#just like.... the thought of someone leisuring around what's supposed to be YOUR HOME

[dylanconrique]

NAH WHY THE HELL IS HE JUST SITTING IN THE DARK LIKE THAT I'M SCARED.

[the-monkeies-girl]

In A Hurry. ( Noa x Reader Oneshot. )

Fuck I love angst don't even TOUCH ME with your eyes I'm in my feels.

Title: In a Hurry. Fandom: ( Kingdom of the ) Planet of the Apes. Pairing: Noa x (Human) Reader. Rating: T ( Mentions of blood, injury and potential death, tiny bit of language. ) Words: ( I have no idea how i swear this was supposed to be like 2K words AHHH ) Summary: Noa bargained. Maybe you were gone by choice but the idea lingered - Had you been injured?

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He knew the moment his green eyes looked at the sky, noticing the dip of the sun as it skirted its way along the horizon, that he had made a mistake. You were supposed to be back. He thought to himself, resting a spear head on the ground in front of him. He had been messing with it, scraping a piece of wood into a sharp point to dig into a hole that he suspected might be infested with bugs of the pesky nature after someone in passing had brought it up. He had been so oblivious to the passage of time, a foolish choice to make when you had left a few hours to go forge for some berries. It was hard to keep track of time though, especially when Noa had a front row seat to watch Soona and Anaya bicker. Today’s special was about Anaya- as it most usually was. Noa smiled at the familiarity before it quickly faded into oblivion at the existential thought. You were supposed to be back. 

You never went too far; never too far into the woods, knowing of the possibility of danger especially as an Echo, never ventured away from the Clan, from your home, your nest, your things… From… from Noa. He felt something surge inside of his chest that yelled at him to move his body. You were supposed to be back. Noa often went with you along with Soona and Anaya - An unbreakable bond began forming around the four of you. But, in those instances when Noa was unable to go, he would urge Soona, Anaya or even his Mother on occasion to go. At this point, his body was in movement, spine aching ever so slightly at the straight posture he was using to prepare his horse who greeted him with a joyous neigh., Noa wasn’t even sure how you convinced him to let you go alone, letting his mind drift to the conversation only three or so hours ago, when the sun was beginning a rather leisurely and slow decent as the afternoon had passed. It was definitely alluring what you asked of him, which was why he granted you to go alone, without accompaniment. You told him it was only for a short amount of time, letting your hand lightly grasp at his bicep in some Echo communication that physical touch would get your way. It often worked but Noa held on until you explained you wanted to get some berries for dinner, that you promised not to go too far, and that you would bring your spear with you to fend off any potential attacks. They seldom happened so close to the village, but they were not unheard of by any means. You wanted to go to get some space to yourself, you told him, Noa having to remind himself that it was indeed a regular Echo thing. To enjoy their own personal space. He never understood it, always having Anaya or Soona with him when you weren’t with him in most cases, and when he wasn’t with them, he was deep in thought, obsessing at his own ideas, his own improvements. At those moments, his thoughts became his friends and he was never really lonely.

Noa contemplated it, but essentially let you go to the mild fury of both his friends, like he wasn’t already uncomfortable enough letting you go without any of them.... Anaya, worried just as much that something could happen to you, even going as far as to tell Noa to just follow you at a distance; Noa had to shove aside the fact that he had the same train of thought earlier but following you could result in less trust in the relationship, Anaya was slightly receptive to that but stood his ground in telling Noa he should just follow. Soona, who obviously thought the same thing, but in her everlasting rationale to keep Noa somewhat grounded, nodded in understanding when Noa told her the reason you wanted to go alone. It wasn’t a slight at them, just one of those pesky Echo things. Personal space, they repeated to themselves over and over. 

His forehead pressed against your own as a departure, your hands full. One with a weaved basket, albeit a little janky as you had made it yourself and had yet to master the art, and one with your spear. He felt a sense of calm at that. You were not far; if you screamed, he most likely would be able to hear it and you had a weapon. You were not going far, he told himself over and over again and trailed around the village in search of something to bide his time until you returned.

In the distance it took him to travel from his spot to the horse paddock, both Anaya and Soona had joined. Noa left so abruptly, saying nothing to them and the haste of his movements spurred his friends to follow. He knew they were talking to each other, the flurry of signing and the some words hit Noa as Anaya had finally asked, “Where?” “Echo is… not back?” Soona asked.

It appeared the consensus was that you had returned and no one noticed. Noa would. Noa would always notice. Growling under his breath, he turned to both of them and said, “Stay here in case… She comes back,” He glanced over his shoulder, “Noa… will go. Look in the woods. Can’t be far.” He was just saying that to keep them calm. “Stay,” He told them again, “Could come back while away.”

Stupid Noa, the Ape scorned himself as his long arms grasped at the saddle of his horse and within seconds, in a graceful sweep, he was perched on top, Eagle Sun coming to affectionately rest on his shoulder. When Noa mounted his horse there was more than enough incentive for Eagle Sun to join along. He’d ride for a few moments before opting to fly. The bird chirped, twisting their tiny head to the side a few times. Noa raised his hand at that, pressing a finger to their beak. Eagle Sun then took off with purpose. Find you, and if he found you first, show Noa the way. You were not back. You were supposed to be back. Before dusk, before dinner. 

Maybe you got lost, Noa thought as he tightened his grip on the reins, kicking at the side of his steed and urging them to go. Faster than he had been for a while, thighs tightening their grip on the sides as he blasted away from the village in the general direction he had bid you goodbye to early in the day. He was snapping inside of his head; unkind notions at how stupid he was to let you go alone, he should have known better, should have never… Never let you convince him. But, what was he supposed to do? Another part of him shouted. Keep you there? Never let you out of his sight?! From experience, Noa knew that to be a bad thing. The tighter you hold onto things, sometimes the faster they slip away. He was so fearful of you thinking, assuming that he was smothering you by not giving you personal Echo space that he now drove himself to the brink of insanity for letting you do something alone. The dissolution he had in himself; the tugging of his emotions as his gaze flickered around the racing landscape on the back of his stallion. He felt like he was going to be physically sick at the notion that you were… Gone. But if anything, he hoped it was by choice. He could at least begin to cope with the idea that you chose to leave, maybe figuring out that your future with him, with the Eagle Clan was going to go nowhere. Noa could learn, albeit out of bitterness, how to live with that. On the other hand lingered the absolutely disgusting notion that you were gone because you were spotted, chased and hunted down by another Clan. That they had the audacity to make their way onto Eagle Clan land and rip you from him.

 His teeth fell together in his mouth, the primal impact sending a clattering noise through Noa’s ears. He knew how the others were, what they did to Echo’s. Chased them to the brink of exhaustion, tied them to the back of their horses and dragged them through the terrain until they were dead. He, Soona and Anaya had come upon remains, skeletons of the Echo’s that had that misfortune. Noa squeezed his eyes shut at that visual now running circles in his mind and tried to quiet down the battling nature of his turmoil. Instinctually, he pulled the reins of his horse back to slow down, now urging them to be quiet with a hand placed on their neck. He was breathing heavily, chest heaving with ripe anguish and he swore his lungs were filled with nothing but water because it felt like he was drowning, swimming through the air. He was frantic to jump from the horse, feet hitting the ground hard enough to send a vibration through his entire body, followed by his hands. He moved faster on all fours, if he heard you, if he just knew where you were he could run. Noa began scanning the area. Between trees, around foliage, behind tree trunks, around the usual areas Noa had been with you. He recognized the area all too well, a surge of saddened negligence hitting him like a wave of the ocean.

This was where you and he first really talked, taking in the Summer weather spewing through the trees above asn Anaya and Soona began a conversation about which berries to pick. Anaya wanted the red ones off to the right to which Soona promptly turned him down. They were poisonous. Where the two of you went to seek solace from the prying eyes of the Clan, always curious what Noa’s decision was going to be regarding you being there. This was where you first held each other, a tight embrace… Hug, he recalled the word fondly falling from your lips… The way your body pressed against his, the way he was so unsure of it before giving in, long arms wrapping around you in a similar fashion and pulling you in close, close… The laugh you gave him when he squeezed too tightly, not aware of his strength being incomprehensible to you. What if… Those things…were all the last time? He was always fast to crumble, fast to fall down and this was no exception as his emotions began to collapse just like the Echo ruins that surrounded the Eagle Clan. The last time Noa saw you, smiling graciously at him as you trail to the woods, the sum beaming down on you and drenching you in that quintessential summer time shine. The last time Noa touched you, his hand cupping the side of your face, foreheads grasping at each other out of clear desperation to be near. The last time he heard your voice, so delicate in nature as you assured him that nothing was going to happen to you, that you were going to be okay… You were not a liar, Noa knew this, but the bile rose in his throat at your words. So tender, so reassuring to him in the moment that they felt so out of place now. You were not back, you were gone. They were all gone. And you had promised him otherwise. It was obvious from scent alone that you had been in the area, Noa took gross solace in that as it hit his nose. He figured this was where you would come, being most familiar with the area, with previous knowledge of blackberry and blueberry bushes around. Slated green and gold eyes caught something on a few leaves to his right, his glancing almost too quick to pick it up on the first sweep. He had mistaken it for a berry at first, but that was very much not the case. It was red, for sure, but not the kind he wanted it to be. He watched it drop from one leaf, onto another before taking refuge in the puddle of vibrancy against the brown of the Earth. 

Blood. It was blood, and Noa scooted towards it, gravity taking hold on his actions rather than the usual conscious thought. He almost fell over, tangling his hands and feet in the dirt as he stopped dead in his tracks. It was more blood than he cared to admit and it smelled… Smelled like you, fragrant as usual, and all too familiar to Noa. it lingered uncomfortably though and it began to smell of iron. Fresh. It had to be, there was no way it would hold onto that without being spilled recently; at least in the last thirty or so minutes. The fur on his neck and shoulders were prickled, Noa found himself on the defense thinking about what your movements had to have been. What had to have happened. Were you found? Bludgeoned and then taken away? Did you fall and hurt yourself? You were prone to that Noa thought with a bitter laugh at how clumsy you were at times. Were you still in the area--- 

Your basket! He raced a few feet to the left, grasping it in his hands. There were contents inside, not many, but enough to put Noa in a whirl of relief for a second or two. You were here recently, he reminded himself again, setting the basket down on the ground after its brisk analysis. His mouth slacked open animalistically, eyes narrow with the metaphorical hunt. His hands and feet dug into the ground. He was focused, primed and ready. What was that? Noa’s head whipped to the left again. A sound. Not an animal he knew; not even that of Eagle Sun who must have been still searching for you; a true testament to how quickly Noa was to get to the area. He managed to beat his bird. There it was again! That sound caused him to raise his body and shuffle towards it. It was hard to deduce, but it was enough to give Noa a sense of what direction to take. Slightly to the east, right passed the blueberry bush that you had dubbed your favorite months ago due to the pure amount of berries you got in one picking. Noa looked at it almost tenderly, thinking about that as the leaves brushed against the side of his body as he clutched passed it. His eyes hardened, his mouth opened in defense, baring his canines to whatever was making the reverb that Noa was picking up on. It was either dangerous or not given the blood spotted. Given the basket that was abandoned. It could be another Ape, aggressive. The thought alone caused the fur all along Noa’s spine to spring to attention.  It was getting louder, more guttural that sound… Oh.

Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no.

The first thing Noa went for was your face. His hands were large, grasping at your head on each side, pulling it up from the rather awkward position it was hanging in as you had only managed to get yourself slightly propped up against a tree, at least that’s what Noa was able to put together. His first initial thought was that you were dead. You had to be, you couldn’t be, he was shouting at himself to pull it together but he couldn’t. The feeling of tears hit the back of his eyes at the very state you were in. 

There was blood on your face, he had smeared it artistically on his own hands before drawing his grasp downwards onto your chest. He left a barren red hand print there, accessing the skin of your sternum, hard with bone under his touch. Breathing, good, he took quick note of that, feeling the slower than usual pace of your heartbeat against the tips of his fingers. He tried to ignore the arrow that was jutting from your right shoulder with his movements, but it was brought to his attention when he minorly grazed it with his forearm after a feeble attempt to get you to sit up, sit closer to him. He wanted you near him, he needed you near him. As close as he could get so he could leverage himself up with you in his arms and get you back to his horse, back to the Clan… Arm under your knees, arm around the upper part of your body, careful around the arrow he had noticed, but enough for the Ape to help. He could pick you up with ease but stopped once he shifted to do just that. You groaned, eyes squeezing, instinctually, your hand raised and grasped at his forearm that was encased around your upper half.  Spurred by the hot sensation of pain rocketing through your entire being from just one simple move, Noa’s heart surged at the pure agony that came out of you. Okay, so… He couldn’t get you up. He couldn’t move you without causing more pain. “(Name)?” It felt strange to say still. Your name. It became such second nature in his mind but to say it…

Perpetual fear hit Noa but he tried his hardest to stay grounded, to put the pieces together. So. You were breathing, that was a plus. There was an arrow in your shoulder, not a plus. He was afraid to move you, another negative.  Not conscious to ask you any questions, your eyes were rolled back, only slightly open, another negative.. He figured you had no idea what was going on based on his call of your name and the lack of response, his eyes dropped down your body again, now laying in his arms lifeless, unwilling to give him a smile that he so needed now. Unable to say something sarcastic in that tone he loved to hear, unable to hold him in response…. Injury, he yelled inside of his head. Bad injury, he lingered, piercing his gaze into the arrow that had made its very home in your right shoulder. 

He gasped quietly at that, unfurling his hands against you before he dug his fingers right into you, protective in their stance. Noa finally noted the severity, no time to beat himself up over the immature idea to let you go alone for berries. He needed to do something about it. It was not a clean wound. The arrow went through, the arrow did not come out the other side of your shoulder, at least from what he could tell. He panicked, no idea what to do. Injuries were not his forte. They never were. He left them to the Village Elders who knew more about this, he left it to his Mother who soothed all his injuries growing up, even to this day he would occasionally ask for her assistance. “(Name.)” Noa’s voice was sharp, waving right around the edges in faltering resolve. He just needed you awake. Needed you to say something to him. Acknowledge him in any way or he felt he was going to lose it--- Lose you. “(Name).” Within a blink, Eagle Sun came to rest on Noa’s left shoulder. The bird was curious by nature, looking down at your body with beady eyes. Noa did the only thing he could process in that moment and that was to sign his bird to go get Anaya, Soona and his mother. He--- He couldn’t do this, couldn’t fathom being the one there to pull the arrow out of your shoulder. He’d make it worse, he’d hurt you, he’d make you hate him, he’d… He’d kill you… Noa didn't know what he would do then. He’d fall into ruin, destitute, unable to cope, unable to breathe with you… Without his mate, without his life and love and joy. 

He was--- God, he was weak. Never a leader like his Father, never a caring Ape like his Mother. He was… Weak… Green eyes bore a hole all along your expression, hopeful that maybe you were able to give him something in your teetering balance of unconsciousness as he moved the hand from under your knees out and upwards to cup the side of your face tenderly. He ignored the blood that he was putting against your skin and focused.  He needed to know what happened--- Needed to know who did this to you so he could tear their face from their body. Noa was beyond scared, now sensing the feeling of your blood against the fur of his upper body and his thigh where he was keeping you pressed against him. He was so scared, taking a few moments to tilt his head back in a bargain. He’d do anything you asked of him, anything at all, if you pulled a rabbit out of the hat. If your injury was not as severe as it appeared to be. Noa had a hard time really telling - Maybe it wasn’t as bad, maybe it was worse. He had no visible way to tell anymore. Eagle Sun’s squawk came to hit him, finally for once, Noa found it to be a good sound, often finding it rather annoying when the bird would bother him when he was deep in his own introspective. Good, good…. Anaya, Soona, Dar… They could help him. He needed them to help him. You’re so weak, Noa. He knew that. He knew that so well and watched helplessly as Soona and Dar took you away from him, resting you flat on your back and examining. They made a choice in silence. The arrow had to come out. It took Anaya to push him back as it happened, to keep Noa from absolutely crashing into his mother and Soona, to beg them to stop and that you were in more pain than he could bear. The screams that emitted from you were enough to give Noa nightmares for the rest of his life. 

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Minutes… Turned into hours… Which in turn gave Noa a full day of complete and utter shattered silence as he watched over you, your soft breathing that would rise and fall consistently, your twitching and muttering in what he hoped were good dreams. Or maybe, you weren’t dreaming at all and it was just a void… Noa tried to not focus on that, focus on how lonely and desolate it sounded. Dar, his Mother, had told him you’d survive. It was good when Noa found you, you had lost a lot of blood at that point, but good none-the-less. While her words were always reassuring to Noa, he took no solace in them this time around.

He couldn’t- not when the reasoning behind you laying so gently in the nest you shared with Noa was due to his absolute absurdity and poor judgment. You moaned in reaction to his fingers as they lightly placed themselves on the side of your face- Only fleetingly, Noa had to talk himself down from it. You were able to sense him, but you had yet to stir awake for him. That, he suspected, was due to a bump on the head, mentioned to him by his Mother. How… how small and fragile Echo’s bodies were… How even the smallest of injuries, a bump to the head, could cause unfiltered waves of unconsciousness. Noa felt sick again suddenly, replaying what must have happened to you in the woods. The sensation of isolation smothering all of his senses. Had you sustained a mild head injury from a fall? Were you struck by some outside force? He had no idea of knowing, but the obvious scramble was evident at the scene. You straggled, you crawled your way to the tree trunk after the arrow struck you, seeping your blood all along the floor of the woods and propped yourself up as best you could before the cold wash of oblivion must have taken you downwards. He could almost vividly see your hand marks on the tree trunk. You must have attempted to stagger to your feet but couldn’t--- Noa swallowed hard at that. You were just trying to survive, trying to get home. He’d find himself brushing his fingers along your body, anywhere he could, every few minutes just so you were aware that he was there. Much like before, his hand reached out and instead of your face, he lightly rested it against your uninjured shoulder, bare to his eyes as you had been stripped of your upper body clothing, well… More or less, your sweater and under-shirt were ripped off by Soona to get a better view at what had happened to you when Eagle Sun brought them to the event. 

Noa’s eyes couldn’t bring themselves to even look at your injury, rooted paste placed on top, along with a thin cloth to keep it unexposed to the air. Based on his internal clock, Soona would be there in an hour or so to replace the cloth with another... He was there the entire time, not having any time set aside to eat, to be with Soona and Anaya who he knew were waiting outside, unwavering in their friendship to him, unsettled in Noa’s choice of mate. To them, you were one of the Eagle Clan, and for Noa, they accepted you with open arms. Your blood still clung to the very tips of his fur. He hadn’t taken any time to even groom, how could he? How could he leave you? His mate. 

That loving notion that always wrapped Noa in warmth didn't stop the young Chimp from flying off the rails at himself. The stupid, so vastly immature mistake at letting you go alone. Had he been with you, this entire situation could have been avoided. You’d be awake right now, looking at Noa with those eyes--- Those eyes that he loved, that he found himself getting lost in from time to time, even in his own mind did he get lost. You’d be conscious, maybe even with your hand in his fur, the way he liked, the way that got him to pause and to come down from even the highest of highs. His hand had trailed from the rest on your shoulder upwards to your hair where he gave it a tender stroke. There was dried blood between the strands, he noticed and could hear your voice in his head. 

I must look like shit.  When can I go to the creek to wash myself? He smiled at the imitation he had of you in his imagination, it being rather remarkable. He’d spent so much time observing you that your tendencies, Echo or not, were well ingrained into his memory. How you would react to things, how he knew in this moment you’d be concerned about looking bad in front of him; a concept that Noa didn't care much about. To him, in any circumstance, you were beautiful. Even now… He thought quietly to himself and brought his hand back upwards to your hairline before brushing very gently backwards. In wishful passing, with each stroke of your hair Noa just hoped and hoped it would be the one that would spur you to wake. He hoped.

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Vil Schoenheit - Platinum Jacket Vignette

"Happy 100th Anniversary"

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Vil: I had heard the rumors, but this museum truly does have masterpieces from every corner of the world on display here.

Vil: There is an abundance of stunningly beautiful works of art here. This is absolutely worth taking my time to breathe in.

Vil: Oh, this painting… It depicts the scene where the Fairest Queen is sending out her retainer on a mission of great importance.

Vil: I can feel her dignified aura. The way she carries herself so refined enhances her beauty.

???: I agree, this painting gives off this overwhelmingly graceful feeling.

Vil: Never thought I'd ever hear the word "graceful" come from you, Jack… That just goes to show the power of the Fairest Queen.

Jack: Heh, guess so. I can't really see what you meant 'bout how she carries herself all refined, though…

Vil: Oh, really? I myself was immediately drawn to her outstretched fingers…

Vil: Although, that may just be because I take particular care in noticing specific details like that.

Vil: Consider the way you walk, sit, or even how you cast your line of sight… There are many points to consider when looking to exude grace and poise.

Jack: I can get straightening your back when walking, or whatever, but can fingers really be shown beautifully like you say?

Vil: Of course. Perhaps it'll make more sense to you if I explain it using ballet as an example.

Vil: If you spread your fingers, or open your palm, it feels incohesive.

Vil: However, if I carefully angle my fingers like this…

Jack: …! Woah, seeing it in person makes a huge difference. Even your arm looks longer.

Vil: Right?

Vil: This doesn't only pertain to ballet, you know. Every form of movement can be carried in some way to make it look beautiful.

Vil: A model's walk is one. On top of that…

Vil: I also take care in my everyday movements, such as how I hold my drinks, or operate my phone.

Jack: Eh, all that, too!?

Vil: Naturally. I would never forego any chance at training my beautiful movements with proper posture at the same time.

Jack: Okay, I can get behind that reason.

Jack: It's like how if you want to be able to move using the proper form, you gotta work on your core muscles.

Vil: That's exactly it. Train your core muscles, watch videos on proper, elegant movements, and verify them in the mirror...

Vil: By purposefully ingraining it into your body, eventually you'll be able to carry yourself beautifully without even trying.

Jack: The way you put in all that effort into being beautiful is just like an athlete. You really got that stoic discipline, huh, Vil-senpai.

Vil: Heh, I'll take that as a compliment.

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Vil: This work of art is supposed to depict the scene where the love between the compassionate princess and the impoverished young man is finally acknowledged by the sultan…

Vil: But it feels like such a harmonious moment. I had fully expected there to be more tension in the air.

Jack: Yeah. The story goes that the princess rebelled against her father, the sultan, and slipped out of the royal palace, right?

Vil: Indeed. As the country's princess, I'm sure she was constantly surrounded by guards…

Vil: There may have been times she had grown weary of constantly being surrounded by other people.

Vil: As someone who has been surrounded by the press outside my home before, I can empathize with that feeling of wanting to be left alone.

Jack: Does that mean you've also sneaked from your home out of the prying eyes of the press before, Vil-senpai?

Vil: Not at all. I would leisurely spend my time at home.

Vil: Around the time I was 10, I even built a secret base I could play in.

Jack: A secret base? Inside your house?

Vil: Exactly. I couldn't possibly deny the fact that some senseless people could try to sneak their way onto my property, now, could I?

Vil: That's why I made a safe little room specifically for me inside my home.

Vil: I gave it no windows, built each wall with stone, and stacked it full of shelves… I also made sure there was proper lighting.

Jack: A secret base, huh… Guess even you were a child once.

Jack: But even if there's light, I feel like a room with no windows'd be pretty depressing…

Vil: Actually, it's quite the opposite. That was the best environment possible for me to rest my skin from the sun's rays.

Jack: Rest your skin?

Vil: You are aware that ultra-violet rays can damage your skin, yes? That's why sunscreen is a must even at home.

Vil: However, sunscreen itself can be taxing to your skin.

Vil: That's why I appreciated having the peace of mind that no UV rays could reach me.

Vil: I could also comfortably practice my yoga that I've been doing daily ever since I was a child actor.

Vil: I could even read my scripts and practice my roles as time flew by.

Vil: That room where I didn't have to worry about onlookers or harmful rays was the safest place that younger me could have ever had.

Jack: Yeah, I remember kids'd get all in your face when you were out walking, just 'cause you were "Vil Schoenheit."

Vil: …I will say this, however, a majority of the people coming up to me wanted handshakes and autographs.

Jack: Ah, yeah, right. But still, that's still a pretty heavy thing to go through.

Vil: Well, obviously. It would be a grand mistake to mistake me for just any of the spudlings you see rolling around.

Jack: Heh, that's true. Do you still spend time in that room you made whenever you go back home on break?

Vil: Not at all. We would move often due to my father's work, so we live somewhere completely different now.

Vil: But, hm… It may be a fine idea to create a room that I can relax in again.

Vil: It could also end up being a great workshop to craft potions and skincare products, as well.

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Jack: This painting is depicting the Sea Witch providing consultation for a troubled mer.

Vil: What a wonderful smile. The lighting from below works to bring out her enchanting allure even more.

Vil: And from what it seems, there truly are people who would ask for counsel anywhere and everywhere. I'm sure the Sea Witch had had her fill.

Jack: From the sound of it, seems like you've had to give out counsel yourself, is that right, Vil-senpai?

Vil: I can't say I've intended to give out any counsel. There are just those who would ask me of their own volition.

Vil: I've gotten incessant requests for advice from numerous fans in the comments section of my Magicam account.

Jack: Can't believe people would just ask someone they don't know for help like that. There's a lot of pushy folk out there.

Jack: So then, what kind of things do they ask?

Vil: A majority of the questions tend to ask how they can become just as beautiful as I am…

Vil: But there are others who will ask how they can quickly become an influencer like me, or ask about other such useless life hacks.

Jack: They'd seriously ask those things…? Don't tell me you're actually givin' them the time of day and responding thoroughly, are you?

Vil: Of course not. My time is precious. I don't even have a second to spare for someone who doesn't know how to look things up on their own and would rather rely on someone else.

Jack: Yeah, that's the way to do it. Really no use for anyone to be asking this and that from someone they don't even know.

Vil: Seriously. There was a time where I received dozens of questions asking, "How can I get clear skin?"

Vil: Methods to improve skin health can depend on age, skin quality, diet… among other possible contributing factors.

Vil: For those people who don't even understand those concepts, do you think I would grant them my ear and provide them my knowledge from the fundamentals?

Vil: In order to achieve beautiful skin, I've endured my own research even to this day. There is no way for someone who shirks effort to achieve beauty.

Jack: I bet your studies into all that are super intense. I'm curious what kind of stuff you worked on.

Vil: When I first started, I would purchase different kinds of skincare products off-the-shelf, then test and document the quality of my skin after application.

Vil: I would also keep record of any changes in my skin based on the foods I ate, or the surrounding environment.

Vil: After that, I started to get a more in-detail look at each ingredient, while also researching different combinations of products that could be compatible with each other...

Vil: More recently, I've been attempting to apply my knowledge of potionology to concoct skincare products that would go perfectly with my skin.

Jack: Y'know, I've also tried a bunch of different proteins and training regimens, and even recorded how it affected my body…

Jack: But I didn't know you were basically doing the same kind of thing. Just proves you can't skimp out on that extra effort.

Vil: Indeed. And my diligent research will always continue on. That's because…

Vil: I can absolutely become even more beautiful than I am now.

Jack: I can just feel your ambition! I gotta make sure I keep working hard, just like you do.

Jack: …Oh, look at the time. I'm sorry I took up so much of your time. I'll be heading to the next exhibit, so excuse me.

Vil: Of course. See you later, Jack. Well, I suppose I should go off and look for more Fairest Queen paintings myself.

Vil: That painting… It depicts the pretty little princess of legend. I see she's picking flowers in the forest… How carefree can she be?

Vil: Even though someone of ill-intent could take note of the empty surroundings and make their approach…

Requested by @zexal-club.

[houseofanticipation]

You've always been an outdoor person. You're a camper, a hiker, an explorer. You feel at home in this forest; miles upon miles of trees in every direction, the only hints of civilization a handful of campgrounds and the odd ranger station. Years of experience have made you comfortable here, in the cool, quiet air.

Maybe too comfortable.

It's late morning when you first notice someone behind you on the trail. You don't see them when you look back. You just their footsteps, the sound of cracking twigs and crunching leaves. You expect them to pass you, as you're taking a pretty leisurely pace, but the footsteps always seem to be about 20 feet behind you. You start to get annoyed. This person's thousand-pound feet are ruining your nice, quiet walk. You step to the side of the trail and wait the person to pass.

And so do they.

That makes you nervous. You start walking again, and they walk with you. You stop, they stop. You begin to think you might be in trouble. Careful to keep the noise at you front, you take the folded trail map out of your pocket and begin to scan it. There's a ranger station not far ahead; if you can just make it that far, you might be safe.

You break into a brisk walk, and your pursuer keeps pace. This trail was made intentionally with a lot bends in it, so each hiker or group of hikers could feel like the wilderness was their own, without running into many other people. It means your pursuer can stay relatively close to you without ever entering your line of sight. You're close now, you recognize the little footbridge over this creek, so you break into a run, skidding on mud and dried leaves as you make a mad dash for safety. The footsteps crash through the forest behind you, and you're too afraid to turn around but you're sure they're gaining on you. You see the ranger station up ahead, a little log cabin with a green door, and you practically fly up the front steps, through the unlocked door. You slam it shut behind you and throw the deadbolt, sliding down the door in a mess of exhaustion and nerves.

The ranger station consists of a single room, with a ladder up to a small loft space where the ranger sleeps. You were hoping to find help, but the ranger isn't here at the moment. That's okay. Just the locked door on its own makes you feel a lot better. You listen intently for any sound outside, but all you hear is birdsong, and wind through the trees.

Then someone is trying to turn the door handle. The sound makes you jump, but you try to stay brave. You're still safe. They can't get in.

You hear a man's voice on the other side of the door. "Hello?"

You summon your courage and call back. "Leave me alone! What do you want from me?"

The voice sounds surprised. "I...I don't want anything from you ma'am. It's just...well, you're kind of in my office." You get to your hands and knees and crawl to the front window, just peeking over the sill. Outside is a flustered looking man in a ranger uniform. Relief floods your body. You let him in.

"Thank god," he says. "I'm not supposed to leave the station unlocked, I thought at first some teenagers had gotten in here and...hey, what's wrong?" He's seen the look in your eyes, the way you're still panting, the state of your hair. You explain to him about the footsteps, the chase through the woods, how you hid here for safety. His eyes grow wider with your every word. "Shit, that's terrible. Drink some water, get yourself hydrated while I check around out there." He offers you his canteen. You begin to tell him you have your own water, but he waves you off. "No, no, I can't let you use your own rations. I've got extra water reserves here just for unprepared hikers, I won't run out. Please."

You take the canteen and drink, sitting on a hard folding chair while the ranger goes back outside. Now that you think about it, you're actually incredibly thirsty. You finish off the ranger's canteen, and feel a little bad about it, but he seemed insistent that you should have it.

You're exhausted. It had already been a long day of hiking, and then you went and spent the rest of your energy running through the forest. You were probably overreacting, you think as your eyelids begin to droop. Maybe it was just an illusion, your own footsteps somehow echoed back to you by the forest. In the warmth and safety of the ranger station, the fear you felt before seems almost silly.

Your limbs feel sluggish and disconnected. Your head seems to be full of rocks. Your eyelids fall closed, and you're out before you hit the floor.

You come to little by little, slowly becoming aware of several odd sensation at once. The first thing you notice is that you feel good. Incredible, actually. You're having trouble wrapping your head around why exactly—you're having trouble putting thoughts together, connecting raw sensation to ideas or meanings. But you like how you're feeling, you know that much.

There's more to it though, because you also hurt, which you don't like. There's something rough pressing up against your back, and your arms and legs are sore. You're cold, too, colder than you've been in a long time, and a cool wind stings your bare skin. Why is your skin bare?

You open your eyes. You're in a forest clearing, a place you recognize. It's a popular camping spot, secluded but not far from the trail. You're on a tree—tied to it, you realize, that's the rough thing on your back, and the reason you're so sore. Coils of rope around your wrists are pulling your arms up and behind you, like you're giving the tree a backwards hug. Something similar is happening with your legs, and a rope across your throat is keeping you from pointing your head down.

You are naked.

The ranger is there, leaning into you, and for a confused moment you think he's trying to untie you, but then the whole picture suddenly falls into place. He is raping you, slowly and indulgently, moaning openly as he slides cock up and down, in and out of your pussy. Fear jolts you awake, your fight-or-flight response taking control, but you you have no way to fight and now means of fleeing. You begin to scream, thrashing against your bonds, but they're solid and secure. You're not going anywhere.

"Oh good you're...oh!...awake," says the ranger, still inside you. "I have to tell you, I thought you looked cute when I decided to follow you, but I had no idea you'd be this...o...oh, fuck...this good. I think you've got the tightest little cunt I've ever fucked."

Just because that pleasurable feeling isn't wanted anymore doesn't mean it's going away. With every thrust of the ranger's cock, the feeling builds inside you, threatening to spill over. "Please," you whimper. You can't cum, not here, not to this. "Please stop, let me go."

The ranger grins and looks at you. He gives you an extra deep thrust and you moan in spite of yourself, your muscles contracting and your pussy tightening around him. "Why would I...oh, fuck that's good...why would I stop when you're clearly enjoying this just as much as I am?"

Tears stream down your face. You can't control it now. Waves of tension wash your body, each one making you seize tighter, arching your back, straining your bonds. As the final wave crashes over you the ranger gives one last moan and buries his face in your neck, his cum seeming to warm your shivering body from the inside. You go limp, wobbly, all the tension draining from your body with the cum that spills forth as he withdraws his cock.

The ranger buckles up his pants and leans over, hands on his knees, panting. "Fuck, girl. I can't just keep that cunt to myself. People need to know!" He goes behind you somewhere, and you can hear leaves rustle. When he comes back he holds a stake in his hand: a signpost, with a printed metal sign attached. He shows it to you:

Elk Trail Cum Dump

The park thanks you for your patronage. Feel free to use this receptacle as you see fit.

"I had this made up a few years back." Says the ranger as he hammers it into the ground in front of you. "We've had a handful of cum dumps, but I'll tell you what, you're definitely the best." He looks you up and down, then steps forward and sticks his middle and index fingers up inside you. You tighten reflexively, and he whistles. "Fuuuck me that's good! Alright, I'll probably be back tonight with some friends. New cum dump always attracts some attention. Stay tight, honey." He gives your cheek a little slap and walks away.

It hurts for a while. The bark against your skin. The ropes digging into you. Your shoulders, supporting your weight for so long. But after your sixth hour or so it all just fades into a general, dispassionate numbness.

People walk by sometimes. You hear them on the trail and call out for help. They come, usually but they don't help. A pair of young women laugh and take selfies with their fingers in your pussy. And old man rapes you breathlessly while is wife rolls her eyes and laughs good-naturedly. A middle aged woman with a big backpack says she's going to help you out, which turns out to mean producing a vibrator and giving you the most mind-melting, earth-shattering orgasm of your life, before saying a polite goodbye and leaving you tied up.

When your bladder gets full you just piss right there. It's not a bad way to do it, really; with your legs pulled back like this, you manage not to get much on you. You're a little more concerned about what happens when you need to shit, but you suppose there's a chance you can hold it until you die of hunger or thirst.

A man with a bushy beard gives you a long look before leaving and coming back with a long branch, one end whittled barkless and smooth. He inserts the smooth end into your pussy and sets the other end on the ground, held up only by your natural grip. He instructs you to bounce up and down on it while he masturbates. It's a little thick for you, but it actually feels pretty good, and you try to put on a good show for him as thanks. He lets you keep in there when he leaves, as a way to pass the hours.

You fall asleep just as the sun is setting. You find if you rest your head against the tree just so, you can relax without it falling forward and choking you on the rope across your neck. When you wake again it's full night, and someone has built a little fire in a circle of stones. A dozen or so men are lounging around, laughing, chatting, drinking beers out of a cooler. And raping you of course, but you barely even notice that now. All it really means to you is that someone took away your nice stick.

The ranger is among the men, though he's out of uniform. He raises a beer to you when he sees you're awake. "Welcome back to the land of the living! My buddies here are loving that little pussy of yours."

"You shouldn't have open flames out here," you croak, your throat dry. "You could start a...a...ah! Forest fire." Your sentence is interrupted when the man currently inside you does a strange sort of twisting thing you don't quite understand, and the jolt of pleasure takes you by surprise.

"Ah, fuck you," says the ranger. "Which of us here is the park ranger and which is the cum dump? I know my way around a fire."

"If you say so," you say as the man adds another load of cum to your collection.

He's drunk, you can tell. They're all a little drunk, their words a little slurred, their movements a little wobbly. As the next guy slides into you, you nod at the bottle in his hand. "Hey, let me get a little of that." He holds the bottle up to your lips obligingly, and while most of it splashes down your chin and across your breasts, you get a few good swigs in. It's a party, after all.

When everyone's had their turn on you the boys decide to play a game called "Hide the Herring," which turns out to consist of everyone scattering to find objects, and then taking turns trying to fit them inside you, the winner being the one with the largest object that manages to fit completely inside you. You get several different rocks, some sticks, big chunk of frozen together ice cubes, One guy tries to fit a full, unopened bottle of beer in you, fat end first. It stretches you almost to your limit but he manages, with a bit of clitoral stimulation, to get it all the way up to the neck. He says, "if you can hold on to it for ten seconds you can drink the whole thing," and you agree gamely to give it a try. He takes his hand away and the whole crowd counts down as you clench around this bottle, harder to do when you can't close your legs. You can feel it slipping, little by little, but when the count reaches zero it's still there, and you let it slip out into its owner's waiting hands. He cracks it open and holds it to your mouth, and you close your lips around it. You don't want to lost any like last time. The group is so impressed by the way you open your throat and let it drain into you that they give you another, and another after that. By the end of your fourth beer you're definitely feeling the alcohol, and the last of the fear and misery of the situation falls away like the last remnants of a lizard's skin. Being the Elk Trail Cum Dump, you guess, isn't so bad after all.

The winner of Hide the Herring ends up being a full ten pack of hot dogs. The entrant opens it up, uses two of the hot dogs to pack the wrapping into your pussy, and then spends about fifteen minutes cutting the other eight into pieces and popping them, one at a time, into your asshole. There's a lot of arguing about whether using your ass is allowed, or if it still counts as one object once the package is open, but it doesn't matter to you. Being filled this full feels amazing, and you manage to convince one of the guys to fuck you with your ass stuffed like this. Chunks of hot dog pop out of your ass, two and three at a time as you cum, and he leaves you dripping, feeling warm and gooey.

You get fucked a few more times as they set up camp for the night. Everyone's cum at least once by now, so the loads are getting a little thin, but that's okay. You feel as though you are melting into the tree, becoming a part of it. When you wake tomorrow, you imagine your arms and legs will have grown into its bark, your hair becoming leaves, your heart and lungs and mind becoming wood. Nothing more than a handful of tight wet holes for hikers and campers to enjoy. With this image glowing in your mind's eye, you drift off into a contented sleep.

[merakiui]

RAAA STEP BRO CATER 👹👹👹 he would ask his step sibling to do suggestive things and assures them it’s just an innocent trend :33

-🌧️

YES YES OMG MANY THOUGHTS!!!!

(cw: yandere, nsfw, stepcest, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, stalking, non-consensual photography, obsession, cater’s so creepy and gross >_<)

Sb!Cater who’s the first to swoop in when you’re brought into the family, if only to get to you before his sisters do. He doesn’t want you to become yet another sibling of his who he dreads seeing when he must return home from NRC. You take to him immediately, warming up to his friendly, “cute” personality. Of course his sisters also adore you, seeing so much potential to ruin you—or that’s how Cater views it. His sisters shower you in clothes they think you’ll love, and each outfit must be cuter than the last. Cater would feel sorry for you, but he just can’t when you seem so genuine in your gratefulness. Are you really okay with his sisters shaping you into something you might not be?

Most days, you spend your time being shown around the town by Cater. He introduces you to all of his favorite, most photogenic locations. He even takes a few selfies with you to commemorate your arrival! This is the most excited he’s been for anything. Maybe it’s because you’re interested in his photography. Or maybe it’s because you actually listen to him and treat him like a person rather than some dress-up doll. At first he sort of hated the idea of getting another sibling (especially if you’re a girl; that would mean yet another sister). He can hardly handle the two he has now, so the fact that you’re much more of a relief compared to his sisters is like the biggest blessing ever.

Cater finds he’s restless on the days his sisters take you out. What are they showing you? What are they telling you? Do they talk about him? He wants to be the one to share things at his own leisure. He’s supposed to be the cool brother! That image will be ruined if you come back knowing his life’s story. >:( when you aren’t home, Cater finds himself poking through your room. It was mainly curiosity at first, but then he’s opening your drawers to look at your belongings and to see just what kind of clothes you wear. It’s nothing bad, he thinks while he’s running his own internal assessments. Your clothes are cute, but are they really you? Do you like this sort of stuff, or is it just the influence of his sisters?

He mainly snoops. That’s all he really does aside from scrolling through his phone to look back on all of the photos he’s taken. The two of you went swimming last week, and he zooms in to look at all of the skin that’s not covered by a swimsuit. It’s silly to think this, but you really are cute. He spends the hour compiling an album of photos with you, cropping the ones that include other people. He’ll add more to this album soon.

The next time Cater’s in your room, it’s to steal your underwear. You won’t miss it; and even if you do his sisters will overhear and insist they take you shopping. So he gets to be greedy and pick from the selection. Grossly enough, he fishes through your dirty laundry instead of the drawer filled with clean pairs. He’s gone before you come back from the kitchen, and you’re wearing that pair of short shorts he likes so much. Maybe his sisters’ influence isn’t so bad this time…

Cater’s added more photos to his collection. Some taken of you when you fell asleep on the sofa watching a movie. Some taken of your silhouette against the shower curtain. Some taken of you as you’re getting ready, your back turned when he stuck his phone through the small crack in your door after it was left slightly open. He’s gotten daring with each photo, straying too close to being caught. It’s dangerous and wrong. You’re supposed to be his step-sibling. He shouldn’t have these thoughts about someone who’s meant to be family. But he thinks you’d be even cuter if he had a chance to ruin you. You don’t need his sisters’ influence. You need big brother Cay’s influence (sure, he’s only older by a month or two, but that still makes him your big brother)! :D

He’ll teach you all about the pretty parts of your body you rarely touch. And he’d know because he’s watched you for months and snooped through your things in search of sex toys. It’s a little exciting to wonder and theorize. Have you even used your fingers yet? Are you truly textbook virgin (like his friend Riddle. Oh, if that’s the case he must introduce the two of you!)? Have you even taken a cock before, whether silicone or not? It would be super cute if he was your first time! There’s a floor-length mirror in his room. He can spread you open when he slides you down on his cock to show you just how widely you’ll stretch to accommodate him. And of course he must record it! Good memories should be captured in permanence, right?

[littlelesbinonny]

The Devil's Den

Chapter 46: In Which The Precipice of Wait Is Shifting

You can read this also on Ao3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46831621/chapters/142313560

How were you really supposed to know what you were feeling.

You were standing alone in your apartment that you'd lived in for almost 7 years now, and it couldn't have felt more foreign to you.

All of this was yours. You knew it all, front to back. But it didn't feel like home. The realness of that settled in your bones now; that you had made this your home, but it hadn't truly been.

You knew home now as being near and with Alcina. And somehow, reluctantly inside you, maybe even the underground. 

There was a tugging at both sides of you - the human world was all you'd ever known - but now you couldn't be more different - and what you once thought was the inability to fit in now paled in horrific comparison.

Did you even belong in the human world anymore? But did you really belong below?

Nothing felt real right now. You helped kill someone. A rather nasty person at that, but that wasn't the point, now was it. You, are not human. You were now charading as a character that no longer existed in a world drastically altered, even if just to yourself.

Surreal was a limiting sensation at best.

As you looked around at everything, the silence of the night held you while your mind went searching for answers and solutions for questions and problems that hadn't quite fully been presented yet.

There was so much you had to grapple with at the tips of your fingers but you didn't know how. Not a clue. Decisions were endless. Outcomes were uncertain, extensive. At least Alcina would buy you some time to try and figure it out. 

There was heavy doubt in your mind you could just return to your job and play pretend everything was fine and nothing had changed. There was no way you could sit in the dull, hum-drum, scheduled bullshit of office life any longer without the temptation to run away from it and know you could. Indefinitely. There was quite literally nothing to stop you at this point; you had no argument to make you stay unless you just simply wanted to.

And you didn't.

But were you ready to walk away?

Did that mean what normalcy of human life you were used to would come to a complete end? Would you have to give up the sunlight and walks in the park? Malka, Louis, your crows? Did you have to lead a life so much like vampires and lycans that you could hardly exist in the human world anymore?

And what about time?

Time would march on for you, yet it would stay still for Alcina. Were you prepared to make that kind of decision?

Your phone began to ring and it startled you, thankfully. But what the hell, it was 3 AM.

Malka's name popped up on your screen and you half cackled. That woman was nothing if not full of surprises.

"Hi Malka." You answered with a smile.

"Ketzeleeeeehhhh!" The older woman drawled with a gentle scolding, "your name isn't Lucy but you gotta lotta explaining to do!"

You started to chuckle and found a comfortable spot on the couch. This would be an hour long conversation, if not more.

~

Alcina sat hunched on the couch in her living room, forearms perched on her knees as she stared into the large black, crimson, emerald and gold throw rug at her feet. The ornate patterns and bold appearance was no real distraction from what she'd seen, but it was helping to scrub it away as the moments passed.

The experimentation room of which Dmitri spoke was located a short distance inside a much larger and expansive tunnel, which was dug who knows how many years ago, that was almost a straight shot to Miranda's lair in Connecticut to the cavern they'd discovered nestled next to them. While that gave them easy access to her manor with less time wasted on travel, it pissed Alcina off greatly.

This bitch was coming and going at her leisure right beside them the whole time without ever being found out. It had Alcina questioning if she had truly done this all alone or if there were other Elders or coven leaders involved. It made no sense all this construction had gone on fully unnoticed for over 20 years. Yet, she had to remind herself; everyone was conditioned to never question their maker under any circumstance, so in reality, it would have been just that easy for her to pull this off. Clearly Miranda had Salvatore's help during part of this, for how long Alcina still didn't know, but his time on trial would come as well and more would be divulged as time went on and Miranda's secrets were pilfered through.

Inside this dingy room, along every wall discarded like trash, were at least a hundred dead bodies. Mutants that had obviously failed their experiments. Some looked vastly different than the others; skin tones ranged from dark grey to white and damn near iridescent; possibly from a short decomposition, or simply how the parasites Miranda had used reacted with each subject at whatever stage of her testing. 

Since these mutants were drastically different than what one could call regular vampires, their stage of death was uncalculatable just by looking at them. Like the one Alcina had killed and they had observed many months ago, these bodies had hollowed and simply remained as is; dried, sunken skin on a frame of bones.

Though, this was just half of the morbid appearance of the room.

From the blood spatters and very apparent, gaping, slashed, and other injury pummeled bodies that lay tossed to the sidelines, the wide open space in the middle was stained with nothing but blood. The stone floor that should have matched the regular charcoal appearance was a glittering display of what looked like dried wine.

Without much else to go on, it seemed easy to assume that this experimentation room was where Miranda tested her mutants as to how well they withstood injuries sustained in conflict.

It was barbaric.

And it sent haunting memories of Alcina's attack many years ago by Mother Miranda to the forefront of her mind.

The woman was a brutal sadist on all counts. Completely insane.

There were no weapons to be found but that made sense to Alcina; why leave behind the real goods if this place were to have ever been discovered. She could only fathom what they would be uncovering in Miranda's manor if this is what remained here.

Alcina gazed at the myriad of lifeless hosts for a long pause in silence, then instructed Dmitri to find and prepare some kind of grave for them. They deserved better than what they received at the hands of Miranda and she would see to it they at least rested in a better place.

Dmitri agreed, then fell into a barrage of information about the troops he had at Mother Miranda's manor, the excavations taking place here and there, the gathering place he was having his people store all the findings, talk of the impending gathering between Clan leaders and everything else therein his extensive memory, drawled to a muted ramble until she excused herself from the scene. He had this in his very capable hands and she was starting to dread everything else coming down the pike. Quickly. 

And now she was brooding in her living room where it was quiet, sifting through everything, grain of sand by grain of sand. She felt like this wasn't even at the tip of the iceberg but she also hoped she was wrong. There was far more at hand than she desired and she was trying to pep-talk herself up to the challenge. The reassuring words of Donna would have to suffice for now; one thing at a time.

So many things. All the time in the world.

She wished someone would explain why this felt so suffocating.

Alcina slumped back into the plush couch and sighed out her frustrations and glanced at the clock. It was nearing dawn and she wondered how Donna and Angie's' excursions to formulate your story was panning out. She'd not heard a peep from her since their meeting in the courtyard. Only allowing herself a brief musing on it she rose and meandered into the kitchen, collected a glass, filled it with blood-wine, grabbed her pack of cigarettes on the counter, lit one, and headed to the turret.

It was amusing to her now as she stood in the tower peering down at her city, how one becomes accustomed to the sounds of the underground. While they did dwell in a vast underground cave, the sounds didn't seem to echo as much as she remembered upon her first introduction of the place. It had grown decently as well since her time here. Homes and dwellings had stretched far in every direction, filling up most of the empty spaces that once remained. Now as she surveyed the damage being repaired and busy souls filing in from the night from the caverns entrances, Alcina smiled weakly; oh how her duties became suddenly so much more impactful. Clan leaders would soon be all under one roof, her roof, and the nitty gritty of untangling this giant rats nest would be sticky and tiresome, no doubt. Though, instead of wanting to run from it as she would have in the past, she felt a renewed sense of eagerness. Perhaps it was the thought of you being by her side as this new way was paved; or perhaps knowing she no longer had the danger looming over her; or, at the very least, that you were safe from the very thing that dampened so much of her happiness and freedom. 

Either way, the thought of you kept the smile upon her tired visage growing warmer.

A rough half hour passed as she stood there in her thoughts until her daughters finally came strolling in through the manor gate, giggling and bantering, giving enthusiastic waves when they found her silhouette in the turret window. Alcina returned the gesture and meandered down to meet them.

They were in bountiful spirits as they regaled their mother with their tales of their night flaunting about the city. They, too, felt the changes in the air from the grand victory the underground had experienced and seemed more alive than ever. It gave Alcina great joy. It's all she'd ever wanted for her girls. Freedom.

Against her better judgement as she crawled into bed that morning, Alcina grabbed for the journal Dmitri had given her of Mother Miranda's. This was, of course, not light reading material before sleep and she was unsure she wanted to know what lie in the pages, in all honesty. But, as her curiosity would have it, she grabbed the worn leather bound cover and flopped it open, a page coming to view with her fine script. 

It read;

27th, April,

      Salvatore informs me Alcina has found a new pet. An offering that was unable to meet her end in the Feeding Grounds. I am as displeased as I am intrigued. Perhaps the time has come so soon -

"Oh fuck that." Alcina blurted, slamming the thing shut and tossing it to the bedside table.

Of all the pages she could have turned to, it had to be that one. She could only scoff as she nestled back down into her bed, finding a familiar scent still lingering in the satin that removed the negativity from her almost instantly. Not having you beside her, now that she'd experienced such a domesticity, gave her a heavy sigh. Being away from you seemed worse than ever before. But, dwelling on it wouldn't get her anywhere. She was exhausted, needed her sleep, and knew the awaiting evening held the beginning of the real work ahead of everyone, especially her.

You would be here with her soon enough, she told herself.

-

You and Malka had talked until the sun rose, then you promptly passed out on the couch.

It was around 10 AM when you finally stirred and peered hazy-eyed at the clock. Oddly, you felt rested for only a rough four hours of shut eye. Then an instant pang of anxiety hit you when you reached for your phone, but luckily there were no missed calls or texts from work or otherwise. You sighed. This was stupid. And then you started to laugh.

What the hell did you have to fear? Getting fired? Whoopty doo. You had a whole legion of vampires and lycans that were your new-found family, right? Or, at the very least the Matriarch who loved you and cared for you. You had options; you weren't stuck here anymore. Life could not have been more unreal. You smiled.

Finally staggering from the couch, you stretched and headed for the shower, but not before very persistent tapping at your balcony door caught your attention with a full smile now on your lips.

All six of your crows were there to greet you as you pulled open the door, the crisp winter air hitting you with a slap. 

"Hey!" You exclaimed, not a one of them hesitating to hop themselves into your room and perch wherever they pleased, "o...k..." you smirked, closing the door, "come on in, I guess. Make yourself at home?"

Telling them apart still wasn't easy, but you were sure Ebony, as that one was the largest, took residence on the back of your chair at your desk, flapping the winter chill off its wings while looking at you expectantly. Two were wandering over your bed, and the other three were strutting their way through your doorway into the hall.

"Uhm, well, let me see if I've got some food," you chuckled, following the three who had now strolled into the living room, checking everything out as they went.

The fridge was pretty barren and the mixed bowl of raspberries and blueberries you had were looking weepy, so you tossed those in the bin and kept searching. 

Flipping open the cupboard over the microwave you found a bottle of mixed peanuts, "score!" You hollered and pulled down a couple plates, spreading the nuts out, placing them on the table behind you, "c'mon guys, I've got goodies in here."

Sure enough, here they all came, hopping up on the ledge of the table and started eating, little coos and caws in your general direction clearly letting you know this was acceptable for now.

You shook your head, "alright, I gotta shower. No shitting in the house, please."

The smallest, you remembered naming Noir, cawed at you then promptly went back to eating.

Surely they could be left alone while you showered without getting into too much? Shrugging it off you went about your business.

When you got out, toweled up and still dripping a little, you made your way back down the hall and peered around the corner to check on them. The six of them had now taken over your couch. Preening and snoozing on the back like this was the most normal thing in the world.

You slow blinked and went back into the bathroom.

Ok. This is my life now. I am a Fae that has a murder of crows as companions. Or, familiars, or whatever the hell they wanted to call themselves.

Which made you all the more curious what else lied in your lineage, and yourself for that matter. You hoped you'd be able to sit down again with the blood arcane you'd found via Louis and get some real answers some day. Miranda's tirade lingered in your mind; you came from a mighty bloodline, at least she assumed, unable to live long enough to find out. You smirked as you wiped off the steam on your mirror with your towel. 

The future couldn't have been any cloudier than that mirror in front of you.

You sighed and finished getting ready.

It had started to snow as you, and your crows, ventured out into this chilly November afternoon. It didn't stick much, but the white was pretty as it dusted some treetops and ornate architecture hanging on the towering buildings. The flakes were small at first but began to get thicker and thicker as you made your way to Malka's, and by the time you'd gotten settled in, they were gorgeous puffy cotton balls tumbling down into the city as the two of you watched out her large windows.

Funnily enough, Malka had prepared a large batch of her village-wide-battle-causing butter croissants, which she generously gave the crows that were nestled down on her balcony under the tall umbrella she'd opened for them. Everyone seemed pretty content.

You sat next to Leo on the couch with your hot mug of tea cupped in your hands, trying to ignore the continuous glance of Malka who sat just to the other side of you.

"So, when are you going to bring your vampire to meet me?"

That question took her almost exactly fifteen minutes longer than you had anticipated.

You almost snorted into your drink but was able to get it down before you started to chuckle, "well, until I know what's going on down there with the clan leaders and whatever else, I'm really not sure."

"Ah, yes yes," she mused, nodding knowingly, "you are not nervous about it any longer?"

"Oh no, no I'm nervous as hell," you nodded, taking another sip, "but... I can't lie that I'm not intrigued more and more as to what goes on down there; who all these people are; what vampire hierarchy is like, and, ultimately... where I'll fit in... maybe. I don't know."

"Your Alcina is wanting you to move in with her, mm? Methinks by her side is where you fit?"

You eyed her with a smirk, "well... that's another topic all its own. We've got to get through a whole lot more first before I think that can even be... addressed, let alone decided on?"

Malka narrowed her eyes through her intuitive smile, "well my ketzeleh, until then, you must tell me more about your adventures underground. You didn't finish with everything that happened with Mother Miranda and I've been eating my nails off since this morning."

Chuckling after one more sip, you started to scritch the purring ball of fluff next to your leg and took a heavy sigh, "ahhhh yeah, where were we before I passed out on the phone?"

"The silo!"

~

While the evening was quick to sneak up on your time with Malka, she was gracious in understanding your need to leave to meet Alcina.

So off you went, birds in tow. 

The snow had disappeared and the city was a reflective scenescape; the dark pavement grabbed the city and car lights and held them captive in the murky puddles on the street and sidewalks. The crisp damp air mixed with the stark, refracting city giving you a smile at the seasons attire that would drape over the city for months. Winter was your least favorite, for its bitter harshness, but every once in a while you couldn't help but nod to its fierce uniqueness.

Streetlamps had begun to come to life as you hustled down your street and through the last crosswalk to your block, turning down the side path near the mini courtyard to head to the less common entry hall.

Until you caught the whiff of an undeniable perfume and your crows began to caw overhead.

You had intended to look over your shoulder to see which way it had come but Alcina collided into you with controlled force, holding you captive in her strong arms keeping you from tumbling over, and peppering your chilled face with her brilliant red-lipped kisses.

"Aha," she cackled lowly, rearranging you in her arms to look at you, "I much prefer to catch my prey in the wild, but draga mea, you are too easy," Alcina beamed, kissing you reverently as she swayed with you back and forth.

"Oh hell," you giggled, kissing her back, "I am but a wind-blown leaf and you are a mighty panther, what chance have I against you, huh?"

Alcina stroked the side of your face with her gloved finger and hummed, "a shapeshifting leaf, perhaps," she grinned once more, "and what fun adventure have you been on dragoste?"

"I was at Malka's," you replied watching the hint of narrowed eyes above you, "she needed to be filled in you know."

"Mmm, how exciting."

"She asked when she's going to meet you."

Finally giving into her desire to huff, Alcina arched her perfect eyebrow at you, "eventually."

You laughed out loud and pulled her closer, "one thing at a time, I know," you chuckled some more, "c'mon lets get inside I'm freezing."

Her smile retuned and she nodded, turning her calculating gaze to the complex while tilting her head, "you know I've never actually been in through the front of your building before."

You paused at her admission and slowly began to nod while you snickered. She'd only ever entered through your balcony door, as, well you know, a secretive vampire would do.

"No, no you have not," you smiled with a wilted laugh, grasping her hand a little tighter, "so come on then, it's time you had an official escorting to my door."

Alcina beamed and straightened her posture, offering her arm for you to take even though you were very much the lead.

Retracing your steps, you rounded back to the two sets of large glass doors, scanning your card through each reader that allowed you entrance to the simple lobby. Taking a right you lead your very tall, striking lady through the hallway towards the elevators, getting a good stare from the older woman who lived on the floor below you you'd met only a handful of times.

As the elevator dinged to the 17th floor, you stepped out into the very bland, terribly chosen grey painted walls, and waved your arm down the long hall, "my abode lies at the very end, m'lady," you cooed.

She nodded gracefully and played along, stepping in through your front door after you'd unlocked it and ushered her in.

"Hm," Alcina mused, "I still like the balcony, much faster, much more dramatic."

You shook your head through your smile as you took off your coat and plopped your keys on the table beside the coat rack, watching Alcina get comfortable as well.

"So, how is everything shaping up down there?" You inquired making your way back into her arms.

She sighed heavily, "it is only the beginning, and right now it's... messy. But, the good news is, Donna informed me early this evening that your alibi is solid, your place of employment has been contacted, and you..." she tapped your nose softly with her long finger, "are off all hooks for at least three weeks." She winked.

You retuned the sigh, but it was one of relief, "I really can't thank you and Donna enough. I've been dreading hearing notification sounds go off on my phone all day," you snorted, "last thing I want to do or think about is work."

"Well draga mea, free your mind - it is done."

The two of you took the pause to really look at one another, letting the silence settle you into a calm normalcy once more. Alcina planted her hands firmly on your waist as she leaned down to kiss you again, lingering in your closeness as all that lay outside wafted into space. In here, tucked away, you two could ignore everything else and it was so much of what she needed right now.

"Tell me, my love," she whispered against your lips, "you're alright?"

You smiled and nodded, eyes still closed as your forehead pressed to hers, "I am, especially now that you're here." Pulling back to reposition your arms over her shoulders, you noticed she looked a little frayed, "want to fill me in? I'm actually pretty curious myself."

"I do love that about you," she pursed her lips, grabbing you up in her arms and taking you to the couch, plopping down with you, "well... where to begin..."

Alcina then began in great detail about how Angie had redecorated the front of City Hall; the quickly advancing construction; Dmitri's discovery of Miranda's journals, logs, notes, and other deranged items that had been collected in her lair; the unfortunate experimentation room and deceased victims therein; fact that both her military and Karl's had been going nonstop since this all began against her orders to rest ruffling her feathers but overall understanding the necessity; the pending discussion of the trials for Ethan, Mia, and Salvatore; and finally the arrival of clan leaders. All of this taking place within the last day.

That was a lot. You had no idea how her fortitude for such responsibility was so impeccable.

"Wow babe, that's uhm... that's a lot."

Alcina agreed silently and stroked your leg, "and it's only going to get more chaotic."

You smirked, "Aaaand the clan leaders... how are they?"

"Mmm, unsure. I left before they could find me."

"Ditched out before they cornered you, huh?" You laughed.

"Corner me? What a thing to say," she smiled bearing her sharp teeth playfully, "there is no cornering me, I simply had much more pressing matters to attend to at the moment. They can wait."

The way her eyes sparkled at you had you melting in no time.

"So, as much as I don't want to ask... when do I need to be present for what's going to happen?"

Taking a pause to consider your question, Alcina sighed, "for my own selfish reasons I would love to have you with me now, but I realize this isn't an easy position for you. I believe that by the end of tomorrow all Clan Leaders will be present, which will lead to the Grand Council where the proceedings of what needs to be addressed will be finalized. I have little doubt your presence will be requested by all for that gathering."

You nodded slowly, "will I need to be there for the trials?"

"It is possible they may vote for it, yes. I won't lie to you draga mea," Alcina stated firmly, "these leaders are... jagged. Rough. I will do what I can to sway in your favor at all costs, though when it comes to matters as impervious as this, your role may be much larger than you might wish. But I promise you, you are not in danger, nor are you on trial. So don't take any guff, either."

Her wink lessened the blow to her previous comments but you were still a little unsettled by it. You were still getting used to the fact you were a Fae, let alone you were getting sucked into being a large part of the underworld clan of lycans and vampires. How was your life real again?

You sighed heavily and leaned over into your vampire, "so... after tomorrow night, that's when you want me?"

Alcina narrowed her eyes, "I want you all the time, but yes, that will suffice."

It was your turn to purse your lips, "you want me all the time huh?" You asked quietly, switching this conversation 120 degrees, inching closer to her, "like, all the time?" You questioned even softer, kissing her cheek bone lightly, trailing your lips down to her jaw, to under her pearl earring with a hot breath.

The shuddering desire that overtook Alcina surged gold through her iris's, and in the swiftest motion grabbed you, flung you under her on the couch, and hunkered down over you like the panther you'd compared her to earlier.

She placed her palm to your throat in a clutch that was firm and commanding, her nails digging just gently enough into the back of your neck that you shivered with wanting anticipation, and you darkened your eyes up at her. God, she was immobilizingly beautiful.

"Yes, draga mea," Alcina finally purred leaning down on you, her sharp teeth grazing your lip as her mouth mapped its way to your ear, "I want you all... the time."

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your legs went limp, "then you should have me," you pressed, egging her on, aching to feel her bite.

Alcina could not deny you anymore than she could deny herself.

With a wickedly deep, short chuckle, Alcina reached her free arm under your thigh, hooked it over her hip and sunk her teeth into your flesh and drank with vigor.

You moaned, loudly. White-knuckled you held to her shirt as she fed, sending you just as high as you hoped she was; feeling the throbbing draining sensation overtake you and throw you into a misty tingling pool of pure euphoria. 

Feeling the strength of your blood pour through her, Alcina lifted you from the couch with ease, helping you secure your weak arms and legs around her as she took you to your bedroom and laid you down, licking her teeth wounds as she wrapped herself up in you in the dark.

Being lost in the in-between of these sensations, you smiled as you felt yourself mold into your vampire, her strong arms encompassing you, her lips pressing earnest kisses to every inch of you, and happily submitting to the minutes passing.

"If I can sweeten the appeal of your stay in the underground," Alcina husked against your chest, "my bed has yet to witness the desire and passion I wish to give you under my roof of hospitality..." she grinned wickedly up at your hazy eyes, "so perhaps... just perhaps... you would wish to come and stay with me sooner, dragoste."

If you weren't as inebriated as you were from her bite just now, you would have begged her to take you now. But you knew her too well, and she would drag this on until you surrendered.

All you could do was chuckle breathlessly, "d-deal."

Alcina beamed.

[hiatuswhore]

The Game — Aegon II Au

♡ A/N: Something I’ve been playing around with. Someone teach me how to write smut lol. This is currently just a one-shot and unedited so bare with me. Please give me feedback, I’m begging for it.

♡ SUMMARY: Just another fake dating PR stunt. Your job, fix the bad boys image. Easy right, not if Aegon Targaryen can help it.

♡ WORD COUNT: 1.7K

♡ WARNING: Harsh Language

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“What was it like when you first met?”

You smile politely at the question, not a single hair sitting out of place. The gaudy camera pointing at the two of you gleaming. Aegon wets his lips grinning to himself at the passing thought. The interviewer looks between the two of you, and the question lingers in the air.

“You want to take this one?” Aegon asks, looking at you with a fond glint. At least that’s what the camera sees, just as it sees how you bashfully look away from him and toward the interviewer.

“We met by a complete accident,” Your smile beaming as you recall signing up for high pay, low stakes acting gig. Even during the phone interview you were certain it was a load of crap. “A friend of mine who works at Westeros Incorporated forgot some of their work and asked me to run it over.”

“She comes in wearing these joggers and hoodie, in a building where all the suits look the same. I couldn’t stop looking at her she was all confused and clearly out of place. It was absolutely adorable,” A thrift store hobbit, that is what he had described your leisure wear the first day you had met. His mother, Alicent had nonstop scolded him as his sister Helaena offered a kind smile and his brother Aemond pretended as though you were not in the room.

“(Y/n) as you likely know Aegon Targaryen has been deemed the bad boy in the press. Hook ups, parties, fights. Tell us about the Aegon Targaryen you know,” Behind the camera crew stands Aegon’s mother and grandfather, Otto. Otto had been the final part of the hiring process. You were invited to the Targaryen Estate, not home—a fucking estate. There you met all of the family. No one had acknowledged your presence, only when Otto called you into his office did all eyes fall onto you. In there you signed never ending stacks of papers from Nondisclosure agreements to medical information releases.

If the checks were not so dizzyingly high and the contracts signed were not so nauseatingly terrifying your answers would likely be different. The Aegon Targaryen I know is a lazy narcissistic asshole who is, “so misrepresented in the media. The Aegon I know is nothing but kind and dedicated to whatever he puts his mind to. He just tends to put his mind to some not so productive things as times.”

You turn to Aegon, leaning closer him as you smile. The interviewers awes softly as Aegon kisses your temple and you both turn your focus back onto the journalist. You both leave the interview hand and hand, all giddy smiles and sunny dispositions until the cameras gone, the doors shut, and prying eyes leave the vicinity.

Ripping your hand out of his you cross your arms in front of you, glaring daggers at the roll of his eyes, “We didn’t say anything about kissing my temple.”

“Kind and dedicated. Might as well have tattooed we’re lying on our forehead. Since the way you dress was not obvious enough,” Aegon scoffs. Before you can get another word out Otto speaks sharply.

“Enough. Good job you two. (Y/n) for Aegon’s birthday we’re going to the lakehouse. We’re going to take the boat out on Blackwater, paparazzi always capture photos for that so we’re sending over some tasteful bathing suit options,” Otto explains sternly, nodding your head quietly you roll your eyes as Aegon huffs.

“I’m supposed to be partying in Dorne for my birthday!” Aegon whines. Otto dismisses, without skipping a beat you grab your bag leaving the conference room. You take the elevator to the second floor of Westeros Inc before taking the private elevator to the discreet door. Pulling your hood up you walk flagging down a cab.

Arriving to your new apartment the manicured trim of the walls and marble counter tops still knot your stomach. Before the ink dried on the paperwork Otto had you sign, you had a new set of keys and a paycheck with more commas than you had ever seen before. New money, new apartment, new boyfriend.

Scarily enough there it was, several shopping bags on your couch. The bathing suits. Your schedule for the day empty you turn on some music, digging into the bags trying on the bathing suits. The black one piece accentuating curves with a snug hold on your body. Pulling coils of hair into a ponytail you clasp your gold snake necklace while taking a look into your living room mirror. Taking out your phone you play around with a few different poses before your front door swings open. Aegon walks in texting away on his phone as he stops in the kitchen, he grabs one of your juices before sprawling out on the side of the couch without bags.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You exclaim, eyebrows knit while poorly shielding yourself behind the jeans you had been previously wearing. Aegon looks up from his phone, his eyes trace up your legs before meeting your gaze.

“Otto wants the leeches with cameras to see me coming over here. I promise I’d rather be anywhere else,” Aegon says, turning back to his phone.

“Do you ever tire of being an asshole?” Your questions earns chuckle, Aegon focus stays on his phone as he says, no.

“Do you ever tire of complaining?” Aegon asks. You scoff gathering the bags before stomping off to your room. His bedroom door right across, oh right, the apartment stipulation. The nice Red Keep apartment will be yours to own, after the successful completion of your year long contract, fix Aegon’s image and the paychecks and assets flow. A therapist couldn’t help that egotistic narcissist.

You slam your door shut, dropping the bags to the floor you change into gym shorts and a t-shirt. Folding the bathing suits, you put them away. Sprawling our on your bed you let out a long sigh. Eyes closed you sink into the soft mattress, more cloud than bed.

The week passes with the regularly scheduled outings. Restaurants, museums, social events. At the Stark foundation Gala, you make small talk with Cregan Stark and his sister Sara. Out of most of the socialites you have met, you deem them the most normal. Cregan nods along most of the conversation as you and Sara complain about the media. Sara does most of the talking as you sip on some fancy wine you cannot pronounce.

“I’m obsessed with your dress, it’s designer right. Don’t tell me, Cersei Lannister,” Sara says, her eyes narrowed with a playful suspicious glint. The silk dress hugs slightly at the hips as it stops at your mid-lower thigh. Your back completely exposed, biting the inside of your cheek you cannot help but notice how Cregan’s eyes outline your body. The elder Stark towers over, his gaze intense but compelling. From the moment you and Aegon arrived, Aegon disappeared and you found yourself drifting closer and closer to the handsome Stark.

“Joffrey actually,” You says softly, chuckling as you smooth out the dress. Sara gasps, she takes out her phone texting away.

“That stylish cunt. I told him to tell me when his newest designs dropped,” Sara says, walking off with her phone pressed to ear you giggle shaking your head.

“All of this must be a bit weird for you,” It’s the first time Cregan’s spoke, his gruff voice sending a tingle through your body. You shift in place taking another sip of your wine.

“That your sister has a member of the biggest fashion designing family in the world on her phone. Or that their relationship is so casual she calls Joffrey Lannister a cunt the way I’d playfully insult my best friend?” You say, earning a chuckle. Cregan nods sipping his own wine, your eyes stay on each others a moment too long. The intense gaze sends your mind to all the wrong places. His hands large hands roaming, tall stature domineering, tongue d— “So how long is your contract with the Targaryens?”

You snap back to reality, Cregan still wears the same reserved look to his persona. Looking around the room, others still mingle without care. Cregan chuckles, “We socialites are all the same. I’ve known Aegon my entire life, this good guy for the right girl act is pretty dull.”

“So don’t watch then,” You scoff rolling your eyes you scan the room for Aegon. Cregan chuckles his demeanor never falters while he speaks cooly, “But I want to watch you.”

Cregan’s eyes look over your body shamelessly, “I want to watch you in that dress, out of that dress in all kinds of positions.”

Your mouth gapes as you process the words he says so casually. Before you can respond a hand wraps around your wrist, Aegon walks you to a back wall. A giant glass wall to your left and the rest of your party to your right. Aegon eyes are bloodshot and he reeks of tequila. He presses his body against yours, one hand on the wall above your head caging you in.

“You want to fuck the mutt be my guest but first we need to convince the press this is real,” Aegon says, licking his lip revealing the tongue piercing. His dainty silver chain shines in contrast to his all black suit, he looks undeniably good. The rasp of his voice captivating, and his narcissism irritatingly sexy. You take a deep breath bringing yourself back to reality.

“You’re drunk and I don’t know how dry humping me at a social event is going to help us,” You push off the wall looking down at your heels, you step left avoiding stepping on his shoes. The feeling of his fingers gripping your jaw pulls a light gasp from your lips.

“I’m not suddenly a fucking saint because of you. My grandfather said we have to convince the public, and they know me. The photographers outside can see into here, can see us,” Aegon says holding your face closer to his as he grins down at you. His other hands rubs on your outer thigh, lifting your leg from under your knee as he nestles between your legs. “Kinda like you like this, you’re sexy when you’re not talking.”

“Fuck you,” You whisper pulling your jaw out of his hand he captures your lips biting your bottom lip as he pulls away. The kiss steals your breath and the chuckle that leaves his lips vibrates through your chest to your core.

Aegon bites his bottom lip as he brings his thumb up tracing your lips. You furrow your eyebrows at him. The flashes in the distance confirms the photographers capture the moment from outside. Aegon interlaces your hand in his, before you step out of the building he smirks whispering into your ear, “Play the game Cinderella and you just might win.”

[ladylokilaufeyson5]

Beyond Rumours

Remus Lupin x Fem!Reader

Chapter Nineteen

Summary: Y/n is a Malfoy. A Pureblood. A pretentious, blood-status-loving Slytherin. At least, those are the rumours, but since when has Remus Lupin ever really cared about rumours?

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1.5K

A/N: hi! sorry i haven't been posting much lately, i had my exams which was stressful, my mental health has gone a bit downhill AND (worst of all) i am suffering from extreme writer's block.

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Y/N MALFOY

Friday, 11th of December 1977

I sat in Transfiguration, watching the snow fall rather than paying attention to Professor McGonagall or the lesson at hand. We were supposed to be turning our fairy cakes into fairies, and after a few attempts my mind had wandered. I knew I'd probably get chastised for it, but there was so much going on in my mind.

The first was the Yule Ball. I'd been so surprised when Remus had asked me that I'd said yes automatically and embarrassed myself slightly. I hoped that he didn't think about how desperate I'd been.

The second thing I'd been thinking about was Remus (even though the two were sort of interconnected). Over the past couple of days he'd seemed agitated and fidgety. He'd zoned out a lot and appeared to struggle to hold a conversation. Maybe he was having trouble sleeping, or was stressing about his N.E.W.T.s? I was sure he didn't need to stress that hard – he was the smartest person in his year, and he studied like it, too.

The third (and most frightening) thought plaguing my mind was my parents. I hadn't heard from them – or my brother – in quite some time now. Luckily I was staying at Hogwarts for Christmas due to the Yule Ball, and I wouldn't have to see them. But their silence was putting me on edge.

"Miss Malfoy, your fairy cake still appears to be mostly edible."

I looked up to see McGonagall standing in front of my desk. She wasn't wrong – the only difference to my cake was that it had wings, and was attempting to fly away. Unfortunately it was too heavy for the wings, resulting in the cake just wobbling around.

"Yes, sorry Professor," I mumbled, flicking my wand at the cake.

Well, at least it had a head now. But it was utterly terrifying. Regulus snorted from the desk beside me, but shut up after a sharp glance from the professor. McGonagall observed my cake for a moment longer before walking away, leaving me to throw it at Regulus's head, a high-pitched shriek escaping him. McGonagall didn't even turn around.

It wasn't just me who wasn't paying that much attention. Everyone was ready for the Christmas holidays, and it showed. While barely anyone in my year was going home for the holidays, every student was still buzzing with excitement. McGonagall could see this, and the usually strict witch didn't comment on any of it, instead just giving pointers and clarification.

When the bell for the end of the lesson finally rang, there was a flurry of motion as everyone jumped up and left the classroom, talking excitedly. I grinned at Regulus, as we left, excited for the holidays.

I had no idea what the next day would bring.

It started out normal. I woke up late, glad for the sleep in. I walked down to the common room with Lily, where we met Regulus. Lily informed us that the other boys wanted a longer sleep in, so we went down to the Great Hall, which was decked in Christmas decorations. Most of the younger students had left to go home, but those who were staying for the Yule Ball mingled around. Instead of the four house tables, there were two, leaving us all to interact. Luckily it seemed that the Slytherins had claimed the table to the left, so Lily, Reg and I went to the one on the right.

We stayed at breakfast for a while, eating at a leisurely pace, not worrying about getting to class. The boys arrived late, and I noticed the absence of a certain someone.

"Where's Remus?" I asked.

The three gave each other a quick glance, before James addressed me.

"Hospital Wing," he answered, spreading jam on his toast.

He raised his head and looked me dead in the eye, and I remembered the conversation we'd had a month previous. About Remus, and his secret illness. Had it flared up again? Once more, I was curious as to what it could be. Perhaps a recurring case of the Dragon-pox? It sounded ludicrous, but I was so hypnotised by it. I wanted to know what was going on.

Curiosity killed the cat, a part of my mind whispered.

I didn't question James any further, instead simply nodding in understanding. Regulus looked between James and I carefully, reading our faces and body language. I realised that our friend group had gone quiet, and that James and Sirius seemed to be having some sort of telepathic conversation.

Luckily, Mary and Marlene came down and sat with us, filling our silence with their energetic laughs. Well, really just Mary's laugh, as Marlene rested her head against the table with a groan.

"You've had a late start," Lily said slyly. "Do anything fun last night?"

"Party in the Ravenclaw common room," Mary replied, heaping bacon onto her plate. "Marlene didn't want to leave."

Marlene let out a series of grunts and Mary stroked her hair affectionately.

"Thanks for inviting us," Sirius scoffed.

Mary smirked. "Just not cool enough, I'm afraid."

Sirius rolled his eyes and Marlene let out another string of incomprehensive words. Mary seemed to understand, though, because she just chuckled.

"Don't worry, Marls. I know you only wanted to stay because of hottie Steve," Mary grinned.

Marlene smacked her best friend in the arm, finally lifting her head. She glared at Mary, but only half-heartedly.

"You know I was only there for you."

"And a certain Slytherin."

Marlene threw her friend a withering glare, but Mary smiled warmly at her friend before heaping food onto her plate. "Eat up. It'll make the hangover better."

Breakfast passed quickly and we all hung out in the Gryffindor common room, playing various games. James and Sirius seemed to be nearly asleep. The same couldn't be said for Peter, though – he'd fallen asleep face-first into the couch.

It was suspicious that they were all so tired – what had they been doing last night? They hadn't been at the party – they'd all gone to bed early, and Sirius had been upset that Mary hadn't invited them. Was Remus being sick tied into this, somehow? Were they maybe just up late, worrying about their friend?

It was just after lunch when Remus arrived in the common room, and smiled slightly at everyone before sitting next to Peter on the couch. The other three marauders as well as Lily all gave him concerned looks, but he shook his head subtly. Questions bubbled up inside me, but I kept my mouth firmly shut. I didn't want to make him uncomfortable – especially not in front of so many people.

Night time rolled around quickly and I lay in my bed in the Gryffindor Tower, staring up at the ceiling. Everyone else was asleep – I could hear their even breaths. I couldn't sleep, couldn't stop thinking about Remus, and his illness. What could it be? The thought plagued my mind, and I wished I had an answer. I didn't want to invade his privacy, but I was just so curious. Did it have something to do with his many scars? I knew he wore jumpers a lot to cover them up. Most of them were massive – there was one that stretched all the way from his collarbone down his navel. I'd noticed it when we'd gone swimming at the lake.

Curiosity killed the cat, my inner voice told me again.

I rolled over and faced the window, looking out and into the starry night beyond. The moon was full last night, and now a sliver of the glowing sphere had faded.

My mind drifted to James's words. Remus's illness, and that he didn't like to talk about it. I could never ask him – but I wanted to know. Why had it flared up, exactly a month later? And why had it taken him out for only a night? Why didn't it last longer?

The light of the moon filled the dorm room, and I stared up at it, trying to figure it out. Remus's illness, flaring up after a month, only his close friends knew...

The moon looked down at me, as if it knew the answer, as if it were mocking me. Mocking me, mocking me...

I was nearly asleep when it clicked. The moon. A month. The scars.

I sat bolt upright in bed, my eyes still on the moon, feeling much more awake now.

Scars all over his body. Scars from claws. The claws of an animal. A month since his last "flare-up" – or a whole moon cycle. From full moon to full moon.

Remus Lupin was a werewolf.

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[ghirahimbo]

Fictober 2022 Day 4: "How would that even work?"

Fair warning, this is very OC-heavy with some revalink sprinkled in at the very end ;) Not what I usually write, but it was fun to shake things up!

Pairing: Link/Revali (it's there at the end, I swear 🤣)

Characters: Original Characters, Link, Revali

Rating: probably G?

Warning: just some heavy kissing, really ;)

Brief synopsis: the maids at the castle see everything

--

It was a beautiful late afternoon, with crisp, white clouds cast like clean linen across an ocean blue sky. Pennants strung out from the tips of the towers of Hyrule Castle, fluttering in a warm breeze that invited only the most leisurely thoughts.

Throwing the windows open, Dessa surveyed the scene with a dismal sigh.

"We should have been done here ages ago," she muttered to herself. Glancing back at where her younger sister, Myriel, stood gawking in the doorway, she raised her voice. "These are the Hylian Champion's quarters, and he might be back any time now, so we're going to have to hurry. Save your sightseeing for another day."

"But if we take long enough, we might get to meet him!" Myriel said, eyes shining. Dessa supposed she couldn't blame her sister too much for being starstruck. She'd been the same her first few weeks working in the castle, after all… but Myriel would get over it soon enough, and this wasn't the time.

"You'd better hope we don't," Dessa warned, surveying the room with a critical eye. "We're meant to stay out from underfoot. That's marks against us both if we do."

Luckily, it didn't seem like too large a job. The Champion was a neat man in general, she'd found, and didn't own much aside from what the castle kept on display. The rug should be beaten out, though, and the room swept up. The linens needed changing, of course, with maybe some dusting done along the surfaces, but other than that—

"I don't think the Champion would get us in trouble," Myriel protested.

"It's not him you need to worry about," Dessa said dryly. If maids had a reputation for knowing everything that went on in a castle, then the housemistress in charge of the maids managed to contain the knowledge of every maid combined. She'd find out one way or another. "Let's get to work—and don't leave me to do the whole job this time," she added, shaking a warning finger.

"I'm holding the broom, aren't I?" Myriel lifted it up as if to demonstrate, rolling her eyes. "You always exaggerate these things."

Not for the first time that day, Dessa wished that her sister had been assigned to shadow someone else. No doubt the housemistress had assumed that Myriel, finally of an age to work in the castle, would do best with her older sister to show her the ropes. Instead, they'd fallen into the same pattern they'd always had back home, with Dessa doing the bulk of the work while Myriel prattled her ear off.

Sure enough, Myriel had only been sweeping for maybe a minute before she stopped, leaning up against the broom handle.

"I think the princess is going to marry the Champion."

"Can't hear you," Dessa grunted, hoping to dissuade her—though really, it was hard to listen while beating the woven Gerudo rug out the window. With each thud of the carpet beater, she watched a cloud of dust disperse into the air. 

To her horror, Myriel raised her voice.

"I said, I think the princess is going to marry—"

"Don't shout something like that!" Dessa yelped over her shoulder. Most castle maids might have gossiped like it was their job, but they knew well enough to keep their voices down when they did it. "Anyway, you're out of your mind. The princess doesn't even like him."

"She does!" Myriel said. "I saw the two of them together the other day. He didn't see her looking, but she was watching him, and— and blushing."

Myriel blushed a bit herself, understandably in Dessa's opinion. The Hylian Champion was more than just easy on the eyes. Still… 

"You're going to get in trouble peeking around corners like that," Dessa admonished, giving the rug a final shake before pulling it inside. Not her best work, but it would have to do for now. "Come sweep over here, would you? This is ready to be rolled out."

"I wasn’t peeking around–"

"Anyway, that's silly. Even if the princess did like him, he's not a lord." Setting the rug beater aside for the duster, she gave her sister a pointed look, tossing her braid over her shoulder. "You going to help or what?"

"He is a Champion, though," Myriel said, wandering half-heartedly over to slowly build up a new pile of dust. "That has to count for something."

…Dessa couldn't help herself. She lowered her voice.

"Can you keep a secret?" she asked, knowing full well that Myriel couldn't. "You have the right idea, but the wrong princess. The Champion is going to marry Mipha."

She gave her little sister a superior look spoiled only slightly by the feathered duster in her hand.

"The Zora princess?" Myriel wrinkled her nose insultingly, unconvinced. "What makes you say that?"

"I have it from a fishmonger out of Lanayru!" Dessa insisted. It was a good source, one she was especially proud of. She'd heard wilder rumors go around the castle than that with far less to go off of. "It's the talk of Zora's Domain right now, apparently. The princess there has been making him an engagement gift."

"What kind of gift?" Myriel asked, eyes glittering speculatively, and Dessa shrugged. So maybe she hadn't scraped the man down for every detail.

"Does it matter? She likes him, and he must like her well enough if she thinks he'd accept a proposal."

With most of the furniture dusted, Dessa turned her attention to the fireplace. Unused in the heat of summer, the impressive display of pottery across the mantel still required her attention.

"How would that even work?" Myriel asked suddenly, and Dessa spared her half a glance.

"What?"

"Well, she's a fish, isn't she?"

"A Zora," Dessa corrected her absently, lifting each finely worked piece carefully to run the feathered duster underneath. Myriel waved the correction away.

"Yeah, yeah. But they're basically fish, right? It'd be like kissing a fish." She stuck out her tongue. "Cold, fishy lips."

"Myriel!" Dessa said reproachfully, throwing up her hands in exasperation, and Myriel's own hands raised quickly in a placating gesture.

"I'm just saying!"

"Well, say less and sweep more," Dessa grumbled, glaring at her sister until she reluctantly took up her broom, turning half-heartedly back to her sweeping. Oh, she would definitely be speaking with the housemistress, and soon... though she'd have to word things carefully. She didn't want Myriel kicked out of the castle completely, after all—just paired with someone else.

"...Don't Zora lay eggs?"

Dessa sighed in exasperation, though a glance at her sister showed that, for once, Myriel hadn't paused in her work. She supposed that a bit of chatter was fine as long as they kept up the pace.

"I don't think dating a Zora would be so bad," she admitted primly. "They're... well... tall." Giant, some of them. Her ears went red at the thought. "You don't know for sure that their lips are cold."

“Kissy kissy!” Myriel puckered her lips in a fish-like expression, and Dessa groaned, almost forgetting herself enough to throw the duster at her.

"You're impossible! Are you done with the sweeping yet? We still have to switch out the linens."

Myriel was not, and so Dessa was left to make the bed herself. Hurriedly bunching up the used sheets, she resolved to make Myriel wash each piece of laundry they'd collected that day. Forget going to the housemistress–Dessa was going straight to their mother after this.

"Done!" Myriel announced just as Dessa finished pulling the quilted cover straight.

"Of course you are." Rolling her eyes, Dessa gave the room a quick glance over, fixing a turned-up corner on the rug and latching the window shut. The room had aired out for as long as they could afford to let it. "Now let's get out of here."

As it turned out, they'd finished just in time. Dessa had just pulled the door closed behind her when she heard the sound of footsteps echoing up the stairway towards them. Exchanging a startled look with Myriel, she gathered up their supplies, jerking her head in the other direction. 

"This way! Quickly!"

Slipping around the corner, Dessa had made it halfway down the corridor before she realized that she was walking alone. Looking back, she found Myriel still behind her, peeking carefully back around the corner.

"Myriel!" Dessa whispered despairingly. "What did I tell you about—?"

Holding a finger to her lips, Myriel gestured frantically for her to come, eyes wide. Reluctantly, Dessa set her bundle against the wall, sneaking back down the hallway as quietly as she could. This was going to get them both in trouble.

Following her sister's insistent gesture to look, Dessa peeked around the corner—and her own eyes widened.

The Hylian Champion had not returned alone.

"You're not even going to wait until we're through the door?" That had to be the Rito Champion—Revali, she thought. Even if she hadn't recognized him from the few times she'd seen him around the castle, Dessa would have known him from his royal blue scarf—a scarf currently tangled in the Hylian Champion's hand, pulled down hard to give his lips better access to Revali's neck. Voice strained, Revali's beak craned upward with what looked like a similar goal. "You've grown bold in my absence, haven't you?"

Pulling back, the Champion gave Revali a look. Even at a distance and in profile, Dessa could feel the heat coming off that gaze.

"Wellll…" Revali warbled in a voice that was probably meant to sound considering, though he was too affected by their previous activities for it to hit its mark. "I suppose you didn't forget everything I taught you with a bow while I was gone. That deserves some reward, don't you think?"

The Champion's heated look turned flat. Without looking, he reached back with his only free hand, opening the door to his room in one smooth motion. Pushing back through it, Dessa could have sworn she saw him smirk, pulling Revali along after him.

"Not the scarf, not the scarf!" Revali hissed—and then they were gone. The door slammed shut behind them.

Slowly, Dessa stepped away from the corner, feeling somehow mournful. The fishmonger had been so sure.

"Are you kidding me?" Myriel hissed, pulling back beside her, and Dessa blinked. 

"What?"

"With the beak, and the wings, and—" At a loss for words, she threw up her hands. "Now how is that going to work?!"

[neuroticboyfriend]

Hi, I hope you don't mind this ask, I just kind of- wanted a space to verbalize some of my thoughts on my complicated feelings about my own disability. And, idk, maybe this could resonate with some other people too.

Basically, I've sort of considered myself disabled for a little while, because, well. A disability is something that impacts your ability to function and carry out tasks and activities, and my abilities to do those things is certainly impacted. But I always felt guilty for thinking of myself like that, because most of my struggles felt like they only impacted the things I did for leisure, and it felt like I was being overdramatic. Even now, it still feels weird to call myself disabled, like I'm doing something wrong.

I say all of this because it's set-up to the fact that I recently realized that I have a lot less functioning than I thought I did. I am in school, and I have good grades, which is a large part of why I was dismissing everything. But I realized that I still only take four classes, and they're all decently easy work (as in, the intellectual work I have to put into them isn't particularly high), and yet I still rarely go to a full week of classes and can't do much outside of school once I get home from a school day. I do eat regularly, but that's mostly because I'm lucky enough to still live with my very nice father who's willing to cook for me, and when he's not around, I essentially don't eat food that takes any preparation beyond "open a container".

And. It was a very strange experience to come to this realization, and instead of being saddened by it, feeling happy and lifted up. Instead of being crushed by the weight of things I couldn't do, it felt refreshing to newly recognize how surprisingly short my limits are.

Now that I think on it, I believe I know why I felt that joy. On some level, I'd already known my limits, and loathed everything they kept me from doing, but I'd never really made the mental connection that those limits were due to my disability. In addition, it felt legitimizing to my struggles to realize that there was a deeper reason than I'd thought as to why I struggle despite having an easy life. (Of course, disability isn't the only legitimate reason why someone can struggle, but it's hard to apply things you logically know to your own emotions sometimes)

So. If anyone else is still reading this, I guess what I want to say is that it's okay to be glad that you're disabled, or for your first reaction to realizing that you're disabled/more severely disabled than you'd thought to be joy. It can bring you a sense of validation to finally feel like you have a reason for struggling with things most other people seem to find easy. It isn't selfish, and it isn't just "having an excuse to be lazy" or "invading the space of real disabled people".

thank you for sharing your experience; i relate to this, too. and this kinda reminds me of how i felt about being fat. for the longest time, i felt like i was too fat, and didnt deserve to take up so much space. it lead to me having a really distorted, hateful view of my body.

but once i encountered fat liberationists, many of whom were actually bigger than me, things changed. i saw them be happy and fight back. they taught me to stop blaming myself. the fategories allowed me to see myself in relation to other fat people, instead of skinny people through BMI.

im between small-mid fat, but BMI says im morbidly obese. for a while i thought i was just comforted by the idea that i wasnt as fat as I thought i was, but that felt fatphobic to me. until i realized, it was that i realized i wasn't too much, because none of us (fat people) are. all bodies are different, and that includes size, too.

the comfort ultimately came from finally being able to look at my body and see *me* - not the skinny person i was "supposed to be." i was humanized, as who i really am. in both cases - disability and fatness - its recognizing the reality of our existence that affirms us.

[kharti]

[ In Over His Head #126 ]

      ( first )

One of the approaching men reached out a hand to set it on the other’s chest, and both stopped their advance.

      ( Continue reading on AO3 or... )

One of the approaching men reached out a hand to set it on the other’s chest, and both stopped their advance.

“Wait, you didn’t know?”

Stede squeaked, “Were we supposed to?”

Ed tried to get a read on Stede, tried to know what he should do. He settled for positioning himself in between him and the men, just to be safe.

The crowd parted as Madame Raupert made her way toward them, concern clear on her face as she hurried to intercept the conversation. “My deepest apologies, gentlemen. I thought everyone knew what sort of party this was.”

“Can we talk in private, him an’ me?” Ed asked, reaching back to grab Stede’s hand. “Gotta discuss this, uh… turn of events.”

“Of course.” Madame Raupert gestured for them to follow. She led the way to a side room, home to a plush bed covered in lavish pillows that put the ones they had at home to shame. “Please, use this room.” She looked between them with a genuine smile. “While I do so hope you’ll choose to stay with us, feel free to leave at your leisure.”

“Thanks,” Ed said, and pulled Stede into the room.

As soon as the door shut, Ed took Stede’s face in both hands and tried, again, to get a read on him—but Stede’s eyes were distant, and his expression unreadable.

“Hey,” Ed mumbled, rubbing his thumbs over Stede’s cheeks. “’M here. Talk t’me.”

Stede blinked, his eyes finally meeting Ed’s. “I—I should have seen it.”

“Nah, Lamb, this one came as a surprise t’us both.” Ed frowned and moved one hand to comb his fingers through Stede’s hair, drew his fingertips down the shell of his ear. “Y’wanna leave?”

Stede opened his mouth, but didn’t speak at first. A small sound came out, a half-started word, and a flush crawled up from the high neck of his jacket.

Ed’s eyes dipped to take in the reddening skin, and his nerves settled a bit. This, he could work with. This he could understand.

“Y’don’t want t’leave, do ye?” He did his best to pour sincerity and love into his smile. “That’s okay, Lamb. Y’can want things. We just need t’talk about it.”

“What’s there to talk about?” His voice hitched and his eyes darted away. “That I’m a perverted deviant for wanting this?”

Ed leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth. “Yer forgettin’ that I want this, too.”

Those lovely hazel eyes flicked back to his own. “You do?”

“Fuck yeah.” He kissed the other cheek and smiled against his skin. He dragged his nose along the curve of Stede’s jaw and dropped his voice low. “I want t’watch you writhe in fuckin’ ecstasy as me an’ some other fellas get you off.”

Stede shivered, his whole body arching against Ed’s. “You—do?”

Ed took Stede’s hand in his own and guided it between his legs. “Does it feel like I’m lyin’?”

Stede’s fingers pressed along the hard length of him before wrapping around his cock through his pants and squeezing. “I suppose it doesn’t.” He looked up at him with the beginnings of a shy smile. “So, what do we need to discuss?”

“Boundaries. What y’want. What I want. What we don’t want.”

“I don’t want anyone but you to kiss me,” Stede said, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he thought about them. “I’d—prefer it if no one but me kissed you, but I understand if you don’t feel the same.”

“Yer boundaries are mine.” Ed grinned. “Never kissed anyone but you. Kinda like the idea of keepin’ it that way.”

Stede smiled a proper smile now, and he moved his thumb to stroke a small circle along the side of Ed’s cock. “What about you?”

“Mm.” Ed closed his eyes to relish the gentle ministrations of Stede’s hand. “I wanna watch someone else fuck you.”

Stede shivered. “And that doesn’t make you… jealous?”

Ed’s eyes snapped open and his hands came up to cup Stede’s cheeks to ensure their gazes were locked. “If someone can fuck you better than me, then I’ll shake his hand an’ ask for tips. An’ if he fucks you so good you don’t want me anymore, then—”

“That won’t happen,” Stede said with a quiet huff of laughter.

Ed didn’t finish the thought, instead grinning and pushing his hips forward into Stede’s palm. “What ‘bout you?”

Stede blinked a few times. “I… I don’t know if I can be as mature as you to shake hands, but I—I do want you to enjoy yourself.”

“Don’t worry, Lamb. You’ll be the only one gettin’ fucked.”

Stede’s expression fell and he pulled his hand away. “What? That doesn’t seem fair!”

“Didn’t say I wouldn’t have fun.” Ed grinned, wrapped an arm around his waist, and pulled him back close. “I’ll fuck you first. Get you warmed up. Show ‘em how it’s done, then let ‘em have a try.”

Stede pursed his lips, his brow furrowed. “But if you want to…”

“Not real interested in givin’ my ass up, t’be honest. Remember, my first time was with Jack—”

Stede groaned, and Ed chuckled.

“But maybe next time, yeah?” Ed kissed him, softly. “This time, let’s get some dicks in your ass.”

“You’re a marvel,” Stede breathed out against his lips. “How did I get so very lucky?”

“Could ask the same, m’self.” Ed grinned and glanced behind him. “C’mon, then. Let’s find those dicks or they’ll get worn out before we can have any fun.”

Stede flushed all the way to his ears and followed him over to the door. They found Madame Raupert waiting on the other side, her head turning to look at him when the door creaked open.

“Well, gentlemen, what will it be?”

Ed reached up to undo the top few buttons of his vest. “Are those fellas who wanted t’fuck my husband still available?”

Madame Raupert’s eyes lit up and her mouth curved into a smile. “Oh, I assure you, they’ve been waiting eagerly for this opportunity.” She gestured with one hand, and Ed followed her indication to see the two men standing nearby, sheepish grins on their faces.

“All right, lads,” Ed said as he slipped his jacket and vest off. “Let me get him ready, an’ then y’can both have your fun while I watch. First, though, a couple rules…”

  📚 view a list of all my current stories!

[nbkuhn]

The Siren's Lover, Ch. 4

Chapter 3

Read on AO3?

On Saturday, when Matty finished his run, Finch wasn’t by the path or at the bench. Matty almost gave up, assuming Finch had left already, and then he spotted a small figure floating in the waves, not far from the edge of the sand. He hesitated, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

So far, Finch had always crossed over into Matty's world, and this felt like crossing over into his.

But Matty was desperately curious about Finch's world. He shrugged off his shoes and padded down onto the beach to meet him. The sand was cold under his bare feet, enough to make him jump and wince, but he adjusted by the time he reached the edge of the waves. The water brushing his toes felt good, easing away the aches of a long run.

Finch was floating on his back, eyes closed, his hands resting below his ribcage, his fluked tail wrapped around one leg. Every other time, Finch had reacted to Matty's approach, but this time he didn't notice. He was humming the same song in a loop, without pausing to draw breath. His voice echoed further than it should have, resounding through Matty’s skull like sound waves shivering in the body of his acoustic guitar.

In the water, his true face on display, Finch was really something else. And, apparently, Matty liked something else.

He walked up to the edge. "Can you sleep in there?" Shit. What a rude question. Like asking Matty if he slept in a tree.

But Finch only opened one eye, black as a patch of night sky. "Of course." He brought one hand up to his neck, indicating the dark blue gills. "That would be inconvenient otherwise, considering my entire civilization is deep underwater. We don’t live near the water’s edge like mermaids."

"It looks—relaxing."

"It is. I don't really care for human beds." A small, secretive smile crossed his lips. "Well. Human beds are good for some things. But not sleeping."

Matty almost asked what else Finch was doing in his bed. For once, his brain beat out his mouth. Still, a blush crept across his cheeks. "You just might not have the right mattress, you know." He scrubbed a hand across his face. "Shit, now I'm talking shop. Don't mind me. I was studying all night."

Finch turned on his side, as comfortable as Matty felt buried under a pile of blankets. He stayed the same distance from shore without any apparent effort, near enough to speak easily but too far to touch. "I hope I've made it clear I never mind you. If not, let me know how I can correct the record."

Matty’s blush crept up to the back of his neck. He couldn’t figure out how to reply. Everything he wanted to say felt artless, compared to the way Finch put it. What could he offer someone so sophisticated?

"Do you swim?" Finch broke across Matty's thoughts.

"Huh?" Matty shook himself. "I guess. It's not my favorite kind of exercise, but I put up with it when I have to." He stopped himself, pressing his forehead against his knees. "I like swimming fine. For fun."

"Oh, good. Fun’s the only reason I do it. I respect your athleticism, but I'm afraid I'm terribly lazy. Most days I only come out here to watch the sun rise and float." He sighed. "When I left home, I didn't think those two things would be hard to come by, but the human world is built much differently than I expected."

He stifled a yawn with one long-fingered hand. "If you’re here already, I suppose I must get out. The weekday-weekend schedule takes so much getting used to. Underwater, our lives are dominated by the tides and the moon. We don't have our leisure and work times so sharply partitioned."

He paused. "Then again, I just said I'm lazy. My mother always scolds me for daydreaming when I’m supposed to be taking notes or making observations." He ducked underwater in a flash of long fluked tail, movement eerily quick, then surfaced at the edge and stepped out, suddenly so close to Matty he stumbled back.

Matty realized he was watching the water pour over Finch's teal skin and made himself look away. Staring was rude, whatever the reason. "Well, you're an artist. Daydreaming and distraction comes with the territory."

"Mm, not if you ask my primary mother. She has a schedule for everything." Finch pulled a towel from his black backpack and dried himself off. "Do you have to rush anywhere?"

Matty blinked. He hadn't been sure what to expect. Seeing Finch on the weekend felt… risky, almost. During the week, Matty could call it a coincidence. On the weekends, though, he was seeking Finch out on purpose, making his attraction more difficult to write off as the usual blue screen of death he experienced when he saw a hot person. "No, not really. I have more studying to do, but I figured I'd do it on campus to get out of my apartment for a while."

"If you wanted to go together, I was heading that way too. I have more work to do. Well, I don't have to, but I want to make sure my ambition doesn't get ahead of the time I have left before my show at the end of the semester."

Matty lost track of half Finch’s words, watching his more monstrous features slowly disappear as he dried off. How could he look so handsome both ways? "Uh, sure, sounds good."

If Finch noticed, he didn't show it, only smiled. "Good. Let me get changed."

Matty waited by the door of the changing rooms, restless and unsure why. Maybe because he was desperately curious about Finch's artwork. Or because this felt more personal than sharing breakfast or even their first weird conversation.

Finch returned in a similar outfit to Thursday, though instead of a button-down, he wore a black Henley, rolling up the sleeves as he approached. The muscles in his forearms were stark and clear, like diagrams in one of Matty's anatomy reference books. He wanted to know what they felt like under his fingertips, parse out the distinctions between flexors and pronators.

Stupid. "While I was waiting, I realized I never actually asked what kind of art you do. It's a pretty broad category."

"And I do a broad spectrum of things." Finch wrinkled his nose. "However, galleries prefer their artists to fit into nice little boxes, so I have to say mixed media or some such nonsense. It'll be easier if I show you." He started walking away. Though it would have annoyed him from anyone else, Matty liked the way Finch expected him to follow. He didn't have to question whether Finch minded him hanging around.

Matty nodded. "As long as you're not expecting any smart art criticism. I like museums, but I never have anything interesting to say."

Finch shot him a sharp look, black eyes gleaming with focus. "There is no such thing as an uninteresting perspective. Every person will look at a piece of art and see something different. For example."

He tapped his cheekbone, below one eye. "I see a slightly different range of colors than humans—more toward deep purples and blues instead of yellow-green. So for me, looking at a painting like Who's Afraid of Red, Yellow and Blue number one or two is a distinctly different experience than it is for humans. Are you familiar with those paintings?”

Matty shook his head, totally thrown, both by the lecture and Finch’s proximity.

"They’re modern art pieces—and what a ridiculous distinction, but if I talk about that, we'll never get to campus. The point is, they're enormous, taller than even my sisters, and infamous for inspiring, shall we say, heated reactions in viewers, especially ones not well-versed in art." He dug out his phone and  pulled up a picture: a variety of canvases nearly entirely covered in red paint, except for small stripes of pure blue or pure yellow.

"At first, I didn’t understand the reaction, beyond non-artists not realizing how much technique is actually on display in these. The reds didn’t jump out at me. However, I have a pair of glasses which alters my vision to a color spectrum closer to humanity. When I put them on and look at that painting, it is the same, and yet also completely different. All that red feels far more violent, the blues less soothing. I have a better idea of why the painting disturbs and unsettles people. But.”

He raised a finger. “Is my initial criticism less valid simply because I am not the intended audience? Should I need to change myself to meet the artist’s conception of his own work? At what point does his intent cease to matter?"

"Huh." For once, Matty didn't feel like he needed to rush to complete his thought or add something more interesting. At some point he’d stopped focusing on Finch’s nearness and actually absorbed his points, which was good because they were interesting. He took Finch's phone, studying the image results. "I guess I never thought about it that way. When I shift, I can see ultraviolet light—though it wouldn't be a lot of use to me in an art gallery. It makes for a neat party trick, I guess."

"Really?" Finch accepted his phone, his eyes wide with interest. "I would give my tail flukes for the ability. I've always wanted to do an installation with black lights, but they’re bad for my eyes."

He slid his phone back into his pocket. "The point is—everyone on the planet has something interesting to say about art, even if it's only what they do or don't like. And to be honest, I far, far prefer talking about art with non-artists. My peers try to make it into a competition of which galleries they've appeared in, or they turn self-deprecating and disparage their own creations. I cannot think of anything duller."

"You really have a lot going on, you know that?" Matty hooked his fingers in the pockets of his jeans. "You know what you want."

Expression suddenly unreadable, Finch glanced at him. "I do now. And I usually don't see the point in lying. If land dwellers want to call me rude, they may, but sometimes I really wish they could spend some time underwater. We don't have the luxury of prevarication, not when so many creatures think sirens make delicious snacks. Nearly getting eaten makes you more forthright."

"Well, hey, you can't bring that up and not tell the story."

Finch’s mouth twisted, and Matty felt like he might have said something wrong. Then his expression smoothed out into an even smile. It should have put Matty at ease—it was far more approachable than Finch’s usual intense stare. But it felt… wrong somehow. The way sometimes when Matty smiled at his dad in public, he was really baring his teeth.

“I’ve already told you I can’t defend myself. There are honestly too many stories to choose from. I was never allowed out of my mother’s or sisters’ sights underwater because they’d likely never see me again. My teeth and claws are too small to scare off anything but eels, and since I never developed my adult stripes, I couldn’t even signal for help.” He sounded so apologetic for something he couldn’t change. Matty wanted to ask, but he had no idea where to start.

Probably better to let it go. "Gotta say, you are not doing a very good job selling me on 'underwater' life. I'm happy here on land."

At this, Finch looked almost puzzled. "Of course you are. It's what you're made for."

Before Matty could ask what he meant, they arrived at the campus art building, a huge metal-and-glass slab on the western edge of the school grounds. "Come around this way. I don't want to pass too many students, or we'll risk getting sidetracked." Instead of entering through the main glass atrium—which appeared beastly hot at this hour anyway, since the rising sun struck the glass directly—Finch walked further down to an entrance tucked away in the lee of the building.

"I've never been through here much," Matty commented as Finch unlocked the door with one of several keys hanging from a ring clipped to his backpack. "I check out the vending machines once in a while, I guess. They’re less likely to be cleared out than the ones at the gym.”

"It's pleasant, if you don't mind the stench of burned coffee and despair," said Finch dryly.

"Oh, that's just college. At least it's coffee, not gym funk like over in the College of Professional Studies. You think they'd put better ventilation in a building full of jocks."

"Again, you land dwellers make me very glad I've never had a proper education sometimes." Finch flashed him a grin. The door opened on a back hallway, dim and crowded as opposed to the lighter, airier front part with the art gallery. "This way."

Most of the lights were off, though they sputtered awake as Finch and Matty walked by windowed classrooms full of half-completed paintings, sculptures, and woodworking projects.

"Here we are." Finch flipped over a sign on the door—the artist is out to the artist is in—and unlocked it. The lights came on automatically, revealing a room covered in bits and pieces of different projects: wooden frames flecked with paint, half-completed figures sculpted from papier-mâché and clay, paintings of single words in foot-high, monochromatic letters, yes, no, maybe.

Matty's tail flicked. He'd really been hoping he would be able to look at Finch's work and immediately respond with amazement or appreciation. But he couldn't stifle his confusion.

To his surprise, though, Finch laughed, delighted. "You look terrified." He walked over to one of the papier-mâché figures, giving it a gentle prod. "Still not dry."

Matty chewed on the inside of his cheek. "I told you I'm a rube. There is... a lot going on here, and I don't know what I'm supposed to focus on."

"Oh, is that what you're worried about?" Finch moved on to another installment, a tiny red door, which he opened and closed a few times, testing the hinges. "It's not supposed to make sense yet. I could hardly call myself an artist if you could understand my work at a glance. Eventually all of this—" he gestured around the room, "—will be assembled into a single installation. For now, I'm trying to finish as many component pieces as possible."

"Oh, okay." Matty relaxed. "I mean—the pieces are cool." He walked over to the yes, painted in foot-high letters in shades of dark blue, and remembered what Finch had said about his eyes. "So... what's the final thing going to look like?"

"Have you ever been to a children's museum?"

Just once, he'd like to get through a conversation with Finch without wondering if he needed to clean out his ears. "Uh... Like... a science museum?"

"Yes, exactly. The sort where children wander around and explore the exhibit, where they're encouraged to experiment and learn on their own timetable. A playground, but with more stimulation for the mind."

"Oh, yeah. We went on a few field trips to places like that when I was a kid." Matty moved on to the no painting, this one done in yellow. The brush strokes were thick and heavy, leaving streaks and artifacts in the paint instead of the perfectly smooth surface of the yes.

"Well, you see, when I was a child, my primary mother did occasionally have to go to conferences, which meant, once in a while, we visited the surface world. I was usually left with a babysitter or at the hotel. But once, she took me to a children’s museum. I was supposed to be interested in the science, but there was a painting class…”

His expression drifted as he got lost in the memory. “I was the only student, and the human teacher walked me through the entire process—how to mix pigments, gesso a canvas, hold a brush properly. It was like being handed the keys to a new world. The first time I was ever allowed to express myself.”

Abruptly, his eyes snapped back to the present, and he smiled, almost apologetically. He moved on to what Matty had thought was merely a block on a table. It turned out to be a mold, which he carefully tapped to pry apart.

"Anyway, I ended up with a skewed version of the surface world, all wonderful spaces built for children and other beasts. Imagine my surprise trying to make my living here. I’m the first of my family to spend more than a few weeks out of the ocean, so I had a lot to learn.”

He slid his fingers into the cracks in the mold and tugged. It came apart cleanly, revealing a clay bust of an anatomically correct human heart sitting on a stand. "At least one thing is done." Almost tenderly, he scraped away a few stray strands of clay still clinging from the mold.

"So... you decided to make your own?" Matty asked, when Finch didn't continue, absorbed in cleaning off his heart.

Finch started. "Oh, yes. My apologies. I was thinking about what color I want to paint this." He swept off another speck of clay, then unlocked a drawer on the table, full of brushes and tubes. "When I first started, I painted portraits, since it was the easiest way to make money, but I got bored. I became invested in the way an audience moves through a gallery—I wanted a more vibrant experience than some art on walls and some art on plinths." As he talked, he dug out a paint palette and squirted out a glob of yellow, the same color as the no painting.

"Huh. I guess I've never thought about it."

"Why would you? It isn't your job." Instead of a brush, Finch used his thumb, smearing a streak of yellow paint across the center of the heart. "I should let that dry and see if I like it. I don't want to have to repaint it."

He set the palette down and turned around to face Matty, leaning against the table. “So that's what I do. Or what I'd like to, anyway. I've only actually put on one installation, at my last residency. It went over—what's the land dweller expression?—like a house on fire, and it was far more entertaining than my ordinary showings. Besides, it provoked more interesting conversations with the students. There's only so often you can talk about anatomy or chiaroscuro. Sometimes, you have to get weird."

Matty smiled; he couldn't help it. Watching Finch talk about this was like watching a spontaneous jam session, hearing the artists fall into sync together and make something amazing. "And you’re obviously an expert in weird.”

Finch laughed again, throwing back his head, exposing the long, muscled column of his throat. Matty wanted to laugh too, but his breath caught in his chest. "Honestly, I'd be more offended if you said I was dull. I can take any other comment on my character. As we’ve established, I’m well aware of my own faults."

"Oh, trust me, that is the last word I'd pick," said Matty, when his breath finally returned. "If someone did, I'd want to know what kind of life they were leading. Or maybe not. It'd probably involve too many dangerous activities for my taste."

"Not a thrill-seeker?" Finch inspected the streak of yellow paint, clearly not yet dry. He moved on to a pile of wood scraps, arranged by size, and sat on the floor to pick through them. "I thought you said you were a jock. Doesn't a taste for excitement come with the territory? Or am I misunderstanding?"

The maybe was the most curious painting of the bunch. The letters weren't quite filled in all the way, as if whoever colored it had gotten bored and walked away. Or changed their mind about what color they were going to be. Matty tore his eyes away. "No, it can. But I grew up in a doctor's office, and now I'm learning PT. I see way too many people with gnarly injuries to seek more out. Shifting can heal minor stuff like sprains, but I’ve never tried with a broken arm, and I would like to avoid ever having to."

Finch was now laying out different pieces of wood in various configurations, apparently to make more frames, though some were triangular or many-sided instead of simply rectangular or square. "Can I ask you about shifting, or is that rude? I've spent a little time with other shapeshifters, but never griffins."

Tail twitching, Matty tried decide if he honestly didn't mind or if he just didn't want to say no to Finch. Was there a difference? "No, it's okay. From you, anyway. I'm sure I'll come up with a weird question for you eventually."

"Fair's fair." Finch hummed as he fitted two pieces perfectly together. "I won’t take offense, for the record. I know I'm a curiosity. When I was younger, I tried being upset, but it was a waste of effort. Sharing myself freely myself encourages others to show me the same courtesy, and then the conversations are far, far more interesting." He finished laying out the pieces he wanted. "Do you mind handing me the wood glue? I should have grabbed it before I sat down."

"No, I got it. Don't want you to mess up—whatever it is you're doing." Finch chuckled, and Matty felt stupidly pleased. He spotted the wood glue on a shelf on the wall behind the scraps and passed it over. As he accepted it, Finch's fingers brushed his, and Matty started like he'd been stung.

"'Whatever' is a good term for it, at least at this stage." Finch glued the various pieces together, holding the edges. "Here’s my question. I transform whenever I fully submerge, whether I like it or not, because otherwise we'd all drown. But I don't think it would be the same for you, would it?"

Matty realized he was winding his tail through his fingers and made himself let go. Though it was nice to do so simply because he wanted to look calmer, not because he didn't want to alarm anyone by drawing attention to his more beastly features. “It's not involuntary. But we do have to shift on a regular basis, or else... it's like if you sit in one position for too long and your joints lock up. You risk getting stuck. Or the opposite can happen, and the shift does turn involuntary. But as long as I change fully back and forth once a week or so, I have total control. Unless I get drunk, but I don't care for alcohol."

"So serious." Finch’s voice was surprisingly fond. The wood scraps he was gluing together hid his expression, so Matty couldn't tell what he was thinking. Not that he probably would have been able to guess anyway. "And is it all or nothing? I wouldn't think so because of the tail, but I shouldn't assume other people can get rid of their tail whenever they want. I’d keep mine around if I could."

"No, I can modulate it." Matty couldn't help the little touch of longing in his voice. Keeping his wings hidden all day, every day was terrible. "I'd show you, but I'd knock something over. I only keep my tail because putting it away throws off my balance."

"And we will get an awful lot of interested parties in here eventually." Finch sighed. "Again, I don't mind others' curiosity." Though this time he sounded more like he was trying to remind himself than like he actually meant it. "But my students know my boundaries, not yours."

Matty wanted to dismiss Finch's comment, to say he didn't care. Maybe when he started here, he wouldn’t have been lying. But it'd been almost six months of questions and stares and weird comments and pick-up lines. Like Finch's advice about Ruby, being reminded he didn't have to tolerate those either was... good. Sometimes, he wanted to whip out the fangs and the claws and get people to back off.

"Thanks," he said, finally and painfully inadequate.

But Finch glanced up at him, smiling. "Don't mention it. Is that the phrase?" When Matty nodded, too vulnerable to say anything else, Finch's smile widened. "Yes. Don't mention it." He set down the finished frame. "You can work wherever you like. Or leave, if you prefer. I can never tell if you're going along with me because you want to be here or because you're too polite to tell me no."

"I want to be here," Matty blurted, then immediately turned his back to dig through his stuff. He didn't mean to sound so pathetic. “I usually go up to the top floor and hide in the bookshelves so no one bothers me, but there'll be fewer people in your studio."

Matty decided to stop wasting time and actually get out his books, before he thought of something else to say, anything else, to keep Finch talking to him. Earlier, he had thought the room was so warm, but now goose flesh sprouted all over his arms. He rubbed it away, then claimed the least-cluttered table for his studies, though he still had to move aside a large tub of holographic glitter and a few sheets of construction paper.

***

Despite Finch's warning, they were mostly undisturbed, but a student did show up a few hours later, knocking lightly on the door before he entered. He was human, with enormous glasses covering most of his face. "Professor—" His eyes landed on Matty, and he stopped, even though he was doing his best to appear friendly. He was never sure if it worked around humans who didn't know him. The eyes unsettled them. And people always insisted he didn't blink enough.

"I told you, Lee, I don't actually have any accreditations to my name." Though Finch didn't look up from the clay heart, his tone was gentle. He was inspecting a diagram, carefully adding in detail to match the outlines of the atria and ventricles. "No one will shriek in horror if you call me Finch, and it will put my colleagues at ease. They hiss like wet cats when anyone assumes I have a degree."

By Lee's expression, he was not ever going to call Finch by name. "Uh—well, I don't want to interrupt." He glanced at Matty, and Matty realized he wasn't afraid of him. He thought...

Well, probably the same thing as the people in the diner the other day. That they were dating, or walking in that direction. The idea tightened his chest with what he was only beginning to recognize as longing. He dropped his gaze before he freaked Lee out.

"If you were interrupting, I wouldn't have turned the sign to open." Finch dabbed another streak of blue paint on the heart, then set down his brush and turned to face him. His forearms and hands were streaked with all different colors, as were his jeans. "Is there something you need me for, or did you come to work?"

"I was—wondering if you'd look at some of my concept sketches. Before I get too far along in the process, I mean." Lee pulled a sketchpad from his backpack but kept it against his chest, like he was expecting Finch to say no.

But Finch hopped up on the table. "Let me have a look. Pull a stool over there if you like."

Lee's eyes flicked in the direction of the stool, as if moving even a few inches to grab it was completely terrifying, then passed over the pad. “I know it’s all really rough—” Lee began, but Finch lifted his head, frowning at him the same way he frowned at Matty.

“Lee, you know the rules.” He tipped his chin down, and Lee sighed, twisting his hands together behind his back.

“It’s still in the early stages, I mean,” he muttered, his tone indicating a practiced phrase. “I’m just—not sure if any of it is any good.”

Finch pinned him with a firm stare. “If you were not talented, you would not be in my class. What have I told you?”

“Doubt is the enemy of art?” Lee asked, not like he wasn’t sure of the phrase, but like he wasn’t sure how it applied.

Finch nodded. “I can see these were done without doubt in the confidence of your lines. Even if it needs refining, the essence of your vision is here. And I am here to help you with the refining. It is my responsibility, but it is also my pleasure. What you've sketched out here should make for a truly fascinating effect."

"But I don't actually know how to make it work," Lee blurted. "I can paint the pictures, but I’ve never made mirrors before, and I don’t know if the light will bounce like I want. Maybe I should scale back—I'm going to be pushing deadlines to finish all these pieces by the time of the show, much less figuring out—”

Finch held up a hand, and Lee went quiet, watching him intently even as he turned his fingers in knots. "I can help you with that, actually. You already have the dimensions of the room written here, and I assume you have a size for the mirrors, so we can figure out the light’s path. It's just physics. Do you have your phone on you? I left mine—somewhere."

Lee pulled his out, looking skeptical, but Finch continued. "Do me a favor and google the angle of refraction for glass." Clearly baffled, Lee typed it in. "Can I make some marks on your sketch? Good. This will be quite a bit of math, and it may not all stand up to the real world, but it will give us a rough idea.”

Matty tried to sink back into his homework, but he couldn't help glancing up now and again, listening to Finch's soft encouragement as he flipped through the sketchpad. He was just... so gentle. And Lee slowly relaxed, his posture opening as he leaned around to watch and make notes of his own. By the time they'd moved through his ideas, he'd joined Finch on the table, nodding along as Finch offered advice and gentle critique.

"Why did it sound so complicated when I was trying to figure it out and so easy when you did it?" Then Lee clapped a hand over his mouth. "Because—you have a lot of experience—"

Finch shot him a quelling look, and Lee put his hand down, blushing. "Because my mother is a scientist, so I happen to have experience in this. This doesn't mean you were wrong not to know it. It means you were correct to come to me for help."

Lee smiled shyly. "So you really think this might work?"

"If you discover unexpected snags, you can always come back to me. More importantly, you have the skills to do this." He smiled, his hand coming up to cover his teeth. "Also, I want to see it, which is a less important reason, but still part of my motivation for encouraging you."

"Okay. I'll keep that in mind."

Matty hadn't looked down at his own work in almost five minutes, just watching them. He dropped his eyes, but the words in his notebook blurred, the world nothing more than the soft sound of Finch's deep voice and Lee's softer answers.

If he didn’t find something to do with his hands, he would get himself in trouble. He tore a new piece of paper from his notebook, then folded one corner up to make a perfect square and tore off the excess. The rest of the movements came so naturally he didn’t miss a word of their conversation, but at least he wasn’t worried he would stare.

"Thank you," Lee said when he hopped off the table.

"You were on the right track, merely setting out to take the long path instead of the shortcut. What's the expression? Work smarter, not harder?"

Lee actually laughed. "Watch out. By the end of the semester, you'll be talking like a land dweller."

"Perish the thought."

Lee waved, then ducked out of the room, shutting the door carefully so it made almost no sound.

"I'm surprised he's the only one who showed up so far," Finch commented, returning to his heart. He studied it, then shook his head and started cleaning up his materials. "Usually, it's more crowded."

"Well, this weekend is Homecoming. They’re probably all sleeping off hangovers." Matty wondered if he should give up his studying as a bad job. Whenever he resorted to origami, his focus was gone. Honestly, he wanted to go for another run. He didn't know what else to do with the wad of feeling sitting inside him.

Cocking his head, Finch paused. "My students tried to explain the holiday, but I still don't think I understand. I thought they were exaggerating. But you land dwellers take every opportunity to intoxicate yourselves, don't you?" There was no judgment in his voice, only confusion.

"Mostly, yeah. Not me, though. I don’t enjoy puking my guts out." His hands stilled on his second paper star, remembering who he’d shared his first beer with. Who had taught him to make these in the first place, given him the outlet for his permanently restless hands.

He could see her so clearly, pushing her dark red hair out of her eyes as she bent over her desk, her tongue poking between her teeth, her lips curled in a permanent smirk. Freckles all over her cheeks and hands, wickedness in her eyes.

He was definitely going for a run.

"What on earth do you do for fun?" Finch was only teasing as he replaced his things, but the question stung, probably because Matty was already feeling so weird.

"Not much, if you ask my roommates. I'm boring."

Finch turned his head to study Matty's expression, and Matty ducked his head, cursing himself for being so obvious. "I'm not certain if I could say I know you yet. But boring is the last word I'd pick for you too."

Finch approached him, but now he wasn’t paying attention to Matty. He picked up one of the paper stars, formerly Matty’s anatomy notes, and inspected it with the same care and attention Matty had tried to give his paintings, like they were worthy of close study instead of toys he could dash off in less than a minute.

Finch looked up now, without seeming to notice their faces were only inches apart. “What are these, Matthias?”

Oh, he should not have been allowed to say Matty’s full name so near his breath brushed against Matty’s cheek. “Uh—you’ve never seen paper stars before?” Then he kicked himself. “Duh. They probably don’t have a ton of scrap paper in the ocean.”

Finch shook his head. “Is that what these are? Scraps?” A challenge lurked in his voice, like when he was speaking to Lee.

Even though the answer was yes, Matty rose to the bait, the same way he could never resist the urge to climb something high. “It’s origami. It helps me think.” He tore a blank sheet of paper and repeated the same steps: fold one corner to the opposite edge to form a perfect square, then fold, and fold, and fold again.

He held the finished star up for Finch’s inspection, and Finch took it, gaze intent as a jeweler’s assessing a stone. His eyes slid back to Matty’s; he had not moved an inch.

Under Finch’s gaze, Matty began to understand why his own attention unsettled humans. Finch could say he was small and weak all he wanted, but he could take Matty apart with no effort at all.

The scary thing was Matty probably wouldn’t stop him.

“Would you show me how?” Finch asked.

Matty wanted to say no, but then Finch would fix him with one of those looks he was coming to like and dislike in equal measures—like because he would do anything for Finch’s attention, dislike because he was afraid of anything reminding Finch of the unbridgeable distance between them. Finch could make speech upon speech about the worthiness of Matty’s perception, but Matty knew he wasn’t good enough for him.

But Finch was daring him, and Matty couldn’t say no to a dare, just like he couldn’t ignore the electricity in the air between them, so close together.

“Sure. Hang on.” Matty made two more pieces of square paper and passed one to Finch, then walked him through the steps, slower and more precisely than if he had been doing it himself.

When they finished, Finch inspected his own star with the same critical assessment he’d given his clay heart, then glanced at Matty’s notebook. “Help yourself.” Matty pushed it toward him.

Finch copied his steps exactly and came out with a much neater final product.

“Wow, you’re a fast learner.” Matty cringed at the inane comment, but Finch shrugged.

“For this sort of thing, maybe.” Before Matty could ask what he meant, he glanced at their combined pile of paper stars. “Can I have these? They’re giving me an idea, but I need to think about it some more before I do anything else.”

“Sure.” Matty swept them toward Finch. He could always recopy his notes later; it wasn’t like he had actually absorbed any of them.

“Not very attached, are you?” Finch cupped the whole pile in his hands.

“It’s about making them more than having them. It keeps my hands out of trouble.”

Laughing under his breath, Finch met his eyes again. “Oh? And what kind of trouble do you usually get up to, Matthias Beckett? You don’t drink, don’t stay out late, don’t party.”

Matty froze. Finch had gotten closer now, more than close enough for Matty to lean forward and—

What, kiss him?

He could picture it so clearly, more clearly than he saw the room right now: leaning across the table, erasing the distance between them, Finch dropping the stars to dig his hands into Matthias’s hair or grip his shirt instead, and—

And then what? For fuck’s sake. Finch was a sea beast, and Matty would move back home when he had his grad school diploma in hand. Kissing him would be as pointless as asking Ruby about her day and expecting an answer instead of endless silence. 

He swallowed and moved away, and the moment popped like a soap bubble. “I don’t. I just told you I’m boring.”

He looked down at his notebook, but though he could remember writing them, his words meant nothing. "Shit, what time is it?" He pretended to glance at his watch, even though there was a large, colorful clock over the door. "I need to get going. I'm meeting my cohort for a study—thing." He wasn't lying, though he wasn't meeting them until much later. Presumably, they would drill some flashcards, between shots Matty didn't drink and awkward flirting Matty never participated in.

If Finch could tell he was lying, he didn't show it, though he hadn’t moved, like he was still waiting for Matthias to take the kiss he’d imagined. "Oh, of course. The day got away from me too." His tone softened slightly. "Will I see you tomorrow?" "Yeah," Matty said, mouth dry. "'Course you will." Then he grabbed his stuff and fled like the coward he was.

[titanicsimp]

Mine, his, ours

Pairing: Zeke Yeager x Female!reader/Porco Galliard x reader/Reiner Braun x reader

Genres: Smut

Warnings: Sexual content including; gangbang, vaginal and anal sex, oral, cockwarming, creampies, fingering, double and triple penetration.

Summary: Zeke asks you to join him during a meeting with Porco and Reiner, but you never imagined he did so to tease you in front of them.

A/N: Shoutout to @pandorasbox126 for letting me spitball this idea to her 😌 like two weeks ago already but still

The Warriors meetings were usually a private affair, reserved only for its members, but you had just been invited.

It had surprised you when Zeke told you he would like you to come along with him to the meeting later that day. You had been going out with him for over half a year, and you had never been to one. You of course had accepted, excited to get closer to the others.

The building was almost completely cleared up when you arrived. You didn’t think anything odd of it, it was quite late after all. The Warriors had a busy schedule so late night meetings had happened once or twice before if you recalled correctly.

Zeke gives you a smile as you approach, greeting you excitedly. “There you are. Come on, the others are already waiting.” He tells you and throws an arm over your shoulder.

You glance around the empty hallways curiously as he leads you to the meeting room. It’s all pretty plain and clean, you aren’t sure what else you expected.

When you and Zeke stand outside of the door, you stop him from opening it.

“Anything I should know before we enter?” You ask him nervously, glancing up at him.

His hand on your shoulder squeezes you reassuringly. “Remember to relax.”

You nod and enter the meeting room with Zeke. Reiner and Porco are indeed already waiting, sitting on the couch that’s on the left of the big oak table in the middle.

You give them a bright smile and wave. “Hello guys.”

They both greet you back. You notice that even though they are acting nonchalantly like usual, their eyes seem to drift over you eagerly. No way, you think to yourself, you are mistaking.

Zeke pulls out a chair for you on the right side of the table and you happily sit down. He takes a seat next to you, giving you a tiny smile before he turns his attention to the rest of the Warriors.

You suddenly realize that you are missing someone. “Uhm, is Pieck not coming?”

Porco leans his arm over the backrest of the couch. “Nope. She’s not feeling well or something.”

You nod your head. Even they get sick now and then you suppose.

Silence falls over the room before Zeke clears his throat. “So, what’s on the agenda today?”

“Whether we should let Braun be eaten already.” Porco says, a grin on his face.

Reiner shakes his head, crossing his arms. “Shut up, Galliard.”

He looks at you. “We are discussing defense.”

You give Reiner a appreciative smile. Fuck though, you don’t know shit about that.

As the three of them start going over defense tactics and possible adjustments, you start feeling lost. You fiddle with your hands in your lap, grateful that Porco and Reiner can’t see your nerves.

Zeke puts a hand over yours, and you glance at him. He’s continuing their talk, but his fingers stroke over yours. He must have noticed that you were nervous.

You relax under your boyfriend’s touch, and you lean back a bit in your chair. When your fingers stop fiddling he moves his hand away from yours and instead lays it on your thigh.

You swallow as Zeke softly squeezes and strokes over your thigh through your skirt.

Reiner and Porco start arguing about something, and Zeke grabs the opportunity to lean over and whisper in your ear. “I wonder what you’re wearing underneath this.”

His hand slides up your thigh and strokes over your panties. You clench your legs together and give him a shocked look. The others are right there!

Zeke’s smirk speaks volumes. He’s more than aware that they are present.

Your face heats up as his fingers continue to stroke up and down your mount, teasing you to open your legs for him.

Reluctantly, but too curious not to, you spread your legs slightly. Zeke pushes up your skirt till he can reach your panties. Two of his fingers slide over your clothed sex, and you jump slightly in surprise of how far he is actually going.

“Are you okay?”

Your attention is drawn back to Reiner and Porco, who seized their arguing and are looking directly at you.

“Yes! Sorry, I’m just a bit tired I suppose.” You lie.

As their eyes glide over you in an assessing manner, your heart beats rapidly in your chest. It feels so dirty to have them look at you right now, especially as Zeke takes it a step further and sticks his hand into your panties.

You grind your teeth together, doing your best to tuck away any expressions or noises that will give you away.

“So, what’s your conclusion?” Zeke asks, forcing the others back to the subject as his fingers seek out the wetness he just created.

You sigh in relief as both Reiner and Porco lay down a conclusion, which still conflicts with each other. They’ll be busy a bit more, which you’ll need.

Zeke glances at you from the corner of his eye, a smirk on his face as his fingers find your entrance, and after stroking over it a few times, he enters you. Your hands grip onto the edges of your seat as his fingers stretch you out.

You feel embarrassed but at the same time thrilled about doing this so publicly. His fingers move in and out of you slowly and he draws his fingertips exactly against the spots he knows you like.

Reiner gives up and settles, bringing his and Porco’s argument to an end. Your walls clench around Zeke’s fingers when both look at you again. You avoid making eye contact. Gods, it’s so embarrassing to admit, but you’re scared you may cum if you do.

You had found Reiner and Porco attractive since the first time you had met the Warriors, so their gazes definitely have you heated.

Zeke’s fingers speed up and you grab onto his arm in response. He’s going too fast, doing too much, you won’t be able to keep quiet if he goes on.

You squeeze his arm tightly, but he pays it no attention. He chats on like nothings going on, the only thing betraying him the bulge in his pants that only you can see.

A soft moan slips from your lips when he starts curling his fingers inside of you, right against the spot that always has you cumming. You quickly cough to cover it up, but as you catch a glimpse of Reiner’s and Porco’s faces, you realize you might be busted.

You glance desperately at Zeke and tug at his sleeve. You are so close to cumming, he really needs to stop.

“Uhh Z-zeke? Sorry to interrupt but I forgot something at home, it’s pretty important.” You say and do your best to keep your voice steady.

It didn’t sound convincing at all, and Zeke shrugs it off. “I’m sure it’s fine, the meeting’s almost over.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, his fingers still moving inside you without remorse. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Focus, you tell yourself. You have to focus on not cumming.

When you glance around the room, your gaze accidentally meets Reiner’s. There’s a clear flush around his nose and cheeks, and the dark look of lust in his eyes confirms that he knows what you are doing. Seeing him like that pushes you over the edge, and you gasp as you cum around Zeke’s fingers.

You grab and claw at Zeke’s sleeve, still trying to cover your actions but tiny moans pathetically spill from your lips.

When realizing that you were still looking at Reiner while you came, you quickly avert your eyes to the floor. Your body feels like it’s on fire, a potent mix of embarrassment and lust setting it ablaze.

Even as you hear them say your name, you don’t dare look up. How can you face Reiner and Porco after this?!

Zeke’s hand leaves your panties and he grabs your face with the other. He takes in your flustered expression with a smile.

You can’t believe your eyes when he leisurely licks off his fingers, groaning at the taste of you.

You glance at the others in absolute shock, finding them both with lust-stricken smiles themselves.

“You did good, baby.” Zeke tells you and presses a quick kiss to your lips.

“I-I don’t understand.” You tell Zeke and then turn to the other two. “I’m really sorry, I don’t- I never- I-“. You have no clue how you can correct this.

Porco chuckles at your embarrassed rambling. “You really should’ve told her beforehand, Yeager.”

You look at Zeke again, who gives him a casual shrug. “It’s more fun this way.”

Zeke cups your face again. “They knew they were getting a little show, that’s why they came.”

Your eyes widen in shock as you process what he just said. Reiner and Porco came so they could watch... you? Your fantasies are coming true in a way you never thought they would.

“And quite a show it was.” Porco says and Zeke let’s go of your face so you can look at him. Porco’s palming his erection through his pants eagerly, his eyes never leaving your form.

You can barely believe this is happening.

Zeke strokes over your arm lovingly. “Why don’t you get undressed?”

His gaze shows he’s sure of what he’s asking, prompting you to go along with it. Though the situation has you rattling with nerves, you want to do this, and who knows if you would ever get a chance like this again.

You stand up and stand next to the table, your front in full display to Reiner and Porco while your backside is visible for Zeke.

You slowly undress, taking off your shoes, your sweater and skirt. Embarrassment creeps up your skin as you feel exposed before them, but Reiner and Porco embolden you with their entranced gazes.

Porco takes his cock into his hand when you take off your underwear, stroking it faster the more skin you reveal.

When you are completely naked, you glance at Zeke. He waves his hand, urging you to move towards Porco with a casual smile.

You go over to Porco, who grabs you and pulls you onto his lap, showing you a toothy smile. A mewl leaves your mouth as he places your back against his chest and spreads your legs, sliding his cock through your wetness.

Across the table, Zeke lights a cigarette, watching the scene unfold as he leans back.

“You know, I couldn’t believe it when he offered to share, but I’m glad he did.” Porco pants into your ear, his cock poking at your entrance. “I’ve wanted to know what you feel like for way too long.”

His arms hook themselves under your knees, assuring that you are on full display for Zeke to see as he slides his length into your cunt. You moan loudly when he bottoms out inside of you, your walls eagerly sucking him in.

Porco bites your neck softly when he starts fucking up into you, sucking and nibbling at the skin till you are sure he has left a mark. Zeke watches you with a small grin and you feel a shiver run over your body at the dirtiness of it all.

After Porco has been thrusting into you for a bit, Reiner speaks up. “Bend her towards me.”

Porco groans but does it nonetheless, letting go of your legs so he can position you on all fours, facing Reiner instead. You moan when Porco reenters you, his hands finding your waist and grabbing it harshly as Reiner strokes your cheek.

Reiner’s face is still flushed with lust, and as he presses his cock against your lips you happily open up for him. You moan around his cock, taking it as deep as you can without choking as Porco continues fucking you, causing your body to rock forward.

Reiner groans your name, his hands finding your hair and pulling it lightly as you suck his cock. The head soon starts hitting the back of your throat as Porco’s hard thrusts cause you to fall forward onto Reiner over and over again.

Your scream is silenced on Reiner’s cock when you cum again. It feels foreign but amazing to cum around Porco, but he pulls out almost immediately when you do. You realize why when you feel his hot seed spurt onto your ass and back.

Zeke laughs and Reiner pulls you off of his cock with a pop. He slides his cock over your lips and cheeks messily before backing off.

“Almost forgot the number one rule there, Galliard.” Zeke says and tsks at him disappointingly.

Porco groans and runs a hand through his hair. “I didn’t expect her to cum, shit.”

You can hear how ragged his breathing is and you can’t help but feel proud that you took him by surprise.

“What’s the number one rule?” You ask when you find your voice.

Reiner lifts you up and drags you onto his lap, once again making you face Zeke. Your eyes roll back when Reiner slides his thick cock into you, but unlike Porco he doesn’t move.

Zeke eyes sparkle with lust and amusement as he speaks. “They can’t cum inside your cunt. I’m a generous man but that I won’t share in.”

You smile through your strained panting. You’re glad that Zeke is possessive of you in that way.

Reiner shifts slightly, causing his cock to drag against your walls. You bite your lip and he groans behind you, his hands finding your breasts.

Porco and Zeke start shedding their clothing as Reiner keeps you on his cock, playing with your breasts. You cry out his name when he tugs at your nipples and you feel his cock twitch inside of you in response.

Reiner pants your name heavily into your ear. “I heard you and Zeke, night in night out, and it made me wonder how one little girl could draw so much noise from him.”

He rolls your nipples between his fingers, making you cry out excitedly.

“Now I know how.”

You try to move on his cock, eager for more, but Reiner keeps you still.

Zeke leans against the table in front of you, stroking his cock with a grin on his face while he watches you. You already look like a wreck, and the main event hasn’t even started.

He calls out your name, causing you to look slightly more focused. “Don’t you think it’s unfair to keep one of us waiting the whole time?”

Pushing away from the table, he walks over to you. You moan loudly as he presses down on your shoulder, pressing you down harder onto Reiner’s length.

“I’m confident my little slut can please us better, can’t she?”

You nod your head desperately. Fuck, you are so sensitive after cumming twice already and you would do anything to get off again.

“Good girl.” Zeke says, lifting his hand from your shoulder and giving your forehead a quick peck.

He motions at Porco and Reiner to get up. You whine in protest when Reiner lifts you and slides his cock out of you, making you stand up with him.

Zeke lays down onto the couch, giving you a smirk before he pulls you onto him by your hand. You straddle him eagerly, grateful for the lush couch this room has.

Your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth opens in an O when Zeke slides his cock into your slick cunt, your arousal coating part of your ass and thighs already from all the activity, making his entrance easy.

His hands find your ass, and your eyes open in shock when he spreads your cheeks. Are they going to?..

“Ssshhh.” He reassures you. “Breath in and relax, just like we’ve done before.”

Reiner settles behind you, having coated his cock in a generous amount of lube to make it go as smoothly as possible. You suck in a breath when you feel him position his cock at your tight hole and you grab onto Zeke’s shoulder in preparation.

Curses fall from Reiner’s mouth as he pushes into your ass, slowly spreading you out on his length. Your nails dig into Zeke’s shoulders till Reiner has completely bottomed out and you take a deep breath.

You feel so full, both of theirs cock stuffed inside you and sandwiched between their bodies. You let out a shaky moan, both of them biting back groans as well.

Reiner kisses the back of your neck comfortingly as he holds still inside of you. Zeke on the other hand, drags his cock almost completely out of you before slamming back in with an impatient look on his face.

You scream out in pleasure and squeeze hard around both of their cocks.

“Fuck, that’s what I like to see.” Zeke says as you shake slightly on top of him.

He’s such a bastard, but he knows exactly what you like.

Encouraged by Zeke, Reiner thrusts into your ass experimentally. When you moan out and his cock slides in and out with ease, he starts thrusting harder, matching his pace with Zeke’s.

Your mind is growing more and more fogged, so much pleasure coursing through you all at once. When Porco grabs you by your hair and forces your head to the side, you look up at him with watery eyes.

Porco chuckles and slides his cock against your lips, smearing your combined juices from before over them. You mewl and open your mouth for him obediently.

Knowing that you can’t focus on moving it yourself while getting fucked in both holes, he holds your head still and starts thrusting in and out of your mouth. “Fuck you look so hot.”

Zeke and Reiner continue to thrust into you, their paces starting to differ as each starts rutting away in pleasure. Your desire for all three of them is so high that you don’t protest in the slightest even as Porco starts fucking your throat roughly, his pelvis bumping against your nose with every thrust.

Reiner sputters out incoherent words as his hips slam harder against your ass, his cock twitching wildly inside of you. He’s close, and to ensure his friend feels you squeeze around him one more time, Zeke brings one hand down to your clit.

You want to move away from Zeke’s fingers, all of it becoming too much, but you have nowhere to back off to. When you thrash you only pierce yourself further onto one of their cocks.

“Fuck! Ah- God- Wait!” You try to say, but Porco’s cock muffles you. If you cum now you feel that you won’t stop till they pull out.

Nobody hears your pleas, and soon Zeke’s fingers reach their goal. You scream out around Porco’s cock as your holes clench wildly around the ones inside of you.

With a last stutter and a cry of your name, Reiner cums in your ass. You tremble from your own orgasm as he continues fucking his load into you.

“Shit, you’re still cumming huh?” Zeke says teasingly as he thrusts up into your cunt.

You wouldn’t be able to say anything even if Porco’s cock wasn’t down your throat. You moan and cry out with abandon and he groans at the vibrations it creates on his cock. His hand in your hair tightens as he reaches his own end.

Just as Zeke halts his thrusting and cums, Porco does as well. You swallow down the robes of cum Porco shoots down your throat while Zeke stuffs your cunt with his.

When Porco pulls out, cum drips from your mouth, making an even worse mess.

Zeke and Reiner continue lazily fucking their seed into you, but your body is too exhausted to keep up anymore. Your cunt throbs from cumming so much and you don’t even care about the cum that’s on your face.

Reiner catches you just in time when you fall forward, your arms giving out.

“I think she’s done for today.” He says with a chuckle.

For today? You want to question whether this is a regular thing now, but your throat is too sore from screaming and sucking.

Reiner holds you against him as he lifts you off of his and Zeke’s cocks. Cum flows out freely from your holes, leaving a mess behind on the couch.

Zeke scoots over and Reiner lays you down on the couch, half on top of Zeke. You cuddle into his form, so warm and comforting. Your eyelids feel heavy as you pant out your excitement.

Zeke strokes your hair off of your forehead. “At least tell them thank you.” He tells you smugly.

You glance at Porco and Reiner, both looking at you with desire in their eyes. You would feel flushed if you weren’t heated as hell already. “T-thank you.”

Porco grins. “No thank you, but next time I’m getting-” Reiner puts up his hand to silence him.

“Don’t say anything about a next time.”

Reiner smiles. “Zeke likes for it to be a surprise after all.”

[katsu-kingdom]

In the dark room, the moonlight slowly seeped in, greeting the hollow space in the kitchen. To the raven-haired boy seated in front of it, it was a gravely greeting, sickening to the stomach. As if it was mocking him of how lonely he felt.

'Are there wrong ways to love someone? ' He pondered

Gripping the glass of beer in front of him harder, Akaashi recalled the times when you would sit in the hollow space and chatter away about how your day went with exaggerated events that you so claimed to be true but he would chuckle knowing that that's just how your dramatic self would see it.

It was always during the night-time when you would ramble, about this time.

This exact time.

You would hurry to finish all the work you needed to, only awaiting the time when you would ramble on and Akaashi knew it.

You would try not to seem too excited to hide the fact that your annoying rants were what you most looked forward to, as if you were trying to hide the biggest secret in the world. But Akaashi knew too well. It was downright obvious. So he would postpone his schedule from then on, without your knowledge.

He took a sip of the beer, facing difficulty to gulp it down. It just seemed to take too much energy to swallow it, seeming as if lifting the glass had taken up all his few remaining energy. Everything seemed so heavy.

'If you take one more sip of that beer' you waved the ladle in your hand, 'I'm gonna hit you.'

Akaashi chuckled. I'm supposed to be the one taking care of you, he'd thought at that time

You always seemed to care too much about the trivial matters, but reacted so recklessly in the consequential ones, in the process of freaking out.

And in the midst of all things that went haywire during that time, Akaashi was always there for you. But if the moments that transpired every day which translated to Akaashi looking after you weren't enough, it was made clear on that one night.

The night when he stayed up late to help you work on your thesis. You were knocked out after five straight hours of working on it, drowsing off to what seemed like an eternal sleep.

A fallen pen startled you awake, and you saw a worn out Akaashi, looking battered up. He was nodding off, desperately trying to fight off his sleep.

What is he doing? this isn't even his work, he always worried more about you than you did for yourself. You felt like a hindrance, exploiting him even if you didn't intend to.

The feelings of gratitude slowly turned into feelings of guilt. You happened to apologise more than you thanked him.

Of course, Akaashi noticed it. But at that time he did not know what to do. Or maybe that was more of an excuse.

He knew he was holding back on a lot. But he couldn't speak it out. However, when he thought it was the only way to mend it, he was proven wrong.

You came home happier. A little later, but happier.

So he didn't do anything.

Gradually, you came home later and later. The row of greetings started to change- Akaashi began greeting you home instead of the other way around.

Busy day, he thought. But deep down he knew that was not it. He noticed by the way your outfits became more sophisticated, by the way you spent more time getting ready. And also, by the way your ramblings became shorter. Your eyes still bore the glimmer as you conversed with him, though brief. But what stung him was how your glimmer seemed more bright. He yearned to be the reason for it.

The dusk was falling leisurely that evening that Akaashi wished to erase. He was working on his papers when you came rushing to his room. As you held the door frame, you looked as though you were about to bring the best news ever.

Akaashi found it so endearing. He always found you endearing.

'I have something great to tell you, Keiji,' you grinned.

Then he became more aware of the silence as you went on.

The way you shyly talked about a guy named 'Oikawa', how you fidgeted from time to time, a tint of red painted on your face.

And an apology, for not telling him beforehand.

And as though that wasn't enough to shatter the broken pieces that lay beneath, you talked about moving out the next week.

Another apology, for being a huge burden.

He should not have been surprised. He knew it the whole time.

How you saw yourself as a burden to him.

He knew it.

How you felt guilty.

He knew it.

And how you had found someone who made you happy.

He knew it.

For the remaining days, the both of you talked and went about normally as you did before. At least that was how Akaashi was trying to portray himself, that he was happy for you. That as a friend, he would support you.

Akaashi looked at the ray of light in the hollow space. That was how he'd always seen you from the start- like a ray of light, beaming at him everyday.

From the time they met at high school in his second year, you always made him happy.

You were immensely chaotic yet inordinately peaceful. Like the huge waves of the sea below the warm sun.

You would tell him that he always made you happy. That you were so glad to have him as your support system, to help you sort out your life.

He did not look away from the hollow space no matter how painful it was. He wanted to picture you there, to embrace you, to feel the warmth. But the more he tried the more disturbing the thought became, that you had drifted away from his life.

The words still clung to him. Always at the tip of his tongue but never going any further than that. He scolded himself for being a coward every time but what could that do when it never would have changed a thing?

However, in the back of his mind, he knew he still regretted it, despite knowing the answer he would have gotten anyways.

'It was just a few words' he mused after hearing the grave news.

But now it was too late.

The darkness swallowed him. He felt suffocation take over him, but he did not move away.

He recalled the time when you were done packing, fidgeting too often.

'I'm too nervous about this,' you said but the anticipated expression did not seem to wipe off of your face.

'He must be all the same,' he said as he forced himself to bring his lips to a smile.

'Thank you,' you smiled. 'You better keep in touch with me though.'

But he knew all too well he would not be able to. The nights that were cut short after you met Oikawa was enough proof of that.

A ring from the doorbell alarmed the both of you.

'He's here,' you smiled. You waved at him as you carried your luggage.

You bid your last farewell and left the raven-haired standing alone in front of the door. The deadly silence engulfed and suffocated him.

He looked at the hollow space as the ray now became thinner before fading away completely, leaving only the darkness to eat him up of what was left in him.

He sat in the silence, accepting no company. The words still hung in the back of his mind. All he wanted to say, was that you made him as happy as he made you.

'Thank you,' he whispered, tearing down the roar of silence that was stabbing him. He uttered those words, intending to desperately tend to the wound and stop the bleeding. 'For staying by my side.'

He wondered if those words would have changed anything at all. If you would understand the weight of it.

But it did not matter anymore, he knew beforehand that this scenario was imminent. Because the whole while, he had always tried to get through those three words in the words he carved, and in the actions he portrayed.

But the words that clung deep into him were words you never responded to.

Ever since he met you.

Till now.

[hotwings0203]

Meeee. I want a longer version of the voyeur deku and bully kacchan. but in kacchan's pov tho. 💜💜💜👀

My dear anon. You ask and so you shall receive 💓

Pt.1, Pt.2

Tw: implied gangbang, stalking, implied noncon

If there’s one thing Katsuki Bakugo hated more than Deku, it was you.

No, actually, scratch that.

He couldn’t stand you around Deku.

As his childhood friend-or rival, whatever the fuck you wanted to call it, Bakugo knew Deku like the back of his hand.

He knew how he liked his breakfast, eggs runny with cheese and pepper sprinkled in the middle. He knew how crazy he could be as a fanboy for All Might, collecting over 500 antiques of the hero. He knew how he liked spring better because then he could stand under the Sakura trees and close his eyes in bliss while the petals floated softly down on his face.

He knew how he liked to steal your panties and jerk off to them.

He knew that his favorite position to watch him rape you from the front so that he could see every expression while you were filled to the brim with cum.

How the fuck could you be so blind?

Did you not notice the way your undergarments slowly started to vanish, one by one? Did you not realize who’s handwriting it was when you found yet another threatening yet lewd note in your locker? You had to actually be brain dead to not catch on to how he was always the last person out, just to trail behind and watch how your ass swayed when you walked out of the classroom.

But no, apparently you were even more stupid than he thought.

Because instead of correctly matching a face to actions, you thought him, Bakugo fucking Katsuki was the one doing all of this.

He supposed he couldn’t actually hold it against you though. I mean, he was the one slipping a hand up your shirt when you were walking out said door, he was the one who was shoving you against the lockers right when you were about to unlock it and find the notes, and he was the one who tore your panties in two, dangling them in front of your face while you pleaded for him to give it back. He never did, of course, he simply threw them over his shoulder and proceeded dragging you away so he could fuck you in privacy.

But he guesses there wasn’t much privacy if he was being watched all the time.

It was actually pretty typical of Deku. To leech off of what he left behind and try to claim it as his own. First his All Might obsession, then his shoot style, and now you? It’s pathetic, but typical.

He should’ve realized it wasn’t the shadows moving in the corner of his eyes when he was buried to the hilt inside your warmth. When the hairs stood at the back of your neck in the showers, it wasn’t because he was fucking you dumb, it was because someone else’s moans were in synch with his.

But it’s okay, because he knows and you don’t. He knows how the dweeb looks at you, how he sports a tent in his pants when you innocently lay a hand on his shoulder, he knows why your window is broken even though you fell asleep with it intact.

He catches Deku one day. He catches him red handed like the little rat he is.

It was so easy, too, the green haired little shit follows him around like some lovesick puppy anyways. Sometimes he can’t tell if he’s following you or himself.

You walk home from your night classes one evening, when the night is darker than your own shadows and the stars barely dust across the sky. No one else is around, and so you clutch your bag a little more tightly against you whenever you hear a leaf or a start car rustle in the trees surrounding your path back to the dorms.

Bakugo knows your schedule, of course. You take English and Statistics in the morning and save Quirk Training for the evening when you’re the most tired-a stupid plan, in his opinion.

Or at least he thought, at first. Turns out that you’re the easiest to follow when you’re spent and covered in bruises from being thrown against rocks and burned by fire from class. He wishes he could’ve seen you in person when that all happens, but it doesn’t matter when you’re stumbling down the cobblestone path towards your dorm, deaf and blind to any person that might be right behind you.

You just want to go home, he can accept that. Especially when he can so easily trail after you, merely 20 feet away on the same path as you. No one would suspect he’s up to no good from the leisurely way he strolls with his hands in his pockets, and he would bet his entire life that you wouldn’t waste a second to turn around and check your surrounding in favor of hurrying up to your room so you can sleep the aches away.

He might be subtle, but Deku isn’t.

The fucker hides in the bushes and almost crawls like a bug in the foliage after his two favorite people. It’s not even a clever disguise because his hair is three shades lighter than the leaves on the thickets.

Bakugo can hear the twigs snap and rustle as he bumbles around trying to be inconspicuous. He rolls his eyes and turns around, a deep scowl on his face.

“You’re not fooling anyone you bastard. Get the fuck out here right now before I blast you away.”

It doesn’t even take a full three seconds before Deku’s head meekly pops up and he gives a weak smile.

“H-hey Kacchan. Nice to see you here, I just dropped my papers-“

“No you didn’t. How long have you been following us?”

Deku blanches and slowly lifts his eyes to meet Bakugo’s. His mouth might’ve tried to open and refute the accusation, but when he saw the subtle smirk in the latters eye he found himself caring less about being caught.

“Howd you know?”

“You fuckin’ kidding me?” He scoffs and takes a quick glance back at you to ensure that you hadn’t walked too far off. You were still slowly trudging away, an easy distance for him to cross. “You’re about as stealthy as my quirk you freak.”

Deku laughs nervously and scratches the back of his head, also trying to quickly turn his head to see where you are.

“You likin’ the show so far?”

“Huh?” The green haired boy snaps his head back to him, blushing furiously now.

“You heard me. And don’t pretend to be so scandalized, you’re not holier than thou.”

The low voice to an almost predatory tone makes Deku drop the act. He straightens up a bit taller and his eyelids lower, his brows raised in a mocking sneer of some sorts. His lips curl and his teeth gleam in the moonlight, almost looking like fangs.

Bakugo has to remind himself for a moment not to back up a step.

“Yeah, I’m likin’ it.”

“I knew it. I bet you watched us every time we fucked, you bastard. Next time I’ll make you pay for front row seats since that’s where you always seem to be.” He crosses his arms and stares Deku down.

But the other doesn’t cower. Instead, his expression morphs into that of a weird hopeful look.

“I wouldn’t exactly say fucked is the right word. I’d say raped is better, Kacchan.”

It’s the utter confidence and ease in which he says this that makes Bakugo do a double take, his scowl breaking for a moment.

But he regroups. He knew this little shit was weird and fucked up, but he didn’t realize he was twisted beyond repair. In reality, he knew he was actually having sex with you without your full consent but hearing it from a guy like Deku made it so much worse.

It made his heart pound a little faster, while it made Dekus mouth water.

“Yeah? You liked watching me motorboat and fuck her tits? You liked hearing her scream for me, scream to get away from me too?”

And even in the shadows from the trees he can see how hard the degenerate nods his head eagerly like a dog waiting for its bone.

Even though he doesn’t like how the glint in his eyes darken with each vile word coming from his own mouth, he can’t help but go further down this rabbit hole and see how much Deku can take before he snaps-he’s never seen him so hungry for something before, except for when he would be around All Might.

So he eggs him on.

“I bet you got off on watching her struggle underneath me, didn’t you?” It’s less of a question and more of a statement to which Deku confirms.

“I did. I got off so many times I thought I’d have to get it checked out. But honestly, I think you could do better.”

Katsuki wasnt expecting that response.

“Who the fuck are you to-“

“Have you ever really savored the look of fear in her eyes? Have you ever tied her up and really played with her?”

His voice gets stuck in his throat as Deku continues.

“She’s pretty when you fill her up, but I can’t help but wonder..what would she look like with every hole plugged?”

He has no right looking so shy and nervous when such filth leaves his salivating lips. A drop of spit falls to the cobblestone and as Bakugo grimaces and steps back a bit, he realizes that he has not given his childhood rival as much credit for being a creep than he actually is.

“No fucking way. You better not be suggesting you get in on any of this action. She’s fuckin’ mine and I’ll be damned if I have to share her with some useless fuck like you.”

“I promise I won’t be useless, Kacchan. I’ll make sure to keep her moving at all times. She won’t stop bouncing when I’m with her, please, please let me give it a try too.”

And when he doesn’t look convinced, Deku rambles on like a madman. “I’ll even gag her with her own bloodstained panties so that she can shut up and I can focus better. I won’t ask you for her pussy either, I’ll take her ass or throat instead if you want!”

Katsuki wishes he didn’t hear the childhood boyish eager in his voice as he spoke.

He also wishes his dick didn’t get quite so hard when all of that was said.

“God, just shut up already, she’s getting farther now. Okay look, I’ll let you give it a go this one time only so that I can fuck her in peace without you staring at my ass the entire time.”

Dekus eyes light up and he lifts a leg over to step over the hedges. “Really, you mean it? I can fuck her too?”

Bakugo snarls and turns away, heading towards the same path you took. “Whatever, just don’t think this is gonna be a regular kind of thing. I worked hard to get myself a toy and I’ll be damned if you fuck it up for me.”

And when they both join the other towards you, there’s a moment when you glance back that you think the shadow that has been following you this whole time has turned into two.

[angelamajiki]

[ scent - kiribaku ]

PART TWO

CW: a/b/o dynamics, villain duo kiribaku, bullying, sexual harrassment, stalking, kidnapping, hair pulling, dubcon, predator/prey, alpha bakugo, alpha kirishima, omega reader

Scenting was an integral part of any omega’s nest—the scent of a friend, the scent of a family member, the scent of a mate. Your nest had been void of any but your own for quite some time. As an omega, you were as shy as you were rare, a coveted luxury that few could afford to get their hands on. Submerging yourself within in the shadows, you were desperate to hide from anyone who readies to beg, borrow, and steal to obtain an omega mate. Hiding out had been a success until you came home to find two Alpha scents resting comfortably in your nest.

The Alphas who had invaded your space uninvited did not leave their intentions up to the imagination. They were starving, ready to wreck the omega they had set their sights on. How on earth they managed to find you evaded your mind as you attempted to devise a plan to stay hidden. Your quirk could barely help you in this circumstance, so a line of defense was hard to form.

The thought of having been stalked by two very, very strong Alphas did nothing to settle the unease boiling in your gut the next few days. It was better that they try to come to you than you falling victim to them, so you decided to stay put inside your small home. Their scent continued to linger, suffocating you in the one place you were supposed to feel safest. No matter how many times you washed your blankets and stuffies, their stench never seemed to fade in the slightest.

The pair let you know they were nearby as the renewed their scent within your home constantly, always stuck with the smell in the back of your mind. Never letting you know peace, never letting you settle comfortably in your own home. It was maddening you.

As luck were to have it, your heat was creeping up behind you, your panic further spurring it on. Cooping up in the house meant that you only survived on what you already had. To avoid suspicion in the past, you purchased suppressants from numerous pharmacies just hours before you were to settle in your nest for the week. You were afforded no such luxury this time around.

Maybe it would be safe to go to the drugstore just down the alley for them. Maybe not.

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

Against your better judgment, you slipped out of your apartment as inconspicuously as you could, dragging yourself down the stairwell of your complex. Their scent had stopped persisting the last 72 hours, so you assumed the Alpha pair had given up and cut their losses. Or they snuffed their scent out to properly hunt you down without detection. It was a gamble to leave to get your suppressants. Take a chance to nab them and postpone your heat, or wait like a sitting duck in your nest for the Alphas to show up and claim you in your moment of weakness.

Slinking into the alleyway, you kept close to yourself while making a beeline to the corner store.

A deep, rumbling chuckle from behind made you falter in your already weakening steps.

“So, our pretty little omega has finally come out to play with us, huh Kats?”

“Sure is, Ei. Looks like she’s a bitch in heat, too. Literally!”

Cackles bounced off the walls of the buildings, piercing your already racing heart. Just a few more steps, and you'd make it into the safety of a public area. A hero would be nearby to help you, right?

“Tch, you ignorin’ your Alphas, little bitch? Guess we’ll have to teach you some respect.”

A rough, blemished hand gripped your forearm and tugged you towards the two men.

“Gentle, man. Poor baby’s in heat, just needs an Alpha to take care of her, huh, sweetheart?”

An even larger hand gripped your hips before sliding down to grab a handful of your slick mound. Peeking up at their wolfish grins, you squealed as you ripped yourself out of their greedy grip and made a mad dash towards the street.

The entire boulevard was empty, not a soul in sight. Not even a business was open!

“Lookin’ for someone, princess? Your Alphas are right here.” The redhead called out to you, taking a leisurely pace to catch up with your frozen figure.

“Everyone’s inside, y’know. A curfew was established due to a couple of villains strollin’ into town. Said to be dangerous. Not to mention devilishly handsome.” The blonde hollered, taking enormous strides towards you. “No one's coming to save you, baby.” He whispered, tickling your ear with his breath. Both men didn't make any attempts to stop you as you dashed off again, tears streaming down your flushed face.

Your body betrayed you as you felt slick dribble down your leggings, sopping your cunt in your underwear. Sweat beaded on your brow as you kept running, or at least attempted to run as your legs shook and stumbled across the pavement. The whoops and hollers of the men penetrated your clouded mind.

Go back to Alphas. Alphas will take care of you. Alphas will claim you.

Katsuki and Eijirou enjoyed taking their time, keeping a leisurely pace as they watched you stumble and sway with glee.

“Ain’t she a cutie, Katsuki? What’re the odds she came out during her heat?” Eijirou sighed dreamily, already feeling his cock swell as the scent of your slick wafting in the air. “Can’t wait to claim her and mark her up. She’ll love our den, don’t you think?”

“Of course she will. Just because we’re villains doesn't mean we're half-assed Alphas to our mate. She just needs to see how well we can provide for her little stuck-up ass.” Grinning widely, Katsuki was equally as hard, palming himself through his pants as they saw you sloppily turn into another alleyway.

Delirious at this point, you fell to the cool concrete, peeling your sweater off while hiding behind a pile of damp boxes. Your body hadn't the strength to keep moving; the fire stoked within was too overwhelming to do anything other than to sit and wait for your Alphas.

Slick gushed out of you at the sound of wolf whistles approaching you. Pressing yourself into the wall, you used the last ounce of your clarity to block out their vulgar catcalls.

“Whew, damn sweetheart. I could smell you a mile away.” Eijirou jeered out as he tugged you out from your hiding spot. “Let me get a taste of my ripe pussy right here.”

Patting your sopping cunt, the man positioned you to face the wall with your ass out on display. Taking a hardened finger, he split the steams of your leggings and panties down the middle, shredding the rest off impatiently.

Katsuki was content to watch from the sidelines as he kept your firmly in place, forcing one of your hands onto his dripping cock. He pressed you into a seating kiss, capturing your moans and cries with his tongue.

Eijirou buried his face in your cunt, sloppily tongue fucking and sucking you while his fingers roughly flicked your clit back and forth. Slick squirt out of you onto his lapping tongue as you worked your hips against his face, desperate for release from the Alpha.

Katsuki held a hand to your throat, squeezing tenderly as he continued with his sloppy kisses and grip on your wrist, which lazily stroked him.

“C’mon, omega. You’re gonna have to do better than that if you wanna come.” The blonde whispered in your ear, biting it with his canines. Gasping, your hand picked up the pace as you moaned loudly and freely into the cool air of the night. Eijirou relished in the way your pussy felt pressed into his face as he gripping your thighs, not letting you move away as he began to suck harshly on your clit.

Incoherent sobs left your drooling mouth as Katsuki gripped your hair in his left fist, biting down hard enough to draw blood all over your neck. Whimpering and groaning, you felt yourself release all over the redhead’s face, legs twitching as he rode out your orgasm. After he was finished with his meal, Eijirou pulled away and licked at the strings of slick connecting his chin to your throbbing pussy.

“That should hold her over until we get back to the den, right?”

“Maybe, she’s in heat, so she won't be satisfied until we knot and claim her. Let’s split.”

Gathering the panting mess that you were in his arms, Katsuki carried you bridal style, not bothering to redress your bare bottom. After your much-needed relief, you drifted off to sleep while drenched in the scent of your new Alphas.