#chapter two! thanks friends

[vi-enti]

how to be yourself (who is that, anyways?)

He didn’t deserve an ending just yet. There was too much to fix. / Nobody was healed and only more wounded were going to join them, but… they’d heal. They’d do it together. / Would peace be an option for all of them? / Nothing was right. / "We can make things right."

A story of survival after death, and how to forge something new after having destroyed the world. Where every awakening is a disaster waiting to happen, but not an irreparable one. Unlikely friendships, growing bonds, and some semblance of happiness; if they can bring themselves to believe they deserve it, anyways.

tldr; the remnants of despair becoming beacons of hope again, not for society, but for themselves.

how to be yourself (who is that, anyways?) - Chapter 2 - guravity - Dangan Ronpa Series [Archive of Our Own]

[fishareglorious]

i do a light chuckle once i remember hofmann and semmelweis are friends but then i remember semmelweis and marcus' suitcase interaction where they talk about her and i am once again inconsolable about this old woman's death

[sluckythewizard]

Keep calm, and drink soda

[CW for blood and gore and vomit] takes place a day or two after emizel was sired. just two boys adjusting to a shift in their daily norms. would YOU drink your homies blood? still not used to writing fanfic so any and all advice IS appreciated. i hope u enjoy.

There were very few things that Soda enjoyed more than well, drinking soda. It was a hobby, an interest, a comfort. And by extension there were very few errands that Soda would look forward to more than the occasional soda run.

The gas station closest to the Demons hideout had stopped selling Faygo entirely about a month or two ago, and it was near impossible to find it anywhere else. The closest place was now this janky little Shell gas station, lovingly titled the Shady Shell, that thankfully sold more flavors than any of the other ones ever did.

It made the hour and a half walk here entirely worth it. Even if this side of town made his skin crawl. Normally he would ask someone to accompany him on this daring little quest, but everyone at the hide out tonight just seemed too tired, too preoccupied, too uninterested.

He knew not everyone really got the soda thing, but they were accepting of it for the most part. Soda is something that, clearly, Soda really loves, but he knew not everyone else was into it.

Which was fine, of course. They didn't need to get it. But, still, sometimes Soda found himself wondering how much of it was a bit, and how much was him.

Emizel gets it perfectly though. He would've been the first person Soda would ask to go on this soda run with him, but, well. He's been preoccupied too, with the whole vampire thing.

It's been a bit more than a day since Soda had last seen his close comrade. For a friend that he saw just about everyday, going without him this long left him feeling a little emptier.

That was fine, though. Emizel had shit he was working out, he had things he needed to do. It's not like he could go out in the day anymore, so of course Soda wouldn't be seeing him at all the usual times.

It was a lot of weird and heavy magical stuff, it made Soda think about those superhero shows. Where the hero needs to keep his identity hidden from everyone. Family especially. He knows how much of a piece of shit Emizels dad is, so he hoped that Emizels home life wasn't stirred up all stupid-like over this.

He hasn't told anyone else, about what happened that night. For the last 2 days, Soda would spend time with close friends and not let them know a thing about what happened to Emizel so, so recently. Why he's so suddenly absent, so distant, so.. off…

'Maybe his dad's just giving him a hard time', he would say, hoping to smother their questions. The less questions they ask, the better. At least until this vampire stuff gets figured out a bit more. Should Emizel wear a disguise when he goes out at night now? Just like a superhero? What kind of hero outfit would Emizel have anyways? Soda figured it would be something really cool.

If anyone could figure out a way to balance all this vampire stuff, and all the leaderly responsibilities that come with being the biggest dog in the Demons, it was Emizel for sure. That guy is so seriously cool.

He was sure this rough patch would even out, and they would weather the next rough patch together no problem. There was really nothing to worry about! All Soda has to do is stay positive, and well, drink soda.

As Soda walks quietly down the crumbling sidewalks of this dreary hive of strip malls and shops, he goes to pull his backpack around to his chest, fumbling with the zipper in the dark. Which was a little annoying, considering the tab of his zipper had fallen off forever ago. He really needed to get around to fixing this damn thing. Maybe another ziptie and a soda tab will do the trick.

Humid air hangs heavy in the night, the sidewalks still somewhat warm after a hotter day. The diesel-soaked air provided enough warmth on its own that Soda had considered taking his jacket off a few times, only for the occasional, annoyingly sharp and chilly breeze to brush by, reminding him to keep the thing on.

Tripping only once and only slightly on an uneven sidewalk, Soda manages to pull a bottle of Faygo from his backpack, a smile glowing on his face. Another short fight with the zipper seals up the bag, and he slings it over his shoulder again.

His flavor of choice tonight was actually the Red Pop, the tried and true, the absolute classic, one of the best Faygo flavors for sure.

But, this kind wasn't actually his favorite. Normally he would stock up on the cotton candy ones, but something about the last few days had him craving the red stuff.

Securing his backpack all the way, he goes to crack open the bottle. Just the clack and the hisssss of the fizzy drink were enough to lift his mood.

Not that his mood needed lifting or anything. Of course. Sure he missed his friend and sure he found himself wondering what he’s doing and where he is and if he's okay. Maybe sometimes he found himself wishing they talked about funeral plans more.

Emizel talked up all sorts of crazy funeral ideas for himself, usually involving the use of his dead body as an inconvenience for others. Outlandish and hilarious ideas, like filling it with explosives and tossing it into a busy road. But what would he want seriously? What would Soda ever do if he just stopped showing up one day?

He had to swallow down all these unnecessary anxieties, so he took a swig of his soda. Sweet, bubbly, comforting. He felt better already! Just stay positive, and drink soda..

It was a lovely night out, and he didn't come all this way planning on letting it go to waste. There was a place he was heading towards, a particular alleyway in this particular place that led off to a particularly tall concrete ledge.

 It was a run-down little space, littered with trash and shitty trees and those bushes with just too many goddamn ants in them. But the view was fairly nice, overlooking a massive deformed intersection. A particularly stupid one, at that; about 3 times a week you could witness a gnarly crash at this spot. Soda always heard people saying that LA folks can't drive, but he was just starting to figure that maybe no one can drive.

That was the place he really wanted to go to enjoy this soda, and he wasn't too far off from it. Just a few more blocks, and he would be there.

Oh wait, didn't he still have a bag of chips in this backpack somewhere? Hell yeah, he couldn't wait to sit down and relax with a good soda, a good snack, and a good view of the night.

Living as a Demon had its fair share of stresses. He felt lucky to have this life, but he knew well that it could be better. That not everyone has to worry about survival the way they do. That not everyone gets injured on the regular and not everyone has to worry about being sick and never getting better.

Living is hard. But it's finding the small moments of joy that make it all worth it. Dying would be scarier anyway. He didn't want to die, and he felt glad to feel so confident in that nowadays.

The sudden   THUNK  of something slamming into the ground just a block away from him, jolts him out of his thoughts, all his gears screeching to a halt as he freezes in place. What the fuck was that?

It looked like a person, laying flat on the ground with only their head and shoulders peeking out of the alleyway ahead. Fuck. He hated this side of town..

Anxiety churns in his stomach as he debates just turning around, but the way the victim reaches an arm out, attempting to crawl away; it made his heart ache aswell. he's no goddamn fighter, but he couldn't just leave someone like th-

The body is suddenly yanked back into the alley, snatched at a startling speed. It didn't feel exactly real, how could something vanish so fast? It reminded Soda of something from a horror movie, or whatever. What the fuck was that??

His foot takes a step forward, before the rest of his body notices its rebellion and locks down again. Was he seriously going to investigate that? He could just walk away and take another alley. But that was the one he was supposed to turn down! All the other alleys are either walled off or gated off and he wasn't about to go climbing over a damn wire gate. His soda would get too shaken up! Fuck!

Another foot goes in for another step forward. He's gotta get the fuck out of here. He could hear more commotion in the alleyway, a scuffle, a skirmish. He could hear someone cursing through a choked breath. A loud and nauseating crack echoes out from the alley, and yet, Soda takes another step forward.

This was stupid, he shouldn't be getting tangled up in someone else's business. What if something happened to all this soda?

Thankfully, it was that thought that actually got him to pause, and take in a deep breath. It wasn't worth it, maybe he should head straight home.

Atleast, that was the thought his heart and mind were about to agree on, until a particularly familiar grroowwwwlll bleeds out from the alley.

Emizel?

All reason immediately evaporates as Soda makes that connection in his head, stepping right up to the corner of the brick walls, and peering around to investigate.

There was a body on the floor, face down in a puddle of red, head split open in a way that reminded Soda of a smashed watermelon.

But standing over that body, was the familiar, blackened coat, and short blonde hair, of Sodas closest comrade, Emizel.

Despite the carnage on the floor, Soda couldn't help the smile that lights up his face. That was Emizel! That was his boy!

But before he could get over just how happy he felt to see his best friend, something else caught his eye. Movement, behind the dumpster closest to the vampire boy. A person, rising out from the shadows with a glinting baseball bat clutched fiercely in their hands.

"Oh fuck, look out!" Soda speaks up, and Emizels gaze immediately clicks over to him, silencing Soda with just that startlingly red stare.

He had forgotten just how uneasy those red eyes made him..

The attacker, silent and professional, rushes up behind Emizel and CRACKS the metal bat downwards onto his blonde head, the sound ringing out like a  gun shot  in that dark little alleyway.

Soda cringes from just the sound of the impact, but was amazed to find that the bat had warped under the force of it!

The attacker hardly had a chance to process his mangled weapon before Emizel whips around to retaliate.

It looked like he had just swung his hand at his opponent, so the way a shower of red spills outward from the slash, catches Soda completely off guard. The monster boy had cleaved an excruciatingly massive gash up from the attackers right hip, to his left shoulder, the slice spewing with scarlet.

 It wasn't until Emizel had pulled back his arm, that Soda could process the way it had darkened with more than just blood, distorted into an odd, spear-like shape.

The victim hardly had a chance to yelp before that blade swoops up into his chest at the speed of a snapping bear trap, plunging through meat and bone with disturbing ease, and forcing blood and viscera to erupt outwards. The red patters down onto the concrete behind, the sound similar to rain...

With another low, inhuman snarl, Emizel brings the twitching, dying body closer, until that signature squish of teeth sinking into fresh meat bleeds outward into the space.

What a disgusting sound, Sodas first instinct was to simply avert his eyes, but as the sound persists, he resolves that he has to do something.

He finally steps out into the alley, and speaks.

"Hey ma-"

He could hardly get two words out before Emizel suddenly rips its teeth away from its victims throat, tearing out a hefty chunk of jellied meat, and slamming the remaining fodder onto the concrete floor.

It immediately whips around to stare down Soda, red eyes glowing with reflected light, and with hardly a chance to process the moment-

-It's immediately right infront of Soda.

A gasp lurches from Soda's lungs as he almost stumbles back in shock. How was Emizel so fucking fast?

Other than that single step back, Soda was frozen in shock, his tongue buzzing with the physical pain of such a startling jolt. 'White boy jumpscare' is something that came to mind, but while usually such a thought would evoke some sort of laugh from Soda, this time it offered no such comfort. Okay maybe it did a little.

Emizels snarling face was only inches away from Sodas. Its eyes were wild and unnatural, teeth menacingly sharp and reddened with so much fucking blood. It was everywhere, coating most of his face, smothering his shirt and his coat, and absolutely choking the air with its thick, metallic stench.

Soda would gag if he felt he was safe to even move. He felt like he was locking eyes with that of a creature, something he would only ever see in his nightmares or in scary movies. But it was real. Those monsters are real. And his best friend is one of those monsters. His bestest friend in the world...

His mind was skewered on that unnatural glare, completely frozen with anxiety. Stalling too hard to come to a proper conclusion, Soda instead falls back onto what Soda does best.

"H-hey man... You want some soda?"

He very gently presses the opened bottle of Faygo into Emizels chest.

The two boys stand there for a moment, locked in a tense, silent pause, before the monster boy finally peels its gaze down to the bottle.

It's quiet, for a few seconds, the gears turning in its head. Until the monster blinks, and its eyes clear, and Emizel processes the sight of the bottle.

"Oh, fuck yeah dude, is that the Candy Apple Faygo? Man, that stuffs my favorite!" Emizel smiles as he goes to accept the bottle, and immediately takes a massive swig.

Soda tries to disregard the way his hands were still shaking. "Uh, n-nah man, its just Red Po-"

The words are bit off as Emizel suddenly retches, a heavy flood of red blood and red Faygo spewing out onto Soda, as the vampire boys body entirely rejects the fizzy drink.

The shock of getting fucking projectile vomited on had snapped Soda out of whatever daze he was just in, and it seemed to snap Emizel out of it too. Soda backs up with a groan, looking down at all the blood and bile and pop on his shirt and coat.

"Ohhh fuck dude, what the hell??" He cringes, not even wanting to try smearing any of it off with his hand.

Emizel was coughing, still holding out the Faygo bottle, but hunched over as his body dared to convulse again.

"Ohhhhhh fuck, ohhooohhh fuuuuucckkk" he grumbles towards the floor "Fuuuck I’m sorry dude, I don't know what fuckin- oohhhgg shit,” He coughs and groans,  offering the bottle back to Soda.

Soda was still staring at his messied coat with a displeased grimace, but looking up to meet Emizels eyes...

There was a guilt on Emizels face that Soda didn't see too often, and it helped wash away that irritation he felt. This sucked, but Emizel was probably going through a lot more. 

“It’s, uhm.. don't, don't worry about it, man..” Soda decides to reassure him, offering a sympathetic smile, and a hand on Emizels shoulder, as his comrade spits out the remaining blood and bile.

"Fuckin hell… I’m uh, I'm sorry about your shirt, man."

"What? Nahh it's okay man, don’t worry about it." Soda shrugs, taking the Faygo bottle back. "I mean, are you okay man? That uh.. looked like a pretty crazy fight."

Emizel was rubbing his eyes, smearing more blood across his face as he seems to be collecting himself. he spares a glance back at the carnage behind him.  

"Ah.. yeah.. I thought I uh.. I thought I saw that one fucker from uh. That one night. Yknow, the one that uh.." He snaps his fingers, as if trying to summon back the memory. "Vampire bitch... Anyway after that I just kind of, uh.."

He seems to space out again as he looks around. It was as if he was just woken up from a deep sleep, like he was certain he had just known what he was doing, but found the dream escaping him. "I guess I just.. went crazy on these guys. I dunno, they're Fangs anyways." he finally shrugs it all off, but Soda still felt unsatisfied by the answer.

"Oh.. huh…” is the only response he manages to scrounge together. Sure they were Fangs, but did they really deserve.. all that? It just seemed a bit brutal, even by Emizels standards.

He found his eyes wandering over to the split-open head. It was mostly red and bloody, but even in the dark, he could still make out some of the finer details of the gray jelly seeping from the gash. A human brain. He wondered if his own brain looked the same on the inside..

“So what are you doing out here, man?” Emizels question helps Soda pull his eyes away from the gore, instead looking over to his bloodied comrade.

Emizel looked messy and even exhausted, but his drowsy gaze was focused on Soda with a worried expression. 

“Oh, uh, yknow, just a soda run. Decided I would stock up on some Faygo from the Shady Shell.” Soda shrugs, his eyes flickering down to the opened Faygo in his hand. The top was covered in regurgitated blood. unnaturally blackened blood…

“Are you.. okay, by the way? Other than the whole..” Soda gestures vaguely at the gruesome crime scene. “Are you hurt?”

The question has Emizel pausing to consider. He straightens his back and stretches his arms, as if trying to detect any pain from any possible injury. Nothing seemed to be bothering him though, and after a second, he decides to shrug.

“Nah, I'm all good.”

“Oh.. That's good, I uh…” Soda found himself looking over Emizel aswell, searching for any wounds the monster boy might be simply disregarding, as he often does.

There was a fairly gnarly gash on his shin..

“Hey uh, I was actually gonna go hang out by the ledge down that way. Yknow, the one with the funny intersection.” Soda says, gesturing off towards where he intended to go. “Wanna come with?”

Emizel looks back that way, before turning back to Soda with a big smile on his face. 

“Oh hell yeah I do! I love the funny intersection!” he starts to walk down the alley, about to step over the body of the broken skull, when Soda speaks up.

“Uh, hey, shouldn't we uh.. Do something about the.. uh..” He waves a hand over towards the bodies, trying not to look directly at them. 

Emizel spares the corpses an inconvenienced glance, and a sigh, but ultimately shrugs them off. “Ehhh I'll just dump 'em in a dumpster again.. That's what I've been doing anyway.”

“And you're not worried about, like, anyone finding them?”

Soda anxiously watches on as Emizel paces around the body with the torn-out throat, licking the blood from his own mouth. Was his tongue always that long and pointed? That's neat, and normally Soda would point it out, but he was a bit.. preoccupied right now 

“Nahh not really. I haven't had anyone bother me at least.. Anyone been bothering you?” Emizels eyes finally flick back over to Soda. 

“Nah, I'd say things are actually more lax than usual. Anything that would end up being trouble’s been pretty much crushe- er, killed- destr- stamped out, by uh, by you.” Sods was cringing with every attempt to find a word that didn’t make his stomach turn, but Emizel didn’t seem to notice or mind.

Emizels eyes were currently a bit more focused on the body laying before him. He had that weird look on his face again… 

“Uhh, yeah, yeah that's good that uh, no troubles coming back to you guys…”

There’s a moment of quiet between the two as Emizel stares at this corpse, and Soda was about to open his mouth to fill the silence, but Emizel speaks up instead.

“Hey uh, why don’t you go ahead of me? I’ll uh, I'll meet you at the place.” He suggests, pointing vaguely off down the alley, but not removing his eyes from the kill. 

Soda certainly hesitates, his eyes narrowing before he even forms a thought. He opens his mouth to object, but then his eyes flicker back towards the body.

“Are you gonna eat this one too?”

The question leaves Sodas mouth as soon as it comes to mind.

Emizel pauses, and considers, before giving a shrug. “I don't see why not. Perfectly good blood.” He reaches down to grab his kill by the shirt, the one with the split open head. As the corpse rises from the concrete, gray matter drips and sloughs from the crack in its skull. Once again, Soda felt the need to look away, and yet his stupid eyes remained fixated on the horrendous sight. Emizel looks over the spilling brain of his meal, licking his lips curiously. “Dude, what do you think would happen if I ate his brain?” Emizel asks, looking back over to Soda with a wild, bloodied smile. Something about that look made Soda shiver, but.. Not really in a bad way… “Uh, I.. Dunno…. Eating a persons brain is how you get like, mad cow disease right? But you might also be immune to disease.. Are you immune to disease?” “Uhhh, I don't know yet actually. I'm still figuring out how much of this is like video games,” Emizel says, rubbing the back of his head as he idly sways the body of his kill around, watching the blood and gore drip and drop from its broken head. “Eh, I'll chance it later.” Without another word or thought, Emizel goes to sink his teeth into the shoulder of his kill, a pleased growl radiating from him as the blood gushes around the bite. More fresh blood upon less fresh blood upon old blood upon older blood. Just so much fucking blood. Soda thought he was used to seeing blood, but this… this was just egregious. Was he really starting to get used to this? It’s just blood after all, and it’s not from his comrades, so it's… fine… He finally manages to pull his eyes away from the gruesome sight of Emizel feeding, but his eyes instead wander down to the blood on his own shirt. Emizels blood was strange, darker than usual, and carrying a different scent. Something about the smell of his blood was more savory, more appealing than the standard metallic miasm. His shirt was smothered in it, his jacket was coated in it, and his opened bottle of Faygo was also splattered with the deep red ichor. Ink swirls within the bottle of red fizzy, spreading out into all sorts of odd patterns. It was a lot of blood. He was certain a lot of it came from however many people Emizels been feeding on. With how much hes been terrorizing the Fangs in just the last few days, and with how nonchalantly he feasts on his kills, who knows how much blood hes actually ingested… Soda swirls the bottle, watching the blood inside thin out into strands, dancing within the bubbly soda as they gradually dissipate, fully assimilating into the drink. A bad idea chews at the back of his head… The sound of ripping flesh once again knocks at Sodas head. He doesn’t look up this time, but he knew Emizel was just playing with his food again..  Did blood taste good to a vampire? Did some blood taste better than others? What did Sodas blood taste like? What did Emizels blood taste like? There's a visceral snap of something among the chewing and ripping, very clearly a bone or a joint snapping out of place. It made Soda shiver a little. When did his heart start pounding? There's an animal standing only 8 feet away from him, feeding on its kill. That animal is a person, and so is its kill. He wanted to know what vampire blood tasted like, but he already knew what human blood tasted like. It hung so densely in the air, he could feel it forming a vile film over his tongue. The blood of a person just like him. Eaten by an animal that eats people.  All this stress was no good. This bile rising to his throat was no good. This creeping anxiety was no good. He's friends with an animal that eats people. Would it eat him? This weird feeling was no good. Maybe it will never eat him. But it needs to eat people. This worry was no good. He needed to wash this awful taste from his mouth, replace it with something sweeter. He needed to keep his head clear enough to be there for Emizel when he needed to be. He needed to hold a light to these shadows. And he needed to stay positive, and drink soda. He takes a swig of the open Faygo bottle.

[thecousinsdangereux]

short fuse if you light my fire [2/?]

pairing: Yelena/Kate (Hawkeye)

rating: T (for now)

chapter word count: 6,448

summary: Yelena decides to go to college. It just so happens to be the same one Kate Bishop attends.

preview: 

“I have never played GeoGuessr. But I am ‘scary good’ at most things, so: yes, probably. Show me how to play and I will give you more clues.” “It’s an online game-thing, so we’ll have to play it for real later, but basically, you get shown a Google Maps street view of some place and you have to guess where you are; you can move around on the map, but you only have ten minutes, or something like that.” “I will give you seven minutes,” Yelena declares. “And your time starts now.” “That’s — !” Kate lets out a funny little growl and then goes mostly silent outside of a few frantic sounds in the background: hurried feet on wood, something scraping across a table, and the smash of her fingers on a keyboard. “Ugh, fine. Tell me what you see.”

chapter link: AO3

playlist link: SPOTIFY

[deiaiko]

#18.1 Rak

Rak let out a huff and sat down next to Agni. Agni peeked over at Rak, who was looking far ahead, as if his past were replaying right before him.

TW: Self harm and suicide…in a way? (Sorry if it gets too dark. I put the TLDR on the tags)

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"I met him back when I was young, about a hundred years ago," Rak started.

Agni was taken aback at how long the gap between their time travel was. He wondered how much his Rak had changed.

"It was getting cold, which meant it was hunting season. I got bored and picked a fight with the toughest and biggest prey I could find."

Agni hummed when Rak paused for a moment too long, "Let me guess. You underestimated it and you lost?"

"The river was slippery!" Rak crossed his arms defensively. "And I didn't lose!"

"Sure," Agni rolled his eyes, one corner of his lips upturned. "How come?"

"I didn't lose, but I didn’t win either." Rak looked away, probably in embarrassment. "Another spear pierced its head before mine. That's when I met him."

From the way Rak's expression turned fiery, Agni had a suspicion that that exact moment had affected Rak more than what he spilled out. It didn't surprise him however, since he knew Rak’s ego.

"He was around for a while, acting like he cared about me." Rak huffed again, more fondly this time, eyes closed and arms still crossed. "He taught me a few fancy tricks with rocks and how to hunt better. He talked a lot about turtle this and turtle that. There were so many, I don't remember. But Black and Blue turtles were the ones he talked about the most, saying something like 'no one else will be more worthy prey than them.'"

Agni felt his chest tighten. To think that their Rak had acknowledged them and even bragged about it…it filled him with a sense of pride and longing.

"I didn't believe him then, since turtles are boring and no way they could do what he said they could." Rak paused and untangled his arms, eyes focusing and turning predatory, "But when he said that these turtles were unlike what we had there, I have been wanting to meet those turtles he told me about and hunt them."

Rak's story was intriguing. But even if it flattered him, Agni was more curious about his Rak's whereabouts. "What happened to him then? Wasn't he…badly injured?"

Rak frowned and went silent. But when he found his voice, it lacked its previous vigor. "He was. It looked fresh and so impossible to walk with, but he did. I asked if it was painful, but he said he didn’t feel a thing."

Third-degree burn. Agni thought to himself. But there was no way it spread evenly. Some areas must've been painful.

"He definitely lied," Rak voiced Agni's thought. "He was just acting to look tough."

The edge of Agni's lips twitched in an attempt to suppress his smile. That's him alright. And of course Rak could figure his own self easily. 

"One day he challenged me in an all out duel," Rak's gaze turned dark. "His wounds had weakened him over the months, and it was obvious who would be the winner."

Agni frowned at the implication.

Wordlessly, Rak called out his arms inventory which held a familiar looking spear that shouldn't have been in his possession at this point in time. Agni would recognize that design anywhere, "...Mad shocker."

"He said he wanted to test me, and he gave me this." Rak glared at the spear as if it was responsible for his misfortune. "And later told me that I should be proud, for only a true hunter was allowed to defeat him."

Agni felt his throat going dry, and gulped. "He died, didn't he?"

Rak's eyes sharpened. Whether it was in regret or anger, Agni couldn't tell. "I killed him." 

Agni didn't know what to feel about that. On one hand, he could empathize with how much pain Rak must've felt from the injury, especially with the lack of proper treatment that could cure or even just lessen the pain. But on the other hand, it meant that his Rak was truly gone, in such a way, and he still couldn't wrap his head around it.

Rak put his pipe back to invisible mode, like looking at it had brought him so much grief. "I've never used that spear since."

The silence stretched, with only the loud noises coming from the training ground to fill it. Agni wasn't sure how to reply to that without being overly friendly nor physical, and he definitely wouldn't do that to Rak, who only met him today.

Sitting beside Rak like this reminded him of their chat before the workshop battle, on the balcony. It was when Rak truly let him see his buried feelings, his desire to climb the tower together with him and Grace. And with that, the grief finally started to dawn on him. The scar on his face felt itchy and his hand was already clawing at his mask before he registered the motion. He sighed and put his hand back on his knee, pushing the tangled feeling to the back of his mind to be dealt with later. And since the silence had stretched out for too long, he asked; "What was he to you?"

"A rival," Rak looked thoughtful before adding, "and family."

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[chaosduckies]

Friends in Small Places (Chapter 3)

So sorry for the wait haha- The stress is real. Anyways this is NOT my best chapter, but it does include something that I always love to see in g/t. But otherwise, I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 3.4k

CW: Anxiety

3-Cas

When I woke up, it was quiet as usual. My head was throbbing, and my muscles ached every time I moved them, but I forced myself to sit up, finding that I was lying on the hard ground. Right. New medicine, made my body go haywire, Liam- Liam. My eyes darted all round, landing on a small figure that was copying some things down in his notebook from his laptop. He wasn’t as small anymore, which meant I was back to normal. Well, sort of. I felt drowsy. And hungry, but I usually I just go out to go eat something. 

I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand, stretching out my arms as far as I could temporarily manage. Liam picked up his head, closing his notebook and laptop. What time was it? I looked through the window curtains to see that the sun was still out, but it didn’t look like it was noon at all. How long was I out for? 

“Morning.” Liam greeted, walking a little closer to me. I pressed my back up further against the wall. Did I sleep through the entire I night? Where was my phone anyways? 

“M-morning.” I whispered, simultaneously searching for my phone. I knew that I didn’t have to go into the lab today, but still, sometimes they liked to schedule surprise meetings or something. Last time I didn’t show up they punished me for it. I shuddered at the thought, but kept my attention on Liam, who looked like he was forcing himself to come closer to me. 

I raised the hand that he seemed to be walking towards close to my chest. It’s not like I didn’t want him to touch or come near me, it’s just that I was scared I’d accidentally do something that he might not like. What if I hold him wrong or-or he gets too uncomfortable, or what if I accidentally drop him? The anxiety ate away at me until I felt myself grow a few feet. I winced, calming myself down before it could get worse. Again. 

Liam took a few seconds to get out of his sudden shock, giving a shaky smile. Was that supposed to mean “I’m okay but I’m terrified of you?” I couldn’t help but look away, saddened by the thought. I wish I didn’t have to keep so in control of my emotions all the time. Anytime I want to cry I just can’t otherwise I might hurt people. More especially the regular-sized human that was currently struggling to stand on two feet. I would offer help but… I don’t think he’d be all that excited about it. Neither was I. 

“How are you f-feeling?” He tired to hide how shaky his voice was, but I could tell. Most people talk like that when they’re around me anyways. They get one glimpse at the stupid band around my wrist and they automatically think I’m a threat. I mean, yeah, I have depression, but as long as I remember to refill my anti-depressants and SSRI’s I should be okay to go out in public for a couple hours. Most of the time I try to control my emotions though. Since that’s what triggers me to grow in the first place. It’s also mostly why the SSU doesn’t let me see my family for a long time. They think that if I’m around it’ll spark too much emotions all at once. It could be true, and the last thing I want is to hurt my own family. 

“Um, a little better.” I sighed, seeing my phone thrown halfway across the room. Right. I completely freaked out when Liam said to open the door and ended up throwing it somewhere. I’ll just go grab it in a little bit, I wasn’t in a rush. If anything, I should probably get dressed to get something to eat. I didn’t know how to cook besides some microwaveable things I had in the fridge. Of course I had some groceries, just not many. 

“Hey, um, are you hungry? I can go out to get something.” I asked, keeping my voice to a whisper while also getting ready to stand up. While I didn’t have a job, the company was giving me monthly checks to help for necessities. Clothes, food, basically anything I needed to survive. With another person here I might as well make them comfortable and help out with anything they need. It’s only the right thing to do. Especially if I’m the one giving them a hard time… 

“Hm? I-I can cook something.” Liam looked towards where the kitchen was. I nervously smiled, finding it kind of funny that he didn’t realize that this entire house was accommodated for my size. Of course I can be smaller, but I wouldn’t be able to do anything but walk around on the floor. Plus, it’s hard to stay that height without the medicine. I did feel bad that Liam couldn’t do the things that he wanted to do. I didn’t know if he liked cooking or not, but maybe I could at least try to help? I’m not exactly a culinary expert. 

“I can maybe help? I-if you’re okay with it of course.” I stared at my hand, slowly lowering it to the ground what seemed a few inches away from Liam to me, but must have been a couple feet to him. He eyed it warily, and the longer he stared the more shaky my hand became. How could I trust myself to carry an entire life in my hands? I don’t even trust myself anywhere around someone smaller than me. 

Liam sucked in a deep breath, “I-I, um, I d-don’t-“ He paused for a minute, recomposing himself, “S-sure. If you want to.” He hesitantly walked closer to my hand, looking at my palm as if asking himself how to get on. I didn’t particularly care. It’s my first time actually holding someone. A living person in my hands. What if I drop him? What if I’m holding him wrong? I don’t want to hurt him! I would never forgive myself, and then they’d assign me a new therapist. I bit the bottom of my lip, trying my best to tilt my hand as much as I could to make it easier to climb on. Of course I could just grab Liam, but I don’t think he’d like that very much. 

“You can just climb on. I don’t really mind.” I gave the best fake smile I could manage as he returned one back. He took another look at my hand, starting with hurtling on of his legs on and then falling over when I tilted my hand flat to make the rest easier for him. Apparently it just made him roll over onto his stomach. I was so sure Liam could feel how shaky I was. Of course I was nervous, but I guess I’d just have to trust myself. Something I wasn’t prone to do on a daily basis. 

I stood up slowly, using both hands to cup the passenger I was currently holding to make sure they didn’t fall, and walked slower than usual to the kitchen, slightly tilting my hand to let Liam back down before I did something I was going to regret for the rest of my life. 

“I don’t know how to cook, so I guess you just tell me what to do?” I kept my hands by my sides. Liam took a while to get himself back together, but eventually he just nodded his head, “D-do you have anything in the fridge?” He fidgeted with his hands while I checked, finding it kind of sad that it looked kind of bare except for a few containers filled with some leftovers, eggs, drinks, and a couple of the microwaveable plates I buy at the store. 

“Just some eggs, a few plates I can microwave too.” I closed the fridge, noticing that Liam cringed. Did I do something wrong? 

“It’s not healthy just eating those y’know.” He muttered, probably thinking that I wouldn’t be able to hear him. I sadly nodded my head, “My mom wasn’t able to teach me before they moved me away soooo-“ I looked away for a second, grabbing two eggs and smiling nervously down at Liam, who was thinking hard about what I had just said. Did i give away too much? He’s going to have to meet my parents sometime soon anyways. They’ll tell him all the embarrassing stories of me when I was a kid and all of the other things I did. The good and the bad. Because that’s just how they were. 

“I can just make these, right?” I held them up, watching him nod and tell me what to grab and do. Liam had tried moving some objects around that I needed to use. He tired his best to use them himself, but of course he was too small, or he at least couldn’t do it by himself. I was scared that if I grabbed it at the wrong time then he’d jump and run away, so I usually just waited for him to take a break before taking the issue off of his hands. 

It was kind of awkward since I should be the one already knowing I how to cook, but I guess this was fine. Liam was honestly a really great teacher. He kept me calm when I thought the heat would just make the mixture explode in my face. Again, I don’t know the slightest thing about cooking. Not at all. Can’t blame me for not knowing… but maybe Liam could teach me? No, that’d be ridiculous. There was no way that he’d do that. Plus, what if I don’t watch what I’m doing carefully enough? I could really hurt him without even meaning to. 

“Liam?” I set down my plate for a second. 

“Yeah?” He did the same with his, all of his attention on me. Was it weird that I was a bit nervous now? I feel like it should be the opposite. But here I was, worrying about an answer to a question I pretty much already knew the answer to. 

“Would you mind teaching me how to cook? You seem pretty good at it, and I’d like you to feel more welcome here.” I tried to explain thoroughly, so he doesn’t think I’m tricking him. I wouldn’t ever dream of it, but just in case. We’ve only really been around each other for two days anyways. He has no reason to trust me. Especially when yesterday I messed it all up. I had it all planned out in my mind. I’d try to stay calm for as long as I could, let us both get comfortable with the situation (More for Liam than me) and then I wouldn’t have to be so careful around him. Turns out I couldn’t even last a day. Or maybe that was just because of the medicine. It was extremely painful. It felt like my insides were being ripped out. Do you know how hard it is to stay calm when you’re in that much pain? Hard. Very, very hard. 

“Sure! U-Um, we might need to go to the store later though. If that’s okay with you of course!” He laughed nervously, trying to rid himself of the shakiness of his voice. At least he was trying. But… I couldn’t help but shake the feeling that he though I would actually hurt him over something as trivial as taking him somewhere. If anything, I’m just happy that he wants to be near me at this point. 

“I don’t mind. You’re the cook here anyways.” I tried to lighten the mood. It seemed to work. 

———Liam———

When Cas woke up this morning I wasn’t expecting him to be in such a light-hearted mood. If anything I thought he’d be the exact opposite. He seemed tired still, but at the same time he seemed to be trying his hardest to keep calm. Actually, that’s kind of what he looks like all of the time. No offense. 

This morning was surprisingly fun. I wasn’t expecting to try and help a full on giant cook something. It’s extremely difficult to maneuver all of the utensils when they’re almost ten times your own size. I wasn’t built for moving heavy things around if you couldn’t tell. But either way, it was still a lot of fun trying to help Cas cook. It was saddening to learn that he was never taught because the company moved him away from his family. Why would they do that in the first place anyways? I don’t see a reason why they would just rip him apart from his family. I would think they’d help him out more than I could actually. 

“S-sorry to ask,” I sighed, making the mistake of peering over the edge of the counter, shuddering at the devastating height I was currently at, “But could you l-let me down? P-Please?” I took a couple steps back. Cas nodded his head, extending his hand out just like before and waited for me to let myself on. I couldn’t really tell all that much, but I think he’s just as nervous as I am when he’s holding me. I can feel him slightly trembling, and even the way he moves slower than usual. I think it’s kind of funny how he cares so much about one meaningless life. Or sweet really. 

I climbed onto his hand, being taken back to the living room where I had left my stuff. Right. I had a test to take on Monday… Luckily I still had the entire weekend to study. I think it’d be nice to spend at least one day with Cas. We haven’t really had the chance to get to know each other better. Maybe I can ask to make my lessons online? Just until they find my replacement. If they ever find one of course. It’s not actually that bad being with Cas. He’s really nice and gentle, doesn’t overdo anything. I have no idea why I thought it’d be so terrifying in the first place. Then again, it’s only been a couple of days. 

“Thank you.” I mumbled, just barely loud enough for Cas to hear. He look a little shocked before smiling. Like a genuine smile. Not one of those fake ones he puts on to hide that he’s actually sad. I must say, I’m not doing a very good job as a therapist, but then again everything seems to be fine. 

I put away most of my things inside of my backpack, heading to my little corner on the floor where my other suitcase was, filled with my clothes. I still had a lot back at my dorm, but I’m technically not living here. Just staying for a while until the SSU can make sure that the person I’m with is comfortable without me here almost all of the time. 

I grabbed a few clothes, waiting for Cas to leave and change so we could head out. It was already midday anyways. I think it’ll be fun teaching him how to cook anyways. I feel bad about the whole situation he’s in. Does he even get to see his parents? I guess I’d have to ask him that. 

After a while of waiting, Cas came out wearing a t-shirt and a regular pair of jeans. I couldn’t take my eyes off of the bright-red band on his wrist though. He’s not… that bad actually. I’ve only ever heard stories that shifters with a red band were a danger to society. Were they wrong? Did the company lie to us? That can’t be true… But so far everything that’s happened to Cas hasn’t been exactly great. The forced medicine, taking him away from his parents, what else have they done? So many questions I wanted to ask Cas, but we weren’t at the level yet. I feel like he’d completely shut me out if I asked him right now anyways. 

“So are you fine with just climbing on again?” He crouched down on the ground, his palm down for me. I struggled to climb on, but managed on my own. He was definitely more nervous than I was. 

“You good?” I chuckled lightly, getting used to it already. For someone who was so afraid of being mishandled, I was actually doing pretty good. Or maybe that was because Cas was watching everything he did so closely. Ryan was definitely right. Shifters really weren’t as bad as the stories made them out to be. Or I had made them out to be. 

“Hm? O-Oh yeah! Just nervous.” He brought up his other hand our of fear of himself dropping me I was guessing. Yeah, I would not enjoy falling from a hundred foot drop right now. I was thankful for the extra protection, but this only proves that he doesn’t trust himself all that much. Another thing I can work on with him? I think it’d be a good thing to work on his self-confidence. Maybe that’s why he’s not used to being around people smaller than him? That being said… how did he live when he was younger? If he couldn’t stay comfortable at a normal height? And yet another question to ask Cas. 

I admit it’s pretty scary when You’re a hundred feet up in the air, your life literally in someone else’s hands, and heading to a place you’ve never been to before. Really anything could happen, but I have to place all of my trust in I just met two days ago. I guess you can’t gain trust if you don’t give any in the first place. Still, I couldn’t get rid of the slight fear that was slowly crawling up through my entire body. Okay, maybe I was just jumping to conclusions about getting used to being carried around. This was the most terrifying thing ever. 

——————

The walk wasn’t that far. (Well at least for Cas-) Maybe about ten minutes before we reached the small store that was packed with people. I guess this is what it was like on this side of the city? This was just crazy. Maybe that’s why Cas doesn’t go out much? It would make sense. It would also explain why he tried his best to avoid so many people everytime he walked down an isle. Or maybe it was for my sake? I couldn’t tell. 

“What exactly do I need?” He laughed nervously, grabbing a carry basket in his free hand, the one holding me cupping even more to make sure I wouldn’t fall off. I think I’ll just stay clear of any kind of view from the ground. Yup. 

“Oh, well, um, fruit? Some meat I guess? I-I can help you with that.” Cas nodded his head, walking over to the produce section and picking out a mixed bowl and some things to make a salad. Good to know that he wasn’t just microwaving everything. It didn’t take long for me to help him pick out some chicken to make for dinner tonight and something for tomorrow too. There would probably be leftovers for a good day or so afterwards anyways. I’m just glad I could help him out with something. At least somewhat. 

When we arrived back home, I told Cas where to place everything, and that was basically it. I’d just have to teach him how to cook dinner for tonight. But otherwise, we would just be hanging out in the living room. I could go without studying for a while anyways. It was beyond tiring to memorize all of those formulas anyways. 

“Thank you so much.” Cas laughed. 

“For what? Getting groceries?” I laughed with him. Just because I’m slightly older than him doesn’t mean anything. 

“Yeah. I guess so.” His hand laid up against the couch, letting me down and onto the comfy cushion. I made myself comfortable, watching Cas sit on the other couch, grabbing his phone that he completely forgot about after last night and checked on whatever was waiting for him. He sighed, placing it on the table in the middle. 

“Wanna play a game?” He asked, looking a little wary. Well, it’s not like I can say no. 

“Sure!” 

——————

Ahhh I love when the giant doesn’t know how to cook but the tiny does. Just when the giant tries to help out as much as they can AGHH- I hope you guys enjoyed this extremely overdue chapter, again, so sorry for the long wait.

But thank you guys so much for reading! I appreciate every single one of you who read and like my work you have no idea how much it means to me that you all like it 🫶

If there is an ask in my inbox, I promise I will eventually get to it. So sorry for those of you who have been waiting (I have a little writing piece that I want to do for them)

Taglist: @da3dm

[rahabs]

This Horror Which Bleeds [ read on A03 ]

He'd known, realistically, that Lilith was gone, and that she'd no intention of coming back. The knowledge didn't make Lucifer anymore prepared to find her mark engraved on the Radio Demon's soul.

Charlie asks her father to check in with Alastor after the hotel's reconstruction. In the process, Lucifer makes a discovery, and things get worse before they get better.

[loppiopio]

in water, fleas will drown.

[glass-oranges]

Guess who got so sick and tired of not having good textured blending brushes and went fuck it we ball today instead

[taradactyls]

Trying to Tread Water: Chapter Thirty

The Elizabeth/Darcy Marriage of Convenience fic no one asked for

Chapter Thirty: Elizabeth's first ball in town - and the first official dance she is attending as Mrs Darcy - has arrived. As have the Darcy family's collection of jewellery, which Mr Darcy sent for. Of course, despite that their marriage was made to secure her safety, his love for Elizabeth means he wants none but her to wear them. They stay close to each other during the ball, and he cannot keep his eyes off her. Especially when they dance.

Read on Ao3 here

First reviews of Chapter Thirty: "Honestly when I get the email this story has updated I get very excited and it’s a proper treat! I made a coffee and sat down to read it as soon as possible." "Loved this update! Oh man the vibes during that dance were just perfect." "I'm literally so unreasonably happy that they had a nice night out😭😭 grinning in public like a lunatic rn..." "I really loved the ball in its entirety, honestly. The descriptions of the room and atmosphere, and especially the last dance, all speaks to your writing prowess. 12/10, would recommend." "This story is my absolute favorite notification and I seriously enjoy reading it so much! The characters, the world building, just so incredibly well done!"

Story updates on Ao3 fortnightly, with Chapter Thirty-One coming out on the 17th May.

Story tags: Elizabeth/Darcy, Marriage of Convenience, Unrequited Love, Not Really Unrequited Love, Slow Burn, Pining, Pining Despite Being Married, Mr Darcy thinks his worst enemy is Wickham but maybe it's himself.

[the-sparkling-diamond-satine]

if you title this you could post the first few chapters already!!! (for the wip ask game lol)

WIP Ask Game! tw: abuse implied

But Christian isn’t looking at her face. His gaze is currently fixed on Satine’s wrist where—Satine notices as if in slow motion and with a lurch of her stomach—the sleeve of her coat has ridden up and a nasty purple bruise is on full display. Unable to adjust her sleeve with her hands full of coffee cups, Satine rotates her arm but it’s too late; the damage has been done. “Are you alright?” Christian asks, reaching for her arm. His touch is as warm as Satine remembers but she flinches back from it as if it’s scalding hot. “I’m fine.” “I’m sorry, did I hurt you?” Christian asks, searching her eyes. “Not at all,” Satine hastens to reassure him, realizing too late that she probably should have taken that excuse when it was offered to her, that flinching away from something that didn't hurt is suspicious while flinching away from something that did is reasonable. “Nothing to worry about,” Satine tries next, “just one of the hazards of live theatre. The show has a lot of lifts and I bruise easily. You’ll see tonight—the dancing is incredible,” Satine says, trying to get him back on topic of opening night.

[obstinaterixatrix]

Nishi Uko's Collectors is about two women in a relationship who disapprove of each other's spending habits - they both collect their favorite items…

happy femslash february, here's a 2 volume 4koma series about a woman who loves books and a woman who loves fashion. it's established relationship slice of life with adult women who bicker a lot

it’s a very ‘mature’ series, in that it focuses a lot on the mundane day-to-day ups and downs of a relationship between women in their mid-20s. there's also a lot of focus on their friendships

the series intermittently breaks the 4koma format when there’s a flashback, it’s interesting how that affects the tone and atmosphere

at one point there was a pretty long gap between chapter releases, so even though it’s a series from 2009 the translation actually finished somewhat recently—I was super excited when it started updating again. it’s very charming, good for anyone who wants pure slice-of-life

[theplantbish]

Finally started writing a fic that I've been thinking about for a while now, and wrote 10 pages in two days wtf

[thatseventiesbitch]

Chapter 8 of What If: Eric and Donna Were Friends With Benefits has been posted. Donna's in trouble. Who will get through to her before it's too late?

Chapter 8: All Along The Water Tower

Read it on: A03 I FF.net

[averagejoesolomon]

lmao, no this is not a reblog. Yes I did write this chapter in two days—fast enough that I still owe some replies on comments from the last chapter. But between you and me, this chapter has been in my head for years and I couldn't wait any longer. Have so much fun, gang. And if you're new here, you can read all of Full Circle on Ao3. Heads up! While not overly graphic, this is a Bridgerton-level sex scene between Rachel and Matt. If that's likely to make you squeamish in any way, feel free to skip this one! While there are some cool character things happening in here, you will not miss anything crucial to the plot. If you skip this chapter, this sequence will read as a fade-to-black.

Chapter Eleven

Like everything else between them, Rachel takes charge of this, too.

Matt’s in no state to lift her up the way he really wants to, with his grip tight around her thighs and her legs wrapped around his hips, but that’s all well and good. Rachel’s already walking him back, back, back—lips working him like he’s a lock she desperately needs to pick—until the backs of his knees come against the mattress. He falls obligingly to the edge of the bed, chin up and reaching for her when their connection breaks, and she dutifully returns to the urgent work of kissing his Goddamn lights out.

His lap provides a convenient place for her to perch, as she eases into an eager straddle. His beaten body protests, but Rachel shuts down every objection without a word. The pressure of her lips eases a cut on his own. Her weight helps keep him upright. Her hands card through his hair and leave warm, soothing streaks along a bump on his head. “Is this okay?” she asks, voice breathy and hopeful.

She doesn’t wait for his answer before she’s kissing him again, willing, wanting, and he lets out a low, grumbling laugh between breaths. This is okay the same way sunsets at the farm are okay. The same way the first snow of the season is okay. The same way acts of God and everyday miracles are okay. It’s just a little bit of a prayer when Matt says, “God, yes. Yes.”

It’s all the permission she needs to drop her hands to the hem of his hoodie, pulling it up his torso. She’s careful, mindful of the cuts she spent hours tending to, but Matt ain’t got that kind of patience. He helps her along, their hands brushing and fumbling in a shared fervor to tear his top off and let it fall to the floor.

He returns the favor by reaching around and under her shirt, fingertips brushing along every inch of her spine until he finds the lacy strip of fabric he’s looking for. Finally, he gets to unlatch her the way he’s wanted to since the Bolshoi, with all the precision of an expert marksman. Her bra snaps loose, and Rachel’s moan fills his mouth from front to back, tangible, thrilling, the sweet taste of cranberries landing in his throat.

“That dress,” he manages, recalling the sight of her sleek black silhouette, with his fingertips at her bare, plunging back. “God, you looked so good in that dress.”

She makes her way down his jaw, into the cradle of his neck, leaving a trail of lipstick in her wake. She’s right in his ear when she admits, “I wore it for you.”

That’s a dangerous thing to say to a fella, so early into whatever it is they’re doing here, because it’s the kind of confession that sends his blood pumping, an electric zing racing down his spine, settling in his gut, and standing everything up on end. It’s one thing to witness that kind of knockout beauty firsthand, but another thing entirely to think that it was custom tailored to suit him—that it might, in some small way, belong to him. A piece of her, for one night only, gifted by the girl he’s falling hard for. “Christ,” he breathes. “Christ, Rachel.”

The anticipation builds to his breaking point, coiling tighter and tighter in his chest until he can’t take any more waiting. He pulls her top over her head, bra and shirt together in one fell swoop, and leaves them both to join his own discarded top. The movement knocks her bun loose, wild curls toppling over her shoulder, and Matt’s rewarded for his efforts with an eye-level view of her bare chest.

Rachel doesn’t have scars—at least, none that he can see in the low golden light of the nightstand lamp. He might have the sense to be curious about that later, but for now his only thought is that it’s a damn shame, because he was so looking forward to trailing his lips along every last one, feeling the ridges of rough and storied skin. He’ll have to settle for bone and muscle instead, and he starts with the spot where her sternum shows.

Rachel’s arms fall to his shoulders, wrapping around his head as she pulls him in closer. He sweeps kisses up the center of her chest, along her collar bone, down her rib cage, until goosebumps spot her skin.

“Don’t tease,” she says. It’s every bit the instruction she usually gives him, and Matt follows it as faithfully as he always does. Acting on her orders, he takes her nipple in his mouth, rolling its point around his tongue. He must be doing something right, because Rachel’s hands rake through his hair, holding him in place as she throws her chin toward the heavens and lets out a catching, guttural sigh. The longer he goes, the harder she rocks against his waist, and Matt realizes with some urgency that he ought to slow all this down, if he plans to enjoy this moment much longer.

So he pulls apart and beckons for her lips once more. She answers his bid the moment he makes it, attuned to him through years of shared training, joint mission objectives, and good old-fashioned friendship. She’s good at this. She’s good at him. She’s good at everything.

His hands fit along her hips exactly the way he expects, fingers pressing into the soft spots just above her belt loops. When he leans back, back, back, she follows and shifts her weight to rest on top of him. Somewhere in his rattled mind, he registers an excruciating soreness in his side, but this sensation comes second to anything she offers and anyway, the swollen bruise is soothed by the feel of her icy hand running along his ribs. The pain works in strange harmony to amplify his pleasure.

“You’re hurt,” she remembers, though any concern she has is undercut by the fact that it’s expressed right after her tongue has just been in his mouth. “You’re—”

“I promise you,” Matt cuts in, finding a spot along her jaw that quiets her, “that I have never, in my life, felt better than I do right now.”

She lets out a sound that seems to echo the sentiment and Matt’s satisfied smile spreads across the craning arch of her neck, exposed for his benefit. Always a gentleman, he anticipates her wants, her needs, and continues down the path she’s laid out for him, her pulse pounding against each lingering kiss. She sinks deeper into him with every touch, more and more at ease as she gains confidence in his ability to support her, and there’s no better feeling in the world than Rachel Cameron deciding to trust him.

He glances up, searching, desperate to find her. And ain’t it something, that she’s already found him? 

Their eyes catch, her gaze more intense than he’s ever seen it—which is saying something given their track record for heated, furious fights. But this is different than all that. This expression is new to her, wrapped up in short, heaving breaths and the flush of her cheeks. Her eyes dart between his, assessing something he can’t name, before they finally drop down to his lips. 

She raises a gentle hand toward the cut that splits his upper lip into two uneven halves, her thumb grazing the raw, bloodied edge. “I can’t believe you.” Only when he hears the tremor in her voice is he able to finally identify all the worry that floods her features. “This was so—so reckless, Matthew.”

Her, worried about him. How about that? “Are we fighting now?”

It’s his best attempt at a joke, trying to bring her back around to the part where she’s kissing him, and holding him, and doing anything she wants to him. But it has the opposite effect, drawing out her not-quite dimples and sparking something new in her dark eyes. When she does finally kiss him again—thank the almighty God—it’s with a renewed strength. A frenzied, needy sort of affair that puts her want on full display. Like she’s trying to get enough of him to last her whole lifetime.

And in an instant, he realizes she’s thinking—even now, even in this moment that so clearly belongs to impulse. She’s thinking days, weeks, months ahead, stockpiling love just in case she needs it someday. There’s a calculation in every touch. A strategy in every sigh. He can sense it in the way she moves, this frantic feeling that she needs to plan this moment, just like she plans any other.

So Matt does what he does best. He catches Rachel Cameron off guard.

He’s not sure this is what Langley had in mind when they taught him how to flip an opponent and land on top, but it’s a skill that proves mighty handy in this particular moment. Under most circumstances, he can count on Rachel to be the one person to get out of his hold, but with all of her leverage sunken beneath the weight of him, melting into the mattress, she’s got no choice but to succumb to his strength.

Through occupied lips, he says, “Stop thinking,” and threads his fingers through hers for good measure, pinning busy hands to the sheets where they can’t make any more decisions.

But Rachel’s not likely to give up control that easy. “Make me,” is her answering challenge, but she beckons upward against him, her body begging for more, and he’s known her long enough to hear her plea just below the surface. She wants him, and that drives him absolutely crazy. She wants him, and he can think of at least one way to switch off that persistent voice in her head she can’t seem to shake.

One thoughtless kiss at a time, he eases his way around her neck, past her shoulder, across her collar, and down, down, down the tender white skin of her torso. His hands trail close behind, leaving more goosebumps along her ribs, her stomach, her hips, until he reaches a small brass button that unlatches without effort. As he slips her jeans off, he kisses another trail along the bright red indents left behind by her seams, down to one knee, then back up from the other, until her thighs part the way for Matt to leave one last kiss atop more lace. He might keep going here, except he hears Rachel’s voice in his thoughts, Don’t tease.

So he makes quick work of taking these off, too, until it’s just her—Eve in the Garden of Eden, right before his very eyes. He sinks eagerly into the sheets and settles into the bittersweet taste of her, a mouthful of her heartbeat melting like sugar on his tongue.

With her own hands free once more, Rachel reaches into his hair, pressing him deeper into herself. He tends to her wanting whimpers by adding the slightest bit of pressure, more and more, right up until the moment her back arches with the kind of pleasure that stops every last thought in its tracks. She’s gasping against her own absentminded ecstasy, and Matt reckons he could spend a lifetime chasing after the way she sighs, “Matthew,” in that moment.

It’s quite a sight to behold, when Rachel Cameron finally surrenders to her intuition.

She’s just as bossy in bed as she is out of it, and Matt relishes in the simplicity. Every time he follows one of her instructions, he’s met with the immediately thrilling feedback of her obvious delight. A little this way. A little that way. Up, and up again. Faster. More. Yes, yes, yes.

Together, they bring her close enough to the edge that she shakes and writhes, gloriously oblivious to the world around her. Her hands twist instinctively in the sheets. Her moans are loud and her language is crude. And he’s pretty certain she ain’t aware of the way her hips buck roughly, messily against his mouth. He’s never seen her this far gone—never seen her let go of this much, all at once, and it’s got him all sorts of turned on to think that she can only do this because she’s with him. It’s all so new, new, new, and he wants more, more, more, and he wants it forever and ever.

“Stop,” she gasps. “Fuck, stop, I’m—get up here. I still want you.”

He certainly ain’t gotta be told twice. It’s with an outright and admiring obedience that he breaks away from the slick, shining strands snapping between them. He starts to drag his lips back up her body, but her wild, wanting hands find him first, guiding him forward. She skips past all the slow, prolonged touches and straight to the moment their lips meet once more, his own still dewy with a job well done. It might just kill him, the way she devours her own taste on his mouth.

“Mmmon top,” she huffs. “I have to be on top.”

She says this with the same compulsive certainty that he feels a deep-down need to challenge, but he’s already had his fun with her and anyway, it’s getting harder to hold himself up against the mounting aches in his body. For now, he wraps an arm around her waist, rolling her back into his lap as he leans against the pillows that rest along the wire-frame headboard. She eases back into her usual sense of control with a relieved sigh, and Matt makes a mental note to keep working on this part with her, next time.

But until then, Rachel makes good use of her reinstated power. Her hands are already at his drawstrings, untying the knot that holds them up. He knows she can feel him through the sweats, because she’s sitting on just the right spot, in just the right way, with a small grinding motion that has him longing for the moment there’s nothing between them. 

He realizes, with a gutting dread, “I don’t have a—”

“I’m on birth control,” she says because, of course, she’s already thought it through before Matt even realized there was anything to think about.

He could kiss her just for this, but he leaves her to the far more appealing task at hand. She strips him down with the same efficiency she uses to disarm a handgun, following a methodical order as she removes one intentional piece at a time. When he was younger, Matt always pictured himself with a wild, free-spirited type, but now he sees how much hotter it is when a woman knows exactly what she’s trying to achieve and exactly how to achieve it.

He’s ready for her, in every way he can be.

When she climbs back onto his lap, she lifts his chin and wraps her hands behind his neck. All he can do is hope, pray that she’ll kiss him again. She does, this one harder, hungrier, greedier than the others, and when she pulls back, her eyes find his and stay there. 

She reaches down to position him and this single touch is enough to send his brain buzzing, every good memory he’s ever had now dwarfed by this one. In a life like his, run on instinct and intuition, there ain’t many things that can make him feel like this anymore, but Rachel is the exception. Rachel is always the exception. Eyes still locked, she sinks onto him—wet, and warm, and relaxed. She starts slowly, not sure how they’ll fit together, but it ain’t long before she finds her small, maddening rocking motion.

Matt winces against a pang in his side, but it passes the moment Rachel’s hand falls to his chest. “Does it hurt?” she wants to know, eyes wide and endearing.

He shakes his head. “No,” he says. “No. You?”

Her forehead falls to his as she shakes, too. “No.”

It’s all the confirmation she needs to replace soft, exploratory rocking with harder, more rhythmic pulses. She’s got this steady, determined look in her eye, reading him like he’s a meter on display to measure her performance. Rachel fucks the same way she does everything else—thoughtfully, purposefully, and with a strategy in mind to reach her desired result which, in this case, seems to be getting Matt to call out her name as many times as possible. “Fuck, Rachel.”

This sends her smiling, and when she’s satisfied that she’s found the right pace and pressure for him, she finally breaks eye contact to fall into his shoulder. Her arms wrap around his back, using him for leverage, and he rests his hands on her hips to steady her. Sweet, sensual moans land right in his ear. Damp, dark curls mat against the back of her neck. She picks up speed, relying on the same stamina that gets her through high-stakes sparring matches and do-or-die chases across European cities. She’s all out for him. She’s got nothing to lose.

“I thought you were dead.” Her breath rolls along his neck, sending shock waves down his spine. “I thought I lost you.”

“I know,” he says, nuzzling her neck with a fresh batch of kisses. “I know.”

“Don’t ever,” she says, “do that to me again."

"Yes ma'am."

"I mean it, Matthew... Matthew... Matthew…”

Her words dissolve into his name over, and over, and over, like it’s the only thing she knows. He could get used to the way it feels in his chest, when she calls out for him like that. “I’m here,” he tells her, and he means it. He ain’t ever leaving her again. “I’m here, Rachel.”

At the sound of her own name, she pulls him impossibly closer and rides him into breathlessness. Her nails leave fresh scratches along his shoulder blades as she grips him, every moan pitching upward into heavenly whines. She’s tightening around him, back on that thoughtless edge, closer with every easy pulse, so he whispers an encouraging, “Good girl,” in her ear. “God, you’re so good.”

And he hopes she’s close, because he’s not gonna last much longer with the way she’s breathing all heavy and heated. His own heartbeat penetrates down to his nerves, lighting him up wherever Rachel touches him—which is damn near everywhere. She’s the feel of frostbite before it numbs. She’s the zing of pouring, horizontal rain. She’s the strike of lightning directly from God’s finger. In an effort to buy himself a few more seconds, he finds her lips again, their kisses careless and sloppy now, but that proves not to be much of a problem anyway.

Rachel pulls away first, back arching, breath hitching, teetering until the moment she finally falls, contracting around him with wavering, rippling pulses. He takes this as a cue for his own release, finally letting his nerves spike as she leans back into him, quivering, trembling, with plenty of come down kisses to spare.

“Matthew,” she says, one last time.

“I’m here,” is his automatic reply.

Her eyes find him again, and he brushes the curls from her cheeks, her forehead. She’s still heaving, still caught up in the rush running through her veins. “I’ve loved you…” she starts, but she runs out of breath before the end. It’s the past tense that sparks his interest. Not love, but have loved. “I’ve loved you for I don’t know how long.”

And he knows exactly what she means. Maybe their love didn’t start on day one, but it did start sometime soon after. Sometime between then and now, when they were too distracted by the rest of the world to realize they had a good thing right in front of them. “Rachel Cameron,” he answers, catching his own breath. “I’ll love you ‘til the day I die.”

[sexynetra]

i hope it isn't rude to ask (i just really love your work) but would we be getting a rawnsyf chapter 8

Not rude at all!! I am slowly plugging away at chapter 8 it will absolutely be coming I refuse to abandon a work fully 😂