She didn’t want to say the last part of that sentence, because she didn’t like to think about it as killing. As she attempted to rise off the ground she uttered some curses under her breath. She hadn’t really been paying attention to the pain in her ankle but as she moved to stand it was clear that this wasn’t a simple fix. 

“Normal’s subjective.” Athena pressed her tongue against the roof of her mouth. The woman deserved at least that much, she figured. She wasn’t about to get into all the ins and outs of everything, but if she had some vague (even if over-generalized and misguided) idea of what vampires were, saying that much wouldn’t do any harm. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t want this - well, I don’t want you to come to harm, and I’ve - my mom runs - ran a gym in town so I’ve got lots of training.” The spriggan was flailing just enough and Athena moved to kneel by it, toes of her boots digging into the ground as she slit its throat, watching until it stopped thrashing. She couldn’t take any more time to more fully observe it now, though. “It won’t hurt you any more, don’t worry.” Her voice oddly calm, she grabbed a cloth, wiping off the blade as she glanced over to where something had fallen from the spriggan’s pocket.

His blood seeped into the soil along, crying out as he had. Blood had a memory like no other. It carried with it all his grief and his rage, and his desire for the things he could not have, it carried the cold disdain of the one who had spilled it, and the moral struggle of the police officer nearby. A sacrifice had been made, even if it had not been intended. It was a terrible, wonderful first meal. Tiny roots stretched out from the seeds. For a moment, it was quiet. Then, the ground groaned as the roots expanded and grew deep into the foundations of White Crest. With a loud creak, the seeds rushed upwards, saplings only for a second as thick bark wrapped around the body of the spriggan, lifting it up so that for one horrifying moment it was poised upright like a scarecrow before the wood swallowed up his features, and branches began to form around his arms. Still, the tree grew, up, up. The bark reached for Athena too, as the roots tried to grab at Ally. Inside, they could hear the Spriggan’s body squelch as the branches grew up the length of the tree, tearing its arms from the rest of its body, trapped inside. Leaves spread to fill a gap in the canopy which had not been there before. When it was finished, there was one last creak, as if the tree was sighing in relief, and then all was still. 

Ally staggered back as the tree sprung from the ground, swallowing up the creature. She watched with wide eyes as it was violently devoured. It had been hell bent on attacking her only moments before, but still she gulped down a feeling of sadness and guilt. There was darkness as its leaves spread throughout and she waited a second for the tree to do something. “Was that part of it? Is this like a thing it does?” she asked, kicking the base of the tree. “Hello?” She looked over at the other girl, waiting for the guidance she seemed to provide. 

Athena jumped - just slightly - as a tree rose from the ground and wrapped around the spriggan. For a brief moment, she watched in morbid fascination - it was something that she’d never seen before, and that made it remarkable (and, she noted, a convenient disposal method for the body). Except then the bark reached out for her and she couldn’t help but let the start of a scream escape her lips as she jumped up and away, the other woman’s words drawing her attention. “Not at all.” She made her way over to the tree, knife still in one hand as she ran her fingertips along the bark for a quick moment before bringing her hand away. “I’ve never seen anything like that. But we might not want to be right next to it - in case it tries to go after us again.” She bit her lip. 

Ally nodded and took the other woman’s advice, stepping over the roots that had spread throughout the ground. “What have you seen? You knew a lot about...whatever that was.” Ally said, raising a brow. Her eyes glanced to the knife still in her hand. Had she seen too much? She kept a careful distance between herself and the woman with the knives, especially because she didn’t have her weapon with her. “I’ve seen some things but nothing like that. Or this.” she said, peering up to the top of the trees. 

“I’ve lived in this town my whole life so… a lot.” Tongue pressed against the roof of her mouth again, Athena wasn’t sure what to say. There were a lot of ways that any phrasing she provided - even the most basic and simplest - could make someone look at her like she had two heads or didn’t know what she was talking about. Could make them use the same terms she and so many others had used for Blanche back in high school - which now left a sour taste in her mouth in more ways than one. “I will say the whole tree thing,” she gestured towards it, “is new. The thing that attacked you, I’m a bit more familiar with.” 

“A whole life of this shit does stuff to you.” Ally muttered under her breath, gazing up at the tree. At least she only had vampires to deal with, not weird tree things. That brought her to her next line of questioning. “Are there more...things? Out there?” she asked, her voice shaking slightly. She didn’t know how she would grapple with a world where every person could be a different kind of monster. She would lose her mind. “Also what exactly was that, and why did it want my badge? I can’t imagine weird little monsters care about impersonating a police officer.” She then realized she had forgotten something important. “Thank you, for helping me. That thing was...scary.” she still didn’t trust the woman, but she had saved her from whatever that was. 

“I guess it can!” Athena shrugged, over-enthusiastic again. Not willing to delve too deep into whatever the woman might have been implying. She’d dealt with the spriggan and she didn’t want to think too much about why the tree was growing - if she’d managed to mess something else up - again. “I - there’s a lot out there.” She blinked, because part of her duty was to not let super-average-ordinary humans get more of an idea of everything that was out there. That would lead to too many trying to go after things themselves, when they weren’t properly skilled for it. “Some… things… like to steal for the fun of it, but they can do far worse than just steal.” At the ‘thank you’, Athena shrugged. “Of course. It’s - well, it’s what I do. She opened up her bag, pulling out a bandage. “Do you want me to help out with what happened? I’m pre-med, so I know what I’m doing.” She offered her best reassuring smile.

There’s a lot out there. The breath left her body, a feeling of deep despair pouring through her. Was it all true? Was every book she read full of fantastical creatures just a depiction of the world she couldn’t see. She was lost in her thoughts and pulled out by the other woman’s statement. “What you do? Find them? That’s what you do?” That’s what Ally tried to do, albeit mostly unsuccessfully. Maybe this woman was an ally rather than a foe. She hesitated at the offer for help, but she had a pretty deep cut. “Sure. Although I think I’m going to have to get this ankle looked at by someone with a degree.” she said, frowning at the ankle that hurt whenever she put the lightest amount of pressure on it. “My name is Ally, by the way. You are?” She wanted to look into this mysterious woman. 

“Yes.” You could say that. That’s one word for it. “Find them, and make certain that they do not hurt others, because some of them are really keen to do so.” Athena made a small face. She hoped she didn’t sound too crazy, too off-putting. She didn’t want that, especially with humans, and especially a human who also happened to be a police officer, regardless of her thoughts or her parents’ thoughts on the effectiveness of the police in town. “I understand - there’s a reason they don’t just let anybody practice medicine.” She scrunched up her nose as she knelt next to the woman and began to bandage her up. “Athena.” She grinned. “Pleasure to meet you, Ally.” 

“Is it like...an organization. Are there others?” Ally asked. Maybe she wasn’t as alone as she thought. Maybe there were other people out there driven to make the world better. She watched as Athena bandaged her and suddenly felt grateful that there was at least one. It made the burden feel just a little bit less, like Athena had lifted the weight of the world off of her, even for just a minute. She noticed the clock on her wrist. They had been out here a while, she had to be back at the station soon. “Fun question, do you know how to get out of here?” she said.

“Yes. Sort of, but not a super formal- ” well, formal but not in the way I will explain, “well, not like when I was in Girl Scouts but yes. There’s people around who help out the town and help keep it safe.” Athena let a soft smile cover her lips. “Getting out of here?” She looked up at the forest around them. “I don’t know right off the bat, but I earned every badge there was to earn, and helped my brother earn some of his for Boy Scouts, too.” She stood up, and offered her hand to Ally. “What do you say?”

There were more people. It wasn’t just her. Today she had been devastated and uplifted. It was too soon today that she wanted to know them, but she slid the knowledge to the back of her mind. She needed to do what she always does. Research. Instead she took Athena’s hand and smiled. “Take me away girl scout.”

[spaceskam]

The Golden Boy

hey look i finally finished that fic i’ve been giving sneak peeks about for months

warning: past child abuse, sexual content

ao3 

In Bacchus Year 9 (Earth year 1782), Antar and Earth signed a peace treaty.

The treaty meant requiring many social gatherings on either planet, kind gestures between royals, and many public statements against prejudice of each other's people. It even led to Earth assisting the rebels during the Antarian Civil War in Bacchus Year Final (Earth Year 1834), stating proudly that they signed the treaty for the people, not the monarchs. As one would assume, that line went over fantastically with the public.

They heavily supported the rise of King Atlas Gudrun, a man of great people skills and desire to help, in Gudrun Year 0 (Earth Year 1844). The Gudrun family (which had been anglicized on Earth to Guerin) had been ruling on Antar ever since and had always done their best to keep up their loyal companionship with Earth and its leaders.

It all led to this moment in Gudrun Year 176 (Earth year 2020) where Prince Michael of Antar, fourth of his name, son of King Heinar, known for his charm and wit, had Prince Alex, first of his name, adoptive son of King James Valenti, known for his intellect and beauty, completely strung out and naked against sheets made of the finest Antarian silks.

"How long until the little pest makes you leave?" Michael asked softly, trailing his fingers over the dip of Alex's slightly crooked collarbone. Alex's eyes were closed and his lips were parted and if Michael didn't know any better, he'd think he was asleep. But he did know better and he knew he was simply in a state of bliss that only occured in moments like this.

Their one off tryst had actually occurred more than once, but it wasn't frequent enough to call it a thing. They saw each other a few times a year if they were lucky and could steal a few hours each time to sneak away. If they were supremely lucky, they could even take a night. They weren't this time.

"He said we have until six before we have to be taken to get ready for dinner," Alex whispered, not bothering to correct him for calling his brother a pest while slowly turning onto his side and letting his forehead hit Michael's shoulder. Michael pouted.

"I miss you already," he admitted stupidly, combing through Alex's long hair. He'd seen a picture of him with it all shaved off and had met him when it was short, but apparently he hadn't cut it at all since he'd been given the title of prince. Michael didn't mind.

"You come to Earth in a month, don't you? Ask to stay longer, I’m sure we could easily explain away a reason you should stay in my home," Alex whispered, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

"If you come up with a good reason for me, I'll do it. I'm bad at excuse making," Michael grumbled. Alex smiled and lifted his hand, his cold fingertips pressing to Michael's cheek and his lips.

"I'll cause a national disaster if it means getting you alone for one night," Alex said. Michael stared for a moment before grabbing him and rolling him into his back, stealing a series of slow, deep, open mouthed kisses that only came so easily because they were with him.

Michael adored the way Alex grabbed at him, hands never staying one place too long because he wanted to touch everywhere. He wanted to remember everywhere. He wanted him in his entirety. He could never find the words for how it made him felt to be wanted so strongly if only for a night.

"Please never leave," Michael begged against his skin. Alex said nothing.

Instead, the bedroom door was very rudely and unceremoniously thrown open. Michael instinctively covered Alex’s bare skin and looked towards the doorway. On the other side, Michael's guard, Adonis, stood with his back to them in some silly act of respect while Kyle stood with his arms crossed while looking really irritated. He walked in farther and closed the door behind him. Or, tried. Adonis stuck his hand to block it from closing entirely. He trusted Alex to be alone with the prince. Kyle was still earning that.

"Get up, we have to go get ready," Kyle said. He had no shame, truly, as he sat on the bed. Michael fell face first into the pillows and groaned. "Excuse you, I'm doing you a favor."

"You're interrupting," Alex corrected, tan fingers idly rubbing over Michael's shoulder.

"I disagree. I think I just lied to two fucking monarchs that we three princes were going to be hanging out and doing princely things when, in reality, I was playing some fucked version of Go Fish with Adonis while you two snuck away for your intergalactic booty call," Kyle explained. Michael groaned even more.

"How vulgar must you be?" he asked. Kyle raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, you wanna go there? I've seen your U-Mails to Alex. 'Oh, how I long to get your mouth on my–'"

"Enough!" Alex silenced him, shifting to a sitting position. Michael wanted to cry that it was over so soon. Especially when they still had to sit across the table from each other and pretend he hadn't just had him to himself. "Leave and let me get dressed, then we can go."

"Finally," Kyle groaned, patting Michael on the back before he went, "Good to see you, Prince Sexual Frustration."

The door closed if only because Adonis insisted on the prince being kept away from anyone who might catch him in a vulnerable state. Alex took the opportunity to move back for a few more kisses, all of them feeling more and more like goodbye. He remembered a time when he didn't mind goodbyes. Now they felt like a death sentence.

“Stop pouting,” Alex told him softly as he slowly weaned him off his lips, “This isn’t the end of the night. I’ll still see you at dinner and I still don’t leave until tomorrow morning.”

“But you leave so early,” Michael whined, “And at dinner, there’s people.” 

Alex traced a finger from Michael’s temple down to his jaw, moving his thumb up between their mouths. He gently grazed Michael’s bottom lip before pushing down on the sore skin.

“I’ve read countless articles about all the wondrous things you say, how well spoken you are, how you can charm anyone to their knees in four languages,” Alex said, voice hot, “If only they could see the way you beg.”

Michael huffed a sad laugh, knowing Alex was trying to distract him from his sad thoughts and deciding to play along. Alex pushed his face away and went to get up. Michael pushed himself off the bed and caught Alex’s bicep, unskillfully pulling him down on top of him.

“You are the only one allowed to see me beg,” Michael said. Alex smiled at him, honest and bold as ever. He laid his weight on Michael completely, trusting him not to treat that little act with anything but kindness. It was the most beautiful thing Michael had ever been given. 

He went to move up for another kiss, but he was horrifically sidelined when Alex dodged him and pushed him back into the bed to get himself up. Michael remembered the first time Alex had pushed him. His first reaction had been anger that a silly little Earth man would dare to touch him that way. But his second reaction had been absolute delight when he realized he’d only been pushed because Alex wanted him against the wall. They were so young then. Somehow, things hadn’t really changed.

Alex got out of bed and grabbed the prosthetic leg that he somehow didn’t mind Michael seeing him without. He moved with agile fingers to put it back on in record time before he stood and stretched his body out in objectively the most unfair way that existed. He was long and lean, muscular and tan. And he was covered in scars. No two scars were more than a hands-length apart, Michael had tried. He kept them hidden usually and he kept their origin firmly to himself (including how he lost his leg), but Michael had been blessed with the sight of them. They were 16 the first time they kissed in the halls of the palace, but 18 before he saw Alex’s body in its full glory. It was a small gift, but one that he treasured on nights he felt more alone than he could bear. 

“Stop staring at me like I’ve just ruined your entire day,” Alex laughed as he pulled on those ugly clothes that Earth called formal. His pants were a stiff, tan fabric and his shirt was an equally stiff white thing that buttoned up all the way up to hide his collarbone. The clothing was ugly, but the man inside was beautiful and it simply made him look neutral. How decidedly boring.

“Oh, what the hell is that?” Michael scoffed.

“Don’t act like you don’t know what a belt is,” Alex said, giving him a fond smile as he pulled the folded thing from the deep pocket of his pants. He hadn’t been wearing it when Michael got him alone.

“Yes, but where did it come from?”

“Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t remove it so I wouldn’t waste time when I saw you,” Alex said, flashing a cocky little smile and it reminded Michael all over again why his people had been so okay with making him an eligible heir despite his lack of birthright. How could anyone deprive a face like that of the entire world? “But don’t worry. You and your mother both find Earth clothing to be a personal insult, so I’m sure they’ll have something nice and alien for me to wear.”

And they did. Michael had gotten his sister to see to it that they put Alex in gold if only for his personal enjoyment. Soon, he’d be in loose, silk pants and a long-sleeved, knee-length tunic that happened to be a very specific shade of gold that would probably make it difficult to focus at dinner but it would be worth it. Typically, their tunics would have a deep v-cut neckline (Michael’s in particular going to his navel as a show of both his age and his marriage status) but he knew Alex and he knew he didn’t like his scars on display, so he made sure they knew to keep it more modest and to also have an option to put something beneath it if he wasn’t comfortable. It was the least he could do.

With a flick of his wrist, Michael fastened the upper half of the buttons on Alex’s shirt so he could steal a few more seconds to kiss him. Alex rolled his eyes, but he went along willingly as Michael got to his hands and knees on his mattress and crawled over to him. Alex shook his head and caught his face in his hand, guiding him up and giving him a kiss that truly was too explicit to mark the end.

“After everyone goes to bed, I’ll get Luke to sneak me to Adonis,” Alex whispered, ignoring the sound of Kyle’s sudden annoyed knocking. Michael nodded in his grasp and turned his face to press a kiss to his palm. That should’ve been an unscarred place, but there was an unmistakable line of discolored, raised skin down the middle. Michael kissed it without fear or disgust and Alex pressed his hand against his mouth in approval. “I plan to make it so you won’t be able to walk in the morning.”

Michael laughed, “People will talk.”

“Let them.”

“You know,” Kyle said, busting in again and Adonis quickly stood in the doorway after his entrance to shield whatever incriminating position Alex and Michael might be in, “You two take more time to get dressed than it takes a majority of people in existence.”

“Blame the leg,” Alex said simply, his smile cocky as he pulled away from Michael. He kissed the tip of his nose and patted his cheek in the most loving way he could. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Not soon enough.”

“Never.”

“I’m gagging,” Kyle said in a monotone voice. Alex rolled his eyes and let his hands slip off of Michael, leaving him cold and lonely despite being far from alone. “Let’s go. I don’t want to be asked questions I can’t answer without incriminating myself.”

“We’re going,” Alex said, already following him to the door. He spared Michael one last look and a wink before disappearing with Luke, the final person who knew what was going on between them. 

Luke, Adonis, and Kyle only knew out of necessity. It was sort of an unspoken agreement between royal bodyguards and the royal children they looked after that they cover up every stupid decision they made as long as it wasn’t hurting anyone. Michael figured he could actually make an argument that this did hurt him, but that seemed frivolous at best. 

“Get up, little prince, you’ve got to get ready for dinner,” Adonis said as he entered the room once Alex and Kyle were gone. Michael pouted and dramatically fell backwards against the bed. Adonis chuckled under his breath. 

“Don’t call me little,” Michael said half-heartedly, easily slipping out of English and into his native tongue.

“I’ve been watching over you since you were small enough to get lost beneath your bed,” he said, “You will always be little to me, little prince.”

Michael glared at the ceiling. While he knew Adonis was right, he didn’t feel little. He knew, objectively, he was nearly 21 and he was nowhere near getting any kind of responsibilities outside the ones he had. Max was the one joining the military, Isobel was the one training to be queen, Michael was the baby who was left to do little more than indulge in his desires without consequences and be the face of the younger generation. He was friendly and charming and had women and men alike all screaming their appreciation for his face and his body and his smile all over the internet. He liked that attention and he liked just being able to go to parties and have fun and have people he met make posts about how fun it was to hang out with the prince. His father didn’t exactly approve, but it didn’t matter when the people did. They liked that he was young and real and approachable.

But there was something about Alex that made him feel more like a man than he could put into words. Alex was a few months younger than him, but he had seen more than Michael could imagine. He didn’t party, he didn’t drink, he didn’t do anything that could be a sign of weakness. He was beautiful, but he was a brilliant strategizer and worked closely with his adoptive father for many important decisions regarding the ruling of the kingdom. Kyle was the one who was approachable; Alex could barely spare a kind smile to the press and adoring people. People still liked him, but it wasn’t a secret he was straight-edged and hardened. Michael seemed to be his only vice. It was so… adult.

“Must I affiliate myself with foreign monarchs over food?” Michael asked helplessly, “Isn’t it enough to simply blow his son in my free time?”

Adonis sighed, but he seemed as amused as he always was when it came to Michael.

“Words to live by, little prince.”

-

“I’m judging you so hard right now.”

“Like I care.”

Kyle groaned and rolled his eyes as Luke followed them to their quarters. The Antarian royal family had a lot of land they resided on that had a secure gate around it, but they didn’t really believe in castles. Instead, it was a bunch of houses and special rooms, all connected by paths that were lined with well tended to gardens. 

“What’s even the point? Like, is this gonna amount to anything, or am I expected to die with this secret?” Kyle asked. Alex shrugged his shoulders dismissively. He and Michael didn’t talk about serious things. They were princes and dealt with so much bullshit. They kept each other as a safe place to unwind. “Great, I am expected to die with this.”

“It comes with the title, Your Highness,” Luke said simply. Kyle tilted his head back as he groaned again. Alex simply shook his head in amusement.

When they got back to the visitor’s quarters, three people were waiting for them to help them into their Antarian garb. There were a few different styles for different royal occasions, but, as visitors, they were typically given standard tunics. He remembered one visit when Michael had him sent special robes and wraps his way, ones like he wore when he was feeling extra, and he’d gotten so confused in trying to put it on that they now always sent an extra hand to make sure they wore it correctly. As confusing as they were, though, Alex was sure he would know how to put them on now. He’d taken them off Michael enough times.

“Thank you,” Alex said graciously as he accepted the fabrics. He went into his own room to change and would return back to let them make their adjustments. He wasn’t a big fan of people seeing his body. That meant questions and he wasn’t keen on answering those.

He laid the fabrics out on the bed so he could see what he was working with. As always, since he was 18, all of it was golden. Michael had some weird obsession with him in gold, but he never asked why. He thought it looked nice enough on him. 

The tunic had intricate leaf-like patterns embroidered into it that Alex couldn’t even begin to understand how long it took to achieve, but the pants were thankfully plain. Then there was a golden silk wrap and he smiled at whoever paid that much attention to detail. He grabbed it first and stood in front of the mirror as he wrapped it around his chest, covering any scars the low cut tunic might expose.

There were very few people who had seen those scars, most of which were purely out of an inability to hide them. If someone had told him when he was being tended to after losing his leg that one of those people awarded the visual of his skin would’ve been an Antarian Prince, he would’ve laughed in their face. His father had hated the Antarians more than he hated Alex. He was supposed to stay away.

But then the king got involved, Jim Valenti creating a huge uproar as he worked to change the rules that would mean Alex could be an eligible heir. And now he was. Which meant he had to work with Antarian officials at the ripe old age of fifteen, suddenly going from a maimed soldier to a pretty little prince. The first year seemed to be full of rigorous re-training of his brain to be good at the social part of things. The second year he was brought to Antar for the first time.

He distinctly remembered the first time he saw Michael, young and carefree and absolutely shameless. He had outwardly chosen Alex to fawn over for the extent of their stay, constantly sending smiles and winks and batting his eyelashes. He leaned too close when they talked and kept offering to show him where things were. Alex had disliked his abrasiveness to the point that, the closer he got, the more it set off his fight or flight reflexes. He almost hit him three times before Michael seemed to get the memo.

When the Antarian royal family traveled to Earth for their public appearances, Michael was much more tame. Unlike the rest of his family, he’d opted out of donning more of Earth’s style of clothing. There was something so bold about the way he walked around in his wraps and robes, all of it loose and seemingly hanging onto him just barely. It had exposed a good portion of his chest and his arms, even his thighs if he walked a certain way. Earth was too hot to cover more, he’d said. That’s when Alex really saw him. He was annoying as all hell, but he would be damned if someone tried to shame him into changing himself even for a moment. Alex had kissed him before he went home which was absolutely Alex’s fault. It was his favorite mistake.

“Gold always looks good on you,” Fides said as Alex walked back into the main room. He smiled his thanks and she led him to a chair to fix his face and his hair. She was the only one he trusted near him with all the tools that it took to make him look nice enough for the queen.

It seemed to be an hour before she was done, but it was worth it. Alex’s hair was braided into intricate six-strand braids that made a makeshift crown around his head and other tiny ones throughout the rest of his hair while the majority of it stayed down and was loosely curled where it rested against his shoulders. His eyes had thick and bold black eyeliner that seemed to bleed into gold eyeshadow which led to a leaf-like design that matched the pattern of his tunic that stretched to his sideburns, over his cheekbones, and above his eyebrows. His lips only had a thin layer of gloss over them, but he looked good and a part of him wondered if Michael would agree.

He knew he would.

“Thank you, Fides,” Alex said. She gave him a sweet smile and packed up her things. It was in Antarian’s blood to touch, but Fides respected Alex’s taste for it and, although he gave her permission to do his makeup, didn’t push him for more. It made her one of his favorite people.

It seemed achingly long before Kyle was done. He had a similar get-up to Alex, but his short hair was left alone and his face was more of just glittery and not in any particular design. It wasn’t long before their stylists excused themselves and went to do whatever they did in the main house. Alex and Kyle collapsed on the couch in time to Alex’s phone dinging to signify a U-Mail. He flipped through fabric to find which discreet pocket he’d slipped it into.

Eventually, he found it and he put effort into keeping his face straight as he sat Michael’s screen name cross his screen.

definitelynottheprince: My bed is cold and yet smells like your skin. It is the cruelest combination that has ever existed. How am I expected to be presentable at dinner while being mocked by the fabric that refused to keep your body in it’s grasp? My heart aches.

Alex somehow managed to keep his face seemingly uninterested despite the fact he wanted to both smile and make fun of him for being melodramatic.

HRH.AMV: You’re incorrigible.

Michael’s response wasn’t in English, but Alex was thankful it wasn’t if the few words he could pick out from his shotty language classes taught him anything. He understood the words floor, bed, week, and what was technically spoon but was slang for something that Alex knew had to be vulgar. Michael had a way with words in all four languages he knew and all of those ways were melodramatic and raunchy.

HRH.AMV: Does a moment ever pass where you’re not thinking about sex?

definitelynottheprince: Who says I’m thinking about sex?

HRH.AMV: I know you.

definitelynottheprince: You do. Then you should know the things I want to do with you aren’t all sexual.

It was one tiny word that made Alex’s blood run hot and he locked his phone so he didn’t have to think about it. With. Not to. He couldn’t explain why that was so exhilarating.

“Are you seriously making plans to get laid again already?” Kyle asked, “Literally how? Who has the stamina for all that?”

“Clearly not you,” Alex shot back. Kyle made a face mockingly.

“I just don’t get it,” Kyle sighed in exasperation, “Like, if it was Isobel, I’d get it.”

“So you’re homophobic?”

“No, let me finish,” Kyle scoffed and Alex waved him on while Luke watched with a bemused expression from where he leaned against the wall, “Isobel, I get it. She’s hot and could probably crush me. Max, I kinda get it, he’s nice and has that whole good-boy-soldier thing going for him. But Michael? The dude is known for being chill, I get it, but he loses all the charm when you see him five minutes after a party and he’s throwing up in the garden. Or how about the fact that he refuses to learn my name and just refers to me as the pest.”

“In his defense, you are a pest to him,” Alex pointed out.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Sorry, I failed to hear a question.”

Luke snorted and Kyle fixed Alex with a look. He wasn’t quite sure what he expected to get out of him. Alex had never been a secret-sharer, even when they were young and played toy soldiers in the little yard outside the palace. That had only gotten worse as Jim Valenti became king and, instead of listening to his former right hand man Jesse Manes, had him publicly tried for war crimes. His tight-lipped nature extended to his personal relationships, much to Kyle’s dismay.

“The question was how did you get involved with him in the first place? Because I’ve been trying to figure out how you two even get along since you started hooking up two years ago,” Kyle said, voice so honest Alex didn’t bother pointing out that it had been much longer than two years and Kyle just hadn’t noticed. “Just… make it make sense.”

Alex rolled his neck and tried to think about what exactly it was about Michael that made it hard to look away from him but also made it easy to go so long without speaking. As attached as they were when they were on the same planet and as much as they communicated in the weeks before and the weeks after, there were typically multiple days they went without so much as a word between them. They did their own duties and this thing they had found themselves in wasn’t a part of that. Michael spun romantic words for him, but Alex wasn’t his only pastime and probably never would be.

“He’s…” Alex trailed off, trying to find the words and settling on something that did the man no justice, “Simple.”

“Simple as in stupid?” Kyle asked dully.

“Simple as in not a problem,” Luke corrected.

“Simple as in he doesn’t ask questions,” Alex finalized. He meant it to be sort of lighthearted, but Kyle turned to him with concerned eyebrows.

“What do you mean?” he asked, but quickly decided to answer himself with another question, “You mean he doesn’t know about‒”

“No,” Alex said dismissively, carefully pushing himself to his feet and subtly checking his balance, “And he never will. We have dinner to attend to.”

Alex sort of checked out mentally for his own good after that, the walk to the dining hall and finding their seats completely a blur. He only seemed to come back to consciousness when Michael made his grand entrance. His robes and wraps were a dark red, hardly hanging onto his body as always. It exposed his chest more than anything else, the dangerous placement exposing the beginnings of the trail of hair beneath his navel. His head was held high, a thin gold band sitting atop his perfect curls. His eyes had cloudy red makeup surrounding them and his lips were painted gold. Alex smiled carefully to himself as he admired him.

Kyle was really the only one who actually looked forward to the food Antar had to offer. Alex didn’t hate it, but he would choose a pot of mac and cheese over the under-cooked meat of an animal that had no English name. Michael had tried to teach him how to say it, but it had way too many syllables and way too many consonants that Alex just couldn’t keep up. He’d just laughed and kissed him and never brought it up again.

“So, Prince Alex,” the smooth voice of Michael’s mother, the queen, said in her thick accent, capturing his attention. Queen Celeano (Lady No if she liked you) was a beautiful woman, but if that’s all someone took her for, they’d be sorely mistaken. 

She ran things more than her husband did, her iron fist impossible to ignore. She was fiercely protective of her children and rightfully skeptical of everyone who entered her home. But she seemed to like Alex. She never raised her voice or gave him that demanding tone she used on everyone else. The tone she used on him was motherly and made him eager to please her. When he was alone, he envied that Michael got that tone of voice from her all the time. 

“Michael said you were in school. Are you going to classes with other people or do you have a tutor?”

“Oh,” he said, shifting in his seat and hoping he was presentable enough for her, “Both. I go to only one class in a school every week, typically. I do like being there, but it’s difficult to balance everything with adding travel time and dealing with the stress of being in a crowded area.”

“Of course,” Lady No said, smiling, “And you’re doing well? It’s not easy I'm sure."

"I'm doing well. I'm studying poly-sci and I'm focusing on international relations right now," he explained. Alex's eyes involuntarily slid to Michael, watching him hide his smile by shoving food into his mouth with a two-pronged fork.

"Good. And languages, are you working on learning ours?" Lady No asked, seemingly oblivious to her son's antics. When Alex said he was, she followed it with a sentence in her own tongue that Alex could hardly decipher.

"...no?" he answered half-heartedly. Every Antarian in the room chuckled to themselves and Alex tried not to be offended by that.

"I asked if you were interested in becoming fluent," she said, still smiling easily, "I'm sure it'll come eventually."

"If he was here more often, I could make him learn,” Michael said boldly. 

"But obviously that's a bigger discussion to have," Alex covered quickly, hoping for an underlying message of ‘I care about your son but I’m not trying to destroy his innocence I swear’.

"Yes, a bigger discussion," Lady No said, nodding. 

"Maybe you could convince him into doing more schooling. I'm sure it'd sound better coming from you," King Heinar said gruffly. Michael gave an award-winning smile to his father which just earned a sigh.

The rest of the dinner went by slowly, but Alex's mind already started coming up with ways to make that suggestion a reality.

-

Michael was giddy after dinner and he found himself pacing his room while waiting for Alex. 

Within the hour, there was a knock on Michael’s bedroom door and he opened it to find Adonis and Alex.

“Thank you!” Michael told Adonis dismissively as he grabbed Alex by the bicep and tugged him into the privacy of his room. Both of them laughed, but Michael didn’t care as he immediately went in for a kiss. 

Alex was still decked out in his pretty clothes and his pretty makeup and Michael was high on everything. He was going to get to go to Earth and he was going to get to spend every single night in bed with him. It softened the blow that he would be leaving in only a handful of hours.

“Do you think we can set an alarm?” Michael asked through kisses, “So you can sleep with me for just a little while?”

“Yeah,” Alex agreed, nodding his head. Michael smiled.

“Yay.” 

“Before you get carried away, can we get this off my face so I don’t stain your pillow?” Alex asked, pulling out of the kiss a little breathlessly.

“Yeah, of course,” Michael said, leaving Alex with a simple kiss as he went to his vanity where he grabbed a cloth and makeup remover. 

He went back to Alex who had sat on the bed. He had the tunic bunched up and was slowly pulling it over his head without getting any makeup on the fabric. Michael grinned and helped get it the rest of the way off with a simple move of his eyes. Alex acknowledged his act with a shake of the head.

Alex scooted back just a little and leaned back on his hands. Michael perched himself on his lap and spared a simple kiss to the spot on his chest right above the wrap he hadn’t removed before getting to work on his face.

Michael had vivid memories of the confusingly slow process that was getting Alex to trust him with his body. He wasn’t sure why, but the search results that came up when Michael looked up his birth father told him it wasn’t due to a loving childhood. Still, he didn't look too far into it because that seemed like an all too obvious breech of Alex's personal boundaries.

Their first kiss had ended in Alex pinning his wrists to the wall whenever he tried to grab his waist. After that was years of every meeting involving gradual progress in Alex’s comfort levels. Hell, they were still making progress. It started with Michael not being allowed to touch him anywhere, his hands always being tucked behind his back or pinned down as Alex kissed him or touched him where he wanted to be touched all while fully clothed. They were seventeen the first time Alex had stripped Michael bare and yet kept himself covered. It was the most vulnerable Michael had ever felt in his life. As a reward for that trust, Alex let him touch his biceps when they kissed and his hair when Alex went down on him.

On Michael’s 18th birthday, Alex had taken his shirt off for the first time. Michael hadn’t been allowed to touch his scarred body with his hands, but he got to be chest to chest with him while he touched himself which had absolutely solidified his infatuation with him. 

The next time he saw him, after sharing pictures and conversations from the safety of being on separate planets, Alex had gotten completely stripped too (with the exception of his prosthetic). That time had been a little different in a few ways. There was no touching at all, but Michael got to watch him get himself off and Alex had watched him right back. Then Alex had locked himself in the bathroom for 30 minutes. But, when he came back out, fully dressed, he’d crawled into bed and they cuddled for the first time. 

Even though Kyle had ruined it by busting in, Michael remembered that night as the moment things really changed between them. It no longer felt like a game that made Michael feel giddy. It’d taken him a long time, too long, to fully realize the weight of what Alex was giving him and that it wasn’t a game to Alex at all. It never had been. That’s when Michael started laying on the sweet talking as thick as he wanted.

Two years after that realization, Michael was given free reign of Alex’s body with few restrictions. He could touch designated places with his hands: his face, his biceps, his thighs, his upper chest, and his hips. Michael could go down on him, but his hands had to be in visible areas and Alex typically chose to pin them down during it so he didn’t have to think. More often than not, Michael would still lay on his back with his hands tucked beneath him while Alex took over his mouth. No questions asked other than ‘is this okay?’. It made every step hold more weight than his casual hookups had. There was not a single thing boring or pointless about having Alex Manes in his bed.

“Up,” Alex dictated when Michael finished with his face and Michael listened without argue.

Alex removed his pants and got to work to take off his prosthetic. Instead of making Alex uncomfortable by staring, he turned the cloth to a clean corner before pouring a little remover on it and beginning to wipe at his own face. Alex took over when he put his prosthetic to the side.

“So, I may have thought of an excuse on how to get you to stay longer on my planet,” Alex said cooly, holding Michael’s chin in his hands as he wiped his face clean. His eyes were closed while Alex cleaned them, but that didn’t stop him from smiling so wide his cheeks hurt.

“Go on," Michael said, unable to hide the giddy tone in his voice. Alex hummed.

“You could do a semester of schooling there,” he suggested, "More if you like it."

Michael peeked open the eye that Alex wasn’t working on. “School?"

“School,” Alex said, his voice still controlled and face stoic despite literally sitting in nothing but his briefs and a wrap, “You could stay in the palace.”

"That's a long time."

"Yes, well," Alex sighed, "One semester is a few months. Then you could go home. And there's plenty of people who I'm sure would love to get their hands on an Antarian prince."

"Plenty of people?" Michael huffed, "What about you?"

"I'll be there when you want me," Alex said simply, but it was clearly an open invitation.

Michael wasn’t quite sure why Alex was trying to give him the option to opt out. The whole reason he wanted to go to Earth was to be with Alex. Michael already had his mind set on spending all of his free time with Alex while he was there. It would be difficult navigating being Princes from different planets while keeping their relationship a secret, but they could do it. Michael could make anything happen if it meant having Alex. He didn't know why Alex didn't see that.

“I would spend every night in your bed,” Michael said, leaning closer. Alex leaned back and held his face at bay. Michael knew better than to take offense to that and just kept smiling. “Don't be so scared of me.”

"I'm not scared of you." 

“You are,” he teased which Alex really didn't seem to like because he glared, "It'll be okay. No one's going to find out. Your home is a safe place for a foreign Prince, all the security. Perfect. And Luke and Adonis will help cover our tracks. We're safe and I want you.”

“You seem so confident that things will work out,” Alex said skeptically. Michael grinned.

“If I’m with you, I’ll always make things work.”

Alex let him come closer for a kiss and he pressed in hard right back. Michael could feel the tension radiating off him and cautiously reached his hand out to place on his thigh. He didn’t add any pressure, but he rubbed his thumb in circles until Alex stopped stressing so much.

“This is good,” Michael told him, “Isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it’s good,” he agreed, breaking the kiss only to get a good view of his face to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. Alex tossed the cloth off to the side and cupped the side of Michael’s neck in his hand. They stared at each other for a moment as Alex let it sink it. It was easy to forget how nervous Alex was to accept anything good. But Michael was going to make sure he finally started accepting that he deserved them. “Wouldn’t you miss your random one night stands?”

“Why would I when I had you with me all the time?” Michael asked. Alex scanned his face again.

“I’m temporary,” he said. Michael shook his head.

“I want to be with you,” he said honestly. He’d said those words in a lot of different ways, but that was the first time he’d said them so directly. He saw Alex swallow harshly before just going in for another kiss. Michael didn’t mind.

Alex laid him back into the bed, his hands slipping easily into the wraps around his body to get to his skin. Michael put his hand on Alex’s cheek and kept it there. The prospect of getting more of him than little moments a few times a year was exhilarating. Imagining his bed smelling like him at all times was almost too much. Things were going to be better than he could’ve dreamed.

He carefully moved his other hand to the wrap on Alex’s chest.

“Can I take this off?” 

Alex agreed without hesitation.

-

Things happened extremely quickly.

The door slammed open and Alex woke up in defensive mode. Too many nights his father had come into his bedroom as a test, making sure he was alert. That wasn’t something that could ever be un-taught. So, just like his father taught, he grabbed the knife that he always kept within reaching distance and threw it at the doorway with unparalleled precision.

It was only when Adonis dodged it by using his telekinesis that Alex even realized it wasn’t his dad or an intruder. He didn’t apologize, though, and he didn’t feel guilty. Who just busts into someone’s room? So he reached for his prosthetic and started to quickly put it on even though he didn’t know what was going on.

Michael woke up at that moment and lazily started rambling in Antarian. Adonis had already locked the door behind him and was in the process of moving Michael’s armoire in front of the singular window in his room. All that told Alex was that something was wrong and so he picked up the pace.

Adonis answered Michael in clipped Antarian, his voice rugged in a way that it never was and chills covered Alex’s skin. He grabbed the pants that he’d worn the night before and the wrap, putting them on as quickly as he could.

“What?” Michael asked, still in a different language but Alex understood that much. Alex started towards the door to retrieve his knife. 

Adonis answered him in that same rough tone, sparing Alex a glance as he did so. Most of the words flew over his head, but he’d overheard enough Antarian’s speak about him that he caught one word. His whole body froze and he looked over at Adonis, feeling every bit of that soldier his father had raised slowly build back up inside him. He’d tried so hard to not be that person anymore, but at the simple word ‘Prince’ there was no keeping it at bay.

“Kyle?” Alex asked carefully, voice devoid of emotion, “Is he alive?”

Adonis sighed and turned to him, an apologetic look in his eyes.

“Yes,” he answered in English, “He was shot at, but the bullet just grazed the side of his head. From where we think the shooter was standing, it looks like it was meant to be a direct execution-style shot, but it was swerved at the last minute when they realized they had the wrong prince.”

Alex lifted his chin.

“How do you do know it was because they had the wrong prince?” Alex asked. Truthfully, he knew he was right. No one wanted to assassinate Kyle. On both planets, the Valentis were well loved. Jim listened to his people and accommodated them and that made him easy to respect and appreciate. Kyle was an extension of that and he was loved even more. Alex was like, sure, but he had one person who would be willinging to put a hit out on him and he couldn’t be shocked to discover it finally happened.

“It’s a theory, but we don’t know why it would’ve missed if it hadn’t been and then there wasn’t a follow up shot,” Adonis explained.

“Right,” Alex said, nodding curtly, “I’ve got to go.”

“What?!” Michael nearly squeaked and Adonis shot him a look to tell him to be quiet, “You’re not going anywhere when there’s someone out there that wants to kill you!”

“I already know who it is,” Alex said, “Or, who paid them. My father isn’t stupid enough to do it himself.”

“Your father?” Michael asked, “Why would the king‒”

“Michael,” Adonis said sharply. Michael looked up at him and then back over to Alex.

“You aren’t going anywhere. Stay here. It’s safe here,” Michael said. Alex huffed a laugh.

“And willingly put you in danger? Absolutely not. You’re already in danger by being affiliated with me.”

“But why would it be your dad, Alex?” Michael asked, slowly stumbling out of bed, “I mean, you got adopted years ago, why the hell would he wait to do it now? And on a different planet? That doesn’t make any sense.”

Except it did make sense. If Michael knew the first thing about his father, then it would make complete sense. But he didn’t. Because Alex didn’t share. He didn’t share anything. He’d enjoyed so much that Michael never asked any questions or prodded, but now it seemed he waited too long for an explanation and all the questions were coming at once.

“It doesn’t matter, I need to go,” Alex said.

“Wait,” Adonis said firmly, his eyes closed as he honed in on whatever other guards were telling him telepathically, “They found the guy. Hired assassin. Give up your dad’s name easy.”

“I believe that,” Alex said. Michael was still staring at him, still waiting for him to explain or do something worthwhile. Alex didn’t have anything to give him.

“Alex,” Michael called softly, holding out a hand to him in hope he’d come back to bed. But Alex was awake and needed to go be with his family. “It’s alright.”

“We’ll talk later,” Alex said, nearing him and giving him a kiss on the forehead, “Luke should be waiting to walk me back.”

“No,” Michael argued, grabbing his hand and holding him in place. Fear shot through Alex’s body at the act, that siren going off in his mind that told him he was trapped. He yanked his hand away and glared at Michael who looked pathetic. Maybe Alex was wrong to think being with a man who’s issues paled in comparison to his was a good idea. He would never understand. “Alex, there could be more than one assassin. Stay until light. Someone could hurt you.”

“Let them try,” he said cooly and he left Michael’s room. Adonis followed to make sure he would be okay, but Luke was waiting at the door. His face was stoic, but he had bags beneath his eyes and a set jaw that told him it’d been a long night.

He led the way back to the visitor’s building where Kyle was being patched up by the medic that resided on the royal’s grounds. They were both on high alert the whole walk, but Alex assumed it was probably for drastically different reasons.

“His Majesty is handling the assassin with Lady No and Sir Heinar. They’re trying to see who failed so spectacularly at their job,” Luke said. Alex breathed a tight sigh as he sat on the bed. Kyle was leaning back in bed with drugged eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” Alex told him.

“Why? If you were here, you would’ve died,” Kyle said, voice slurred by whatever they’d given him. Alex shook his head.

“I would’ve preferred that over you getting hurt in my absence,” Alex said.

“Oh, fuck off,” Kyle scoffed. Alex managed a smile. “You getting laid is clearly a lifesaver, so that thank the prince for me, will you?”

Alex’s eyes widened at his brazen statement in front of  ears that didn’t deserve it. He glanced at the medic who was stitching up the side of Kyle’s head. They seemed unphased by the admission. 

“Do not worry,” they said, voice thick with an accent that made Michaels’ seem nonexistent, “I am a royal medic for a reason.”

Alex took that as a promise of their lips staying sealed. He turned his attention back to Kyle.

“Where is Prince Boy Toy anyway? Is he all worried about you?” Kyle mocked. Alex rolled his eyes. 

“I don’t care about that,” Alex insisted. Kyle quirked a lazy eyebrow.

“Huh? You don’t care that he cares about you?”

“He was a bad idea,” Alex said simply. Kyle snorted.

“Well, yeah, at first, but he’s good for you. Makes you less of a rock,” Kyle said. Alex barely had time to process that before Kyle changed the subject. “Can’t believe your dad tried to kill you. I knew he was an asshole, but, damn.”

“I just can’t understand how he got an Antarian to go through it. Isn’t he still in prison? How did he even pull that off?” Luke asked. Kyle scoffed and they both started brainstorming ways. Alex slowly tuned out the conversation.

His entire life, his father had haunted him. He trained him to be a soldier in all the ways he knew how: tying Alex down and making him figure out how to escape, wrapping a rope around his stomach and having him lug objects like cattle, tying weights to his ankles to make sure he could always run even in times in distress, and that only scratched the surface. He put his hands on him when he didn’t act like he was taught and he had since was little. It only got worse as Alex got older, covering his body in scars until he got to the worst of them all: his leg. During a training session, he’d tied thin wires to each of his limbs. It took Alex hours to get them off, but, by the time he got to his last leg, it’d been virtually impossible to salvage. His ankle had already been broken three times and now it had a severe loss of blood flow. They said they could try to save it, but he’d probably be in pain forever. They made the unanimous decision that it had to go. Which is when Jim finally had enough.

But the damage was done. Alex had already been littered with scars that would never heal, mentally and physically. Alex still remembered his father mocking Antarians for the way they dressed and everything they showed. Part of him wondered if that’s why he was so deliberate about the scars‒with them there, he would never show off his body like that and never get the attention he wanted from other boys. He still got it though. That only seemed to make his father more angry. How dare his only son have an interest in other boys, who would carry on the family name? 

The thing was, Alex had biological brothers. None of them really survived his father’s torture like he did. They either broke under the pressure or they really didn’t survive. Alex was resilient though, he was his father’s favorite, he was the golden boy. And wasn’t that just impossible to comprehend? How could he be the favorite and yet still treated that way?

It was even harder to think that he was lucky. Sure, he still couldn’t look at himself in the mirror and he got uncomfortable when men gave him attention and he still couldn’t let Michael touch him in so many places, but he was lucky. And his father knew that. And he was angry.

And his voice was still in Alex’s mind. It made it impossible to accept Michael’s sentiments that he wanted him for more than something temporary. That was painting a target on his back and Alex knew it.

“Alex,” Luke said, pulling him out of his head, “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Alex said simply, blinking away the memories that made his blood run cold, “But do you think we could arrange a private meeting between me and my dad when we get back on Earth?”

Luke eyed him strangely.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Do you have a better one?” 

And he didn’t, so Alex slipped back into his mind.

-

Michael’s mind stayed on Alex for so long that it was becoming a problem.

They’d never parted on such tense and negative terms before and Michael had convinced himself that Alex hated him and never wanted to see him again. It was just not good. He’d messaged him twice, but he got nothing in return. It really felt like he hated him. He didn’t know whether he was angry or if something bad had happened. Surely someone would’ve told him if another assassin had gotten to him, right?

“Come here.”

Michael lifted his head to see his mother in the doorway. Her face was as unreadable as ever, just like Alex, and her dark hair had been slicked back in a low bun. She wore all black wraps, inches of her stomach and arms exposed. They were tighter than usual which told him she’d been sparring. Despite that, he obeyed her and stood from the table to go hear her. She placed her hand on his cheek and looked into his eyes as if that would betray all of his feelings. And maybe  it did.

She guided his head to rest in the crook of her neck and she hugged him tight. She had a few inches on both him and his father, but Michael didn’t mind. He quite liked knowing she would always be taller than him. She would always be so clearly his mom.

“Did the assassination attempt really scare you this much?” she asked, combing through his hair like she’d done as long as he could remember. He relaxed into her and shook his head. “Then what’s wrong? You’ve been quiet.”

Michael didn’t know what to tell her. He was a terrible liar, nothing would sell as well as the complete truth. But the truth was scary too. What he and Alex were doing wasn’t really allowed. Antar and Earth being friendly was one thing‒but their young princes having an affair? He couldn’t imagine his mother, or the people of either of their respective planets, loving that.

“Alex won’t talk to me,” Michael offered, hoping that would be enough.

His mother breathed slowly and controlled. He didn’t move.  She was thinking and probably piecing everything together. Michael said nothing.

“Was there a reason Prince Alex wasn’t in the building when the shot was fired?” Lady No asked, but it was clear she already knew the answer. Michael sunk into her more.

“He was with me,” he confirmed. She sighed.

“Oh, baby,” she whispered, clutching him tight, “What have you done?”

“I didn’t mean to,” he insisted, his voice cracking, “I swear, it wasn’t on purpose. I can’t help it.”

“I know you didn’t,” she murmured, “But you still did it.”

“I want to go study on Earth,” Michael said firmly. He felt his mother suck in a deep breath. “I want to be closer to him.”

Lady No pulled away and grabbed his face in her hands. Michael let her stare and gauge how serious he was being. Because he was serious. Deadly. It didn’t matter that Alex wasn’t speaking to him. If he was on the same planet, he could get him to talk.

“Alex is the son of a very hostile man, Michael. He put a hit out on his own child, do you understand that?” she said. He nodded and she harshly let go of him. “Do you have a deathwish?”

“No,” Michael said firmly, “But I know what I want. I want Alex.”

She scoffed, shaking her head, “You have no idea what you’re saying.”

“Yes, I do,” he insisted, “I’m not a child, I know what I want.”

“Do you know anything about Alex? Do you know why he was adopted or why his father is imprisoned? Do you know anything?” she demanded. Michael swallowed as he looked at her. She was angry.

Michael very quickly realized that he didn’t know much. He and Alex avoided talk of anything of substance and he didn’t ask. The only time he’d asked anything real or they spoke of anything real was that last night they were together. Otherwise, he really didn’t know Alex that well.

But that wasn’t fully true either. He knew Alex. Maybe he didn’t know his past, but he knew did well in school and had great aspirations to be a good ruler. Maybe he didn’t know how he got all of his scars, but he knew which ones upset him the most based on what he could stand being touched and what he couldn’t. Maybe he didn’t know what Alex’s father did to him, but he knew he hated him and that was enough to make Michael agree. He didn’t know him enough to write a biography, but he knew enough to love him and wasn’t that enough?

“I know he’s unhappy and probably scared,” Michael said, “And I know I want to study on Earth.”

Queen Celeano took a step away from her son and closed her eyes. He waited patiently, fully expecting her to pull him into his mindscape so he would be easier to mold. But that didn’t happen. Instead, she opened her eyes and looked at him straight on.

“You are my child. My duty, above all else, is to keep you safe. I can’t do that if you’re on Earth. I’m sorry, but no,” she said simply, shaking her head, “Not while I know you’re affiliating yourself with a man who has a target on his back.”

“We’re discreet!” he insisted, “No one knows and no one will know! It’s no one’s business but mine and his!”

“You’re young, you’ll change your mind. You’ll find a nice Antarian and‒”

“No,” Michael said, firmer this time. He could feel Adonis hovering close by in case he needed to interfere. “I want Alex. And maybe it’s not forever, but if you force me to give him up, I will always feel forever about him and I will always blame you.”

She stared at him, long and serious. He wondered if this was why he liked Alex so much. His mother had instilled something in him that took that controlling seriousness and made him love it. It was never an insult. He took it as a silent ‘I love you’. 

“I will talk to your father and I will talk to James,” she said. Michael’s eyes widened.

“Wait, don’t tell them about‒”

“I won’t,” she said firmly, “But we’ll discuss schooling. And I’m sending you with more than just Adonis because I don’t trust Alex’s father.”

“But you trust me?” he said. Lady No took a deep breath and stepped back up to her son.

“I trust you,” she agreed, “But I don’t trust his father and I refuse to have my son return to me in a body bag. So I’ll see what I can do, but please, please be safe.”

Michael nodded in agreement and kept his smile at bay despite the fact he wanted to run through the halls screaming his joy.

“Always.”

-

“Are you sure about this?”

“Absolutely.”

Alex waited as the guards hesitantly unlocked the doors to the interrogation room they had his father in specifically for this meeting. He was being put on trial again for attempting to assassinate a member of the royal family, but that didn’t mean it would be impossible for Alex to get him alone. Jesse Manes had been patted down and checked over multiple times to make sure he had no weapons and he was handcuffed to his chair, but Alex still felt on edge.

On edge, but more powerful than ever.

He had been spending the last week trying to think of what he was going to say to finally sever this tie to his father, but, when he saw his face, all of that went out the window. But he had to do this. He had to if he ever wanted something good in his life. Something like Michael.

“Hello, son,” Jesse said as Alex stepped inside. Luke was close behind him. Alex had tried to get him to stay back, but he insisted he was going to be right there with him so he wasn’t alone. Alex didn’t know how to say no to that. 

“Dad,” Alex greeted, waiting until the door slammed behind them. Luke leaned beside the door in quiet solidarity. “Took you five years.”

“Not from lack of trying,” he said simply. It was surprising, but Alex still felt that pang of hurt. “You’ve stopped training, I know you have.”

“I haven’t, actually,��� Alex said, “I spar every day that my leg allows. I just don’t endure torture.”

“What I did to you wasn’t torture. It was what you needed to become a good soldier, to rise up and finally end that fucking peace treaty. There’s nothing peaceful about it. It’s complacency,” he said. Alex shook his head and stepped closer.

“It isn’t,” Alex said, “They’re good people.”

“They aren’t people.”

“No, you aren’t a person,” Alex shot back, “What kind of person tries to kill their own son?”

“He wasn’t really meant to kill you,” Jesse offered, “You were supposed to kill him when he tried.”

Alex huffed a laugh, shaking his head, “Why am I not surprised that you think that’s better?”

“I spent fifteen years dedicating my life to you, Alex, you’re my son and I love you,” Jesse said. Alex held his chin high and tried not to let those words hit like they so desperately wanted to. “What don’t you see? You’re my pride and joy. Look at you. Infiltrating the royal family on both planets. Do you know what you could do at this rate? You could do wonderful things if you just stayed on track like I raised you.”

“Bold thing to say with witnesses,” Alex said. Jesse shook his head.

“I raised you,” Jesse repeated, “There are only witnesses if you let them be.”

They fell silent for a moment as Alex stared at him and tried to come up with the right thing to say. This was supposed to be empowering, but instead it felt more like he was just opening himself to more manipulation. But he refused. So, instead, Alex unbuttoned the jacket he was wearing and let it fall to the floor. His father eyed the gold wrap made of Antarian silk that was wrapped around his torso.

“What are you doing?” Jesse asked slowly. Alex took a deep breath.

“My entire life you shamed me for the scars you left on my skin. You taught me to hide from them and from what I wanted. But I refuse to listen to you. I refuse to let you stay in my brain, taunting me and making it difficult to let men touch or admire me. Because I want them to touch and admire me. How does that feel, Dad?”

Jesse’s jaw clenched at his words, but Alex felt no guilt. He felt quite the opposite. There was something freeing about getting under his skin.

“That doesn’t make me weak,” Alex continued, “I’m far from weak. I survived you. I can never be weak.”

“If you’re not weak, then you can ignore disrespectful desires,” Jesse said. Alex huffed.

“Disrespectful to who? Not me. And if it’s disrespectful to you, then I don’t care. I refuse to care. I spent so many years of my life trying to be the perfect son, trying to make you proud. And the sad thing is that I did. I was the son you wanted. Except for one little thing,” Alex said. His fingers skimmed the silk, begging it to give him strength. And it did. It felt like laying in Michael’s bed, like being wrapped up in a place where no one could hurt him. He felt invincible. “And I’m done being ashamed and scared.”

“I disagree.”

“Good luck with that,” Alex said, “Because I’m putting in a good word to have you executed.”

“My father is dead and he still lives in my mind, Alex,” Jesse said, smiling a smile that looked too much like Alex’s, “You can kill me, but I’ll never be dead.”

“Maybe not. But I’ll sure as hell do what I can to make sure I never end up like you,” he said simply, “I’m going to be a good king. I’m going to be kind. I’m going to love and be loved. I’m going to have a man in my bed, Antarian men in my bed. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Spite only lasts so long,” he spat.

“Don’t wait and see how long that is.”

Alex decided he was over the conversation and turned to leave, hoping Luke grabbed his jacket on the way out. He didn’t notice his hands were shaking until he got around the corner and Luke draped the jacket over his shoulders.

“Did you get the closure you needed?” Luke asked. Alex sucked in a deep breath and looked up at him. He didn’t really feel that different other than the fact that he felt like he needed to throw up.

“I guess I’ll just have to wait and find out.”

-

Michael arrived on Earth after three weeks of not hearing from Alex, but that was alright. He was going to take advantage of his time there.

The main reason for coming was for some big party that Michael didn’t really care about, but it was doubling as a time to enroll him in a school on Earth. The same school Alex was going to. He would be returning in a few months at the start of the next semester and, if he and Alex weren’t on good terms by then, then he would spend all of his free time trying to get them on good terms.

What he didn’t expect, however, was for Alex to give him a bright smile when they pulled up to the palace. There were cameras around so they didn’t hug, but Alex greeted him with a handshake that made his mind feel like fireworks were going off.

The next few hours were agonizingly slow and full of small talk. By the time Luke was leading him to Alex’s bedroom, he was already losing his mind trying to figure out what exactly was about to happen.

He was welcomed into Alex’s room and then they were alone. Alex was clothed in his stiff dress pants and his stiff white button up, but he looked nice. He always looked so nice.

“Hi,” Michael said.

“Hey,” Alex said right back. He stepped up to him and gave him that sweet smile that he always had for him. It was jarring considering their last encounter.

“I’m sorry about the last time I saw you,” Michael said, “I shouldn’t have grabbed your hand when I know you don’t like that. I know I sent you a U-Mail that said the same thing, but I keep thinking about it and it makes me feel worse every time. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright, you were scared,” Alex said simply, eying him. Michael waited for him to say more, but he didn’t. So he finally asked a question.

“Alex… What’s going on?” he asked, “With us, I mean.”

“Last time we spoke, you said you wanted to be with me. Do you still feel that way?” Alex asked. Michael’s eyes widened, but he nodded. It seemed too deceptively easy, but it was Alex and he would jump into an endless pit if Alex thought it was a good idea. “Then I think we should talk.”

“Talk?”

“Talk,” Alex confirmed, nodding to his bed, “About anything. I think I owe you some honesty. I felt I had too much baggage for you, so I never shared, but you were kind to me for four years not knowing why I acted that way. So I think it’s time I let you in a little more.”

“Seriously?” Michael breathed. It felt too good to be true.

“Seriously,” Alex laughed, “I’m so tired of hiding from you.”

The two of them sat down on the bed facing each other and not touching. But then Alex held out his hand. Blood pumped in Michael’s ears, but he slowly reached out his hand towards Alex’s. Alex carefully laced their fingers together and rested it on his knee. They didn’t do that. But this was progress. So much progress.

And all Michael could feel was pride.