#very sure of herself and unashamed in expressing herself

[way2gosuperrstarr]

couple design doodle brainstorm for sdgo between artfight stuff, pertaining to past moments/verrrrrry pre-story backstory for monday/mc and ness. just showing the current vanessa parts bcs monday looks mid as hell (on purpose, but still)

also kinda realizing/thinking the way i write/portray ness and monday's friendship is kinda like a love letter to my irl, my best friend of like almost eight years. they dont have a tumblr so i can say this without looking like a sappy loser /silly/joke

[greens-spilled-tea]

Another 3am rambling, this time about my ex friend group.

I remember one day, my best friend (who would eventually become my queerplatonic partner, who I would eventually break up with) came up to me and mentioned how another friend said I was "cringe". I'd never heard the term used in that way before, I'd only ever heard the word "cringey" as used to describe someone else. I asked her what she meant by that. She said, "you know, how like... a lot of your actions are cringe-y? that makes you cringe."

"No, I don't know what you mean by my actions being cringey or how that makes me cringe," I said.

"Well, it's like how you like. Uh. Meow at our other friends. Or how you obsess over fandom. Or do other weird things. You know, that's all cringe."

I remember staring at her and feeling an overwhelming amount of just "wtf". None of these behaviors were even unique to me within that friend group. I knew the friend in question who described me as cringe; he had a crush on another person in the friend group who did EXACTLY all that. His crush would often meow with me or even start the meowing herself. She was an unabashed yaoi fangirl who made sure ALL our friends knew it. She very often would purposefully do weird things to get a rise out of the other friends in our friend group. But, sure, for some reason it was cringe when I did all that and she didn't?

And on top of all that, I asked my best friend... "Well, what's wrong with being cringe?"

She grimaced. "Well, you know. It makes us uncomfortable to be around you. You make *us* look bad when you act that way in public."

Ah. Fucking "losing face", but toned down to sound more palatable and because she didn't want to admit to even herself that's exactly what was going on. "Well, if I'm cringe in public, that's a reflection on me, not you?"

"No, because... we choose to be around you, so in a way you do reflect on us."

"Okay, well there's still nothing wrong with being cringe itself." I shrug and sit back. "I'm not changing this part of me just to make the others in our friend group feel more comfortable."

Honestly, I knew why they had singled me out. I was the only person in the group who was openly queer. Sure, my best friend herself was aroace, and another friend was bi, but neither of them would openly talk to the others about their sexualities and would pretty much only talk to me about their queer experiences. Meanwhile, I was loud and proud to be queer. I wore ace pins, I loudly proclaimed my pronouns which clashed harshly with my gender presentation, I would make queer jokes at myself. And all that, coupled with my loud, unashamed personality, upset their carefully-crafted conformity to society and rocked their boat too much.

I'm still upset over that exchange, all these years later. My best friend, who eventually became my partner, had told me she loved that part of me before, that she wished she could express herself as genuinely as I could. She told me she was jealous how I didn't care what other people thought of me and that I was able to enjoy the things I did no matter what the people around me told me. But... hanging out with our other friends, and the influence from her parents, all of whom refused to rock the boat, eventually drove a rift between us.

I still mourn losing that group of friends, but more than that, I'm mourning losing her. Not just because we broke up. No, I'm mourning the version of her who loved me, and that I had fallen in love with. I know the person who broke up with me was not the person I had originally met, or the one who told me that we were platonic soulmates. I'm grieving because that girl is dead, and she was killed by the people around her asking her to conform like they did because it's "safer".

Goodbye, my love. I hope we never cross paths again, for your heart and for mine.

[erodasfishtacos]

~ MLB Curious Gazes ~

prompt: four different situations where people have run into or hung out with MLB!H - told from their perspective.

word: 6k +

warnings: language, mentions of sexual content

If you enjoyed this please - reblog, like, recommend, comment, and inbox me to chat about it!

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enjoy!

-=-=-=-=-=-

The Doctor’s Office

Aubrey couldn’t believe her eyes as she sat in her uncomfortable, too small chair in the empty waiting room at the OBGYN office in the early hours of the morning. 

She was sitting alone with her baby boy sitting in his carrier on the floor - it was his nine month checkup and it was taking forever to be seen.

The woman was sitting, scrolling on her phone when out of her peripheral she saw an extremely - like extremely handsome man step into the area with a carrier.

Aubrey was a married woman but holy shit this guy was hot- without even trying is the thing. 

He had on a New York Yankees Nike hoodie and a pair of Nike athletic shorts with some calf length Blake Nike socks and trainers.

In the carrier was a fresh little baby, couldn’t be older than three months who was bundled up with a sunflower headband on.

The man was multitasking with a curly haired toddler on his other hip as he finds a seat a little bit down from Aubrey on the opposite side.

His wife was standing up at the check-in and of course it made sense that she was absolutely beautiful as well even though Aubrey could relate to how tired she looked.

The woman still had a small bit of her pregnancy bump left signifying that the baby was indeed very very new to the world.

She keeps glancing over at the man, he looks so familiar but she would remember if she had even met someone that handsome.

Then the context clues hit her, his hoodie, his toddler son was also in a little Yankees hoodie that matched his fathers and Aubrey googled quickly.

Her eyes flitted throughout the recent articles.

Styles’ Alleged $65 Million Dollar Bonus

Hot Head Harry Styles - how he managed to start three bench clearing brawls in one game!

Breaking Records and Bats - Styles manages to break his own record in the same season followed by breaking a bat in celebration

Holy shit.

She could help but watch them - this was much more interesting than reading a magazine.

Aubrey didn’t follow baseball but Harry had turned celebrity status and was this well known cocky dickhead to the media - women and men loved and drooled over him for his looks and his skills.

Right now, he sat down with his two babies - the boy looked exactly like Harry, it was quite unbelievable from the curly locks to mossy green eyes that was copy and paste.

Harry was currently tucking an applesauce pouch between his lips and guiding the boy's small hands to hold it for himself.

“Good job,  ,” He murmurs in the dead quiet waiting room as he tucks him further into the crook of his arm.

Harry looks up to his wife who joins them, she is a bit in awe when Aubrey sees him palm a bit at her bloated belly and whisper, “Y’look gorgeous today, mama.”

Aubrey couldn’t help but frown, she wished her husband did that.

YN sits down, leaning her head on his shoulder - Aubrey didn’t know her but she seems tired - of course she was a new mother.

The silence is broken when a nurse comes out and with an apologetic face says, “I’m sorry, we are running really behind today. It might be another thirty minutes,” before shutting the door again.

Harry kisses his wife’s forehead before wrapping his unoccupied arm around her shoulder, a flashing gold band on his ring finger.

Aubrey zones off for a little when her son wakes up, rocking the carrier a few times before he settles again.

She’s brought back to the couple when she hears a sniffle comes from Harry’s wife and his face turned towards hers, hand rubbing her shoulder reassuringly.

“Mama, she’s so healthy. There’s nothin’ to worry about, did a perfect job growing her in y’belly. I know these check-ups make you anxious but nothin’ is gonna be wrong,” He soothes, a near whisper because of how quiet the room is and he didn’t want to disrupt.

“I just don’t know if she’s been getting enough milk, it’s so hard to tell,” YN replies sadly, like she’s disappointed in herself.

“Y’kidding me? She’s our chunkiest baby - look at those little rolls. She’s on y’tits more than any of the boys including me,” He jokes softly, obviously trying to make her feel better.

It seems to work a little bit because she lets out a light giggle with a roll of her eyes, “No one is on them more than you.”

Harry shrugs unashamed before replying seriously, “Everything will be okay. She’s perfect and healthy.”

The curly haired little boy gets a bit squirmy with the wait after he finished his pouch, asking to be set down which his father does.

Harry is watching him carefully, his nervous but still adventurous little two and a half year old, as he toddles around the waiting room.

When he spots Aubrey and her carrier, he wanders over looking up her with wide curious eyes, he points at her son and squeaks, “Baby?”

Ever the diligent father, Harry is up and next to his son, Aubrey is a bit starstruck if she’s honest when he talks to her.

“M’sorry, he’s a curious little one,” Harry smiles at her, going to pick Ezra back up to guide him away from bothering her.

Aubrey waves her hand though, lifting the visor to show the sleeping baby, “Yeah, he’s a baby. That’s Dominic.”

The boy gazes at the baby before lisping, “Bry!”

Aubrey isn’t sure what he means but his father clarifies, “You’re right, Dominic is a baby just like your little sister Briar.”

“Okay,” Ezra shrugs and goes back to his mom to inform him of what he just discovered before crawling up and cuddling into her chest.

Harry nods, “Thanks for indulging him.”

“No pro-problem,” She stutters like an idiot and Harry smiles a bit like he knows but doesn’t say anything else before going back to his family.

A few minutes later when a high-pitched cry resounds through the room, Harry is carefully cradling his daughter who Aubrey notes looks nothing like him but like her mother even though her features were still so little.

“Shush, darlin’,” Harry coos with a soft drawl, leaning in to kiss at the newborn’s button nose.

Briar roots at her father’s chest, smacking her plump lips, and squeaking in frustration when she doesn’t find a nipple. It makes Harry chuckle before he glances at his wife and his smile falters a bit, “Sweetheart, did y’bring a bottle?”

Aubrey watches his wife shake her head, she is facing away from her so she can’t see her expression but gauging Harry’s it seems that she may be upset, “No, I completely forgot. I didn’t bring my nursing blanket either - I’m going to have to go the bathroom. M’being such a bad mom.”

The observer feels a pang in her chest, she can definitely relate to not always feeling like she is a good mother because of little mistakes she makes like forgetting diapers, buying the wrong formula, forgetting to bring a pacifier.

“Hey,” Harry’s voice is firm, “Y’not going to talk like that when s’the farthest thing from the truth. S’okay, we have four babies, we’re both goin’ t’forget things sometimes, okay? Here, let me help you.”

Aubrey wishes she had a husband who was as empowering, supportive of his wife.

He hands the whimpering baby over to his wife, he’s then tugging off his hoodie. Aubrey tries but fails to divert her eyes when his shirt rides up revealing  a glimpse of his taut abdomen and a light dusting of hair leading into his shorts, obscene tattoos covering his hipbones .

Harry maneuvers the hoodie over his wife’s shoulder, helping her tug down her loose shirt and nursing bra, and guiding his newborn to his wife’s breast until she latches and starts suckling hungrily.

“There y’go mama,” He whispers encouragingly before tugging Ezra back onto his lap to rock him a bit as he’s getting whiny - ready for a nap soon and not liking being in an unfamiliar place for too long.

-

Aubrey is buckling Dominic into his carseat when she spots the other family exiting the office. 

Harry’s wife looks much more relaxed, a smile on her face, and her arm tucked around her husband’s narrow hip, they’re parked close to each other, and Aubrey climbs into her small sedan - blasting the aircon.

She watches the parents strapp their kids into a massive, tinted and brand new cadillac escalade that was no doubt over a hundred thousand dollar car but who could expect them to be driving around a mid-level minivan?

After the kids are secured and they close the doors, Harry presses his wife up against it with his arm resting over her shoulder against the window. He is whispering to her, their mouths close before he ducks down to connect their lips.

His hand comes back to her deflating baby bump like he did in the doctor’s office, hand massaging the skin with adoration that was visible even to Aubrey as she sat in her car watching them.

Later on in the week, as she sits on her couch, a video pops up on her timeline. It’s a sports report she was about to skip until the name caught her attention. 

The sports reporter stated, “Harry Styles was fined an alleged sixty thousand dollars at last night’s game after getting into a verbal altercation when the second base man purposely tripped him.”

It flashes to the man she just saw in the doctor’s office in a form-fitting Yankee’s blue and white striped uniform with a helmet on as he ran at an impressive speed from first to second, stumbling when the baseman put out his foot.

Harry recovers quickly enough to touch the base to be considered safe. 

After that though, he’s pushing himself up and brushing off the dirt, then he’s charging towards the man who fucked up the play. 

He has no fear as he gets in the man’s face, veins on his neck standing out as he shouts. They don’t play the audio but you could tell Harry was cussing this man up and down.

It flashed back to the reporter speaking to another, “Nearly every team in the league reports that Styles is an absolute nightmare to play against from his skill to his downright arrogant and cocky attitude. He’s not someone I’d find myself wanting to hang around.”

“I agree with you there, Tucker. He has a right to be proud with all of his broken records and achievements but being a bit humble would do this man so good. I feel sorry for his wife and kids. He probably just spends all day bragging about himself.”

Aubrey clicks off the video, if only everyone in the world just saw the Harry Styles she saw just a few days ago - well they’d all change their minds on what kind of person he is. Especially what kind of husband and father.

--

The Charity Event

It was a charity event at Madison Square Garden in Time Square. 

It was for all Major League Baseball teams who had qualified for the playoffs and of course, The New York Yankees were there.

There were tables filling the whole stadium, extravagant in white linen tablecloths, multiple bars, and it was black tie dress code. 

It was a private event and it was not open to the public but after the dinner there would be awards given out and that would be broadcasted.

Nicole was there with her husband, Trent, the left outfielder with an average batting score. He wasn’t the most popular on the team by far - well everyone got outshined by Styles. 

She couldn’t help but be a little bitter that Harry had gotten a $60 million dollar bonus (the biggest bonus ever gifted but also the Yankees were not taking any chances at losing their star and their ultimate money-maker). Trent got a measly bonus of $100,000 which was nothing in baseball terms. 

The wives and girlfriends of the Yankees players did not like YN one bit. It really wasn’t fair because she was always lovely, kind, and friendly. It didn’t matter because they were all spurred on by jealousy of what she had.

Nicole couldn’t help by gaze at Harry as they sat at the same circle table towards the podium where the awards would be presented after dinner. He was in a sharp all black suit with a small team logo pin of the lapel.

She couldn’t deny how stunning YN looked in an absolutely stunning dress. It was a one-shoulder with sparkling black stripes against a tan background, it fit like a glove and accentuated her stunning legs with a high slit. ***

It blew Nicole’s basic black Gucci dress out of the water which made her even more infuriated at the woman. She knew she was being irrational and if she hated her so much, why couldn’t see stop staring at the couple?

Nicole could get away with it by looking past them at other tables but to be quite honest, the two were much too wrapped up in each other to be aware of any of their surroundings or people watching them.

Trent was off bullshitting with all the other players while the Styles’ sat at the table and Harry waited for people to approach him - like the cocky asshole that he was. He would give them a minute of his time before becoming visibly bored and returning his attention back to his wife.

As the appetizers arrived, Trent finally sat down with a grunt, giving his wife literally no attention as he dug into the salad like a slob. 

Across the table, Harry looked down at his plate, picked out all the tomatoes and stabbed them with his fork. He then brought his hand over to his wife who giggled and let him feed her the three little tomatoes for his salad.

“Don’t like tomatoes, Styles?” Henry, third-baseman, jokes as he watches him feed his wife without any shame.

“I love ‘em, m’missus just really like the little grape ones,” Harry shrugs casually - like that didn’t just sound like the most whipped thing that he could say.

Trent probably couldn’t even guess Nicole’s favorite color - let alone know something so minuscule like YN like the little tomatoes that come on house salads. 

Throughout the whole dinner, it was quite disgusting how infatuated these two were with each other - Harry had at least one hand on her body at one time - her thigh, shoulder, even cupping her neck in a way that was almost too intimate for the setting.

At one point, Harry notices that YN is a bit quiet - sipping on her glass of water and he pulls back from the conversation, murmuring, “Y’alright, mama?”

Nicole bites her lip hard at the cute pet name, feeling even more dislike towards YN - why couldn’t she have had someone like Harry?

“D’you think the babies are okay? Ezra’s been so anxious lately,” YN replies quietly, there were no phones allowed at the event and had to be left at home or at the door.

Harry kisses her temple, “Y’know Ezzie is good with m’mum, doesn’t get as anxious as he used to at sleepovers. Y’know East and Cash are probably on a sugar high.”

YN nods, agreeing and Harry jumps right back into the conversation but she notices that he keeps looking over at his wife to check on her.

Trent accidentally knocks her elbow hard and just grunts out a bland, “Sorry.”

The topic changed to traveling for games. Ellie, another wife of a player who was nice to YN were chatting about how stressful it is.

“I know, loading all three boys up is rough when we do decide to travel to games with H,” YN says to Ellie, a small smile on her face.

“Ugh, I know. Lily and Parker are the worst flyers! They usually end up throwing up or not being able to nap at all,” Ellie groans about her two little ones she has back at home.

YN let’s out a laugh that just irked Nicole to not end.

“It's going to be even harder when we have more kids,” YN laments like she’s bothered.

“Oh? More kids?” Ellie squeaks with excitement, clapping her hands together.

Nicole reaches a breaking point, jumping into the chat,“Really? More kids? Don’t you think you should focus on the ones you have? Or do you think because your husband makes an unfair amount of money, you can just have as many as you want? Hire nannies and act like you take care of them?”

Before YN frowns, about to respond when Harry interjects with a booming, displeased voice, “First off, why don’t y’mind your own fuckin’ business. My wife and I can ‘ave any many kids as we want, last time I checked.”

He continues with tense posture, all of his previous calmness disappears, “Second off, don’t take it out on my wife tha’ your husband got a shit bonus, we all know tha’ why y’pissy. And don’t act like y’dont have a nanny for your one kid while we don’t nor ever will have one.”

Nicole sneers, “You’re a cocky bastard.”

Harry smiles in faux charm, “Of course I am, dear. I’ve got a fucking beautiful wife, three healthy babies, the most records broken in history, and the fattest bank account in this room.”

“Alright, alright,” Trent interrupts and it doesn’t go unnoticed that he doesn’t defend his wife. Instead he shoots Harry an apologetic look for his wife’s behaviors.

Harry just scoffs at the couple, rudely rolling his eyes, and tugging his wife in for a kiss that’s a bit too intense but he can’t help himself, smiles against her lips when his wife pinches his thigh playfully.

He says (not quietly at all), “All these women are jealous of you, hm? S’cause you’re so beautiful and such a fuckin’ catch.”

Nicole feel a sharp pang in her chest at the indirect comment - fucking asshole.

Deep down, Nicole is unfavorably realizing that somehow YN has it all - a loving husband, who is seemingly head over heels four her, three well-behaved children, and everything she could ever want - sitting on Harry’s $600 million dollar net worth, on top of being gorgeous.

She didn’t have that. Trent and her were on the rocks constantly, has definitely cheated on her, their kid is a literal nightmare, and they’re both so reckless with money they have no savings.

It made her jealous to see Harry whispering in YN ear to make her giggle- lips brushing her ear, his hand splayed across her bumcheek while they waited for drinks at the bar, she even hears them murmur ‘I love yous’ at least twice.

Then the lights dim, spotlight on a podium in the front of the room, an older man in a crisp navy suit taking the stage.

“It is an honor for me to announce ‘Player of the Year.’ The decision by the board of Major League Baseball wasn’t a hard one. The statistics and records broke continuously by the man has led us to only one option.”

Everyone watches all the other players in room deflate a bit because they realize the award is going to Harry yet again.

 “He is again breaking a record tonight, he is the first player to earn this achievement four years in a row. The duality of this man when it comes to pitching a curveball or hitting a homer is truly remarkable.”

It makes all the players even more irritated than they already are when they look over at Harry who’s sitting back, manspreading, hand on the back of his wife’s neck gently, and a cocky, unbothered grin.

Like this award wasn’t the biggest accomplishment he could earn.

One of the players from an opposing team at a different table mutters to one of his teammates, “Fucking arrogant asshole. The only thing this award does is feed his gigantic ego.” 

“Such a douchebag,” The other agrees, jealousy tinges his voice.

“I’ve most likely made it obvious who the the recipient is this year. The New York Yankees pitcher with the most strikeouts to date and top-scoring hitter - Mr. Harry Styles!”

The crowd erupts in applause, whistles, and a standing ovation because despite his unsavory demeanor - no one could deny he was a legend.

Before he gets up, Nicole watches as he cups his wife’s cheek - locking her lips in a kiss before she has to give him a playful shove when he tries to slip some tongue.

When Harry gets up to the stage, he shakes the hand of the announcer and takes the award from him, setting it on the podium.

“Fourth year in a row has a nice ring to it,” Harry gives the crowd a dazzling white smile that have his dimples digging into his cheek.

The crowd whistles and coos.

Nicole notices YN getting teary-eyed as she watches her husband accept the award.

“I want t’thank a few people tonight. I want t’thank m’wife and the mama of my babies - YN. She’s supported me from when I was in college with no other career path but baseball, unsure of if I’d fail or not, she stuck through it.”

She can sense everyone’s eyes dart over to YN who is still staring up at her husband - who is giving her a gleaming smile right back.

“We’ve been through some really hard obstacles in our first years as a couple but she’s the reason for all this - the fact that she always believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself.”

The audience is respectful, quiet as he publicly tells a story of his deep love for his wife.

“I want t’thank m’three babies. Easton, Cash, and Ezra. They inspire me to be a better better man and a good role model - even though I think y’all agree they won’t be if they watch too much how I play when I’m out in the field.”

The crowd erupts in laughter at Harry poking fun at his own antics that he’s most famous for. He goes on to thank the team, coaches, Nike, everyone on the professional side of career.

When he’s done, everyone stands back up to congratulate him, patting him on the back as he returns to his seat.

Nicole watches as Harry sits back down, chuckling as he swipes a tear off his wife’s cheek, “Why y’crying, mama?”  

“I’m just so proud of you. Everything you do for me and our babies. The best husband, best daddy. My heart is just full,” She murmurs, clearly not meant for others to hear but Nicole was eavesdropping.

Harry’s eyes darken with something Nicole can’t identify but does notice his hand creeping a bit further up her thigh.

He leans into whisper something into her ear before she sees his lightly nip at her lobe before pulling back to join into the conversation.

-

After the lights come back up, Trent abandons her to go shoot the shit with other guys.

When she trails off to the bathroom, down a long hallway from the main area - she hears a rustling from behind a door labeled with a plaque that says ‘executive meeting room’.

Nicole pauses confused, all these offices and other rooms were strictly off limits during events obviously. She was confused to hear someone in a room that was not supposed to be in use.

Then she realizes it’s not just someone - it’s two people.

“S’good, sweetheart. Give it t’me so good.”

And she knows right then and there all she needs to know about who’s in that conference room and what they were doing.

“Be quiet, you’re being too loud,” YN scolds back, the walls were clearly thin because she could hear the exchange.

“Make y’cunt not feel like heaven then,” He remarks back, his voice slower and more soft than it would be in front of people.

God, Trent and her haven’t slept together in ages - let alone has spontaneous hookups or dirty talk like that ever.

When they all end up back at the table before the closing speech for the night, Nicole spots a nicely sized mark under Harry’s jaw that he’s wearing with pride.

YN had her lipstick wiped off and was much more clingy as the night rolled on which Harry seemed to thrive on.

As she and Trent are on their way home, Nicole speaks into their silence, “I don’t think our relationship is working.”

Not after she saw love and happiness at that event table tonight - she wanted that kind of love not settling for some cheating asshole.

-

The Little League Game

It was a cool autumn evening, it was an important game - if you could call it that for the little league team that Kayla had her son on.

The goal was to determine which team would move onto the playoffs, even though most of this was all in good fun because it was for eight-year-olds and it wasn’t serious.

Kayla couldn’t lie and say that she didn’t spend some of the time curiously gazing at the New York Yankees player who would come to watch his son play.

He wasn’t at every game due to his schedule but it seemed like he came to whatever ones he could with his wife and other three kids.

They had taken the bench on the bleachers right below her so she had an up close and personal view of the family when they’ve never sat this close before.

As the kids warmed up, Harry had his youngest son who looked to be about four sit next to him, squished between his dad and mom happily.

Their middle son was next to his mom on the other side, looking to be about six, and he was wriggling impatiently in his seat - eager to join the other kids in the jungle gym.

The baby girl who looked about a year and a half old didn’t look anything like her brothers - it was obvious that she was a spitting image of her mother (who was stunning).

She was curled up in her mom’s lap, asleep with her face squished against her mother’s chest - a pacifier suckling fiercely between her puffy lips.

“Mama, please,” The curly haired boy begs with greedy puppy dog eyes as he keeps glancing back to look at the other kids.

“You stay right where daddy and I can see you, yes?” YN murmurs, brushing back his unruly curls that where getting long, “And what are our rules?”

“Stay where you can see, don’t talk to strangers, and be nice to others,” He recites perfectly, Kayla was a bit blown away by his manners.

She watches baseball. It was hard to believe their children were so mild mannered when their father was the exact opposite - at least on the field.

Harry was rustling in the diaper bag for something as his son looked at him with wide, concerned eyes, “My baby, daddy.”

“I know, Ezzie. M’lookin’ f’your baby,” His father replies softly, the polar extreme of his normal brash, crude language that had a nasty tone like he couldn’t bother giving people the time of day.

“Daddy, please,” The youngest whines, his little hand grasping at his father’s tattooed wrist as he gets to his knees to help his dad look.

“Left inner pocket,” YN murmurs offhandedly as she makes sure Cash gets to the playground safely with his friends.

“Say ‘thanks mama’,” Harry coos to his son as he manages to tug out the baby doll and hand it to the awaiting little boy.

“Thanks mama,” He replies instantly with a gapped smile as he nuzzles right back into his father’s side as if he can’t get close enough.

“How are you feeling, Ezra?” His mother leans over to ask, keeping the baby close to her chest.

“M’happy, mama,” Ezra replies simply before starting to babble to himself as he plays with the babydoll.

Kayla watches Harry and YN swap a fond look at their son but she couldn’t help but wonder why they asked him that? He seemed fine so why did they feel the need to do that?

The game is going okay, Harry stands up to cheer and whistle when Easton hits a two-base hit but YN smacks his thigh and motions to their sleeping baby.

He looks at her sheepishly before sitting back down, kissing her cheek in apology, and peeking down into the fleece blanket to watch his daughter sleep for a moment.

Then it seems like Easton starts to lose momentum after he pitches two home-runs, his face pinched in disappointment as the other team scores but Harry is attempting to keep him motivated with encouraging shouts.

Easton struggles from then on, he strikes out for his final three turns, doesn’t catch two pop-ups, and his pitches start to get a little shaky. It’s obvious in his facial expression he’s getting upset because he’s breathing heavier like he’s trying not to cry.

Kayla feels a sense of dread for the little boy, his father who’s the best baseball player in modern day history is watching his son not do well during an important game.

 Because of what she knows of him from his temper and attitude on the field - she worries that he’s one of those father’s who will hound their kid for doing poorly.

“Oh, c’mon East,” Harry murmurs softly when his son stumbles over a ground ball before another kid picks it up and throws it in - their son smacking his glove down against the ground in frustration.

“He’s getting himself worked up,” YN notes as she watches her oldest kick his cleats in the dirt with a quivering bottom lip.

“I know,” Harry replies to his wife, “Wish he wouldn’t, he’s gettin’ upset out there, I can tell.”

“Sad?” Ezra squeaks, clambering onto his father’s lap and stating, “Hold me, daddy.”

Harry obliges easily, gathering up his small son before his attention is directed back onto the game - it was down to the last few minutes and unfortunately Easton pitched a ball that resulted in a home run for the other team.

“Fuck,” Harry mutters, running a hand through his messy locks before he’s setting Ezra back down on the bleachers, “I’m going to go talk to him. Do you want to meet back home?”

YN nods, leaning down to tuck the baby into the double stroller before buckling Ezra in as well, “I’m going to go get Cash and head out. Why don’t you take him out for some ice cream? I love you.”

“I love you too, mama,” He replies, kissing her softly before kissing both of his kids foreheads and stepping down the bleachers - ignoring all the adults who are staring at him with a starstruck expression as he heads to the dugout.

It cleared out fast, nobody sticking around after the loss that ended with them not continuing on to the championship, and Easton was sat on the bench - he was stoic and there was a hard, angry expression on his face that reminded Kayla of what she saw Harry look like when he played.

As she gathers up her son and makes sure he’s got all of his equipment, Kayla stands and chats to a few of the moms before she’s heading to her car - which happened to be parked next to a sleek Masserati crossover, who would let their muddy kid go in there? Rich people, she guesses.***

Kayla pops the trunk to her van with her key as they get closer, she notices that Harry also has his up and Easton is sitting on the tailgate with his eyes looking down at the pavement. She tries not to appear as nosey or eavesdropping as she tucks her items into the back.

“Sweetheart, s’okay. Y’did so so good tonight,” Harry assures his pouty son, he squats down to start to untie his son’s nike cleats but continues to make eye contact with him. 

“No, I didn’t, Daddy!” Easton whines, tears finally starting to bubble over the surface as he begins to sob with a shuddering chest, “I gave up home runs and then I missed ground balls!”

“Whoa, bubby,” Harry simpers after he tugs off the shoes and throws them carelessly into the back before standing up, “Y’did amazing, are you kiddin’? You did three innings of strikeouts, hit two of y’own homeruns. Y’played like a professional, way better than daddy.”

Kayla’s heart aches a bit when she sees Harry sit down next to him before hugging him harshly into his side, thumbing at the tears that are running down his son’s sweaty cheeks with soft reassurances.

“Daddy, are you mad I didn’t win?” Easton asks shakily, keeping his head buried into his father’s side and his small hand clutching into the fabric of his hoodie.

Harry chuckles lowly, “Daddy would never be mad at you f’anythin’, definitely not a baseball game. Remember what mama and I said? If at any point y’want to stop playin’, just let us know and we can find something else, yeah? Just like how Ezzie does art classes.”

Easton seems to calm down after a few moments of Harry rocking him and reassuring him of what an amazing son he is.

As Kayla drove away that night, her perspective on the all-star baseball player definitely changed. It was refreshing to see someone to not hold their child to an unreasonable expectation just like she thought Harry would.

--

The Campfire

Austin was the shortstop on the baseball team, he’d brought along his girlfriend, Chelsea, to the frat party to celebrate another win.

Everyone was in whispers that Harry was bringing his new girlfriend but nobody knew who she actually was because it was just a rumor.

It was surprising because Harry wasn’t a relationship kind-of man. He wasn’t into hookups much - always said he needed to focus on baseball.

Many of his teammates were envious of how many girls were constantly coming up to Harry at parties to flirt and try to get a dance in but he had always rejected them.

Harry had never showed interest in any of these girls at the parties, never seen him disappear upstairs with one or really entertain a conversation over a beer like they’d expect.

Chelsea pokes his shoulder and nods towards the entrance when Harry walks in with his arm around YN’s shoulder.

Most were in a little shock because they seemed like such an unlikely couple - YN had written some scathing articles about him and it was no secret he hadn’t been a fan of her.

“Holy shit, Harry’s dating YN?” Chelsea whispers to Austin as the group of party-goers cheer and whistle at the allstars appearance.

“Guess so,” Austin replies with a shrug, tugging Chelsea into the kitchen for a drink.

Later on that night, there’s a bonfire on one side of the backyard and a volleyball net on the other where a group was gathering to play.

Austin and Chelsea are on the opposing team of Harry and YN - she can’t help but watch them with curiosity because of what a surprise it is that they’re dating.

Even Austin has been watching because Harry’s acting in a way that he’s never seen throughout his time on the team with him.

Harry is just all over YN which was confusing how he went from not being remotely interested in the college girls to being a lovestruck puppy.

When she throws the ball up to serve, Harry reaches over and pinches her bum which makes her squeak and accidentally drop the ball which has him cackling as she glares at him.

As they change positions, he crowds up behind her, and massages her hips, leaning down to murmuring something in her ear.

She blushes wildly before smacking him off which has him laughing hard and kissing the back of her head before taking his position.

After Harry jumps and spikes the ball hard, earning them the winning point, YN turns around and wraps her arms around him to hug him tightly.

Harry wraps his arms around her shoulders, returning the hug before pulling back to kiss her lips in a soft peck.

Chelsea elbows Austin, “Who’s that and what did they do with Harry?”

Austin shakes his head, “I really don’t fucking know.”

The group migrates over to the fire as they might become cooler and the stars are high up in the sky, the fire flickering orange and yellow crackles of sparks.

Harry plops into a chair, pulling YN right onto his lap, and she wriggles until she’s comfortable. Chelsea notices him tap her thigh as if telling her to cut it out, too much motion right on his crotch.

Jake, one of his teammates, says in a teasing tone, “YN, I’m surprised to see you around these parts . I clearly remember a strongly worded article about how stupid frat parties are.”

YN takes it in stride, smiling as she replies, “And this party just proves my point.”

The group laughs easily, they enjoy YN’s sharp wit and comebacks as they get to know her. Austin can’t help but to notice how quiet Harry is.

Normally, he’s the life of the party, loud and making his presence known to everyone but not tonight. He has his chin propped on her shoulder and she’s cuddled back into his chest.

Austin can’t make out what Harry is saying but he’s constantly whispering in her ear and accentuating each time with a squeeze to her thighs.

“Are you guys official?” One of the teammates asked bluntly, a few beers deep by this point in the night.

Harry replies instantly, a possessive squeeze, “She’s mine and off the market, s’don’t even think about it.”

“Well I don’t think it matters because she’s turned down the whole baseball team by this point. I think everyone tried to ask her out at least once,” Steve jokes as the others agree.

“Tha’s m’girl,” Harry murmurs to her before teasing his friends,“Who’d want to go out with any you? You’re all dickheads.”

Everyone continues to joke around, it’s nearing midnight and that’s right about when Harry gets in his prime - like the party just started.

But not tonight.

YN’s eyes start to flutter shut as everyone banters and drinks around the fire, obviously not used to these late night parties.

“I better get this one t’bed,” Harry states after a few minutes, thumbing at YN’s cheekbone as she tries to stay awake.

“I’m okay,” She mumbles weakly, head still heavy against his shoulder.

“You’re coming back though, right?” Kyle asks expectantly, brows furrowed.

Harry shakes his head, “Nah, m’in for the night when she is.”

All the players look at him with a bit of a dumbfounded look, Steve shooting out, “Who knew you’d be so pussy whipped, Styles?”

Chelsea’s eyebrows raise at the crude comment, waiting with bated breath as Harry’s jaw clenches as it seems like he’s biting his tongue.

“Goodnight,” Harry says in a tone Austin has never heard before - agitated and almost…offended.

When Austin and Chelsea are sneaking up to his room for a late night hook-up, she overhears Harry and YN in his bedroom.

At first, she thinks they’re in an actual argument but as she listens to them - it’s not the kind of arguement she thought it was.

“You’re always the little spoon,” YN groans from behind the closed door.

Harry squawks, affronted before huffing back at her, “S’my favorite, please spoon me, darling?”

“You’re so fucking spoiled,” YN giggles as Chelsea assumes they move into a position where Harry’s the little spoon.

“Mm, I like feelin’ y’tits against my back, s’nice,” Harry hums with a boyish tone.

Chelsea doesn’t even realize she’s smiling until Austin drags her from her stupor. 

All she knew was that Harry Styles really really fancied that school reporter.

-=-=-=-=-=-

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[multiples-fandomswontkillme]

~Metal Family headcanons~

These are like my... general hcs)? which means I didn't include my main hc that Glam, Ches and Vicky are polyamorous, married and started dating after Glam met Vicky, and absolutely everything that implies for the kids and the relationships between each member of the fam. Maybe I'll make a separate post for that or maybe not! Who knows lkfwnlfqnf

Glam

Bisexual

Glam has constant nightmares and ocasional night terrors ever since he ran away home and is an active sleep walker. Ches helped him through the worse ones when they were younger, and learned how to deal with them, always preferring not to wake him up but being with him until the episode passed. Vicky has learned how to deal with them, though she normally asks Ches for advice with it cuz she comes out short sometimes.

He has PTSD. I bet it's diagnosed too, he takes medication and goes to therapy, it doesn't mean he still doesn't have his bad days anyway. He's trying to get better.

Glam has talked to Vicky about his past, his father and his family. This is a direct contradiction of Alina's confirmation that Glam doesn't talk about it with anyone but man FUCK THAT. We love good communication in this house, Vicky tries her best to help him, but there's only so much she can do to help.

Glam enjoys gardening, cooking and making models, he also likes doing his make up, painting his nails and dressing up in fancy, extravagant clothes even if he has nowhere important to go.

He likes taking care of everyone's hair, and constantly helps Vicky brush her hair cuz there's so much of it, Dee when he gets stressed over how tangled it can get, buys Ches hair products so he actually takes care of it, and chases Heavy so the kid actually washes, untangles and brushes his hair.

This one is kind of weird, but I refuse to think any adult in the family is unarmed at any time. Glam owns a taser and pepper spray. They're bright pink and sparkly.

This man cried his eyes out while watching Coco. He's hell to watch movies with cuz he talks and predicts what's gonna happen during the movie, judges them with scores at the end and all.

Vicky

Also bisexual!

Vicky's the one who does everyone's laundry most of the time. She prefers it that way since she's the only one that knows how to wash their black clothes so the colors stay vibrant. (This is based on my gf shaming everyone but Vicky cuz their black clothes always look so muted and almost gray, but Vicky's whole outfit is always the same vibrant black colors, so we decided that neither Glam or the kids know how to wash dark clothes)

She has anger issues, if it isn't obvious. I think she also has PTSD, mainly survivor's guilt due to her surviving the accident her brother died in. She blames herself and cannot bear to talk about it, in some sort of deep denial. If she can't remember, it can't hurt as much, right?

She has scars on the right side of her back and her hip, from the road rash she got on her brother's accident, she never treated it due to grief and it scarred badly. Apart from that, the scar of the caesarean section from Heavy's birth. She doesn't really mind both of them, they happened, nothing to do about them.

She likes watching boxing competitions, brawling matches and motorcycle repairing on TV. Loves doing BBQ's and going to the pool. Also an enjoyer of teasing her kids, kissing and loving her husband at random times, spending time drinking and bonding with Ches and bragging about her family and punching anyone who thinks they're not that cool.

Not particularly a fan of make up, skirts and dresses or any traditionally femenine-perceived stuff. But has been making exceptions due to Glam and Ches being unashamed of being seen as femenine, and actually rocking the looks. The internalized misogyny is kind of slowly dissapearing.

Apart from the guns she carries in each arm (I mean her biceps, have you looked at the size of those?? She strong) she has brass knuckles on her at all times. Glam gifts her new ones sometimes, she loves having multiple choices to punch people teeth in.

Loves horror, thrillers and action movies. Falls asleep during rom-coms and dramas. Ironically, loves gossip and talking shit about people. Enjoys hearing Ches talks about the gossip going on in the nursery home even if she doesn't know who the hell he's talking about.

Rest of the family under the cut!

Heavy

Heavy is a trans boy! He doesn't know his sexuality yet though, he's still figuring himself out. When he's older, i think he definitely dated some men but had better luck with girls.

Heavy has had innocent crushes on some girls on his class before, but they never turn into anything more cuz he's not the best at expressing himself. He follows the bother-the-girl-to-death-until-she-hates-you gimmick, and unsurprisingly, it doesn't work.

I'm sorry to break this to u but Heavy totally had an among us phase, and uses so much reddit and twitch slang... You know he does.

Likes bullying and teasing his brother to death. You know that when Dee had his first romance, Heavy was ALL up in his business being a tease and a bad attempt at a wingman. He means well tho.

He's not squeamish at all. Also has great pain resistance. This kid has picked cockroaches with his bare hands and loves cats, of course the cats have scratched him. He's tough!

Grows up to be the charming himbo he was always destined to be.

Dee

I hc him as demisexual. Kind of inherited his dad's tastes for the takes no crap, intimidating but pretty kind of people.

Can't cook. He tries but he can only do basics like rice, cereal, chicken nuggets or eggs. Complicated meals always burn or don't taste like anything at all. It drives him crazy.

Dee was a quiet and very well behaved toddler before Heavy was born. He never threw tantrums or got whims. After Heavy was born though, and despite the fact he understood his brother was small and needed special care, he started craving attention often and cried and got mad at little things. Typical jealousy of the oldest sibling.

The first time Dee fell in love with someone, he didn't recognize it was love at first. He just thought his interest on the person was born out of curiosity and aesthetic attraction, but as soon as he realized he seeked validation and companionship, that he liked seeing them smile, that he wanted to protect them, that he yearned for more time alone with them and that he wanted more than what just a simple friendship implied, it was an instant 'oh hell no'. He wanted those feelings to get the hell away, but unfortunately, they were there to stay.

Canonically likes MLP, psychological and horror anime like Death note and Hellsing, so I'm deciding he also watched Death Parade, had a FNAF phase, is very into The Walten Files. This guy enjoys any kind of specially dark ARG's and knows a ton of lore of real crime, unsolved cases, ghost appearances and other stuff. Doesn't believe in the supernatural, but sure is entertained by it.

He's a mess at romance. Flirting? His attempts at compliments are hardly flattering. Giving gifts? The best he can manage is jewelry and you can kind of tell he asked his dad for help. Dates? He's so nervous he's silent for most of it, but begins getting comfortable and having fun if his partner really knows how to get him down from his negativity cloud.

Ches

Pansexual.

He's very good with kids. He has the patience of a saint and he's laid-back, chill and fun but still is an authority figure who knows how to put limits. Sure, he's gonna let the kids light up a house on fire BUT hey, now they know everything about fire precautions, burns and how to treat them AND how to get away with arson. What an educational evening, am I right?

Due to certain info from the "Goodbye" official comic, I headcanon Ches as depressed. I don't want to elaborate a lot 'cuz of spoilers, but... God, everything related to his mom fucking hurts, man. How did he deal with all that?

Ches has been Dee and Heavy's babysitter so many times he cannot count them with all his fingers. He learned how to put those kids to sleep almost immediately (Sing Bon Jovi's "This ain't a love song" and any cheesy love song in a slow lullaby style and they're out), which movie were their favorite as kids (Heavy loved 'Monsters Inc.' and Dee never looked away during 'Meet the Robinsons'), how to console them after nightmares (Heavy needed reassurance, sweet words, and to be with someone until he fell asleep again. Dee just had to be tucked in, get his nightlight turned on and kissed in the forehead). He practically raised those kids along with Vicky and Glam.

More than once, Dee and Heavy have slipped and called Ches "Dad". Ches immediately gets his shit eating grin on and answers "Yes, son?" and does a couple of dad jokes just to mess and embarrass them. He's actually very flattered and surprised at how proud of himself he is for being a father figure to both kids.

Has a scar on the left side of his forehead due to a bottle his mom threw at him when he was younger, around the time he met Glam. He hates the scar with passion, it's a permanent reminder of the fact she never cared, that's why he always keeps it covered with his headband. Gets sad about it sometimes.

Ches likes to spend his time with a group of grannies of the nearby nursing home. He genuinely considers them his friends and gossips and hangs out with all of them on weekends. Bingo, billiards, walks in the park, soap opera marathons, you name it. I even designed them, gave them names and backstories... God, i just love the concept too much. I'll make some art about Ches and his granny gang FOR SURE, you're NOT ready for them.

Carries a pocket knife on him at all times. This man grew up on a bad neighborhood and absolutely knows how to defend himself, he can be intimidating when he wants to be and will pose a threat if needed. He's fucking terrifying when genuinely mad. Just cause he looks harmless doesn't mean he is, darling.

That would be all!

[the-ultimate-puppeteer]

Hi! Can you do a request where kyoko kirigiri confesses her love to a male reader who is junko enoshima's little brother

Kyoko confessesing to Junko precious baby brother

•Honestly when it came down to it you were a pretty chaotic and open person

•Though it's not like it was surprising considering You were Junko's precious baby brother as she would say

•You knew the only reason she constantly teased you like that was to flustered and annoy you

•Honestly people probably expected you to take after Mukuro, especially considering you talent was very similar to hers since you were the Ultimate Warrior.

•But honestly where would the fun in frowning all the time, that seemed so boring to you, do people think going through life like that is cool or something?

•Though to be fair she does pull it off well just like couple of other girls at Hope's peak did like Kyoko for instance 

•When it comes down to it she's the very definition of stoic, always calm and level headed she was honestly the opposite of you

•Little did you know However was that she had quite the crush on you

•Despite the fact that you honestly were pretty chaotic and loved fighting she honestly loved how open you were with people

•You weren't afraid to trust people, maje friends with even individuals that were on the more unsociable side like herself and Toko 

•You also freely expressed your emotions unashamed of displaying what you felt and honestly she loved that about you

•You were pretty confused when she asked to meet you after class was over

•You thought you may have done something wrong or maybe she needed you for case ot would be pretty awesome if you were a suspect of a crime, surprisingly it was neither

•What came outta her mouth honestly was a shock to your system as like always she was blunt and straight to the point

•(F/N) I have to confess that I seem to have developed feelings for you

•I'm not sure how this started but I honestly love everything about you, how open you are with people how despite everything you've seen and experienced you can still trust and Bond with others.

•This really was not what you expected when you woke up this morning, Seriously who would've expected that Kyoko of all people actually Liked you in a romantic capacity except big sis Junko

•You look at Kyoko with surprise and a face flushed red as she asks you if you would be open to a relationship with her

•You shyly look away and then turn your face towards her with a bright smile and answer with a resounding 'yes' then gently grasp her gloved hand with yours

[chaos-burst]

direction to perfection

Dorian fought his parents to be here.

He fought tooth and nail to be allowed to live in a dorm, so there is no way he can back down from this decision. It’s his first shot at freedom and being normal and doing something for himself instead of his family.

Dorian will not back down.

He will persevere.

“Harder, come on!”

Loud moaning and the creaking of an old mattress accompany the dull thudding that comes from inside of his room. The room he’s currently standing in front of.

“I’m so close, so close, so close—“

Dorian stares at the door. His face is hot and he stands frozen in place as he tries to decide what to do. He needs his lute for the next bard class. He also needs to be far away from this room.

Gods, most of all he needs a new roommate.

“Oh, fuck, just like that—ah—“

Dorian closes his eyes and hides his face in his hands.

He was so proud after he finally convinced his parents to let him stay here. When he first entered his room he wasn’t even concerned about how small it was, or how his roommate’s bed was so close to his that stretching both their arms out would result in them touching hands.

And then he met Dariax, the guy he’s supposed to be living with for a long time.

“Dorian, are you literally standing here listening to Dariax bang someone inside of your room?”, Opal’s voice reaches his ears and he turns his head to look at her. She must see the desperation on his face because the next moment she gives him a pointed look before hammering her fist on the door.

“What the fuck, guys! Rent a room! And hurry up, Dorian needs his stuff!”

Dorian feels mortification creep from his face down into his stomach as he hears a loud thump, a shriek and a curse. The fact that Dariax knows that Dorian has been standing here makes him go through the five stages of grief so quickly that he can feel his insides churn.

Opal turns to face him and gives him a stern stop-putting-up-with-this look before she stalks away, twirling her dagger in her hand.

Dorian wishes it were that easy to voice what he wants.

To be sure of himself.

To live unashamed and free.

Sadly, his current repertoire covers none of these things.

The door gets yanked open and Dorian finds himself face to face with a white, half-elven woman wrapped in a bed sheet, her hair a complete and utter, blonde mess, her purple lipstick smeared across her left cheek.

“I was so close!���, she hisses as she holds up her index finger and thumb to indicate the fact that Dorian just ruined her earth-shattering orgasm.

“I—uh. I’m so—“

“Dorian! Gosh, I’m so sorry, I forgot that you had class, buddy!”

The half-elven woman throws Dorian the nastiest stink-eye and rushes down the corridor in nothing but the bedsheet wrapped around her. Dorian has no idea why she would do that, but Dariax distracts him.

Dariax, who is completely naked, his lips covered in purple lipstick, his cheeks flushed and his hair standing up from his head.

For decency, he’s holding a bottle of wine to cover his crotch.

Dorian wishes the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

“I—uh. Sorry to disturb the—ah. Fun? I just. I just need to grab my lute real quick”, he says weakly, rushes over to his bed and grabs the lute leaning against the wall beside it.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, buddy, I’ll just go jack off in the shower, it’s no biggie.”

Dorian stares at Dariax who grins at him, as if that was a perfectly normal thing to say to someone in this situation.

“Sure. Have fun”, he croaks, his cheeks still flaming, and flees out of the room and down the hallway.

Dorian fought so hard to be here but gods, he wishes he were somewhere else right now.

The class he’s attending is one of his favorites—one that covers Bardic Inspiration as a form of self-expression, but it takes him a while to cool down from the mortifying ordeal of having Dariax as his roommate.

They’ve been living together for almost three months now and it’s not like it’s all bad.

Hell, Dorian likes Dariax.

He’s funny, doesn’t take himself too seriously, he tells ridiculous, entertaining stories and is loyal to a fault. But he’s also extroverted in a way that makes Dorian go insane. There is no moment of silence when Dariax is in the room—because Dariax hates silence. He also brings back so many different people to their room without asking Dorian first. Not all of them are Dariax’ lovers—at least not as far as he knows.

But they’re always loud, always messy and always completely oblivious to Dorian’s social cues.

Opal keeps ranting about how Dorian needs to reinforce his boundaries, but Dorian has no idea how to do that. Never in a million years would he bang on the door of his room if he knows that Dariax is having sex in there. Opal is always so loud and unapologetic about everything—Dorian envies her for it.

Dorian has never kissed anyone. Or had sex. Or anything in between these things. How the fuck both Dariax and Opal know exactly what they like and who they like is beyond him.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”, a soft voice says right next to him and Dorian is ripped out of thoughts and into reality. The class has been going for an hour and there’s someone standing next to him he’s never seen before.

She’s definitely some sort of fey—the whole lower half of her body is goat-like and her long ears are drooping. The amount of ribbons her dress is supporting is truly astounding and there is a whole crown of poisonous flowers on top of her head that she wears like a crown. Dorian blinks before catching himself.

“Ah—no. Please”, he says and gestures at the empty chair next to him.

The faun sits down carefully and watches as she carefully places a panflute on her thighs.

“Which bard college do you specialize in?”, Dorian asks.

“Hm? Oh, I’m not a bard. I’m majoring in druid. I just like to make music”, she answers with a smile.

Dorian never considered just taking classes that have nothing to do with his major. Maybe it would be something his parents would disapprove of even more than they did of his bard major and his choice to sleep in a dorm.

“I’m Fearne, by the way”, she adds and nods her heads slightly. A single leaf falls from her head and onto her panflute.

“Dorian”, he answers. Fearne smiles at him.

“You have very pretty hair”, she says.

“Oh. Ah—thank you? You—you too. Your hair, I mean. It’s—uh. Very green.”

Fearne’s smile widens.

“Thank you!”, she says in a tone that suggests that this might be the compliment she’s ever received. Dorian on the other hand wishes he could bite off his tongue. Your hair is very green. What kind of compliment is that? It’s no wonder that he didn’t have any chance to kiss anyone yet if this is all that he can come up with.

Dorian turns around and tries to concentrate on the professor’s lecture but his mind keeps wandering. He takes only a few notes and as he looks over at Fearne he sees that she’s doodling all sorts of mushrooms into her notebook. Then there is a small screech coming directly from her bag.

The class falls silent and everyone turns to look in their direction.

“What was that?”, professor Brooke asks with a confused look on his face. “I don’t remember any familiar registrations for this class.”

Dorian looks at Fearne who turns her head to look around at all the people staring in their direction.

“That was just me”, Fearne says and points to herself. “I ate too much pudding for breakfast.”

Professor Brooke looks embarrassed and very apologetic.

“I’m sorry, dear. Let’s continue then.”

As the lecture continues, Dorian leans over to Fearne.

“Didn’t that come out of your bag?”, he wants to know. Fearne shoots him a sly smile and gently lifts the flap of her green bag. Dorian stares at a small monkey peeking up at him with weirdly glowing eyes. Then the monkey raises his index finger to his mouth as if trying to tell Dorian to shut up.

Fearne closes the bag.

“That’s just Little Mister. He’s my… friend.”

“I see”, Dorian says.

He supposes that this is what he left home for—to meet all sorts of people, learn about all kinds of different things that he would never get in touch with while under his parents’ wings.

So Dorian decides to simply accept that some people are friends with monkeys and carry them around in bags.

If he can manage to live with someone like Dariax, he sure as hell won’t judge someone for bringing an animal companion to class.

After another fifteen minutes, Fearne leans over to Dorian again.

“I don’t understand this concept that the professor is talking about.”

“Oh, they explained it in the first half hour, before you got here.”

“Oh, I see. I was late”, Fearne says and looks disappointed, as if she was only now realizing this.

“Uh—yeah. Like, half an hour.”

“Time is kind of hard, you know. It’s like—it’s like this weird soup. And I don’t think I really have it memorized how to read clocks.”

Dorian stares at her.

“So. Are you not from here?”, he asks and groans internally at his phrasing. Fearne doesn’t seem to mind, though. She nods gratefully as Dorian pushes over his notes so she can look at them.

“No, not really. I come from the Feywild. We don’t really have clocks.”

“Because… time is a weird soup.”

“Yeah, exactly. Is that a saying here, too?”, she asks, her ears turning towards him full of excitement.

“Ah—no. I don’t think it is. Not here, at least.”

“Well, now you know it.”

Dorian nods and watches as Fearne studies his notes to copy some of them down into her notebook. He tries to imagine a world without clocks and immediately gets anxious at the prospect of always being late.

In the last twenty minutes of the lecture, they actually get to play their instruments.

“You play beautifully”, Fearne says after listening to Dorian play for a few minutes.

“Thank you! Your music is really different from what I know. It’s interesting.”

Fearne beams at him.

“Maybe we could make some music together some time?”, she asks.

“I would like that, yeah.”

*

Dorian isn’t bad at making friends, he’s just not as good or fast at it as Dariax. Maybe that’s because he’s a little more selective about the people he hangs out with, but Dariax just seems to consider everyone he talked to more than once his friend.

Dorian never really had friends growing up, so he doesn’t consider himself an expert. But at least for him Dariax’ way doesn’t seem to be all that great.

So when Dariax asks: “Hey, do you wanna come hang out with me and my friends tonight?” Dorian feels less than inclined to say yes.

“Uh—I already have plans”, he lies, trying to figure out if he should try to convince Opal to spend the evening with him or if he should just take this opportunity to have some peace and quiet in his room.

“Aw, man. Too bad. We wanted to go skinny dipping in the gym’s pool”, Dariax says.

“Isn’t that off limits at night?”, Dorian asks, his brow furrowed as he looks at Dariax’ face that breaks into a wide grin.

“Yeah, that’s why it’s fun to go there”, he answers and winks at Dorian. Dorian feels his cheeks grow hot and swallows as his intestines suddenly feel the need to writhe around like living snakes.

“Oh, well—I’m not really a—uh. A rebel boy, as they say”, he says and laughs nervously. “You go and have fun, though.”

He tries not to picture Dariax completely naked in the dim, shimmering light of the campus’ pool but he fails miserably. His palms start sweating.

“Oh, don’t worry, I will, I will. But hey, maybe next time!”

“Uh—yeah. Maybe”, Dorian says weakly as Dariax saunters out of their room and closes the door behind him. Dorian stares at the locked door for way too long and he’s endlessly glad that no one can see him.

This doesn’t seem like a normal thing to invite someone to. When he went to college to learn how to be a bard, he envisioned parties, maybe some illegal weed smoking on a restricted rooftop, at the most.

He did not envision to be asked to get butt naked, break into a gym with a pool at night and go swimming with a bunch of—probably drunk—strangers he doesn’t even know the names of.

That was, of course, before he got Dariax as a roommate.

Now Dorian feels like he should be prepared for anything.

As Dorian grabs his lute and sinks down onto his bed he wonders if Fearne lives on campus or if she lives in the Feywild and somehow manages to travel here for every class that she has. That would explain the time thing, he supposes, because he learned that time works differently on other planes.

This is the first evening in what feels like weeks that he has the room just to himself. In between the pieces he plays on his lute he simply sits on the bed, enjoying the silence. When he opens the window the cool breeze from outside reminds him of home and he closes his eyes for a little while.

It smells like rain and autumn outside. Dorian turns to look at the small room that’s his now. It’s nothing compared to the big, bright room he had at home, but it feels special simply because this is the first time he gets to do what he wants with a space without anyone breathing down his neck.

There’s not much in the room aside from their desks, beds and the closet they share, but Dorian pinned a few posters and postcards over his bed for the very first time. His bed is unmade—something that his parents would have never allowed—and there are fairy lights dangling from the ceiling that he actually picked out himself.

The desk is covered in sheet music and books and for a few seconds Dorian looks at the small picture of his brother and himself that is sticking to his pencil holder, before turning his gaze at some of the articles he printed out yesterday.  

He might actually get some homework done in this blessed quiet.

At least that’s what he thinks until his phone rings.

At some point Dariax must’ve stolen Dorian’s phone and taken a selfie to make it pop up every time he calls Dorian, because as his phone lights up Dorian can see Dariax’ dopey smile appear. Dorian ignores the rush of heat he feels as he looks down at the glowing display, reaches for his phone and picks up the call.

“Dariax?”

“Dorian, hey buddy!”

He definitely sounds drunk, which doesn’t surprise Dorian. But there’s an edge to his voice that makes Dorian nervous.

“What’s up, Dariax?”

“I—uh. Remember how I told you that we were going to go skinny dipping in the gym and everything?”

“Yeah, I haven’t forgotten. It was like, three hours ago.”

“Cool, yeah. So the guys—“, and Dorian wonders who exactly ‘the guys’ are supposed to be, “were in a real funny mood. So. They stole my clothes and locked me in here—“

“They what?”

“I know, right? So… I tried to break open the lock, but I might be a little too drunk to get it right. And I was wondering—could you maybe bring me some clothes and get that door open for me?”

Dorian stares out into the night.

“How do you have your phone if they took all your stuff?”, he asks weakly.

“Had it with me in the pool to take some underwater selfies. It’s waterproof”, Dariax supplies cheerfully.

Dorian can see lights in the buildings all over campus and a crescent moon in the sky. He tries not to imagine what kind of pictures Dariax was trying to take of himself. Naked. In a pool.

“You want me to break open a door”, he repeats, just in case he misheard.

“I mean, kinda? Maybe? I really don’t wanna sleep in here. I slept in worse places, but it seems kinda shitty to wake up and immediately get into trouble for trespassing and all of that…”

Dorian isn’t sure if he wants to know in what kind of places Dariax has slept that count as worse as a college gym’s pool.

“But I guess I could just sleep in the showers or something.”

“I don’t really know how to get locks open”, Dorian sighs, but he’s already walking over to their shared closet. In theory, Dariax’ half is on the left, but he insists on just throwing all of his clothes in there without actually caring about which side they land on, so Dorian grabs some jeans, a hoodie and some underwear and stuffs it into his bag. He tries very hard not to look at the underwear too closely.

Dariax might not know what privacy is but that doesn’t mean that Dorian has to stoop down to the same level as his roommate.

“Fine. I’ll see what I can do”, he huffs.

“Aw, fuck yeah, you’re the best. I lo—“

“Bye”, Dorian calls and hangs up hastily before Dariax can finish.

His dreams of a quiet night dissipate into smoke as he throws the bag over his shoulder, grabs his keys, his jacket and his phone and leaves the room to head towards the gym.

Dorian, never in his life, has tried to open a lock with anything other than the key that was supposed to go into it. He doubts that he would manage to learn it in the heat of a moment so as he walks through the night, passing under a lantern every few steps he takes, he considers what he can do to get a locked door to open.

He is not strong enough to pry it open.

He has never learned how to do that trick with a credit card and isn’t sure if it would even work on this door even if he knew how.

There is no spell he knows that would be useful to open a door.

The only thing Dorian is good at is music and talking to people.

He makes his decision as he heads for the closest security guard patrolling campus at night.

“Excuse me, hi”, he says with the most honest and simultaneously nervous smile he can muster. The young man looks him up and down and seems to come to the conclusion that Dorian is worthy of his attention because his body turns towards him and offers a small smile back. He’s white withshort, brown hair, a long nose and arms full of tattoos.

“Can I help you?”, he asks.

“Well—this is so embarrassing. I—uh. I was in the gym earlier and I forgot my phone in there and my girlfriend wanted to call me tonight and I—uh. I already missed the last call so…”

He trails off as he tries to looks as bashful and stressed as he can—something that isn’t hard because Dorian still has to think about how Dariax is naked and probably dripping wet and how they’re most likely going to get into so much damn trouble.

“Oh wow, that sucks”, the security guard says and Dorian nods.

“Yeah, I’m—this is so dumb, I know you have better things to do, but… If you could just let me sneak in there for a minute and grab my phone? That would be a total life-saver, man”, he says and brings his hands up in front of his chest in a pleading gesture.

“Well, I guess we can make an exception. Don’t want to be the cause for trouble in paradise, right?”, he answers with a smile and Dorian forces himself to laugh.

“Thanks so much, I’ll drop off some cookies next time I see you around”, Dorian says and the security guard chuckles and makes a joke about bribery that Dorian doesn’t actually find funny but laughs about anyway. Since he officially ‘lost’ his phone he has no idea how to let Dariax know what his plan is.

All Dorian can do is hope that Dariax isn’t standing right behind the door butt-naked. Dorian supposes that he could always claim not to know him then—something that would only hold up for so long.

They walk towards the gym and Dorian can feel his heartbeat picking up.

What if he gets suspended? Kicked out? Sent home?

When they arrive in front of the gym everything is silent. Dariax is not banging on the door from the inside, calling Dorian’s name. Dorian decides to take that as a win as he nervously watches the guard fiddle for the master-key before opening the door.

“So, where did you leave your phone?”, the guard asks him and Dorian looks around hastily to see if he can spot Dariax anywhere.

“Uh—over on the benches, I’ll be right back!”, he says with an apologetic smile before rushing through the gym and towards the benches on the other side of the building.

“Dariax!”, he hisses into the darkness towards the corridor that leads to the locker-room and the pool.

“Hey bu—“

“Pscht. There’s a guard there. I had him open the door, you have to sneak out!”

Dorian starts crouching down on the floor and drops his bag so Dariax can reach it. He’s peaking his head out of the dark corridor and Dorian hopes that the security guard doesn’t spot him as he reaches his arm out towards the bag with Dariax’ clothes inside it.

“Did you find it?”, the guard calls over and Dorian can hear his footsteps coming closer. He hastily fishes for his phone and slides it under one of the benches.

“Not yet, it’s pretty dark in here”, he says. The rustling in the corridor next to him tells him that Dariax is hastily getting dressed.

“I have a flashlight, one sec”, the guard says and crouches down next to Dorian who feels bad for lying to the poor guy. He’s so friendly and forthcoming—Dorian decides that he actually has to get this man some cookies.

“Oh, there it is!”, he says and points to the left as the light of the torch reaches his phone.

“I’m afraid my arms too short to reach that”, the guard says and scoots back so Dorian can extent his arm and grab his phone. He tries hard not to look behind him to check if Dariax already made it out or not. He gets up, stuffs the phone into his pocket and dusts off his pants before turning towards the guard with an embarrassed smile.

“Man, thank you so much, this is really clutch.”

“No problem. I hope it works out with your girlfriend”, he answers and leads Dorian back towards the door.

“Thanks. If I see you again I’ll keep you posted!”

They step outside into the cool night air and Dorian can’t see Dariax anywhere. His heart is still beating rapidly in his chest and his palms are terribly sweaty. He wipes them off on his pants and decides that he needs a hot shower and his warm bed after this terrible disaster. His body feels as if he just ran a marathon.

So much for a quiet, peaceful night.

As soon as the guard leaves Dorian looks around frantically. If Dariax didn’t make it outside, there’s no way Dorian can convince this guy to open the gym up again without telling him the truth—something Dorian desperately does not want to do.

“Hey, over here!”

Dorian turns around and sees Dariax waving out of one of the bushes. His hair is wet and sticking to his forehead, his face is flushed and his eyes glassy, but he has a wide, reckless smile on his face that makes Dorian’s heart leap into his throat and press on his windpipe.

“What the fuck, man?”, Dorian hisses as he walks over to Dariax who gets up now, slightly swaying on his feet. There are some yellow leaves stuck in his auburn hair.

“Damn, buddy, that was awesome! You seriously have a velvet tongue, how did you even do that?”

“I asked nicely. What the actual fuck, Dariax? Why did your friends think that was a good idea?”

Dariax looks at him sheepishly and shrugs.

“Ah—to tell you the truth, I don’t know.”

“Sounds like they were fucking you over”, Dorian says and starts walking back towards the dorm. Some fine mist hangs between the trees, which look mostly black except for those who reach into the light of the street lamps. The orange and brown colored leaves remind Dorian of Dariax’ hair.

“Yeah. Sounds like it, huh.”

Dariax is quiet after that, something which Dorian, for some reason, finds even more disturbing than hearing Dariax’ sex-noises through a locked door.

“You okay?”, he asks after two minutes of walking in silence.

Dariax turns to look at him and the smile that appears on his face doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Yeah, sure. You know how it is, people just fuck you over. That’s how it works, I guess.”

“It doesn’t have to work like this”, Dorian says, his brow furrowed and his hands itchy to reach out and tussle Dariax’ wet hair for comfort. He doesn’t even know if Dariax wants to be comforted. Or wants to be comforted by Dorian specifically.

Dorian doesn’t even know why he feels the need to comfort Dariax, seeing as to how it’s his own fault for getting into such a situation in the first place.

“Hm, maybe. But I guess you showed up to save the day”, Dariax says, looking at Dorian thoughtfully.

“Yeah, I didn’t fuck you over”, Dorian agrees and holds open the door for them as they reach the dorm.

“Yeah. You didn’t. Thanks, buddy. I owe you one.”

*

The security guard’s name is Orym, he knows Fearne from taking some druid classes on the side on top of his fighter classes and he enjoys blueberry muffins.

“So, how did it go with your girlfriend?”, he asks while chewing on the muffin that Dorian handed him a few moments ago.  

“We broke up”, Dorian replies with a gravelly voice and Orym pulls a face.

“I’m sorry, man.”

“Don’t worry about it. Thanks again for helping me with my phone.”

“It’s no problem at all. Thank you for this muffin.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you around.”

*

Dorian is pleased to find that the steady trickle of loud people that Dariax used to invite to their room before is thinning. He still goes out drinking and partying a lot, and he still has guests over to play Mario Kart or some horrible drinking game, but overall Dorian’s having more peace and quiet than ever before since he moved into this room with Dariax.

On a Wednesday night Dariax is sprawled out on his bed flipping through his phone. Dorian wonders if he’s going through his contacts, considering whom to call on for some. Well. Drinking or sex, probably.

Dorian hopes it’s not sex. And if it is sex, then for sex that is supposed to happen far away from here.

“How come you never go out?”, Dariax wants to know.

Dorian looks up from the sheet music he’s working on. He’s humming along quietly as he writes down, erases, writes down again and corrects the song he’s trying to write. He finds that he actually likes working in companionable silence, even though he didn’t think this would be possible with Dariax as his roommate a few weeks ago.

Dariax doesn’t seem to mind not talking as long as there is some sort of sound in the room—and Dorian’s humming apparently counts.

“How do you mean? I go out all the time”, Dorian says and looks up from his paper, cocking his head to regard Dariax who’s head is now hanging off of the side of the bed so he looks back at Dorian upside down.

“Yeah but like, partying. Drinking. College stuff, you know. You just hang out with the scary lady and she seems to like partying.”

“First of all, her name’s Opal. And I guess she can be kind of scary, but only if you’re a dick. And second of all, I hang out with other people! I met this very nice faun in my bard class and we’re making music from time to time. And—I don’t know. Partying is just not. Uh... It’s just not...”

Dorian sighs and leans against the wall behind him. The room is so scrappy that some of the wallpaper is coming down in little flakes in some places. He absentmindedly starts picking at his pillow.

“I never really went to parties before coming here. It’s just. I don’t know. New. I’m not like you. You know, with all the drinking and partying and—and uh. Sex. I guess.”

He can feel his ears burning and his cheeks heating up as he mumbles the end of his sentence. Dariax blinks at him and drops his phone on his face.

“Ow, fuck—okay. Wait. Are you saying that you’re a party-virgin and an actual virgin?”

“Oh come on, man, why do you have to say it like that? I’ve been to parties! But not—you know? College parties! And I never really drank alcohol before. It seems... I don’t know. Shifty.”

“Shifty”, Dariax repeats and a shit-eating grin spreads over his face, lighting up his eyes with a shimmer of mischief that Dorian finds very disconcerting.

“So you are a virgin.”

Dorian throws his pencil at Dariax and misses.

“So what? There’s nothing wrong with being a virgin! We can’t all walk around like you sleeping with people left and right!”

Dariax chuckles, obviously pleased with himself.

“Very true, I’m one of a kind. So, okay. But you kissed people, right?”, he wants to know.

“Why is that even relevant?”, Dorian hisses. He decides to throw his pillow next and Dariax almost falls off the bed trying to dodge it as he laughs.

“It’s not, I’m just curious! You’re always super uptight and mysterious, I know shit all about you and you’ve basically seen me banging someone at least twice!”

Dorian tries and fails to keep his poise as he flails his arms around.

“I could’ve lived happily without having seen any of that!”

“So that means you never kissed anyone?”, Dariax asks again, his grin wide and his eyebrows offensively wiggling. Dorian wishes he had some sort of cake that he could press Dariax’ face into.

“No, never. Are you happy now?”

“Would you like to kiss someone?”, Dariax wants to know and leans forward on the bed. He seems to have decided that sitting upright is the better choice in case Dorian decides to throw something else at him.

“I—I mean. I don’t know? I haven’t found the right person to kiss yet!”

“Ah, you’re one of those guys”, Dariax says with a wise nod that drives Dorian up the walls.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know? Like a romantic. True love and shit.”

“I wouldn’t—I. I haven’t really thought about it much. It’s not that important to me.”

Dariax pulls a face and nods, as if he understands perfectly what it means to not much care about kissing, sex or relationships. Dorian doubts that he actually understands with the frequency in which he drags people into his bed.

“I guess it’s not bad to wait for someone special”, Dariax concedes with a lopsided smile. “My first kiss was a total disaster, I didn’t know what I was doing at all and the dude told me it was like kissing a bowl of rice pudding.”

Dorian stares at him.

“That’s such a horrible thing to say”, he answers and Dariax shrugs.

“Yeah, I guess. He could’ve been nicer about it.”

Dorian’s brain is reeling.

Dariax had his first kiss with a guy. Dariax doesn’t only like women.

“Oh gods, I wish you hadn’t told me”, Dorian groans and presses the palms of his hands on his eyes until he sees little, colorful specs dancing on the inside of his eyelids. “What if I kiss someone I actually like and it turns out to be a completely terrible?”

He lowers his hands and stares at Dariax who stares back at Dorian with an intensity that surprises him.

“I mean. I guess you could just practice”, Dariax says.

“Oh yeah, sure. I’ll ask the first random person I meet in the hallway—“

“I would do it. Practice with you, I mean.”

Dorian blinks. He can feel the heat rising in his face and knows that his cheeks are turning purple.

“I—uh. That’s. Well. That’s very kind of you. But I’ll—I guess I’ll just figure it out on my own.”

Dorian chuckles nervously and glances back at Dariax who looks at him for a second longer before flopping back down onto his bed.

“Sure thing, buddy”, he says quietly and it’s probably just Dorian’s imagination that he sounds a bit disappointed.

*

“Dorian. Hey, Dorian!”

Dariax’ voice cuts through a dream about flying through space naked and Dorian opens his eyes. He is met with darkness and turns his head over to look towards Dariax’ side of the room. It takes a few seconds for his eyes to adjust and the confusion and sleep to drain out of him.

“Huh?”

“Hey, sorry. I—uh. I kinda had—I kinda had a nightmare?”

“Sorry to hear that”, Dorian rasps and rubs at his eyes, “was it the one about the giant dwarven woman again?”

“Ah, no. Not this time. I—uh. Do you mind maybe just… I don’t know. Talking to me a little? Or, ah—humming? I would scoot over but your bed is probably a bit too small”, Dariax rambles and laughs nervously.

Dorian is too tired to get flustered about the prospect of cuddling with his roommate.

“You can scoot over. But don’t hog the blanket”, he mumbles and makes room in his tiny bed, pressing his back against the wall and lifting his blanket up, his eyes already falling shut again.

“Oh fuck yeah”, he hears Dariax whisper. There’s a rustling, the sound of naked feet on a wooden floor and then the mattress dips and Dariax climbs into bed with him, his body way warmer than Dorian expected it to be.

He’s wearing nothing but boxers.

“You sure this is okay?”, Dariax whispers into the dark and Dorian makes a noncommittal noise at the back of his throat before letting the blanket fall down over Dariax. His arms simply drops which is probably way too close to a hug in this position as they lie face to face on the mattress that was not made for two people to sleep on it.

“Thanks a lot, buddy. You’re the best”, Dariax whispers. Dorian knows that Dariax is pretty dense simply because he’s a dwarf, but while he drifts back off to sleep he feels the tension in Dariax’ body. This nightmare must have been deeply upsetting for someone as carefree and jovial as Dariax to ask for goddamn snuggles in the middle of the night.

Dorian starts humming. It’s faint and definitely not his best and probably not even a real song, but slowly, ever so slowly, he can feel Dariax relax beside him as they both fall asleep again.

What his sleepy brain did not account for when Dorian allowed Dariax entry into his bed was how they might wake up in completely different positions to the ones they fell asleep in and how his body was a mean betrayer set out to humiliate Dorian.

As he slowly comes back to consciousness Dorian realizes how incredibly warm it is. The next thing he notices is that there is a quietly snoring dwarf pressed against his side, one leg pushed over Dorian’s legs. Dariax, sometime during the night, has curled into Dorian so his nose is now pressed somewhere close to Dorian’s ribs. He can feel Dariax’ hot breath tickle his exposed skin.

This is the most skin-on-skin contact Dorian has ever had with someone who is not related to him.

Dariax’ arm is curled around his waist and Dorian has no idea how he’ll be able to get to the bathroom without waking Dariax up or alerting him to the fact that Dorian is suffering a terrible case of a morning boner.

Yeah, he definitely didn’t think this through when he allowed Dariax in here. If Dariax pulls his leg up a little more his thigh will absolutely come in contact with Dorian’s dick and he is not ready for that to happen.

Not even a little bit.

Dorian can’t help but notice that Dariax smells kind of nice. And the feeling of naked skin on naked skin feels so much better than he imagined it would. He should probably not think about skin on skin contact too much in his current predicament but Dariax decides that this is the right moment to move his leg.

Dorian makes an undignified noise in the back of his throat as Dariax’ thigh rubs against his erection and before he can really consider what his best course of action might be, he’s already shoving Dariax off of him.

Since these beds are tiny, that also means shoving Dariax off the bed.

There is loud thunk as Dariax hits the floor and bolts upright with a yelp, his hair tousled and untidy, his eyes barely open.

“I didn’t do it!”, he slurs loudly, holding both hands up in a gesture of surrender and Dorian can’t help but wonder what in the nine hells Dariax has been dreaming about.

“Sorry, man. You were—uh. Getting a little close”, Dorian says and sits up, carefully pulling the blanket over his crotch.

Dariax blinks up at him.

“Sorry, buddy. Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable”, he mumbles and sways to his feet to stumble back over to his own bed.

Dorian immediately misses the warmth and the feeling of naked skin against his but he pushes the thought away and clears his throat.

“Did you sleep okay after your nightmare?”, he asks.

“Hmhm. Like a baby”, Dariax mumbles into his pillow. His face is pressed into it and he didn’t even take the take to cover himself with his blanket. “You have the most beautiful voice.”

Dorian’s cheeks begin to burn and he grips the blanket tighter.

“Thank you.”

“’S no problem.”

Dorian glances over at his roommate. Dariax looks surprisingly peaceful like this and it doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep again. The quiet snore returns and his mouth falls open slightly. When Dorian finally gets up to take a shower, he shivers slightly in the cold before carefully stepping over to the other bed and pulling the blanket over Dariax.

*

“You know what, I feel honored that you’re going to trust me with your first time”, Dariax says, looking endlessly pleased with himself.

Dorian sputters.

“Excuse m—“

“Your first time drinking, buddy”, Dariax explains and laughs as he sees the flush on Dorian’s cheeks.

They’re both sitting on Dariax’ bed—because Dariax doesn’t care about getting spots on his sheets at all—with a bottle of liquor that is bright red and looks a little radioactive.

“Well, I think I would just—uh. Prefer it… to try this out with someone I trust before I make a fool of myself in front of a whole party, you know”, Dorian says. When no answer comes, he turns his head to look at Dariax.

Dariax’ eyes are shimmering with something that Dorian can’t quite read but it makes his heart race in his chest. Dariax never looked at him like this before. His expression is almost soft with the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Glad to hear you trust me, Dorian. I trust you, too.”

Dorian clears his throat and looks away, the tension in the air between them suddenly too much for him.

“I am very trustworthy”, he jokes and grabs the bottle to unscrew it and smell the liquid inside.

“Ugh—it’s revolting”, he remarks and coughs a little.

Dariax chuckles.

“That’s how you know it’s good”, he says with a nod and gestures for Dorian to take the first sip.

Dorian has tried some champagne before, some beer. Some wine. But never more than half a glass. He never tried drinking any hard liquor and this stuff is burning his throat and sending heatwaves through his whole body immediately.

“Wow”, he coughs and hands the bottle to Dariax.

“Good stuff, right?”, Dariax says and

“It’s terrible!”

“Yeah”, Dariax says with a wide grin and a twinkle in his eyes.

“I don’t think a thing can be both good and terrible at the same time”, Dorian remarks, his face still in a grimace as he tries to get used to the burning sensation of hard alcohol in his throat.

“Nonsense, those are like, all of my favorite movies!”, Dariax says and takes a huge swig out of the bottle before handing it back to Dorian.

Dorian feels weirdly honored that Dariax decided to stay in on a Saturday night just to hang out with him and test the waters with his roommate while no doubt all his friends are out there partying.

“Like what movies”, Dorian wants to know and takes another careful sip out of the bottle. His mind provides him with the terrible thought that this might as well count as an indirect kiss, something that is entirely idiotic and not useful at all.

“Okay, so, you know when someone asks you a question about yourself and suddenly you have forgotten all of your interests and hobbies and favorites and pretty much everything about yourself?”, Dariax says, his brow furrowed as he tries to think of a movie that is both terrible and good at the same time.

“Tell you what. I can say that two of my favorite movies of all time are Pacific Rim and Mad Max, and those are not terrible, mind you, they’re just good. But if I manage to think of one that is both terrible and good, I’ll tell you immediately.”

Dorian has neither seen Mad Max nor Pacific Rim. When he tells Dariax as much his roommate looks aghast.

“Oh my gosh, Dorian. Buddy. My boy. That is—no. No, I can’t let this stand. Grab your laptop, we’re watching Pacific Rim right now”, Dariax orders and looks at Dorian expectantly.

This is how Dorian ends up crying about giant robots. And maybe also brothers.

Dariax hands him a tissue and sniffs.

“Good stuff, right?”, Dariax asks and empties the bottle as the end credits start rolling. Dorian nods and watches as Dariax throws the empty bottle to the side before pulling out a second one from under his bed.

Dorian is definitely tipsy. He drank way less than Dariax, of course, but he can feel a faint buzzing in his head and his vision seems to be slowed. There is a feeling of heaviness in his legs as he accepts the new bottle—this time the liquor is bright blue and tastes even worse—and drinks.

The new sensations in his body aren’t unpleasantly.

In a way, his soul feels lighter like this, less anxious, less unsure about things, which is pretty nice.

“So, what’s your favorite movie?”, Dariax wants to know.

“I—hm. I don’t know. I’m not much of a movie guy. I suppose I liked Lord of the Rings when I watched it a few years ago”, he says, thinking about the movies he has seen and which ones he enjoyed the most. Weirdly enough it’s exactly as Dariax said—now that someone asked about what he likes, Dorian can’t seem to remember much about himself.

“Good choice”, Dariax says with an approving nod that makes Dorian feel weirdly pleased.

“I guess we could totally do a Lord of the Rings marathon, you know? Get some snacks, order pizza, get fucked up. Hey, we could make it a drinking game!”

Dorian isn’t sure why there’s a tingling sensation under his skin, or why his heart starts beating faster in light of Dariax’ suggestion. Maybe it’s because he feels happy that Dariax wants to spend more time with Dorian. Maybe it’s just because the alcohol is getting to Dorian.

“What about your other friends?”, Dorian asks.

“What about them?”

“Well—wouldn’t you rather spend more time with them? You know—partying. Going skinny dipping. That sort of thing.”

Dorian knows that he’s fishing for compliments. He knows and he feels embarrassed about it but he can’t stop. Validation is something that he craves way too much for his own comfort, but the alcohol has lowered his defenses—or raised his stupidity. Either one of those.

“Well—you know when we went skinny dipping and they fucked me over, that was like. Not cool? And you got me outta there, even though you don’t really do that sorta thing, you know? So—that was not the first time I got fucked over by people I called my friends, but it was totally the first time someone bailed me out of stuff. So yeah. I’d rather stick with you, if that’s alright with you”, Dariax says, taking a few long gulps from the bottle of blue liquid.

Dorian feels a rush of heat under his skin. It’s not unusual for him to feel strongly about being praised or validated, but it usually doesn’t hit this hard.

He swallows and laughs nervously, grabbing the bottle from Dariax and taking a big sip that burns his throat.

“Yeah—yeah, alright”, he croaks and Dariax beams at him.

“I’m sorry, by the way. That—uh. That those people left you behind”, he adds quietly and hands the bottle back to Dariax.

“Oh, you know. I suppose it’s on me. I’m not very smart and I’m not good on my own, so I tend to follow people’s leads and they—uh. I guess they get bored with me, or something? Anyway. It’s not really important. Hey, how do you feel about watching Mad Max, too?”

*

“Hey, my friend is throwing a party on Saturday. Do you want to come?”

“Are you kidding? Do I wanna take your partying virginity? Hell, yes!”

“Dariax...”

“Sorry buddy, I got carried away.”

*

Dorian is still thinking about rice pudding on Friday.

The fact that somewhere out there is a person who would tell someone else something mean like this makes him nervous to try and kiss anyone. What if he actually likes the person he’s kissing and gets told that his kisses feel like a bowl of rice pudding?

Or worse, something even slimier?

He’s trying to get another song for one of his bard classes done, but he’s unable to concentrate.

“Hey, Dariax”, he says and looks over at Dariax who’s watching cat videos on YouTube, “can I ask you something? About—uh. About... kissing?”

Dariax looks up at him with bright eyes.

“Sure”, he says and grins.

Dorian swallows.

“Uh—I was thinking. How—uh. How did you get better at kissing? Did you practice with anyone?”

“Nah, not really. I mean, not like that. I just went for it again and again until I got better at it. Guess it would’ve been nice to have someone around for practice, but I made it work anyway. No one’s been complaining for a while now.”

Dorian chews on his bottom lip and pokes the paper he’s working on with a pencil.

“So—uh. You said—“

“Yes”, Dariax shoots back immediately, as if he knows what Dorian is going to say next. Dorian feels the familiar heat rise up in his chest as he looks at his roommate who seems very intense all of a sudden, leaning forward and shutting his laptop, his eyes fixed on Dorian.

“I—uh. I don’t. I don’t really... I don’t like... guys?”, Dorian says and his voice sounds way too hoarse in his own ears. Dariax’ shoulders sag a little but he shrugs.

“Doesn’t really matter for this, right? It’s just kissing.”

“Right. Okay. Uh—so. If I—if I wanted to try this...  how do you—how do we make this work?”, he asks.

His heart is beating so fast, Dorian is afraid it’s going to break his rib cage and fly out of the window. Dariax puts his laptop to the side and pats the mattress beside himself, his eyes still fixed on Dorian’s face with an intensity that makes heat pool in Dorian’s lower abdomen.

He pushes the feeling aside and gets up from his own bed to sit down next to Dariax.

“I know what this is about”, Dariax says with a sly grin.

“Uh—you do?”

Dorian doesn’t know what this is about aside from his own nagging sense of anxiety and the fact that he can’t stop thinking about kissing Dariax—which is entirely Dariax’ fault because he offered this whole practicing thing in the first place.

“Yeah. You’re going to check out some ladies on that party tomorrow”, Dariax says, his grin widening as he scoots closer to Dorian. Dorian can feel Dariax’ body heat and he presses his back against the wall, his fingers digging into the blanket crumpled below his legs.

“Ah—yeah. You got me”, he lies and laughs nervously. Dariax winks and gives him fingerguns.

“Don’t worry, buddy. I gotcha! I’ll be the best wingman ever. Here, just lemme—“

And Dariax climbs into Dorian’s lap, straddling him, his face so close to Dorian’s that Dorian can feel his breath on his cheek.

He holds his breath as he notices all the freckles on Dariax’ face, his scruffy beard, his hazel-brown eyes...

His heart is stumbling in his chest.

“Thanks”, he rasps.

“No need to be nervous, I’m sure you’ll be way better at this than I was the first time around. Just lemme take the lead, okay?”

Dorian nods.

If he gets hard now, Dariax will definitely feel it.

Fuck.

Dariax raises his hands and tilts Dorian’s chin up while his other hand gently cups Dorian’s cheek. It’s already almost too much for Dorian. His lips open slightly and his eyes widen as Dariax gets closer still, his nose gently touching Dorian’s.

“If you want me to stop, just smack me real hard”, Dariax whispers and his breath tickles Dorian’s lips before the distance between their mouths is closed and Dariax is kissing him, his hazel-brown eyes closed.

Dariax’ lips are warm and a little chapped and Dorian gasps against his mouth helplessly—something that Dariax seems to take as encouragement. He tilts his head to the side to get a better angle and then his lips press against Dorian’s in earnest.

Dorian’s heart stops for a few seconds before restarting with doubled speed.

His whole body seems to be on fire all of a sudden and he can’t help but raise his hands to touch Dariax—just touch him anywhere. He needs to ground himself, hold onto something, or he might just get lost in the feeling of Dariax’ warm lips carefully moving against his.

It’s a slow kiss, almost sweet, but Dorian’s skin is set aflame.

I don’t like guys, he thinks as his whole body decides that he must get closer to Dariax, wrap his arms around him, pull him in, cup the back of his head so he doesn’t move away—

“This okay?”, Dariax mumbles against his lips and he sounds so out of breath as if he just sprinted a whole mile.

“Yeah—I. Yeah.”

“You wanna try with tongue?”

Dorian swallows. There is still heat pooling in his abdomen. He should say no. He should stop doing this. This feels dangerous and stupid.

But it also feels so good.

“Yeah, okay”, he whispers.

Dariax doesn’t wait for another invite, he immediately leans forward again to close the distance between them and as Dorian’s hands dig themselves into the back of Dariax’s shirt and his heart starts racing even faster Dariax slides his tongue into Dorian’s mouth and Dorian’s mind goes blank.

There is a sound that is dangerously close to a moan and it takes him a few seconds to realize that it’s coming from him.

He holds onto Dariax like a drowning man before he manages to kiss back.

The second their tongues slide against one another there is a sound from Dariax too, one that shoots directly into Dorian’s lap. His hips buckle up involuntarily, his arms wrap around Dariax tighter and Dariax presses closer, his hips grinding down against him.

Dorian is lost.

And he’s so, so fucked.

It feels so incredibly good to kiss Dariax. He forgot why he even started kissing him, all he knows that he doesn’t want to stop, that he wants to get closer, wants to touch more skin—

He’s hard by now, and so is Dariax. Dorian can feel his erection through the jeans that Dariax is wearing.

Dorian buries his hands in Dariax’ hair and pulls. Dariax makes a helpless sound and bites down on Dorian’s bottom lip before sucking on it lightly and Dorian is afraid that he might come in his pants just from kissing and the delicious friction of Dariax’ crotch rubbing against his.

Shit, shit, shit, shit—

Before Dorian can make a fool of himself Dariax pulls back.

He’s panting, his eyes are glassy, his lips red and wet from kissing and he looks so pretty, Dorian is momentarily stunned by the revelation that he might not be into girls or guys or pretty much anyone.

But he’s definitely, terribly, irrevocably into Dariax.

Fuck.

“S—sorry”, Dariax gasps and clambers off of Dorian’s lap. “That was—I’m. I—uh. I got carried away a little. Didn’t mean to overstep any boundaries.”

Dorian swallows and stares at him, his eyes wide and his heart pressing against his rib cage.

“It’s okay”, he rasps. “I—uh. I got a little carried away, too.”

Dariax throws him a lopsided smile.

“Well. I’d say you’re good to go.”

And he gets off the bed and stumbles over to the bathroom, leaving Dorian behind with a rapidly beating heart, tingling lips and the revelation that he has the world’s worst crush on Dariax.

[fics-n-stuff]

Home - Pt 2

For @glowstick-lesbian, request here

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Reader

Summary: After Y/N finally gets out hiding, it's time to sit down with Kaz and talk through whatever it is that's going on between them.

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Brief talk of Jordie and Kaz's trauma and touch aversion

A/N: Wow this ended up being longer than I intended! I'm so sorry it's taken so long, I was focused on The Bastard's Shadow and Affluenza pts1 + 2, and then I started picking up more shifts at work and got writers block at the same time. I really hope you like how it turned out!! ❤❤

Pt1 here

After the very enlightening visit from Kaz, the days seemed to drag on even slower than before. The next two months went by in a crawl, and no matter how much you buried yourself in work you couldn’t distract from the longing you felt to get out of your apartment.

When your messenger came to deliver the news that your pursuers were willing to come to a truce you had been so happy that you’d gone straight to pour yourself a glass of whisky to celebrate. From then, you counted down the days until the meeting that you set up, the result of which should mean that you were free to roam the city again.

Inej had shown you how to get out of the window and onto the roof months ago. It was your escape route in case of an emergency, but you had used it every now and then just to sit on the roof and enjoy a taste of the outside world. That night, you had climbed out with intention and dressed in your finest coat.

You travelled over the rooftops towards the Government district, where your meeting had been arranged to take place near the Stadhall. The presence of the stadwatch would serve to protect you in case the deal went south.

You had been jittery with a mix of anxiety and excitement when you descended to street level and wended your way through the streets to find three men waiting for you at the Stadhall, all of them tall, broad and commanding. Barrel businessmen that you had crossed one too many times, and no doubt they had been angered that forcing you into hiding hadn’t put a stop to your business.

You were too smart to have not found a way around it; you had to be to run the business that you did. You owned three boarding houses and two bars in the Barrel and two ships that brought in imports from Ravka and Novyi Zem, a squaller as a permanent fixture on the crew of each to whom you paid a fair salary. You’d had Kaz put them under the protection of the Dregs to keep them safe from slavers. On top of all of that, you used your contacts in Ravka, Novyi Zem and other parts of Kerch to help get kids out of the Barrel and into honest work elsewhere. You might operate from the criminal underbelly of Ketterdam, but you made a mostly honest living.

The meeting took longer than you had anticipated. The three men were eager to negotiate territories that you couldn’t conduct business in and items that they didn’t want you to import because it was cutting into their own business. You held firm, you knew what was fair and you would be damned if you let anyone bully you into submission.

In the end, you essentially just agreed not to get in their way, which was easy enough to do. You wouldn’t actively compete with them in the sale of imported goods, and you wouldn’t try to convince any of the lads that they used as runners and grunts to get out of the Barrel. As long as you kept your distance from them you’d be fine, since they were clearly tired of chasing after you.

“Alright then, the deal is the deal.” You said, holding out your hand. All three shook hands with you in turn, echoing the phrase as was customary. When the man in the middle – clearly the leader and the last to shake with you – took your hand, you tightened your grip and leaned forward. “If you try to cheat me after this deal, you will have Dirtyhands to answer to.” You said lowly. He tried not to show his reaction but the fear in his eyes betrayed him, and you released his hand. It wasn’t often that you involved Kaz and his reputation in your affairs, but sometimes it paid to be friends with the most ruthless man in Ketterdam.

You left the meeting with your head held high and took a gondel back to the Barrel. You were approached by a few people who stayed in one of your boarding houses or drank in one of your bars on your walk to the Crow Club, telling you that they had been curious or worried about having not seen you around for so long. You didn’t engage in any conversation beyond polite acknowledgment, too eager to get to the Crow Club.

Inej was the only one that knew that you were getting out tonight. You had told her when she had come to deliver your food for the week and she had promised to try and keep everyone corralled at the Crow Club so that you could make a big entrance, but the later it got the less likely it was that she could keep them all there without raising suspicion.

You practically ran down the last street towards the Crow Club, bursting through the open door and searching the crowd for your friends. Jesper caught sight of you at the same moment that you spotted them all at the bar, and you saw his jaw drop in shock. A huge grin spread on your face as he set his drink down, his sudden change in demeanor getting the attention of the rest of the group and causing them to turn to follow his gaze.

“Y/N?” Jesper called, prompting you into as much of a sprint as you could manage across the crowded floor of the gambling hall. You vaulted yourself into him, wrapping your arms tightly around his lanky frame. “You’re back! How?” He exclaimed, and you laughed as you felt him hug you back and sweep you off of your feet.

“I had a meeting to call a truce. As of tonight I am a free person!”

“We missed you so much!” Nina grinned, prying Jesper’s arms off of you so that she could pull into a hug herself. “Why didn’t you tell us that you were finally coming out of hiding?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise.” You grinned, pulling away so that you could move to hug Wylan next. “I missed you guys so much too, you have no idea.” You caught sight of Kaz over Wylan’s shoulder, his eyes wide as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. You pointed your smile at him and his lips twitched upwards before he cooled his expression and gave you a simple nod.

Your reunion was spirited to say the least, even Matthias couldn’t help but smile at the fact that you were back. You made them tell you about all of the most significant things that you had missed in the year that you had been trapped inside and update you on any power shifts between the Barrel gangs. Jesper wouldn’t shut up, Wylan was excited to tell you about all of the new explosives and weapons that he had developed, and Nina was making a list of places that she wanted to get lunch together to make up for lost time. It felt amazing to be with them all again.

“Okay! I want to play a few hands of Three Man Bramble before I go.” You announced, pushing your glass away from you after downing the last of its contents.

“Don’t have to ask me twice.” Jesper grinned, slinging an arm around your shoulder and guiding you to a table.

It seemed apt that fortune seemed to be in your favour, winning so consistently that you continued to play even though you knew that you shouldn’t. It felt like every time that you looked up from the table you caught Kaz watching you, and his unashamed gaze made your heart flutter.

After a while you saw him give a slight nod towards the door, an action that meant that it was time to go, and you tucked you lip between you teeth as you gave a subtle nod back and turned your attention back to your cards.

“Unbelievable!” Jesper exclaimed upon seeing that you had won again. “I guess you’re catching up on a year’s worth of luck.”

“Perhaps, but I’m going to quit while I’m ahead.” You smiled, gathering up your winnings. “I need to go and breathe some more fresh air.” You pocketed half of your winnings and pushed the other half around the table to Jesper. “Not too much fun.”

“There’s no such thing as too much fun.” He beamed and pulled you to him so that he could plant a kiss on your cheek. “Good to have you back, Y/N.”

“Good to be back, Jes.” You winked before bounding back to the bar to say goodbye to the rest of your friends. Kaz had already disappeared, no doubt in an attempt to avoid drawing attention to the fact that you were leaving together.

“We’re going to get waffles tomorrow. I will break your door down if I have to.” Nina asserted, practically crushing your ribs in a hug. “Inej, you’re coming too.”

“What about me?” Wylan pouted, and you laughed.

“Everyone’s invited.” You replied, holding his face and turning it towards you so that you could press a soft kiss on his forehead before pulling him in for a hug. “I just got out, I want to spend time with you all!”

You kept your hug with Inej pretty short, considerate of the bad feelings that too much contact could stir up in her, and even managed to coax a hug from Matthias before you headed out. Kaz was waiting not far from the entrance and you smiled as you quickly made your way towards him

“Hey.” You chirped.

“You wanted it to be a surprise, huh?” He questioned, starting towards the Slat. You chuckled.

“I know you’re not a big fan of surprises, Kaz, but I thought this might be a fun one. Why? Were you offended that I told Inej and not you?”

“Did you have anyone go with you to your meeting?”

“No, I didn’t need any backup.”

“Things could have gone badly, and you didn’t tell anyone about it.”

“Well things didn’t go badly.” You rebutted. “I’m here, I’m fine, and I surprised you all.”

“You shouldn’t put yourself in danger like that.” Kaz said flatly, ignoring your point, and you groaned loudly at his stubbornness.

“If it makes you feel better, I made sure to drop your name in to intimidate them. But I can handle my own business.”

You hopped along the cobblestones playfully, irrationally happy to be back out on the filthy and foul smelling streets of the Barrel, but even the stink couldn’t dampen your joy at finally being free. You were sure that you and Kaz probably looked like a bizarre pair walking together now, him with his stoic exterior and identifying limp next to your childlike joy, though you had taken after him fashion wise with your smart attire and well-fitted, black coat.

Walking back to the Slat with Kaz took you in the opposite direction to your home – now that you were out of hiding you could finally return to where you actually lived in a house on the boundary of East Stave and the Zelver District – but you wanted to talk to Kaz, and he wouldn’t have asked you to leave with him if he didn’t want to talk to you too. Nevertheless, you continued the rest of the walk in silence.

When you got to the Slat, Kaz continued straight up to his room while you lingered on the ground floor to say hello to some of the Dregs that you were more friendly with. The noise of the Slat was unfamiliar to you after so long, but you had kind of missed the rowdiness of it.

You followed upstairs shortly after. Kaz had left his door ajar for you and you could see him sat at his desk through the opening.

“Shut the door behind you.” He said as you slipped inside, and you heard the door click as you push it shut after yourself.

“You wanna talk to me?” You questioned, walking over to lean on the side of the desk casually. “Or did you just want some time to look at my gorgeous face?” He did look up at you then, his eyes darting around to take in the entirety of your face, and you felt your heart flutter.

“How did your meeting go? What deals did you make?” He asked. You sighed. It wasn’t new that Kaz was asking about your business, he liked to know about what you were doing the same way that he liked to know about literally everything else, but you had hoped that this conversation would be a little less mundane than that. You had hoped that he might express an iota of joy that you were back.

“I can’t dock my ships in 3rd Harbour anymore.” You shrugged. “So I’ll stick to 2nd for imports going into the morning market, mostly 5th for everything else. There’s a few streets that I need to keep my business off of, and obviously I can’t try and undermine their operations anymore. That doesn’t mean that I won’t, it just means that I’ll be smarter about not getting caught.”

“And what do you get from them?”

“They leave me alone. I don’t need more than that. I mean, their terms are hardly going to impede my business anyway.”

“And your insurance?”

“You.” You smiled sweetly. “Very few people are bold enough to cross someone that has Kaz Brekker on side.”

“I thought you prided yourself on running an honest business.”

“I do. My association with you doesn’t make my business any less legit. I’m more honest than most of the Merchant Council anyway.”

“That’s fair.” He conceded with a slight nod.

Kaz had visited you a few times since the night that you had both let on about how much you cared about each other, but you hadn’t talked about it. It felt like the tension between you had been building and building like an elastic band ready to snap. It was driving you crazy.

“Anything else that you want to talk about?” You hinted. Kaz let out a long breath, his eyes sliding away from you for a moment. You could tell that he wanted to talk about it but he was struggling to get it out. “Because you haven’t told me that you’re glad I’m back yet.”

“I am glad that you’re back.” He affirmed, then he took a hard swallow. “We all missed you.” You smiled brightly at that.

You could hear the crows moving around on the half-roof outside of Kaz’s window and crossed the room to perch on the windowsill. There hadn’t been anywhere for the birds to land in the apartment that you had been cooped up in.

“Can I stay here for a while? I don’t want to be alone again just yet.” You said softly, tucking one knee up against your chest as you watched the birds through the glass.

“Sure.” Kaz answered.

You sat in silence for a while after that, which wasn’t unusual for you two. Before you had gone into hiding, you had spent many evenings with Kaz in his office just like this. Tonight felt different though. Something had opened between the two of you and now you couldn’t close it. The feeling permeated every corner of the room until you felt like you might explode if you didn’t break this silence, but, to your surprise, Kaz spoke first.

“I’ve been thinking about that day that I saw you outside the Crow Club.”

“Why?” You asked, blinking in surprise. Kaz was still facing forward at his desk, back turned to you, but his pen had stilled over the page.

“I watched you for a while, deciding whether to chase you off or recruit you for the Dregs.” He continued, ignoring your question. You were used to that too. “You were good at pickpocketing – you could spot a good mark, distracted them by pretending to beg for pennies – but you stayed in one place for too long.”

“I know, you told me at the time.” You smiled amusedly.

“I was just planning on telling you exactly that, but after I got your attention and you looked at me I knew that I had seen you before. It was in your eyes.” He turned around to look at you then, his gaze finding yours immediately. “Your eyes never changed.”

Kaz’s eyes had. Maybe that was why you hadn’t recognised him. Kaz Rietveld had eyes full of wonder and warmth, that were curious about everything and shone when he was happy. Kaz Brekker's eyes were cold, they held secrets. The curiosity had become analytical, and the shine had turned into a devious glint. Kaz Rietveld didn’t exist anymore, the R tattoo on Kaz’s bicep was the only relic of him, and you were the only one left to remember him.

“Crows remember the faces of those that are kind.” He finished softly.

“And that’s why you took me in? Because I was kind?”

“Because we were friends. We are friends.”

“Just friends?” You murmured, a challenge in your eyes. It wasn’t a provoking challenge, more of an encouraging one. You wanted to know where he stood and you wanted him to be able to tell you. He was silent for a long stretch.

“Would we ever be able to be more?” He asked. You knew what he meant. Kaz had built up so many walls that he didn’t know how to let down, and he knew that about himself. It was how he had survived, but it was a way of being that wasn’t very conducive to relationships. He didn’t think that he could do it.

“That depends on you.” You answered with a soft smile. “Because I’m not looking anywhere else.” Kaz swallowed and looked away quickly, but you swore that you had seen a hint of a blush in his cheeks.

A knock came at the door, and you cursed whoever was on the other side in your head.

“What is it?” Kaz called.

“There’s a man downstairs says he has a job for you.” Specht’s voice came through the wood. “Won’t talk to no one else but you.”

“I’ll be down in a minute.” Kaz replied, then muttered something under his breath bitterly. You heard the creak of Specht's retreating footsteps and Kaz turned to you. “Will you wait until I get back?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

You watched Kaz leave the room and let out a long sigh once the door had closed behind him. You were finally talking about whatever it was that was between the two of you and you just had to get interrupted.

You shed your coat, dropping it lazily on the floor next to you, and rolled up your shirt sleeves. Despite the pressure put on you from some members of the Dregs, you had never gotten the crow and cup tattoo on your forearm. You had known from the start that you didn’t want to belong to the gang, no matter how thankful you were for the help that Kaz had given you.

When you had realised who it really was that had approached you that night outside the Crow Club, you had been shocked. He knew your name when he spoke to you, though he had seemed unsure of it, and you had furrowed your brow and asked if you knew him.

“It’s Kaz.” He had said, and you had blinked.

“Kaz Rietveld?” You had whispered in disbelief. His jaw had clenched, his shoulders stiffened.

“That’s not my name anymore.” He snapped. “It’s Kaz Brekker now.”

When you asked him why he had changed his name he had simply told you that it was easier that way. When you asked him about why he was in Ketterdam he had answered that his father had died and they had sold the farm. When you asked about Jodie he didn’t answer.

He had walked you to the Slat, told you not to talk to anyone, and brought you up to this very room. You had trusted him enough to follow. Despite his proud presence in the Barrel, despite the fact that he was walking you into the den of a gang, despite the fact that he was almost unrecognisable from the Kaz that you knew as a child, you had trusted him. And in the years that followed, he had never broken that trust.

He had helped you pay for the first boarding house that you purchased, come with you to the bank when you took out the loan to buy your first ship, had come to the harbour to see you off the first time that you had gone to Ravka.

Kaz had once reminded you of something from your childhood while around the other Crows, and once it had slipped that you and Kaz had been friends when you were young, people were constantly asking you about what he had been like. He never told anybody anything about himself and people had been eager to find a source of information on him, but most people had quickly come to realise that you weren’t going to say anything either. Kaz had never thanked you for your discretion, but you knew that he was glad for it.

If you were honest with yourself, you had found yourself drawn to him ever since you got your first glimpse through his cold and uncaring exterior and saw his loyal and protective nature. The pull had only grown since.

Your thoughts were broken by the sound of the door opening, and you looked over to watch Kaz enter. The door clicked shut behind him and he moved to the wash basin directly across the room from the window that you were sat in, set down his cane and pulled off his gloves .

“A good job?” You asked. He shrugged.

“A job that I’ll do.” He answered and began unbuttoning his shirt. You tried not ogle as he pulled it off and picked up the washcloth from the basin, but you caught sight of a reddened stripe of raised skin across his side and furrowed your brows.

“When did that happen?”

“A few days ago.”

“How deep did it go?”

“Not too deep.”

“It doesn’t look like you stitched it up properly.”

“It’s fine.” He dismissed. You rolled your eyes and got up from the window ledge. Kaz never took proper care of himself but he was always too stubborn to admit it.

“Let me see.”

“I said it’s fine, Y/N-"

“Kaz.” You interrupted sternly, meeting his eyes in the mirror. “I said let me see.” He held your gaze for a moment before letting out a huff and raising his arm so that you could get a better view of the wound.

You kept your distance as you looked over the injury, but you could clearly see that the stitches were sloppy on the end of the gash towards his back; the side that he couldn’t reach easily himself.

“You’re keeping it clean?”

“I know how to treat a wound.” He grumbled.

“I know that you know how, that doesn’t mean that I actually trust you to do it. You didn’t even have it bandaged or anything, what if it gets infected?”

“It won’t, Y/N, stop worrying so much.”

“Well, if you’re not going to worry about yourself then somebody else has to.” You exasperated. “At least bandage it.” You didn’t wait for a reply before you crossed over to the cabinet where he kept his impressive stock of medical supplies and grabbed a roll of gauze. Kaz caught it grudgingly when you tossed it to him and set it to the side while he finished washing his torso.

“You worry too much.” He muttered.

“It’s good for you.” You smiled.

You watched him as he unrolled the gauze and wrapped it around his body, carefully laying it over the wound with pale fingers that you rarely saw. He was precise, but he couldn’t see his back and the bandage twisted as he moved it between his hands.

“It’s folded.” You told him softly, taking half a step towards him. “I can fix it... if you want.” There was a beat of silence before Kaz nodded slightly.

You moved towards him slowly and reached for him even slower, your eyes constantly flicking back to the mirror to gauge the reaction on Kaz’s face. Your fingertips barely brushed over his back as you unfolded the downturned piece of bandage and you immediately stepped away when you were done. It took no more than a few seconds, but you could hear Kaz’s short breaths and when you looked at him in the mirror you could see that he had paled.

You picked up the clean shirt that was laid on his bed and held it out to him at full arms length. His hand shook as he took it from you. He pulled it on quickly, making short work of the buttons, and pulled his gloves back on hastily.

“Sorry.” You mumbled, though you weren’t exactly sure what you were apologising for.

“It’s because of Jordie.” Kaz’s voice was hoarse when he spoke, his eyes trained on his shoes. “Why I can’t touch anyone. It’s because when he died...”

“You don’t have to tell me, Kaz.” You said softly when he trailed off. He shook his head slightly and cleared his throat, squeezing his eyes shut for a few seconds.

“When Jordie died, I was sick too. It was the Queen's Lady plague. One night, I fell asleep in an alley and woke up on the Reaper's Barge.” He swallowed thickly, wringing his hands together thoughtlessly, and you could see sweat forming on his brow. “When my fever broke, I had to swim back to the harbour, and Jordie... whenever someone touches me, all I can feel is those corpses.”

Silence hung between you as you tried to find the words to respond. It was a lot of information to take in, but suddenly things made sense. Now you understood why Kaz had become the way that he was; why he was prone to shutting people out, why the light behind his eyes had dimmed.

“Kaz, I... I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say.”

“That’s okay.” He muttered. “I have work to do. You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like.” He crossed the room to sit down at his desk, his movements tense. You watched him for a minute, unsure of what to do. It felt wrong to leave him alone right now, but you didn’t know if he would want you to stay.

“I’m sailing to Novyi Zem next week.” You said. It was the first topic that you could think of. “I’d really appreciate it if you could look over the rent ledgers while I’m gone.”

“Sure.” He replied flatly. Silence again.

“Will you come with us all to get waffles tomorrow?”

“I have work to do, and Nina didn’t invite me anyway.”

“Yeah, well, the celebration is for me and I’d really like for you to be there.” You smiled slightly. “She probably didn’t invite you because she knew you’d say no.”

“Smart of her.” Kaz responded, and you let out a frustrated huff.

“Don’t do that, Kaz. Don’t shut me out.” You complained. He didn’t answer at all. You folded your arms over your chest and went to stand beside his chair. “I don’t care that you can’t touch people, it doesn’t bother me. You went through trauma and that’s not your fault. What is bothering me is that you’re choosing to stay closed off to everyone. You can’t keep your walls up forever, you’ll kill yourself trying.”

“I can’t handle it, Y/N.” He snapped, his voice low. The gravel in his voice might have intimidated you into backing off if you weren’t so adamant on getting through to him.

“You’ll never be able to handle it if you don’t start trying.” You insisted. “Maybe if you’d just admit to yourself that you care about people it wouldn’t be so hard to see that we care about you too.”

Kaz pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes shut tightly, and released a long breath. You watched him, waiting for a response, not backing down. After a moment of silence, he glanced up at you.

“I can’t need anyone.” He said slowly. “Not after Jordie. I can’t let myself need anyone else.”

“You don’t have to need me, Kaz. You just have to want me.” You replied softly. His head snapped towards you and you actually saw his pupils dilate for the few seconds that he held your gaze before quickly turning away again. You hadn’t meant it like that, but you weren’t upset that he’d heard it that way.

“I don’t deserve you.” He muttered. You leaned against his desk, a sympathetic smile on your face even though he wasn’t looking at you.

“I’ve been around this long, I’m not going anywhere.” You promised. “There’s more to love about you than you think.”

Kaz tapped on his desk with a finger, a nervous action that he would usually suppress. Then, he took a sharp inhale and turned back to you.

“Okay.” He breathed. “I can try.” You bit down on your tongue in an attempt to suppress your grin, but you couldn’t stop the smile that stretched across your face.

“That’s all I ask.” You lilted. You stood up straight, pushing off of the desk and starting across the room to the window. You rolled your shirt sleeves down and snatched your coat up from the floor. “I’m going to head home. I expect to see you at my door promptly at eleven bells tomorrow morning, ready to get waffles.”

“Alright.” He nodded, breathing a single light laugh.

“Perfect. I’ll see you then.”

“Here, Y/N, these are for you.” He said quickly, picking up and couple of envelopes from his desk and holding them up for you. “You’ll have to make sure to notify your business partners of your change in mailing address.” You chuckled, going to take the letters from him, and he gave a small smirk as he handed them over.

“Thank you.” You smiled, before turning and heading to the door. “Eleven bells, Brekker. I know you’re a punctual man.”

“I’ll be there.” He affirmed. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Kaz.” You echoed softly before stepping out of the room and shutting the door behind you, a fond smile on your lips.

[drxwsyni]

doubts and desires︱albedo x f!reader

summary: letting go of the past is hard, but losing what you have now would be harder. leaving albedo is neither something you can do, or something you really want, it’s simply taken you a while to understand that. word count: 2k warnings: implied dubcon, stockholm syndrome, past kidnapping

Even with how Albedo had bundled you up in a hat, scarf, gloves, and coat―it still failed to ward off the chill that seemingly sucked the warmth right from your body. Yet you said nothing about it, the unwanted attention it would draw from him inevitable if you made your discomfort known. And, you were almost certain he would drag you back to the cabin if he knew how the cold was treating you.

You didn’t enjoy the biting temperatures, but you didn’t want leave. Not when it’s been so long since you descended the mountain, that you barely even remember the feeling of snowfall against your skin.

The whole situation he’s placed you in is really quite foreign―confusing.

In how he’s letting you accompany him in his research, not far from his―your home. A safe distance, so to speak. Or that’s what he said, at least.

You realized that the way he spoke of this outing, how it’d just be the two of you, and that you wouldn’t venture very far; they were words of comfort. Not said to reassure himself that things would go smoothly, but to calm the look of trepidation in your eyes from the mere suggestion of going outside.

Now, seeing Albedo’s nonchalant demeanour while he studies the petrification of a fallen tree, it puts your mind at ease. Sure, if you look closely you’ll be able to see the way his eyes flicker to your form every few seconds or so, making sure you were right where he left you, but generally the alchemist is calm.

It makes you calm, for a moment it feels like you’re able to settle down and appreciate the intricate beauty of the snow swept mountain you stand upon. Best to do so now, knowing it wouldn’t be long until he would lead you home, sheltered safely away from the danger of the mountain’s climate.

“Oh―I didn’t know you were to be researching today, Albedo sir.”

With your back turned to the newly appeared stranger behind you, the cold that had seeped into your bones no longer posed as the only thing holding you in place―it was also now an icy fear.

You watched unmoving from your spot as Albedo gave pause, a hint of contemplation flashing across his face before standing.

“Timaeus. I thought you were studying back in the city.”

The man, who you had yet to properly address, responded with a somewhat nervous laugh.

“Yes, well I was, but it led me to do my own research out in the field…”

Always in a strangely graceful manner, Albedo dusted off his pants and straightened his jacket. A look of unashamed disinterest painted his expression as Timaeus rambled on about his findings.

Truly, you don’t recall Albedo ever showing such emotions with you―a detail not necessarily heartwarming, but still reassuring in an indescribable way.

Perhaps it was due to you being so sure that he’d rid himself of you when you no longer proved useful. Which made the swirling of affection and enamour in his eyes when he gazed upon you settle your nerves, even in just the slightest.

“...which I unfortunately have yet to procure. But―ah, I’ve gotten ahead of myself again. My apologies, how is your research coming along. And...who might you be?”  

If Albedo recognized the look of severe anxiety flashing across your face, he paid no mind. Instead giving you a small, somewhat warm smile. As if to say, “Go ahead.”

The few seconds that passed were done in silence, you desperately trying to read Albedo’s face for ulterior motives, and the man behind you shuffling awkwardly in place while he waited for a response.

By some miracle, your body moved on autopilot, turning around to finally acknowledge the cause of your newfound distress. Only, you couldn’t even look him in the face.

Your mouth was dry, mind foggy and unable to think of a response that was anywhere near being coherent.

“...I―uh…”

“This is my new assistant. Please do forgive her, she’s quite shy.”

A shaky breath escaped your rigid body at the sound of Albedo’s voice, and the feeling of his hand resting gently upon the small of your back.

The blatant lie that only you and him recognized echoed inside your head.

Timaeus had no clue who you were, or what you meant to Albedo. But if he did know, you wondered what he would do.

“...Ah, it’s strange we’ve never met before.”

You could tell without looking that Timaeus was studying your form. With the way his tone shifted to something a little more unsettled, a pit grew in your stomach knowing how he had picked up on your questionable nervousness.

The hand resting on your back felt a little more heavy.

Albedo showed no signs of botherment, “That’s likely because she’s not from here.”

For some ungodly reason, the less experienced alchemist took this as an opportunity. “Oh, if that’s the case then we should show her around. Sucrose could use someone like herself to―”

“Actually, we were just leaving. I’m afraid I’ve kept her out in the cold too long, and descending the mountain any further is quite a reckless task in this weather―” His head turned to look at you, no longer addressing his student, “―right?”

If Timaeus was told of what his teacher had done to you, would he help? Even if he looks up to Albedo, even if everyone does, surely they would step in.

Only, the issue remained that first you’d have to prove to them you were in danger.

...And really, you weren’t. Not anymore.

The tender bruises around your wrists and ankles had healed long ago. Your health was in near perfect condition, what with how Albedo saw to it that you never did anything to put it at risk. A single and quick glance would show that you were so pristinely taken care of, complexion shining now that you no longer spent nights sleepless from fear.

What were you to even say?

Moreso, it remained true that you didn’t quite want to say anything.

Timaeus wouldn’t believe your truth, and Albedo would likely spin the scenario so that your words weren’t reliable anyways.

It dawned on you that Albedo knew this fact well, why else would he bring you with him if he wouldn’t still be entirely in control of the situation?

A simple movement, his hand drifted to your hip and gripped it firmly, urging.

Your voice, barely a whisper met his ears.

“...Of course…”

That was all he needed, sending an impatient, yet still neutral glance towards Timaeus, the smallest hint of self-satisfaction lingering in it.

His student took the hint.

_____

“I have to say, bringing you with me was quite...productive.”

After dinner, Albedo has you keep him company in his study. You, occupied with a book in a chair across from his desk, while he goes over his findings from the day’s outing.

“Research wise, I was able to study you in a foreign situation.” He continued, conversation one-sided, “The results were to my liking…”

Although construed in his ever sophisticated manner, his words told you that you did something right. He was proud, and that notion made the swell of a strange warmth in your heart grow.

The alchemist’s gaze remained downcasted at the papers strewn about in front of him while he spoke. “...I suppose you should be rewarded for such good behaviour.”

Your eyes flitted up, the story on your lap abandoned completely.

Albedo has never spoken of such a thing, not once entertaining the idea of rewards when he saw no reason to ever extend such gratitude. Even after all this time.

He must be especially pleased, you thought.

Perhaps, enough to grant you back even a small semblance of independence...that would most certainly be your wish.

You’d long grown used to his suffocating personality, the intense interest he paid you often resulting in little to no alone time. Albedo made sure you stayed in eyeshot, and in those inevitable times he needed to leave, he made them quick, and you were to be safely tucked away in the bedroom, door locked from the outside. There wasn’t a single detail he missed, no stone left unturned when trying to improve your security.

Unfortunately for you, it left little autonomy.

Just the smallest taste of self-reliance would be fine. You’d love to cook a nice meal, like the ones you used to make. Or perhaps to pick your own outfit one morning, something more your style than the things he put together for you. Any break from his constant guidance, no matter what shape or form, you’d gladly take―

“Why don’t you go get cleaned up then, I’ll meet you upstairs soon.”

Albedo neglected to look up as he spoke, and so he missed how the glimmer of anticipation in your eyes faded away. The way your shoulders dropped slightly, the look of disappointment flashing across your features in understanding of his words.

What he had planned, it was a reward...of sorts.

An excuse, as far as you saw it.

Albedo was known for testing the limits of living beings after all, and in certain ways, such studies extended to how he treats you. It’s a win win for him―he thinks it’s a reward, since he knows he can make you feel good, and doing so just shows him all those little things he can’t learn through idle observation. What makes you squirm or shy away with innocent embarrassment―information just as important as everything else he knows about you.

It doesn’t dissuade Albedo when he finally glances up to see what his offer has done, though the sight does make him feel as though he’s deceived you.

Still, he remains unapologetic. “While you gave me some good insight on how far you’ve...adjusted, I still can’t completely trust you. This merely turned out to be a good opportunity for satisfying your other needs―nothing more.”

Flipping open a nearby textbook, Albedo conveys wordlessly, a difficult habit of his, that the conversation has ended.

You, however, have yet to heed his words. Still seated, the once flickering of hope subsiding with each passing second. Call it grief, but you were sincerely expecting a different outcome. Though, knowing Albedo, and his constant need to grow more knowledgeable, you should’ve seen this coming.

“...I’d rather not have to force your compliance tonight. So, please―” He gestured towards the door with a wave of his hand, focus trained and brows barely knitted while he skims over his readings on the desk.

Honestly speaking, you once thought Albedo was a deeply confusing man. So too was the life he’d meticulously prepared, and swiftly forced you into. Yet, looking back, things may have been more simple than you once perceived.

Your only real job is to exist and comply. And you both know you’re not going anywhere, not going to say no. Especially now, given how effortless it feels to fall into routine, going through the motions of his request and carrying yourself upstairs.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you realize it’s too late for you, what feels like an eternity spent at Albedo’s side having just about rendered your fighting spirit useless. It’s been long since replaced with what you’re coming to know as a certain fondness. You want to see the compassion in his eyes that’s sparked by your willing compliance.

It was a single, tangible goal. Not complex and unobtainable like those tasks of your past life. Attempts at obtaining those desires are futile, when today's events proved you genuinely no longer want them anymore.

It’s much easier to make Albedo proud. You don’t realize that you do it everyday, and that he’s just poor at conveying his own emotions...

Drawing yourself a bath, you wash away past doubts, settling with what your life has turned into.

Distantly, you hear Albedo make his way up the stairs and towards your bedroom. You like knowing what’s to come, which is always something you’ll have with him. You can’t say the same if you leave, and so you finally resolve that you never will.

[novelconcepts]

You saying more childhood AU is possible with the right prompt is just...

More Tess. All of the Tess. Tess the morning after the party, lives in my brain rent free. The teasing. The knowing looks. The Jamie and Dani being so in love and unashamed and also oops we forgot the roommate. And Tess being the wonderful person she is and not letting them get away with anything.

It’s the fact that they think they’re subtle, that really gets her. 

Not that Tess is upset to find Jamie crashing with them the week following graduation. Of course Jamie is crashing with them. Where else would she go, now that Dani “it’s important to grow up and change and learn who you really are, or some such bull” Clayton has finally snapped up the hot gardener of her dreams? Honestly, if Dani let her walk out that door--especially after that first night, which, hello, gardener; these walls aren’t half as thick as they apparently think--she’d have forfeited all rights to sanity, and Tess would have no choice but to make her move instead.

No, she isn’t upset to find Jamie still here the following morning. Or at all. She loves Jamie. What’s not to love? 

Honestly, so much to love. If she didn’t love Dani even more, she might have to really test the bounds of this friendship. Particularly when she opens her bedroom door to find Jamie--hair rumpled, dressed in a half-unbuttoned flannel and a pair of boxer shorts--at the kitchen counter. Like, warn a woman. 

“Warn you about what?” Jamie looks blank, her hands prying open each cupboard with evidently-mounting disappointment. “You really don’t have any tea?”

“Warn a woman,” Tess repeats, hip-checking her gently out of the way and scrounging the supply of English Breakfast out from behind the stoner snacks. “Before you turn up in her kitchen looking all sex-rumpled. I haven’t even had coffee, Taylor, Jesus.”

Jamie blinks, taking the box from her hands. “O...kay. How was the rest of the party?”

“Not nearly as engaging as your night,” Tess informs her pleasantly, delighted when Jamie’s sleep-muddled expression lights up with embarrassment. “But an extravaganza in its own right all the same. Where’s my girl? I know you railed her into next week, but it seems bad manners to leave you to breakfast alone.”

“I didn’t--we--”

“Thin walls,” Tess sing-songs. “Like paper. Or, what, you’re English--parchment?”

“We have paper,” Jamie deadpans. Tess pats her shoulder, working around her to fill the kettle. 

“Good fortune really does smile upon you. Ah! Sleeping Beauty arises!”

Dani, looking only slightly more functional than Jamie, is emerging from the bathroom with an expression that suggests she, at least, is very aware of the acoustics of their apartment. It’s so tempting to tease her about it--Dani has this truly adorable habit of looking like she might combust if pushed too far, the red of her face complimented nicely by the gold of her hair--but Tess figures some things can wait. Lord knows they’re going to walk right into it soon enough.

But like--so soon. Like, she goes off to take a shower, and comes back to find they still haven’t left the kitchen soon.

“Seriously?” She laughs, watching them leap apart. It’s too clear Dani has forgone the idea of coffee and bacon for the much-more-invigorating art of pushing Jamie against the refrigerator. Not that Tess can blame her. 

“We--were just--”

“Right in front of my cereal,” Tess says gravely, shaking her head in faux-disappointment as she stretches over Jamie--whose hands are still rooted to Dani’s hips, the hem of Dani’s shirt dropping hastily back over her stomach--to retrieve a box of off-brand Lucky Charms. “No shame.”

They’re both making noises of disagreement, as though Tess hasn’t had her share of groping in the kitchen experiences to call on. She snorts. 

“Look, far be it from me to stop your, ah, young love in its tracks. Just. Keep it out of my bedroom, is all I ask. Unless...” She wiggles her eyebrows. Jamie clears her throat so violently, it sounds as though she might fracture something.

“Shower. Should. I.”

“That sentence normally goes in the other direction,” says Tess helpfully. Dani swats her back, grinning. 

“Got that out of your system yet?”

“Oh, not nearly.” Tess beams. “By all means, Clayton, show her where the shower lives.”

“I know where the,” Jamie begins to protest, but Dani is slipping both arms around her middle, pressing against her back to urge her toward the bathroom.

“That’s her polite way of saying if I don’t go with you now, she’s going to spend the next half hour fishing for details.”

“You still owe me those,” Tess calls after them. “Every last filthy one.”

***

They think the shower is noise-cancelling, too, Tess realizes about four minutes later. Jesus, these beautiful useless idiots. 

***

It’s the lack of subtlety masquerading as Chill, really. The fact that every single time Tess leaves a room, she can count slowly to ten, poke her head back out, and find they’ve picked right back up where last she interrupted. 

Step into the bedroom to change her clothes? Come back out to find Dani straddling Jamie on the couch. 

Take a quick smoke break on the stairs out front? Glance through the window to find Jamie shirtless, the unmistakable tread of scratches running down her back beneath her bra. 

Offer to run out for lunch? Spend an extra five minutes idly counting clouds, because fuck only knows the sounds Dani is making isn’t karaoke. 

“You two,” she announces, tossing the pizza box onto the counter with a flourish, “are going to break something if you keep this up. I mean, you’re at least taking hydration breaks, I hope? Do I need to bring you a power bar?”

Jamie has the decency to look slightly ashamed of herself, though there’s a definite grin beneath the hunched shoulders. Dani, selecting a slice of pepperoni-and-banana-peppers, shrugs. 

“Consider it payback?”

“For who?” Tess demands, delighted. Dani raises her free hand, ticking her fingers down toward her palm.

“Tyler, whose butt I saw like ten minutes before you introduced us. May, who you used to desecrate the kitchen floor. Carlos and Beth--”

“Liz,” Tess interrupts, “she goes by Liz these days.”

“--Liz, with whom you conveniently forgot I needed to shower before my presentation and took up the bathroom for three hours--”

“Okay, okay,” Tess snorts, groping for a dishtowel in some shade of off-white to wave. “Truce.”

“And that’s just this apartment,” Dani says cheerfully. She tilts her head to look at Jamie, whose face can best be described as aghast. “Back in the dorm, she used to sneak girls in after I was asleep.”

“You were a sound sleeper!” 

“No one is sound enough to ignore a bed frame breaking, Tess.”

“I...avoiding college was the right choice,” Jamie says weakly. Tess bats her eyes.

“You’re saying you’ve never dreamed of breaking a bed frame with me, Taylor?”

Jamie darts a look around at Dani, her eyes just shy of screaming. Tess is having the best time of her life. 

***

“Tell me honestly, though,” she says. Jamie gives her a sharp look, uncertainty obvious even as she reaches to accept the joint Tess is passing her way. 

“Really don’t think Dani wants me giving you a play by play.”

“Dani, beloved of my soul, was fool enough to schedule a doctor’s appointment while you were still in town. She knows what I’m about.” 

To Jamie’s credit, she doesn’t choke this time. She puffs once, twice, holding the smoke in her lungs an impressively long time before craning her head back and exhaling. "What am I telling you honestly?”

“You’re going to keep an eye on her, right?”

Jamie looks surprised. “Yeah. Not that she needs it, mind. Just. Yeah. Always.”

Tess sighs. “She doesn’t need it, but you know as well as I what that woman is like. Too good. Too fucking good for her own good, you know? Forgets, sometimes, that she can come first, too.”

Jamie offers a smile nearly wicked in its amusement. “Oh, I take care of that.”

“Yes,” Tess drawls, “darling, I can tell. You know, really relieved she never brought anyone home before now. I’m not sure my beauty sleep could have taken the abuse.”

Jamie laughs, leaning back and pulling a throw pillow into a loose embrace. “She doesn’t need anyone taking care of her. But...”

“But you can’t help wanting to, anyway,” Tess guesses. When Jamie nods, she takes another hit, lets the smoke burn in her chest. “She has that effect on people. Our girl would take a bullet for anyone, and it’s...impossible not to love her for it.”

“She’s the reason,” Jamie says softly, “I didn’t run. Reason I did a lot of things, some of ‘em really, really stupid. Sometimes I think everything I’ve ever done can be traced back home to her, one way or another.”

“That, my dear,” Tess says, “is what fools and songstresses alike call love, I think. Just...do me a favor, keep her from killing herself for those kids.”

Jamie nods. “I will. Promise.”

“Good,” Tess says lightly. “I like you, Jamie. You’ve got the hands of a sinner and the smile of a saint. I’d really hate to have to track you down and kill you for doing her wrong.”

***

For all the sex, and all the blushing that follows, it’s late nights like this one that really say it all. Nights where cards fade into lazy conversation fade into this: Jamie, asleep on the couch, her head resting in Dani’s lap. Dani, looking down at her like she’s never felt so at home in her own skin. 

And Tess, watching them both, astonished by the lack of fear in the room. The lack of distance. The lack of uncertainty. 

Dani, who has always been a nervous sort, whose panic attacks are so predictable on bad weeks, Tess came back from that first Christmas break with a laundry list of coping methods to offer--looks perfectly at peace. Her fingers stroke back Jamie’s hair, tracing her forehead, her nose, every brush of contact only seeming to sink Jamie deeper into dream. Dani has never looked like this before. 

“You’re happy,” Tess says quietly. Not a question. Not a challenge. Dani smiles.

“Part of me thought she’d get sick of it, you know. Waiting for me.”

“Who could get sick of you?” Tess asks, and means it. No one in the world stacks up to Dani, on a list of favorite people. No one in the world ever could. If Jamie really did fall ass over teakettle for this woman when they were barely old enough to know what love was, she couldn’t be blamed for it. Not for a second. 

“You’ll invite me to the wedding, of course,” Tess says, when Dani--eyes closed, fingers still tracing aimlessly--says nothing for a while. One blue eye emerges, her nose scrunching up. 

“Jumping ahead, aren’t you?”

“She’d do it here and now, if you asked. Shit, I could get ordained, do it for you. Always thought I’d look nice in a little suit.”

“You’d be gorgeous,” Dani says, without a hint of deprecation. Tess blows her a kiss. “And...yes. If and when, I can’t imagine doing it without you.”

“As officiant?”

“I was thinking maid of honor,” Dani laughs. Tess leans back, smiling. 

“That’ll do.”

The silence creeps in again, the sleepy indulgence of post-midnight living that feels so perfectly suited to the college experience. Nothing else, Tess suspects, will ever be quite this again--the quiet feeling like peace, the weariness feeling earned, not crushing. Jamie breathes out in her sleep, one hand drifting to gently grasp the hem of Dani’s shirt.

“Gonna miss you,” Tess says softly. “And this one, too.”

Dani smiles, a hint of sadness in her eyes. “It won’t be the same again, will it?”

“Nope.” And maybe that’s a good thing, she thinks. Maybe that’s exactly how it should be. Growing up. Changing. Learning who they ought to be. “But you’ll call.”

“And write,” Dani agrees. 

“And send me pictures of your hot gardener,” Tess adds. “Lord knows, it’d be a crying shame to forget that.”

Dani laughs. “Never.”

“You did good, Clayton. Took you a minute, but--you did good.”

She lets the silence settle for real, lets Jamie sleep and Dani doze, lets herself sink into the armchair. They aren’t subtle, it’s true--she’ll probably wake tomorrow to find they’ve opted for a quiet round of the most wall-shaking sex she’s ever heard in Dani’s room--but that feels right, somehow. Good, to see Dani refusing to make herself small. Great, to see Dani refusing to temper an emotion this grand.

“I love you idiots,” she says softly. “You’re going to be just fuckin’ fine.”

[abacus-and-paper-money]

Comet Theory Thursday: Character Analysis; Helene Bezukhova

It was a reeeeally close vote this week but Helene won out! Thank you to everyone who voted ^^ I did an extra long one this time! Content under the cut!

Character Analysis: Helene Bezukhova*

*(It’s important to note that this is ONLY an analysis of Great Comet!Helene, not W&P!Helene, as I have not read the book yet.)

Elena “Helene” Bezukhova is without a doubt, one of the most complex and layered characters in Natasha, Pierre, & The Great Comet of 1812. Both smarter and nastier than her brother Anatole, Helene is a cunning woman who knows how to wrap people around her finger. So much so that she’s been dubbed “The Queen of Society.” Everything that Helene does is intentional. (Possibly with the exception of her bad French.) Almost Every. Little. Thing. Right down to the way she carries herself. The tone of her voice. The things she wears.

However, underneath the master manipulator, there’s a little soft spot. If only a small one. For her brother, and maybe even for Natasha. But more on that later. First, let’s talk about Helene herself.

I believe that Helene is the smartest character in Great Comet, or possibly second-smartest, it’s a tough call between her and Dolokhov. But I digress. The point is that she’s incredibly smart. Seriously, if she was a D&D character, she’d have the Wisdom and Charisma stats maxed out, which is a deadly combination. That was another tangent, sorry, bear with me here.

So, how does Helene get people to like her? Like I said before, it’s a combination of everything. It’s all intentional. First, her voice. Helene slurs her voice slightly, possibly because she’s a little drunk, but possibly just to evoke the feeling of intoxication in others. (Not even to mention Amber Gray’s insanely gorgeous singing)

Next, how she carries herself. Helene has a very fluid way of walking, interspersed by some occasional harsh movements. Watch her in The Opera, prancing around with her head held high as she’s introduced. Almost like a snake, with her graceful foot, but then a sudden movement of her arm or head. (Like how she raises her glass in The Duel.) Additionally, Helene is very expressive with her arms, often reaching out towards people, and/or gesturing to them with both arms outstretched. She does this a lot with Natasha.

The things she wears. Helene is always seen in the highest of fashion. Feathers in her hair during The Opera, the high waistline that was so in style in the 1810s, and high-quality fabrics from all over the world. She wears green throughout the whole show (I made a wholeass post about this so I’m not gonna restate all of it here.) Her CONSISTENT wearing of green gives her a ‘thing,’ something visually iconic. Think like Ariana Grande’s ponytail, or Heather Chandler’s red scrunchie. No matter what, you can find Helene in green.

And finally, how she interacts with others. Helene is a master of hyping people up. And because of all the aforenoted things, she makes you feel special and important like no other could. You’re being told how beautiful you are by the queen of society. That’s gotta be like the biggest confidence boost possible. She gets you to love her by making it seem like she loves you. Of course, we also can’t discount Helene being the seductress that she is, her unashamed sexuality makes her seem yet more confident. And confidence is widely regarded as the most attractive quality in a person. Not even just sexually or romantically attractive, attractive in all ways. People want to be around confident people, especially people who make them feel confident too.

Alright, now that we’ve got that covered, let’s look deeper into Helene’s actual character. Like how she is as a person and shit. Her flaws, her redeeming qualities, her soft spots. I’m not going to pretend that Helene is a super great person or anything, she’s #3 on my asshole ranking, but she’s certainly not two-dimensional either.

First off, and most obvious of her redeeming qualities, Helene clearly loves her brother. They appear to be very close. They’re the classic double-trouble siblings. Throughout the play, she’s not even acting in her own self-interest, she’s helping Anatole win over Natasha. Although the “Thought of throwing them together” does amuse her. We can see her being protective of her brother in ‘Find Anatole,’ where Anatole is devastated, as he’s just been chased off by Marya for being an absolute SCOUNDREL and therefore unable to pick up or even see his beloved Natasha. “Anatole, come Anatole, Anatole hush, Anatole.” She reaches out with both arms, then and embraces and comforts him while they sit on the stairs. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a total asshole, but Helene seems to truly love and care about him. She also hypes him up to the audience while introducing him in The Opera, kinda being like ‘hell yeah that’s my brother he’s fucking stupid but cool af’

But then, we obviously get to the other side of this. Helene plays people like a fiddle, with no thought of how other might be affected by her actions. She’s actively hostile to Pierre, who she only married for his money in the first place, telling him to keep drinking during The Duel because she knows it’s dangerous for him. Also in The Duel, she somehow manages to get Pierre and Dolokhov, people who are FRIENDS, to duel over her. While it’s way more about honor than her love, it still happens. There’s really nothing anyone gains out of this, so it really seems like she set this up for her own amusement. After the duel takes place, she comments “What can I say? It’s a gift.” In response to Anatole saying that she “Certainly brings out the beast in men.”

There’s a possibility that she genuinely likes Natasha as well. She compliments her even before Anatole shows up. She probably compliments everyone, but still. I don’t think she’d bring over a wholeass evening dress and give away her pearls to somebody she didn’t actually enjoy hyping up. Also, the thing with the dress swishies near the end of Charming is fucking adorable and I will stand by that until I die.

Unlike Anatole, Helene seems to be aware that she’s kind of a dick, and like she enjoys that. She might consciously choose to keep being an asshole for a number of reasons. Like maybe she feels inadequate, though that doesn’t seem the most likely. Maybe she feels like she should make use the ‘gift’ she has. Maybe she’s afraid of being hurt (Again?) and has resolved to stay one step ahead of everyone else. Maybe she has a hard time controlling herself and her actions (ADHD?) so she controls other people just to have control over something. Maybe she’s just a shithead. You could make arguments for all of these, and I’m sure for other things too.

So, all in all, I love Helene. She’s an incredibly interesting character to analyze, and I hope you enjoyed reading this. I might dive even deeper in the future, if that’s something people want. Hope you enjoyed this very special (late) Comet Theory Thursday! (Friday) As most of you know, yesterday was my fifteenth birthday, so that’s why I didn’t get it out earlier- thanks for bearing with me! New topics to vote on will be up a few minutes after this gets posted!

[feeling-weirdy]

I loved your Halloween fic!!!!

Would you consider writing a follow up where Wanda and Vision finally get to walk down the yellow brick road 😉😉 once trick or treating is done and the kids are asleep? Maybe they have to take a shower to get all the makeup and stuff off???

Love everything you write!!!

Make sure you check out part 1 first!

Explicit for suuuuure

"Looks like the kids are down for the count. I never thought a sugar crash would be our saving grace, but there you have it."  Vision plopped himself on the bed, straw pieces littering the bed with every movement.  He and his costume had been positively spent and he found himself no longer caring where the bits of his costume fell.  “The night is officially over.” 

Wanda came in from the bathroom, meticulously removing both of her earrings with a thoughtful glance.  "That wasn't too bad now was it?"

"You do have to admit...”  Vision grunted softly, pushing himself up so that he was leaning on his elbows against the bed.  “Your costumes are a bit...outdated."  His face scrunched at the word, his lips tugging outwards as his eyes scanned her perfect form.  The blue and white checkered pattern suited her quite nicely, a small slip of fabric hugging her waist together in a most delicious way that only stopped once it twisted around itself to form the bow that sat at the small of her back. 

"Outdated?”  She scoffed, making her way towards him.  Placing the earrings on the nightstand, she leaned over him and placed one delicate kiss on his lips.  “I think you look quite handsome if I do say so myself."

"Mm, thank you, darling."  As she pulled back, he followed her sneaking in one last kiss before she stood up straight. “Yours is definitely worth all the fuss.  I think I could get used to seeing you in little numbers like that.”

“Oh yeah?”  She giggled, sauntering toward the bathroom with exaggerated movements. Her hips swung back and forth as she peered over at him with a loving glance. "Maybe you should help me get this little number off then. Find something else you'd enjoy more?" Wanda leaned against the bathroom door, daring him to follow after her with teasing eyes.

Vision cocked his head to the side, a knowing smile gracing his lips.

"Pretty sure we're supposed to follow that yellow brick road, hm? You wouldn't want to keep me from finding my way home, would you Mr. Scarecrow?"

Vision chuckled, pushing himself to his feet as he closed the distance between them. "I'm pretty sure we can drop all that, yeah? Maybe it's not quite as sexy as I thought it was." Slipping his hand around her waist, he used his right to trace the edge of her jaw, pulling her lips up to meet his.

"Worth a shot." Wanda shrugged, grinning up at him. "Maybe we should just...take this off and put things back in order."

"I think that would be for the best."

They kept their eyes locked on each other. Wanda reached around her back, slowly undoing the bow that kept her little dress tight around her body. She turned, silently asking for help with the zipper. Vision complied, brushing her hair out of the way as he steadily pulled the zipper all the way down her back.

Slipping his hands beneath the fabric, he ran his cool digits along her skin, tracing the indentation of her back until he reached her shoulders. He flicked the straps off of her shoulders allowing the entirety of the dress to fall to the floor, revealing her voluptuous body.

He allowed his fingers to explore her skin, tracing over the patterns of her black bra. With a soft sigh, she turned in his arms, stretching her arms around his neck and pulled him down for another kiss.

"No fair," she breathed against him, peering down at his still clothed body.

Vision laughed. " I wouldn't even know where to begin to take this thing off."  He raised his arms slightly, feeling as if he had been sewn inside this blasted thing, and as the person who did the sewing, she knew full well what she had done.

"Can't you just...?"  Wanda's eyebrows danced, moving in all sorts of directions in implication. "Plus...you gotta change...all that anyway." She circled her finger around his face, a dazzling smile crossing her face.  "If I'm going to make love to my husband then I'm going to make love to my husband."

"Ah...right." His human disguise dissipated, giving way to the reddish-purple tint of his normal outward appearance. Changing forms gave himself the opportunity to shed his costume, leaving him in nothing but his black boxers. His wife gazed up at him, her approval evident.

“Much better...”  

Vision set to work where he left off earlier in the night, peppering kisses along the nape of her neck.  Teasing his cool fingers along the sides of bare skin, eliciting all sorts of sighs and squeaks as he made his way around her body.  He could feel Wanda’s warm fingers make their way along his hard chest, the temperature difference sending shivers through his very core.  Soft moans escaped her lips, nagging him on until it was his tongue trailing along her soft, delicate skin.  While he couldn’t taste in the same way a human could, he could still feel the metallic tang rest along his tongue.  He could take in her heat if nothing else, only growing more pronounced as he made his desires known.

Not allowing himself to rush, Vision took his time as he worked his way up her neck drawing out all sorts of delicious noises from Wanda’s lips as she wrapped her arms around him.  Her fingertips scraping along the sensitive part at the base of his neck only driving him mad.

Finally making his way to her mouth, Vision crashes his lips to her, his hand trailing back down to the tip of her waist as she pressed against him.  The passion between them built by the moment, pulling each other closer until air no longer existed between them.

Wanda hops and wraps her legs around his waist and he carries her to the bed, stripping off her panties in one quick motion.  She arched her back, hurriedly removing her bra, never breaking their kiss as he climbs on top of her.  Tossing her underwear to the side, she allowed her fingers to explore his body once more, reaching down to tease him through his boxers.  A powerful feeling exploded within him as she ran a finger along his cock, coaxing him forward.

Happily obliging, Vision pressed himself against her center, teasing the folds with the bulge keeping them apart.  The feeling of her warmth against his swollen muscle drew him, easily phasing through the last of his clothes until he was completely engulfed within her.

Despite her attempts to keep herself quiet, Wanda’s whines dripped from her lips unashamed as he buried himself within her.  She bit her bottom lip, digging her fingernails into the plates on his back as she braced herself for the friction that built up between them.

He kept a steady rhythm, her warmth drawing him deeper as he gripped the sheets beneath them.  Wanda traced her fingers along his cheeks, pulling him down for another hungry kiss.

They moved together, keeping a uniformed pace as he closed the distance between them again and again.

Vision could feel as she reached her climax, her walls tensing against his member as she tried desperately to keep herself quiet for their children’s sake.  She never could quite get that right, though they had been lucky those same children were hard sleepers.  He hurried his pace, hoping to help her along as she fell over the edge.

Her breathing staggered, her heart rate increased as she began to convulse, biting her bottom lip to keep herself from screaming as he chased his own release.  Vision was never far behind, her soft and desperate expressions only pushing him faster towards his own convulsions.  

His systems erupted with pleasure as his programming replicated the experience of an orgasm.  The intense feeling overtook him, squeezing his eyes tight as he allowed it to wash over him.  Wanda’s fingers danced along his arms, determined to catch her breath as his movements slowed.

Vision kept himself towered over her as she caught her breath.  She leaned her head back for a moment, sweat peppering her brow.  “Now we’re definitely going to need a shower.  Care to join me?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Vision answered, pressing his lips hard against hers one last time into a deep kiss.  Even after all this time together, her kisses sent electricity throughout his entire system.  They spent a moment just absorbing each other in a truly blissful, happy moment.  With a smile and a quick kiss on the nose, Vision pulled away from her as she giggled beneath him.

Following her to the bathroom, the two spent the night consumed with one another.

Check out my other drabbles here or feel free to request some!

[mikauzoran]

Lukadrien: Your Hands Hold Home: Chapter Twenty-Nine

@lukadrien-june

Read it on AO3: Your Hands Hold Home: Chapter Twenty-Nine:  “What About Me?” “Anything for You.”

“Ah!” Rose squealed, eyes going as round as her mouth as she scooped the sparkling pink unicorn hooded scarf out of the wrapping paper she had just shredded. “Adrien, I love it!”

She launched herself over Juleka to tackle-hug her future brother-in-law. “You’re the best!”

“I’m really glad you like it,” Adrien chuckled, trying to keep himself from falling over into Luka.

“I love it!” Rose reiterated, giving Adrien a fierce nuzzle.

“It even has mittens attached,” Juleka snickered, picking up the scarf-hat combo to inspect it. She laughed, amused, as she flopped around the gloves at the end of the scarf.

“Marinette outdid herself,” Luka observed, pleased.

“She did,” Juleka agreed before turning her attention to Adrien. “So, whatcha get me?”

Adrien extracted one arm from Rose’s embrace to grab the little package off of the coffee table and hand it to Juleka. “Gloomy Bear hair clips.”

A wide, mischievous grin spread across Juleka’s lips as she tore away the paper to reveal hair clips featuring a pink cartoon bear with blood on his mouth and claws.

“I also talked to some of my industry contacts who haven’t cancelled me, and, if you want, there’s a spot for you to model in some upcoming spring line photoshoots for a couple small boutiques,” Adrien informed sheepishly. “I mean, they’re small, and you’d practically be working for free, but at least it’s getting your name out there and providing you with some experience to put on your resume.”

Juleka clambered over Rose to wrap Adrien in the most crushing hug.

“Thanks, Dri,” she whispered weakly, overcome with emotion.

“You’re welcome,” Adrien replied with a smile, resting his head against hers. “Merry Christmas, Juliet.”

Luka smiled warmly as he watched the exchange and noted how seamlessly Adrien had slipped into the Couffaine family.

“Now I want to see what my Christmas present is,” Luka hummed impishly, waggling his eyebrows.

Adrien’s face instantly flushed, and he looked away bashfully. “I’ll have to give it to you later.”

“Give it to him now,” Rose urged. “We’re not doing anything as a family until lunch. You guys have time.”

Luka arched an eyebrow. “What exactly am I getting?”

Juleka smirked. “Adrien’s got a private concert planned for you as soon as he gets you alone in your bedroom.”

A raging blush stained Luka’s pale skin crimson as he attempted to swallow and find some kind of response. “O-Oh?”

“It’s not like that!” Adrien protested, beginning to squirm. “I just… I wrote a song for you. That’s all.”

Luka inhaled sharply in surprise. “You wrote a song for me?”

With a shy smile, Adrien nodded. “It’s not very good.”

“It’s the sweetest thing,” Rose interjected.

Juleka nodded in agreement. “You’re going to love it, Luc.”

Luka turned back to Adrien. “Show me? …Please?”

Adrien gave a tentative nod. “Okay. If you’re sure you want to hear it.”

Luka slipped his hand into Adrien’s and gave it a squeeze. “P5, I’d love to hear your song.”

Slowly, a hopeful smile filtered onto Adrien’s lips. “Okay.”

“Ow-ow!” Juleka cheered as they got up and headed for Luka’s room.

Luka ignored his sister, but Adrien shot her a pouty glare.

Giggling, Rose admonished her girlfriend, smacking her playfully on the arm before climbing onto Juleka’s lap to snuggle.

That shut Juleka up.

 “Like I said, it’s not very good,” Adrien reiterated as he shut the door behind them and went over to grab the black acoustic guitar he’d been practicing on over the past six months.

Luka rolled his eyes, taking a seat on his bed. “Adrien…your self-esteem issues are as bad as ever, aren’t they?”

“No,” Adrien grumbled defensively, sitting down beside Luka. “I’m just not good at guitar or composition, so…I don’t make music like you and Zay. I just play piano, but I thought it would mean something to you if I composed something on guitar and played it.”

Luka reached out to give Adrien’s arm a reassuring squeeze. “You were absolutely right. I am ecstatic that you put the time and energy into doing this for me. That’s what really counts.”

Blushing, Adrien looked down at his fingers.

“I kind of stole the idea from Xavier-Yves,” he mumbled. “When I heard him play the song he’d written for you, I was kicking myself, wondering why I’d never thought to serenade you, so I hope you don’t mind my lack of originality when it comes to romantic gestures.”

Luka clicked his tongue. “Adrien, you’re speaking my love language. It doesn’t matter if someone else wrote a song for me too. I want to hear what you wrote. I want to hear what’s in your heart.”

Adrien gave a breathy chuckle and shook his head. “I don’t think this song does what’s in my heart justice, but…I guess it’s something, at least.”

Luka nodded in agreement. “I’m going to love it.”

Adrien’s uncertain expression morphed into a warm, affectionate grin. “Yeah. You are, aren’t you?”

“Yep,” Luka encouraged.

Adrien’s grin turned puckish. “…Could you show me how to play F?”

A tiny crease formed on Luka’s brow, but he carefully positioned Adrien’s fingers anyway. “You know where F is.”

Adrien nodded, unashamed at being caught out.

“I just wanted you to touch me,” he admitted. “After my mom disappeared, no one really touched me anymore. That’s why I’m so clingy. Sorry for deceiving you all this time.”

“You dork,” Luka sighed, ruffling Adrien’s hair. “You could have just asked for a hug.”

A bark of laughter caught Adrien by surprise. “I would have been plastered against you constantly.”

“Who says I would have minded?” Luka snorted, a flirtatious note slipping into his voice.

Adrien looked away with a giddy smile. “I did not need to be any more of a hopeless mess over you than I already was. I’m trying to be a well-adjusted, functional adult here.”

Luka gently stroked Adrien’s cheek with a knuckle, whispering, “Love you.”

Adrien chuckled, self-consciously echoing, “Love you too.”

Luka gave Adrien’s thigh a pat and scooted back to give Adrien some space. “Will you play your song for me? Please? I’d love to hear it.”

Adrien nodded and took a couple slow breaths, mentally preparing himself. “This is called Memories of You.”

He swallowed and began to play.

At first, the melody was soft and dreamlike, like skimming along the surface of a pond made of clouds. It was gentle and warm, evoking feelings of safety and reassurance.

A wide grin spread across Luka’s lips at the thought that he made Adrien feel like that.

Gradually, the beat picked up, and the melody became more energetic, bouncing along with passion like running through a field of lavender and spinning in circles with your arms flung wide to embrace life.

The notes spoke of good times full of laughter and fun, but they touched on the hard times as well. The tears and anguish and struggles were all in the music. Longing and comfort were there too.

Luka could hear the times he’d held Adrien in his arms while Adrien cried and the times Luka had calmed Adrien down after a nightmare. There were the times when they’d snuggled and the times when they’d gazed up at the stars…the times when they’d fought and the times they’d made each other crazy. The whole breadth of their relationship was there in the music.

Luka closed his eyes and let it wash over him as he relived each of the memories.

He was surprised to find that, mixed in with the rest, there was a sense of yearning. It took a while for Luka to place, but he eventually identified it as Adrien’s desire to be an equal partner in their relationship. Adrien wanted to be there for Luka, to support him just as Luka had always been there for Adrien.

It nearly took Luka’s breath away.

He wasn’t used to being cherished. People didn’t normally want to protect Luka. Usually, it was Luka taking care of everyone else, putting himself on the backburner so that he could give his all to others.

It was so touching that there was finally someone who wanted to look after Luka.

Silent tears started to stream down Luka’s cheeks as the song gently faded out into the relative silence of the bedroom.

Adrien looked searchingly at Luka, waiting for the verdict.

Luka’s expression was so full of gratitude and desire as he reached up to cup Adrien’s cheek. “I told you I was going to love it.”

Adrien drew in a sharp breath. “Yeah? You did? You liked it?”

Luka nodded. “It means so much to me how much time and hard work you put into making me feel loved. Thank you, Perfect Fifth.”

“Of course,” Adrien chuckled, setting the guitar aside. “I’d do anything to make sure you knew how much you mean to me.”

“Adrien,” Luka breathed, eyes drifting closed as he leaned in.

Adrien gulped, utterly conflicted. “Luka, I…I don’t know if I should…I’m not—”

“—Adrien,” Luka cut him off firmly, hunger in his half-lidded, dark eyes. “Kiss me.”

Adrien knew he ought to say no. He was still a mess. He was worlds better than he had been four months before when they’d last discussed dating, but Adrien wasn’t ready to be in a relationship yet. He couldn’t be there for Luka and support him the way Adrien wanted to be able to. Adrien still relied on Luka for so much, and it wasn’t fair. Adrien didn’t want to be the needy one in this relationship. He wanted to be Luka’s equal.

“Adrien,” Luka whimpered. “We’re already practically dating. What difference would it actually make?”

“A big one,” Adrien protested, pulling away.

With a sigh, he grabbed the guitar and went to put it back on its stand.

When he turned back around, Luka was gazing at him with something akin to despair.

Adrien’s heart broke for the boy he loved, and he inevitably gave in.

“Okay. Just because it’s Christmas. For one day only,” he stressed, placing one knee on the bed and lowering his face to Luka’s. “One kiss only.”

Luka knew that he was manipulating Adrien, but, for once, he decided to be selfish. He’d been good for four long months—six if you counted the time before Adrien had confessed his feelings. Luka couldn’t help but feel like one kiss wasn’t such a grave sin.

Their lips met, and it was like a jolt of electricity.

Luka didn’t hold back. His arms wrapped around Adrien, and he arched up, moaning into the kiss.

Adrien was easy to entice, and one kiss became two became four until they all blurred together and Luka and Adrien lost track.

The burning assertiveness gradually faded into curious exploration before slowly devolving into a sloppy mess of languid pleasure.

Adrien completely disheveled Luka’s hair. Meanwhile, Luka’s hands cautiously meandered down south until he finally achieved his longstanding dream of touching Adrien’s butt.

Adrien gave a little squeak of surprise but was back to kissing Luka before Luka could even ask if he needed to move his hands.

Half an hour slipped by unmarked before Adrien raised his head to look down at Luka beneath him.

“That…was more than one kiss,” Adrien observed.

“Yeah,” Luka agreed, voice husky and pupils blown wide, need evident.

Blushing furiously, Adrien scrambled off of Luka, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and pointedly not looking at Luka.

“I’m not ready for this,” Adrien informed flatly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to lead you on. I didn’t—”

Luka extracted his brain from his pants and pushed himself up onto his elbow, reaching out to run gentle fingertips up and down Adrien’s spine. “—Shhhh. Perfect Fifth, it’s fine. You weren’t leading me on. I know I guilted you into that kiss in the first place. I’m not expecting anything more from you, so just relax, okay?”

Adrien anxiously peeked back over his shoulder. “You’re not? Expecting anything? Physically, I mean?”

Luka shook his head. “The fact that I’ve slept with previous partners doesn’t have anything to do with our relationship. We go at our own speed. Whatever’s right for us. Okay?”

Adrien blew out a sigh of relief. “Okay. All right. Good.”

He bit his lip and turned to face Luka. “Because I’m not ready to be in a relationship with you yet.”

A cloudy expression drifted onto Luka’s features.

“I’m not ready,” Adrien repeated before Luka could protest. “I’m sorry. I just—Aren’t things okay as they are? I don’t want anything to change. I don’t want to mess up what we have.”

Luka took a deep breath and placed his hand over Adrien’s. “You don’t have to be afraid, P5. It’s going to be okay. Like I said before, we’re already practically dating. Not a whole lot will change once we make it official. I know you’re scared, but I promise you everything’s going to be fine.”

Adrien still didn’t look convinced.

Luka gave Adrien’s hand a squeeze. “Will you give me the chance to prove to you that everything’s going to be all right?”

Adrien worried his bottom lip between his teeth. “…Let me think about it?”

Luka nodded, willing to take whatever he could get. It was a step in the right direction at least. “Okay. Sure. Absolutely. …Thank you.”

A small smile graced Adrien’s lips as he laid down on the bed with a sigh. “Thank you. For being patient with me. I know I’m driving you crazy.”

Luka winced. “It’s not that bad.”

Adrien arched an eyebrow, calling Luka’s bluff.

Luka sighed, lying down in defeat. “Okay. Yeah. Pining like this is hard, but…I get that you want to be healthy going into a relationship. I appreciate that you’re taking this so seriously and trying to do it right.”

Adrien leaned in and pressed a grateful peck to Luka’s jaw. “Because I love you.”

“You’re killing me,” Luka groaned through a grin.

Adrien snickered. “You a masochist or something?”

“A little,” Luka chuckled. “—Oh. That reminds me.”

Adrien looked skeptical. “Of what exactly?”

“Your present.” Luka sat up and leaned over Adrien to get at the bedside table drawer. Out of it he produced a small present the size of a necklace box.

Adrien frowned as he carefully slid his finger underneath the edges of the wrapping paper and pealed back the tape.

Inside of the box he found a soft, velvety black ribbon made to look like a belt with a silver buckle, a metal tip on the end, and tiny holes to approximate a real belt.

“It’s…my Chat Noir belt…in miniature,” Adrien realized without understanding why he was receiving such a gift.

Luka smiled sheepishly. “Do you remember that one time you told me you thought you might like it if someone tied you up with your belt and chose to use that power over you to take care of you?”

Adrien’s entire face went red as he burst out laughing. “Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. Are you serious?”

Luka nodded.

Adrien hugged the ribbon to his chest and laughed harder. “I can’t even… I love you so much. You have no idea. This is just… Thank you.”

“I did look into bondage after that,” Luka confessed. “I asked around a little and did some research, but I came to the conclusion that I’m never going to feel comfortable actually tying you up. I did, however, come up with a compromise. May I?”

He held out his hand for the ribbon, and Adrien readily complied.

“Hold out your wrists?” Luka requested, and Adrien did.

Luka looped the ribbon around Adrien’s wrists, tying it loosely so that it didn’t chafe and Adrien could easily slip his hands out.

“You’re on the honor system to stay tied up,” Luka informed with a wink, making Adrien giggle. “It’s more symbolic bondage than anything, but I thought maybe you’d like it.”

“I do,” Adrien verified, giving Luka’s cheek another kiss. “Thank you, Luka. I appreciate you looking into this for me and the miniature belt and—Did Marinette make this?” he thought to ask.

“I didn’t tell her what it was for,” Luka assured.

“Okay. Good,” Adrien sighed. “…Can I tie you up with my belt sometimes, or is that weird?”

Luka shrugged, holding out his wrists. “I’m good so long as you’re happy.”

Adrien transferred the ribbon from his own wrists to Luka’s and grinned at the effect.

Luka smirked. “What are you going to do to me now that you have me at your mercy?”

Adrien’s smile turned soft and warm. “Love and protect you.”

Luka’s cheeks suddenly felt unbearably hot. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Adrien confirmed, eyes all adoration.

Luka gulped. “I’d really like that, actually.”

Adrien looked at Luka hard before promising resolutely, “…I’m going to become someone who can take care of you.”

Luka shook his head. “You already are, Adrien.”

Adrien didn’t look like he believed it.

Luka slipped his hands out of the ribbon and patted Adrien on the head. “You are. I promise. …Come on. Let’s make ourselves presentable so we can help Rose and Juleka with lunch.”

Adrien pressed one last kiss to Luka’s cheek before complying.

[madamewriterofwrongs]

Unashamed

911/Buddie

Words: 900

Inspired by this post.

Buck helped the last victim off of the overturned bus, letting her grab his forearm when she lost her balance. “You’re okay.” He assured her, spotting Eddie approaching with more medical supplies. “See that hot firefighter over there? He’s gonna make sure you’re well taken care of.” He was well versed in ignoring Hen’s many snorts of exasperation. What? He was just calling it like he saw it.

The woman, still clinging to his arm seemed to consider his words. “He is kinda hot, isn’t he.” Buck did not feel jealous. There was nothing to be jealous of. If anything, there was a bit of pride in knowing he wasn’t the only one with powers of observation.

“Please.” Hen rolled her eyes, guiding the woman over to the station she’d set up.

To his credit, Buck didn’t completely scoff at his friend. Just snorted a little. “Don’t be rude, Hen. The lady clearly has excellent taste.” She introduced herself as Cindy and Buck responded with his own greeting. “I couldn’t agree with you more, Cindy. Eddie is so cute. And he’s nice too, you know? Like, genuinely a nice guy. Those are hard to find.” He kept gushing while Hen conducted her examination of the woman. “And he’s smart; like clinical and strategic and his work ethic is crazy. He’s sweet and kind and nice and smart. And on top of that, he has abs you could just lick.” He sighed, half forgetting Cindy and Hen were even there for the way he was staring wistfully at Eddie approaching them. “I’m definitely gonna take him home tonight.”

“Oh?” He realized he might have been oversharing a little too much by the surprise in their patient’s voice. “Are you two dating?”

“No.” He was quick to shake his head but Hen shot him a warning look which kept him from explaining any further.

“Buck”

“What? I was just answering her question.”

“Ugh.” Hen rolled her eyes again but began to clean and wipe the superficial wounds.

Buck waved her off, turning his attention back to Cindy. “Ignore her, she’s just jealous.”

“The only person I’m jealous of is Chimney who is all the way over there and doesn’t have to listen to your nonsense.”

At least their banter was helping to distract the woman between them. She chuckled and Buck took it as permission to keep entertaining her with their incredibly important discussion.

“Anyways, we were talking about the hot firefighter.” He was about to lean in and start on an itemized list of Eddie’s best qualities when the man approached, a blinding smile on his face (blinding smile was #6). “Speak of the devil.” He let the medic get a little closer before he called out: “Hey Eddie, what do you say you come back to my place tonight.”

‘Shock and awe’ was his goal and ‘shock and awe’ was what he got. Eddie stopped his tracks with a look unreadable to everyone except for Buck. He recognized it as a fond mix of exasperation, surprise, and amusement.

“A little bold there, don’t you think?”

All Buck could do was shrug. “I know what I want.”

“Oh, really?” Eddie’s expression shifted to one of dark interested and Buck forgot himself for a moment. Only for a moment, though.

“Yup.” He returned with a bright smile. “I was just telling Cindy here that I wanted to take the hot firefighter home with me tonight.”

It was meant to be light and teasing. He thought it would get a smile or a chuckle out the man. Instead, Eddie looked downright scandalized “Buck, I’m surprised at you. I am a happily married man.” A breath later, he winked before walking away. “I’ll see you at 8.”

Buck unashamedly watched him walk away. Eddie’s ass was #3 on the list.

“Uh. What?”

He returned to reality with a coy smile on his face, prepared to continue with their earlier conversation. Cindy stared, silent and pale, her eyes darting around and back to Buck, clearly flustered.

Oh right. To her, Buck had just propositioned a married man and said married man had agreed. There was pretending to flirt in front of people who didn’t know them, and there was...that. 

He raised his hands forward to calm her. “He’s my husband.” He assured her, enjoying the little thrill that shot through him when said those words. Husband.

“Oh.” Cindy immediately breathed a sigh of relief, melting in the same movement. “Aw.” She cooed. “That’s actually kind of adorable that you guys are flirting with each other even after you’re married.” Buck always thought so. Eddie was slowly growing to love it – as evidenced by his impeccable acting skills. Not everyone loved it.

“Yeah the first hundred times they did it.” Hen scoffed from behind Cindy’s head as she finished her work.

“Hush, Hen.” Buck scolded her quickly. This was a dance they did almost daily. Buck and Eddie would do something adorable and not at all annoying and one of their team members (usually Hen or Chimney) would see fit to ruin their fun with talks of professionalism and ‘how often are you going pretend to ask if he’s seeing anyone before you get new material?’. It never mattered to Buck that much; he knew the teasing was a part of being a family. And besides, “Cindy has a very good point.” They really were adorable.

[lupinlongbottom]

Aggravating Acquaintances

Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: Being friends with James Potter was a feat many didn’t have the pleasure of experiencing. However, for (Y/N), the worst thing to happen to their friendship was meeting one Sirius Black on the Hogwarts Express their first year. To say that (Y/N) and Sirius didn’t get along would be an understatement. 

Prompt: Hey! Imagine for Sirius with prompts 147 and 71? - Anon

147. “You couldn’t handle me even if I came with instructions.

71. “Are you really flirting with me right now?”

prompt list can be found here

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: drinking/alcohol, a few suggestive themes?

A/N: Sirius Black. That’s it. That’s the author’s note. also i really like asshole energy you know? no? idk. bantering and whatnot is a bunch of fun

__

Parties.

(Y/N) never cared for them, if she was being honest with herself. Never once did the idea of drinking her problems away, only to laugh and dance with her friends came to mind. While she never shied away the occasional drink, she never felt the need to have more than a few, to let her inhibitions get the best of her. But now, here she was, surrounded by a pack of bumbling drunkards in a rather crowded Gryffindor common room, wishing for the sweet release of death.

“(Y/N)!” James Potter, Gryffindor Chaser, exclaimed from across the room, practically crawling over the crowd to reach her. 

“Hey Jim,” (Y/N) smiled politely, choosing to ignore the way his eyes were pleasantly glazed over. He had a habit of going too hard, too quick. “How’s the party treating you?”

“Never been better,” James said, trying not to shout. “Gryffindor won the match!” So much for not shouting. A few Gryffindor students aided in the chant. Some rogue Hufflepuff students chimed in as well. 

“I know,” (Y/N) laughed, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I was watching the whole thing, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” James laughed. “Did you think Evans saw me?” His head whipped around, eyes scanning for the redhead.

“Oh she saw you,” (Y/N) said, nodding lightly. “How could she ignore the way you fell off your broom?”

“Hey!” James said, his attention drawing back to (Y/N). “Almost. I almost fell off my broom, caught myself in the end,” he laughed, “wouldn’t want to spend this night with Poppy, would I?”

“Suppose not,” (Y/N) said, taking a sip from her glass. It was mostly  pumpkin juice, the scent alone was a giveaway, but one of (Y/N)’s roommates insisted on adding some firewhisky, just to shake things up. The warmth traveled to her chest with every sip. It wasn’t terribly unpleasant. “Wouldn’t want to give Evans the wrong idea about who you fancy, no?”

“I love Poppy,” James said, sighing lightly, leaning against the wall. “She really knows how to mend a broken bone…”

“What about a broken heart?” (Y/N) asked, pointing to a couple across the room. There, in the corner, Lily Evans and a Ravenclaw boy whose name escaped (Y/N)’s recollection. They looked to be awfully close, whispering sweet nothings in the midst of the crowded room.

“Why do you have to do that?” James asked, groaning ever so slightly. “Ruin my high?”

“It’s my job,” (Y/N) shrugged, taking another sip. “You know, friend code and all.”

“I don’t think that’s very friendly of you, (Y/N),” James said, eyes growing sharp.

“Look, either you saw it now or saw it later,” (Y/N) said nonchalantly. “I figured if I told you now, you’d at least have half a mind to go and try to change it, wouldn’t you?”

“I suppose you’re right,” James said, the dark look on his face contorting to one of intrigue. “Strike while the iron’s hot!”

“Exactly,” (Y/N) smiled, pushing his shoulder. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

Without another word, James pounced across the crowded room, a faint shrieking of Lily’s name rang throughout the carpeted walls. (Y/N) laughed, noting how the girl’s emerald eyes met with the ceiling, pulling the boy dressed in blue away from James’ persistent swooning.

“Pumpkin juice? At a party?” A voice behind her chanted, nearly right next to her face. 

(Y/N) turned to the sound. There, in all his glory was Sirius Black, the man she had a less than ideal share of run-ins with. They were known to butt heads, ever since their first year.

“Oh, hello Sirius,” (Y/N) said cooly. She took a large swig of her drink, nearly half the cup in one go.

“Would you like me to fetch you a juice box too? Maybe a blankie?” Sirius laughed, finding himself leaning against the wall near (Y/N).

“Would it be one of yours? Because I’ve forgotten mine all the way back home…”(Y/N) said, the fakest smile she could muster adorned to her face.

“Funny girl,” Sirius said, downing the rest of whatever was in his cup, setting the empty chalice down near his feet. “Would you want it to be one of mine?”  

“And to be covered in dog hair?” (Y/N) said, nearly snorting. “Fat chance.”

“Oh come off it, (L/N),” Sirius grinned, “I’ll make it smell extra rugged, just for you.”

“Rugged how?” (Y/N) inquired, crossing her arms as best she could, drink still in hand. “Cigarettes and wet dog?”

“Exactly,” Sirius said, “extra rugged.”

“Right,” (Y/N) laughed, turning to ignore Sirius, her attention back onto James across the room. Sirius followed her eye line, watching her stare almost intently at the Gryffindor.

“Oi,” Sirius said, waving a hand in front of (Y/N)’s face. “Let him have his fun, he doesn’t need mummy around to keep an eye on him.”

“I’m not his mum,” (Y/N) said.

“Sure act like it,” Sirius said, picking at his fingernails. “Always doting on him, scolding him for every little thing—”

“I only scold him if it involves you, Sirius,” (Y/N) said, pointing an eyebrow at the grey-eyed boy. “The shit the two of you get into, I swear—”

“You shouldn’t have to scold him, you’re not his mum.”

“I literally just said I wasn’t,” (Y/N) said, growing annoyed. “I just care about him, okay? I’ve known him longer than you—thanks, by the way—so I think I owe it to myself to make sure he’s not going to kill himself—”

“Oh wow, little (L/N) pulling the ‘I’ve been his neighbor since forever, therefore I think I know everything about him’ card again,” Sirius said, his voice mocking (Y/N)’s. “Grow up, relax and let him have his fun.”

“Your impression of me is quite good, did you practice that in the mirror?” (Y/N) said, growing hot with anger, not that she’d give Black the time of day to know it.

“I think the key to a good (Y/N) impression is the shrillness in the voice,” Sirius said, nodding lightly. “Though your beautifully enchanting—but ice-cold—stare is hard to pinpoint, I’ll admit.”

“Beautifully enchanting?” (Y/N) laughed, the heat in her face not ceasing.

“Yep,” Sirius nodded, unashamed. “I figured talking about your big mouth was already pretty obvious, didn’t need to—”

(Y/N) slapped him hard against the arm.

“I should add terribly mean to the list,” Sirius mumbled, rubbing the place of contact, a slight grimace doting his expression.

“Terribly mean?” (Y/N) nearly laughed. “You’re the one saying I have a big mouth!”

“You do,” Sirius said, “not backing down from that one, never.”

“You annoy the hell out of me, Sirius,” (Y/N) said, finishing her glass. “I’m going to get another drink—”

“Allow me,” Sirius said, pressing a hand against (Y/N)’s chest, preventing her escape. He pulled his sleek wand from his back pocket, waving it ever so slightly. With ease, two—rather full—glasses found their way through the air, above the commotion of the room and into their space. “Take it,” he motioned to the still floating cup, taking a large swig of his, “I reckon a bit of actual alcohol will make you a bit more lively.”

“Please,” (Y/N) said, grabbing the glass tightly, bringing the brim to her lips. The hot burning of cinnamon met her tongue instantly. If she had a splash of firewhisky before, this might as well have been a tsunami, the liquor coating her throat. “Oh my God, how much is—”

(Y/N) let out a sputtering cough, unable to hold the liquid well. Sirius merely smiled.

“Peter’s been making them,” Sirius said, nodding to the pudgy Gryffindor across the room. “I tried teaching him how to count out his shots, but he’s still got a bit of work to go,” he took another sip, “though, makes for a hell of a punch, doesn’t it?”

“I’ll say,” (Y/N) said, eyeing the drink in her hand cautiously, “Why have you let Peter take over your usual job? Last time I came to one of these, I distinctly remember you were the one making the drinks.”

“Ah,” Sirius clicked, staring into his own cup. “Felt like I should give Peter a spin, considering he’s been nagging me about it practically all year.”

“Why’s that?” (Y/N) asked. 

“Easy,” he took another sip, “being the bartender means you get all the girls practically batting their eyes at you all night,” Sirius said, grinning widely. 

“Makes sense why you like the job so much,” (Y/N) said, pressing her back against the wall. “Those kind of girls can’t keep their eyes off of you.”

“So you’ve noticed?” Sirius smirked, “thought you didn’t may much mind to my life, isn’t that right?”

“O-of course not,” (Y/N) said, stammering lightly, “it’s hard to ignore the girls who throw themselves at you,” (Y/N) found herself burying her words into her cup, gulping quickly. “Hell, nearly all of my roommates can’t stop their insistent conversations about your hair—or whatever—halfway into the night. It’s exhausting.”

“What about my hair?” Sirius asked, bringing a hand up to his long locks. 

“Nope,” (Y/N) shook her head, “not falling for that one. You don’t get the pleasantries of me repeating compliments to stroke your already large ego,” she shook her head again. “No way.”

“So you think it’s huge?” Sirius said, glancing down at (Y/N), that shit eating grin plastered to his face. 

“Shove it.”

“Wouldn’t you like that pleasure, hm?”

“Sirius,” (Y/N) said plainly, “are you really flirting with me right now?”

“I might,” Sirius shrugged, almost unbothered.

It wouldn’t have been the first time he had done it. Sirius Black was anything if not perceptive to his surroundings, noting how his—what was hopefully an obvious joke—flirting flustered (Y/N) every so often. How he loved to push her buttons, make her squirm.

“Why don’t you go and try your luck on someone who’ll care?” (Y/N) sputtered, pointing her glass-filled hand over to a group of girls who had been staring at Sirius for so long, they might as well have been made of stone. “I’m sure you’d get a better reaction out of them, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Don’t want to flirt with them,” Sirius said, giving a polite wave to the girls across the way. One looked as if she was ready to faint. “Would rather annoy you.”

“How charming,” (Y/N) said, her voice cool as ice. 

“You’re not shooing me away,” Sirius said, almost in shock. “Normally this is the part of the conversation where you promise to hex me or,” he waved his hand dramatically, “go and complain to Potter. What gives?”

“I’m drunk,” (Y/N) lied, taking another sip as if to prove her point. “Sue me.”

“If you’re drunk, then I’m the Queen of England,” Sirius laughed, his chest bobbing up and down. “There’s more to it,” he pressed a finger to (Y/N)’s cheek, pushing her head to the side, “admit it. Go on, I’m all ears.”

“What do you want me to say, Black? That I fancy your company?” (Y/N) said, almost surprised at her honesty. Perhaps the firewhisky was working a bit faster than she expected. It had been a long time since she had as many drinks as she did, but she blamed the excess drinks on the grey eyed boy standing near her. 

“Fancy my company?” Sirius repeated, nearly as stunned as (Y/N). “Since when has that ever been the case?”

“Since all my friends ditched me,” (Y/N) said, staring back into her cup. “One of them went back to our dorm, a boy on each arm—Godric, I don’t even want to go back in there. I don’t know what I’m going to get myself into going back to that…”

“Rotten friends,” Sirius said, “even if they are getting laid. S’not right.”

“Figured it was either chat with you or look like a terribly sad fly on the wall,” (Y/N) said, “I chose the latter.”

“Honestly, I’m honored,” Sirius said, bowing lightly. “Truly and utterly honored to be of service.”

(Y/N) didn’t know why she had even bothered to spend another second with Sirius Black, if she was being completely honest. The entire time she had known him—first year, met on the train—he had been the constant thorn in her side. She clung to James quite a bit back then, that was something she could admit, but James acquiring another close friend, someone so unlike herself, really ground her gears. Black and (L/N), like oil and water, could coexist for a bit but never truly mix. 

“You should be,” (Y/N) said, feeling herself grow a bit lighter. The alcohol, she assumed was the cause, nothing more. “I’m surprised you’re even chatting with me this long anyway,” (Y/N) fought back a yawn, “thought my perfume would scare you away, has in the past.”

“It’s grown on me,” Sirius said plainly, “better than the rubbish James’ been using to woo Lily, stinks up the entire room.”

“Tell me about it,” (Y/N) laughed, recalling the repugnant aroma that James swore up and down would win Lily over, the woman at the department store said so herself. “I told him when he bought it that it wouldn’t work, still didn’t listen.”

“He really doesn’t listen,” Sirius said, glancing over at James. He had been sulking in the corner, rejected by Lily. “But I reckon we could do him a favor.”

“A favor?” (Y/N) asked, draining the rest of her drink. “What’re you thinking?”

“Let’s go destroy that cologne,” Sirius said, pulling on (Y/N) sleeve, headed towards the dormitory. “Together. You know, since we’re friends now.”

“I never said that,” (Y/N) scoffed, following Sirius up the stairs, the lightness in her chest expanding. Sirius pulled (Y/N) into their room, conveniently empty. “Well? Where does James keep the bottle?”

“Not sure,” Sirius said, shutting the door, getting a stink eye from (Y/N), “what? I don’t want Prongs walking in here while we destroy his property.”

“Fine,” (Y/N) laughed, flinging herself onto James’ bed, rolling to the foot. She propped herself onto her elbows, head hanging over the bright red trunk at the end of the bed.  “Do you think it’s in his trunk?”

“Seems like a good place to start,” Sirius said, kneeling before the trunk, hands tracing the latches. “You’re going to want to move your head, sweets,” Sirius laughed, pushing (Y/N)’s head back, “wouldn’t want to hit your pretty face, would we?”

“So you think it’s pretty?” (Y/N) smirked, pursing her lips. She could almost see Sirius’ eyes roll to the back of his head, for just a moment. “What? So you can flirt with me, but I can’t dish it back? Seems awfully silly, Black.”

“Wasn’t flirting,” Sirius said, rifling through James’ trunk.

“No?” (Y/N) giggled, rolling to her back, the top of James’ red four-poster filling her sight. “You called me pretty.”

“And you are,” Sirius said, lifting up a few books, eyes scanning the contents beneath them. “It’s the truth.”

“So that’s not considered flirting?” (Y/N) asked, growing confused.

“I call all the girls pretty,” Sirius said, smirking up at (Y/N). “Fact of life, sweets.”

“There you go again,” (Y/N) said, pointing her finger upwards, “calling me ‘sweets’! If that’s not flirting, I don’t know what is!”

“Is it?” Sirius asked, closing the trunk. A large smirk was plastered to his face.

“Holy fuck!” (Y/N) exclaimed, throwing her hands into her face. “You are so aggravating! First you’re flirting with me, then you claim that you’re not and now you’re just playing mind games with me!” (Y/N) groaned, rolling back onto her chest, face planted into the sheets. “I wish you came with instructions, for fucks sake. At least then I’d be able to somewhat understand you.”

“You couldn’t handle me even if I came with instructions, love,” Sirius said, head resting comfortably on his hand.

“What kind of a line is—”

It was then when she lifted her head, (Y/N) noticed, how close Sirius’ face was to her own. She never noticed the mole on his nose, slightly above his left nostril. Granted, she had never been this close to Sirius before to have noticed the little brown spot. Actually, now that she looked a bit closer, Sirius Black had a few other moles on his cheeks and one right above his lips. If one didn’t know any better, they’d mistake them for freckles. The sporadic placement of these little marks were enchanting, almost like a perfect constellation, unique and intriguing.

“I—uhm—you’re a little close,” (Y/N) said, not moving an inch.

“Hypocrite,” Sirius said, staying as still as a statue.

“Did—did you find the…” (Y/N) tried to find her thought, her mind wandering, finding a home in Sirius’ grey eyes. 

“Cologne? No,” Sirius shook his head ever so slightly, eyes not breaking away from (Y/N)’s.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

(Y/N) moved her gaze upward, finding solace in the rich reds of the canopy above. In her most recent memory, she couldn’t come up with a time she felt exactly this way, let alone with Sirius Black of all people. She waited a moment before peeking back at the boy at the foot of the bed, her eyes flicking immediately back up to the canopy when she noticed Sirius’ gaze still upon her.

“Why are you staring at me?”

“You’re hard to look away from,” Sirius said, finally adjusting his position.

“Shut it—”

“No,” Sirius said, his voice almost stern. (Y/N) brought herself to turn herself back towards the Gryffindor, curious. “I said what I said.”

“You’re drunk,” (Y/N) laughed, pushing his face away, finding the bit of breathing room she created immensely calming for a moment.

“I’m not,” Sirius said, rebounding to his original position quickly, if not closer. “Are you?”

“No,” (Y/N) said honestly.  

“Good.”

That was all he said. Because in the next moment, Sirius’ lips were on (Y/N)’s. The hand that held his own head up was caressing (Y/N)’s cheek, more gentle than the actions against their lips. The kiss was hot, needy, almost. The tension had snapped like a rubber band, quick and suddenly. But just as quick as it came, (Y/N) pulled away.

“Sirius what the—”

“Oh come on,” Sirius laughed, hopping up onto the trunk, seated neatly in front of (Y/N). “Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about doing that? Besides,” a hand stroked his chin thoughtfully, “you kissed me back.”

“That’s—no—Sirius!” (Y/N) was at a loss for words, the warmth that had radiated from her chest had spread to her entire body in that single motion, what once she could’ve blamed on the alcohol became very telling of her true feelings. She couldn’t deny that she didn’t kiss him back, because that would’ve been an outright lie. Only one thought rang through her mind. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you kiss me?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Sirius asked, his grin fading. (Y/N) shook her head. “Well, you must really be thick, then,” he ran a hand through his hair, pushing the stray locks back, “well, considering our sexual tension is always so thick you could cut it with a knife—”

“Sexual tension?” (Y/N) laughed, almost against herself. “Is that what you call it?”

“I mean, sure, it started with a visceral hate for one other—first year was a rough one for that—but you can’t deny our chemistry,” Sirius said thoughtfully. “Who would’ve thought I’ve got the hots for the girl who made my blood boil every time I saw her?”

“Made? Like, past tense?”

“Of course,” Sirius nodded, “well, I suppose you make my blood boil in other ways, sweets.”

“Disgusting,” (Y/N) laughed, pushing Sirius away.

“But you could say in less ways and words that I fancy you, (Y/N),” he shrugged again, “I mean, you’re the only person in this castle who’ll call me out for my bullshit—”

“Incorrect, Remus and various other teachers do too—”

“You’re the only one who calls me out for my bullshit that I’ll listen to,” Sirius corrected, “what can I say? You don’t fawn over me or trip over yourself to get my attention. Quite frankly, you avoid me whenever possible.”

“So, you’re saying you like the chase?”

“Something like that,” Sirius laughed, placing a hand on the bed. “Not to mention that you’re bloody beautiful,” he moved his hand to touch hers, ever so lightly, “and you already get along with my mates—”

“One of them was my best friend before you trailed along, thanks,” (Y/N) said, her smirk growing. She didn’t hate the way his hand felt atop of hers.

“And I’m forever grateful for it,” Sirius said, his face softening. “Grateful for James for introducing me to the biggest pain in my ass.”

“Not the smoothest way to pick up a girl,” (Y/N) laughed.

“But it’s working, isn’t it?”

“I suppose,” (Y/N) smiled, feeling her own face relax. “For some reason.”

(Y/N) allowed herself to give Sirius another kiss, this time, one she initiated. It was softer than before, but still held every ounce of energy like the last. As if like a bucket of ice water had been poured over them, (Y/N) pulled away.

“Wait a minute,” (Y/N) pressed her hand against Sirius’ chest, as he had begun to seek the previous contact. “You let Peter make the drinks tonight.”

“And...?”

“Oh my God!” (Y/N) said, feeling a wave of realization come over her. “You were planning this all along!”

“Well—uhm—not exactly like—”

“Admit it, Sirius Black,” (Y/N) said, poking a finger to his chest, “admit that you let Peter take over your prestigious bartending duties so you could try and woo me!” 

“Woo you? What are we? Fifty?”

“Sirius—”

“Alright,” Sirius laughed, pressing a kiss to (Y/N)’s nose. “I admit it. I figured tonight wouldn’t be the worst time to try to make a move, so I needed to be mobile.”

“You’re such a fucking idiot,” (Y/N) laughed, pressing her lips back onto his, resuming their previous motions. 

While the two had quite a bit more to talk about after their laughter ceased—and things that involved not talking—(Y/N) grew ever more thankful that she chose to attend the gathering this evening. While Sirius still had quite the long way to make up for his previous jokes and pranks he had pulled on (Y/N) in the past—one really can’t forget the forever sticking chewing gum that plastered her robes all of second year—he figured a bit of smooth talking could glaze over any of the cracks. That, and kisses she’d be damned to forget the rest of her life. Two remedies for a sour situation.  

They never did find that cologne. 

__

General Tag List: @maralisa124 / @leighxlover / @hey-its-me-rai / @missihart23 / @biatheintrovert / @luna-xxxxx / @chocolaterumble / @why-am-i-sad-and-sleepy / @steve-thotgers / @greeneyedthief / @kitkatkl / @thelightsideoflife / @thataudreydork / @badgirlsdeaddreams / @meteora-fc

Sirius Black Tag List: @knowledgeisthebomb

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[lesbianlotties]

the only touchstone of truth - Marla x Fran - I Care A Lot (2021)

Chapter 5:

Soon enough, they left the police sirens behind. It was just Fran driving the bike around town, with Marla’s arms comfortably wrapped around her, completely free. No reason to dwell in the past, no excuses, just the two of them going after whatever they wanted together. During the ride to Fran’s home, Marla felt herself relax. She was closing an unsatisfactory chapter of her life, and moving forward she was carrying with her plenty of lessons learned. She was excited to try a much different approach to life and business. There would be no rules except hers. There would be risks and she would conquer them all. She would never lose again, no matter how dirty she’d have to play.

She would need to find a new business, a new plan and she couldn’t take too long, but it was reasonable that with the smell of Fran’s cologne surrounding her there was only one thing in her mind: the possibility of a partner. In business. In crime. In life. Those words could be overused, Marla was interested in something different, something unique. It was useless to say she needed someone clever, bold, fearless, exciting but safe. She didn’t need anybody. Marla wanted Fran. There was a very significant difference. Maybe it was time to start this new chapter of her life taking the biggest risk possible, just once, and she could swear to never try again if this didn’t work. But, for now, as fiercely as she took every choice in her life, Marla decided to give her heart a chance, a chance to beat again and do it for Fran, go crazy for Fran, and believe the two of them together could be exactly what they used to believe was impossible. 

Just in time, Fran slowed down, they’d reached their destination. She offered Marla a hand to help her from the bike, and her smile was a fascinating sight. That smile was eager, hungry, and just the slightest bit nervous. “Are you sure?” Fran asked the other woman, there on the street outside her apartment, under a clear sky, plenty of reasons and directions to run.

“Always,” Marla replied confidently. It was the complete truth. She never acted uncertain of her next move. If she’d made it all the way to Fran’s doorstep it was because she had already pictured every possible scenario and determined that even if the worst happened, she’d still come out a winner. It was difficult to believe that anything but victory was possible whenever Fran looked at her like that, earnest wide brown eyes all for her.

Additionally, Marla was a woman of actions more than words. She expressed her certainty on her choices with the way that a few seconds later she had Fran pinned to the door of her apartment. With Marla’s lips on her neck and fingers digging on her hips, Fran had trouble concentrating on opening the door. “We should go in,” she said, in order to hold back a moan.

“Aw, are you sure?” Marla laughed against her neck, enjoying the way Fran’s body reacted to her.

“Fuck, come here,” Fran hastily opened the door. She moved swiftly, with all the agility she used to knock down a man taller and heavier than her only minutes ago, she was just as deadly and much more passionate as she pulled Marla into the apartment and immediately pushed her against the locked door. “My turn,” she groaned, ready to pay Marla back for all the teasing, all the dreams, all the looks, and secret touches that finally brought them to this moment. Her lips latched hungrily to Marla’s neck, exploring without pause and without hurry. Her hands pulled the blonde’s hips towards her, and Marla sighed, her head falling back against the door. One of Fran’s thighs moved between the other woman’s legs, driving her crazy.

When Fran’s lips and teeth reached Marla’s ear, the blonde knew her patience was running thin. “Fran, let’s go,” she said, not exactly sounding like an order considering the breathiness of her voice, and the way her nails scratched Fran’s back of her t-shirt, desperate to have her closer.

Begrudgingly, Fran pulled away, but she was smiling. She turned around and led her guest up the stairs. Marla missed her touch, but she couldn’t hold back her smile, knowing how likely it was that Fran did this on purpose, knowing Marla was fascinated with the view of following behind her up the stairs. When they reached the landing, the two women were presented with a handful of new options, a drink in the kitchen, the sofa in the living room, the stairs that led to Fran’s bedroom. The hunger inside her was for once too mighty and big for Marla to carry by herself. Instinctively she wrapped her arms around the brunette from behind and rested her head on her shoulder, exhaling a pleased sigh as Fran did her best to bring her even closer.

“Nice apartment,” Marla commented, inhaling Fran’s cologne again, and glancing at the comfortable, sparsely decorated apartment, bathed in the light coming in from the windows and a random lamp left on. 

“It’s my mother’s.”

“Is she…” Marla wondered, finally moving and stepping back so she could look at Fran’s smile as she answered.

“Locked in a care home and paying for this so I can do whatever the fuck I want with my life? Yeah.”

“God,” Marla sighed, her hands reaching for Fran again, her lips demanding her kisses again, their bodies meeting desperately again. She couldn’t tell what exactly it was about Fran’s statement that lighted something up inside. Later, the words could spark up an idea. At the moment, it was all about Fran’s tone, unashamed and even proud to expose the worst of herself during the moments when anyone else would try to appear better than they are. The best part was the fact that Fran confessed to those most twisted parts of herself, knowing precisely that Marla would be attracted to it. She knew she was everything Marla wanted, she was not afraid to use that to her advantage, and it worked to perfection. Marla felt on the edge of dizziness by the completely unfamiliar feeling of fighting for the upper hand, feeling like Fran knew her one weakness, and somehow being happy at the fact.

They were trying to go up the stairs but it was increasingly difficult to part from one another to breathe, let alone to take more than two steps. Again Marla was pinned between Fran and the wall, realizing she had to have at least one hand on Fran’s ass at all times. Meanwhile, Fran was content with a hand on the back of Marla’s neck, keeping her head in place while they kissed, and her other hand had found purchase in the blonde woman’s chest. Finally, her fingers started playing with the zipper of Marla’s hoodie, while they noticed each other begin smiling while they kissed. Slowly but surely Fran tugged the zipper down, until the garment was open, and she could pull back from the kiss to stare in awe at the sight in front of her.

“Fuck, you planned this,” Fran whispered. She couldn’t take her eyes off Marla’s chest, with no shirt underneath, there was only the gorgeous black bra that was all lace and delicacy and fit her so perfectly that Marla had to bring her hand to Fran’s chin to get her to look at her in the eyes again.

“Take me to your bedroom now, okay?”

Once they finally made it to the bedroom, Marla was glad to have her back meet the wall once again. They’d finally made it and it felt like Fran was on a mission. Again, the brunette attacked Marla’s neck, but soon enough she explored her collarbone, and moved down to her chest. Marla held her in place with her hand getting lost in Fran’s mane of hair. She’d expected the bra to come off, but Fran was appreciative enough of it to leave it on for now, which didn’t stop her lips from finding Marla’s nipples, kissing, running her tongue over them, working them up as much as she could until the hand on her hair tightened enough to let her know Marla wanted more.

Then Fran contentedly started her first descent on Marla’s body, kissing everywhere, kissing softly, licking teasingly, biting here and there. The entire time her hands had been working on the button and zipper of the black pants, until all at once the pants landed on the floor and Fran was kneeling in front of Marla. From there she could still see the way the blonde’s chest rose and fell heavily with each breath, and she took pride in the goosebumps her touch left on the graceful body in front of her. Fran took her time kissing Marla’s thighs and hips, and only when she felt nails scratching her scalp and urging her on, she granted her a kiss right over her underwear. The smallest sigh of pleasure escaped Marla, and inspired Fran to go for more. Another kiss and another, one thorough lick over her, overjoyed to find she had made her wet enough to get a taste of her without even taking off her underwear, which was a stunning little thing that matched her bra.

“Don’t tease,” Marla groaned when she realized the other woman’s kisses were back to a feather-like quality that made her weak at the knees but desperate for something more, a lot more.

“No?” Fran grinned playfully, resting her cheek against the soft thigh in front of her and looking up at Marla.

She appeared perfectly to be kneeling down there. But Marla brushed Fran’s hair off her face and said, “Get on the bed.”

Fran gulped but followed instructions, getting comfortable on her own bed and facing the realization that never had she been so excited to sit there and watch another woman walk toward her. Marla was only wearing her underwear and promptly decided to guide the other woman down the same path. She got on the bed straddling Fran’s thighs, and the first thing she did was remove the brunette’s shirt. Maybe she’d bought a bra for the occasion, but Fran had apparently decided to go without one, inspiring Marla to whisper against her lips, “I see I’m not the only one who prepared for this.”

Fran chuckled at the words, and her laughter turned to a breathy gasp when she was pushed to lay down in bed. It was Marla’s turn to let her lips, teeth, and tongue take care of Fran’s skin. She went down her jawline, stopped to tug on her earlobe, and down the length of her neck. By the time Marla reached Fran’s chest, the two of them were close to losing their minds over the pleasure. Fran started biting her lip and still, the occasional moan escaped her with each graze of Marla’s teeth on her skin. Marla was enjoying the work just as much, and almost without noticing her hips had started to grind on Fran’s lap, until a particular movement brought her so much pleasure she knew it was time to keep going.

Marla pulled away from Fran’s body completely, much to the other woman’s disappointment. When Fran leaned up on her elbows to see what had happened, she found Marla standing up again, now unbuttoning Fran’s pants and taking them and her underwear off at once. When she had Fran naked in front of her, she said, “Do you realize I’ve wanted you since the first moment I saw you?”

Fran smiled. The air between them was heavy and electric, the brush of their fingertips on each other’s bodies left a burning trail, and their eyes were alight with desire, but still, still there was space for a smile. Still, they could tease each other and laugh, and she could smile. She could smile genuinely, because they both knew how well they fit together, because they both could tell how good this was, and it was worth smiling for.

“This is only the beginning,” Fran replied, and offered Marla a hand, guiding her back into bed.

This time their bodies immediately intertwined, their hands were all curiosity and restlessness and nails down their backs. Finally, Fran said goodbye to the last two pieces of clothing from Marla, but she also found herself lying on her back, with the stunning blonde on top of her, taking her breath away. Fran had already had a taste of Marla, and she was desperate for more, but Marla’s palm resting low on her stomach kept her glued to the bed, eager and ready.

“Can I?” Marla smiled, and this time it was almost the kind of grin she gave strangers to get what she wanted, but not quite. It was genuine thrill. There was amusement in her tone, a rosy tone in her cheeks, and desire in her eyes. Her thumb was soothingly caressing Fran’s skin. I got you, please let me, I know you want me, so please, her smile said silently.

Quickly, Fran nodded, and subconsciously held her breath until the first contact of Marla’s fingers on her got her to exhale a small whine. Graceful fingers went down on her, and back up through warmth and wetness, circling around her clit once, twice, light as a feather, and continuing her exploration more confidently with each passing second. Her touch and the determination in the magnificent blue eyes that didn’t miss the smallest expressions of pleasure on her face were too much to bear, and Fran closed her eyes and moaned in pleasure.

“Good?” Marla whispered when her fingers started picking up speed. First, she got her response by an uncontrollable twitch of the brunette’s hips.

“Yeah,” Fran replied, her voice was a tense whisper carried mostly by pleasure, “Marla, come here.” She placed her hand on the back of Marla’s head and pulled in for a messy kiss, an attempt at quieting down her moans, though the way they slipped right into the other woman’s mouth got Marla moaning as well. Not long later, Marla’s finger slowed down and started applying pressure on Fran’s entrance, she received a bite on her lip and “Yes, yes,” from Fran, who moved her other hand to wrap her finger around Marla’s wrist, holding her hand between her legs, urging her in, groaning at the feeling.

Marla worked efficiently and fast, yet she found herself acting more careful and attentive than she could remember ever being with somebody else. She was fascinated by every single sound from Fran’s lips, every twitch of her muscles. When the woman underneath her couldn’t hold a kiss anymore, Marla went back to Fran’s neck, kissing and licking and determined to leave a mark by the time Fran would tremble in her arms, moan her name, and fall down back in bed exhausted after coming down from a burning high of pleasure.

Slowly and gently, Marla pulled out her fingers, tenderly massaging her way out until it earned her a whine from Fran, who wrapped her arms around her, pulling her close to her body, reveling in the comfort it brought her.

“You’re so gorgeous,” Marla confessed, her voice barely above a whisper, and she started leaving the smallest of kisses on Fran’s temple, her cheek, her jaw, and the corner of her lips. “I’m crazy for you,” she admitted, finally kissing her lips, slowly, thoroughly. She almost didn’t notice that Fran’s hands hadn’t stayed still since they wrapped around her.

“Marla,” Fran sighed, gently pushing Marla’s blonde hair off her face so they could look at each other.

“Hm, what are you thinking of?” Marla wondered, tenderly nudging Fran’s nose with hers, noticing how thoughtful the brunette suddenly looked.

At first, Fran was silent. Her mind, even in the midst of so much pleasure, was overfilled with thoughts about Marla. Things that were too early to say, things that should probably wait until a third or fourth round, things that she couldn’t put into words either way. “Let me show you,” she finally said, softly, while she carefully moved her legs and their bodies so Marla was just hovering above one of her legs, “Yeah?”

After receiving a resolute nod from Marla, Fran placed both hands on the other woman’s hips, and slowly guided her down to straddle her thigh. She noticed Marla’s breath caught, and she flexed her thigh to cause the friction that got the other woman to moan at the feeling.

“Feels good?” Fran asked, her hands firmly but lovingly pushing and pulling until Marla was purposefully grinding on her thigh. The blonde dropped her head on Fran’s shoulder and moaned appreciatively. “So good,” Fran added, her voice rough. She moved her face to kiss as much of Marla as she could, sucking a particular spot on her neck until Marla’s moans turned into a demand for more.

With a strong arm wrapped around Marla’s waist, Fran inverted their positions, laying the other woman down on her bed. “Let me show you,” she repeated, her eyes meeting Marla’s. There was a heart-stopping look on that pair of blue eyes. Most people that had faced Marla wouldn’t have believed such a tender and open look was possible in her eyes. After everything they had gone through, it was obvious this silent moment between them was about far more than the sex, but if they were going to communicate through it, Fran was going to make sure it was damn good. She kissed the valley between Marla’s breasts once, almost reverently, and her hands traveled over Marla’s body with an affection that couldn’t be easily explained so soon and made Marla’s heart skip a beat.

But then Fran started kissing her way down Marla’s body for the second time that night, this time she wasn’t thinking about teasing, not much at least. This time she wasn’t met with the elegant barrier of the forgotten underwear, and instead, she was welcomed by Marla’s legs parting in invitation. Fran got comfortable and licked her lips in anticipation. She shared one last look with Marla and sweetly kissed her thigh once before reaching her destination.

Fran moaned at the taste of Marla again, and she treated her as well as she knew how and then some more. Her lips and tongue were relentless, pushing Marla to the edge, soothing her, speeding up again and again while the sounds of both their pleasure filled the room. With all her senses overwhelmed by everything about Marla, Fran wished she wouldn’t have to move away from between the other woman’s legs the entire night. Her wish was somewhat satisfied when Marla, after one delicious climax that got her back arching from the bed, latched both hands on Fran’s hair, urging her to stay there, to go on, letting her know she needed her.

After another peak of pleasure in which Marla could feel nothing but Fran, and Fran thought of nothing but the taste and sounds coming from Marla, their bodies demanded a pause. The blonde kept her eyes closed for a moment longer, letting her body revel in the feelings that followed Fran’s worship of her body. She felt deliciously warm, comfortable, a perfect combination of safe and excited that she was associating more and more with Fran with each passing day. When the rustling of sheets beside her stopped, Marla tried biting her lip to keep herself from smiling. But when she opened her eyes and took a glance at the stunning brunette lying on her back beside her, she couldn’t hold back her grin.

“You don’t have to look so proud,” Marla teased her. Immediately she took the initiative to kiss that smug look right off Fran’s pink lips. 

Fran hummed contentedly against her lips. “Bossy in bed too, huh?” Her body flinched in bed as Marla tickled her in retaliation, but she didn’t move far enough to stop kissing. “Don’t worry, Marla, I like it,” she added, and was rewarded with an enticing bite to her lower lip. The couple started making out in a way that ruined whatever plans they had had of slowing down their erratic breathing and taking a break. In a minute, Fran was sliding on top of Marla, straddling her waist and kissing her with all the enthusiasm of their first kiss.

“Again?” Marla asked with a laugh when they separated from the kissing to take a moment to breathe. She wasn’t complaining though. There was nothing but sheer delight in her eyes as she studied the glorious body in front of her. Her hands delicately caressed every inch of Fran’s skin they could reach, taking her time, enjoying the feeling, learning as much as she could of her reactions.

“What?” Fran smirked, “are you tired?” She was standing tall, fixing her wild hair off her face, and she looked damn proud, completely confident, inspired by the way Marla looked at her. 

“Seriously?” Marla chuckled. She shifted in bed until she was sitting with her back resting against the pillows and Fran sitting comfortably in her lap. Though the brunette was starting to lose her composure as she noticed the particular trail that Marla’s fingers were starting, reaching the inside of her thighs, moving up toward her center. “I waited too long for this,” Marla said, “I don’t plan on letting you sleep tonight, Fran.” As she spoke, her other hand reached for Fran’s face, caressing her cheek, bringing her forward for a kiss while the finger from her other hand started slowing working up Fran once more. It was going to be a very long night, and it was exactly what they both had wanted, and even more.

[phykios]

honesty and promise me, part 3 [read on ao3] [co-written with @darkmagyk]

Several more weeks and hookups later, Annabeth thinks she should probably come clean. Some people might bury it deep, and for sure, Annabeth’s considered it, but, well. It is kind of embarrassing that she didn’t know Percy’s name at first. Stuff like that doesn’t usually bother her--she’s had nameless one night stands in the past, and despite Thalia’s ribbing, she knows that Thalia doesn’t really care either. It’s just that, you know, he’s Thalia’s family, and they’ve seen each other a few more times, and they are planning to continue to see each other a few more times in the future. Or more than a few times. 

Anyway, she kind of feels like she owes it to him. Like he deserves this small nugget of truth, payment for all the times he’s fucked her blind. It’s nagging at her, and she hates feeling like she owes anyone anything. 

Piper certainly seemed to think so, when Annabeth had told her over their monthly brunch date.

“It’s just common courtesy at this point,” she said. “Like, what if you guys end up married and then sell your story to Hollywood, they cast my dad as the male lead, and it comes out in interviews that you didn’t know his name for like a month? He’s gonna get the wrong idea.”

Annabeth wasn’t sure which part was more ridiculous: the movie, Piper’s dad being involved, or them being married.

Anyway, sharing some of her avocado fries, Piper had reminded her that being mean wasn't very punk rock, shutting her up effectively.

She’s out on site in the Lower East Side, taking measurements for plots of land, writing down sun angles and measuring the wind velocity between the brick buildings, when she gets a text from him. 

I’m on a break and I’m starving 😩 Want to grab something to eat?

It’s 2pm on a Thursday and he wants to grab something to eat. If Annabeth didn’t know any better, she’d say that that sounds like a real, honest-to-goodness, bona fide date. (Meeting up at and subsequently leaving bars together does not count as a date, she’s pretty sure. Neither do the booty calls.) He’s been getting a little free with his texts, that boy, sending her selfies and memes and questions about her day, and now this? An invitation to their first, actual date? She should block him on principle, just for the sheer audacity.

sure, wya

520 8th, text me when you get here 😁

That’s another thing: Percy loves his emojis. If this is going to continue, they’re going to need to have a serious talk about that. 

She doesn’t need to text him when she gets there; he’s already outside, leaning on the stone edifice of the building like a particularly jacked rent boy in his tight t-shirt and broody look, cigarette between his fingers. The sweatpants sort of ruin the image, though. He looks particularly comfortable in a way that warms Annabeth right from the inside out. “You know, when Nico said you smoked, I honestly didn’t believe it.” she says, not even bothering to say hi. 

He looks up from his phone and smiles, the sun behind his teeth. “Hey!” 

“Hey, yourself.” She doesn’t even hesitate--she plucks the cigarette out of his hand, taking a drag off it herself. “You been smoking for a long time?”

“Who do you think taught Thalia how?” He raises an eyebrow, bemused. “Is that a problem?”

It is, but it’s not like she can tell him that without losing some of her credibility. “Wouldn’t smoking fuck with your cardio?”

Percy shrugs, conceding. “A little. I used to be a lot worse, but I just can’t quite kick the habit. It’s mostly a stress thing, anyway.” 

“Rough practice?” she asks, putting just enough effort into her lip wobble to make it abundantly clear that she’s making fun of him. “Were the other boys being mean to you because of your tights?”

He grins at her, saucy. “Annabeth Chase, do you really think that NYCB rehearses here? In the Garment District?” But he laughs before she can stammer out an answer (and thank God, she’s lived here three years and can barely keep the boroughs straight, let alone the neighborhoods). “I just wrapped up teaching a class. I don’t have to be at rehearsal until 5, I was thinking we could hang out? Bryant Park?”

A first date at the New York Public Library. She almost hates to admit it, but Percy Jackson might be kind of her dream man. “I believe I was promised food,” she sniffs, but she does hold out her hand, and when he takes it, lacing his fingers through hers, she’s sure that he can feel her heart beating, palm to palm. 

Twenty minutes later they’re settled on a bench in the corner of the green, Annabeth halfway into a ham sandwich and Percy juggling a salad and an iced coffee. He’s been regaling her with tales from the more exciting side of ballet, a side she hadn’t even imagined could actually exist. “So by the time I land in Paris,” he says, taking a sip of coffee, “the guy’s foot has swollen up to, like, twice its original size, and when I finally managed to find some wifi to check my phone, there’s, like, eight missed calls from my mom and my agent, and an email from her that just says ‘READ THIS,’ in all caps, and of course the article is in French, which I didn’t really speak at the time, and I was so stressed that my ADHD made it so I couldn’t even read the Google translation, and I had to ask someone to translate it for me.”

“Oh my god,” she says, struggling to keep it in.

“And that’s how I found out that I’d been moved up to first cast in Le Corsaire, from the poor barista at a coffee shop in Charles de Gaule!” He laughs. 

“That’s insane,” Annabeth says. “And the show was the next day?”

“It was that night! I had to haul ass to the opera house and get warmed up, because I was going on in about four hours. You should have seen the looks on everyone’s faces when I stumbled in, I’m sure that they all wanted to kill me.” Percy chuckles, taking a bite of leafy greens. “Now I wasn’t just the twenty-year-old upstart American, I was the twenty-year-old upstart American who skipped town when I wasn’t supposed to.”

“How did it go?”

“Killed it, of course,” he says, deservedly smug. 

Despite her best efforts, she’s absolutely entranced; he’s a great storyteller. “I bet you break that story out at parties all the time, don’t you.”

He laughs. “Whatever gets the donors to open their checkbooks, right?”

“I can’t believe you lived in Paris. I’ve always wanted to see it.” She’d had a few chances to when she was in college, the semester she’d studied abroad in Rome, but she just never got around to it. Just another item on her long, long list of regrets, placed somewhere between the sketchy burrito from last week and not telling her mom to fuck off earlier when she’d had the chance. “If I were you, I’d never leave.”

Percy shrugs. “It was amazing, I won’t lie. But towards the end I just really, really missed it here. All my family is in NYC, you know? My mom, step-dad, and my sister live here, and Thalia and Nico and Hazel, too. I tried to come back and visit whenever I could, but being away from them was really hard.” There’s something soft and inviting in his expression when he says, “I’m really happy to be back home.”

“What are they like?” Annabeth asks. “Your family. Your non-mob family, I mean.”

He rolls his eyes, but he grins another one of those blinding grins, too. “My mom is the most amazing person you will ever meet. Not only did she support my dance habit, she did it as a single working mother who had to raise an angry, ADHD asshole of a son who didn’t always appreciate her. I don’t even want to know how many hours she had to work or how many scholarships and grants she had to track down in order to pay for me to go to SAB, but somehow she made it work, and managed to write her novel at the same time. She married my step-dad the summer I turned sixteen, and my baby sister was born the next year.” 

Even Annabeth, cynical and black-hearted as she is, has to smile back. The love he has for his mom is so palpable, so tangible, she can practically see him glowing. “And the…” What had Thalia called them? “The ‘Cousin Consortium’?” 

At that, Percy laughs, full-bellied, unrestrained. “The name was Nico’s idea. I didn’t really have many close friends when I was a kid, apart from my buddy Grover--he had to wear this really gnarly leg brace and I liked to dance, so you can imagine how much we got picked on--but we were all really close growing up, since our dads were all assholes. They may have left us emotionally scarred, but at least we had each other’s backs the whole time.”

This is a very Percy thing, she’s starting to realize: he can not and will not hold back on his feelings. He simply refuses to. Where most guys might try to hide or downplay their affection for their friends, Percy’s is written all over his face. Maybe it’s a byproduct of doing ballet, but he’s so unashamed of his love for his friends and his family and his art, that maybe Annabeth kind of wishes she could be included in that love too, if it always feels this warm and joyful. 

“I think it’s amazing that you guys are so close. I only had the one cousin when I was growing up, and we didn’t really talk all that much,” Annabeth says, almost without her permission. Something about him, it’s just so easy to talk to him. He makes it safe to open up.

“The med school guy, right?” 

Annabeth nods. “Magnus. Fifth generation Harvard student. We’re all very proud.” 

Ugh. Even she has to wince at the false cheer in her voice. Percy gives her a half-smile, sympathetic and soft. “Harvard not really for you, then?” he asks, picking up the threads of a long and complicated story, and one that she absolutely does not want to get into right now. Or ever, if she can help it. 

“More like I wasn’t really for Harvard.” Which wasn’t entirely untrue. She had been good enough for the university in Cambridge, Mass--good enough for two degrees and graduation with honors--but she had never been good enough for her mother’s capital-H Harvard. Never good enough for her mother at all, really. 

Percy takes her hand. His fingers are cold from his iced coffee. “Hey. It’s their loss,” he says, with a sincerity and an intensity that makes her blush.

Every part of her wants to pull away. His thumb is rubbing against the joint of her finger, soothing and sweet, and she thinks she may break out in hives from it. “Damn right it is,” she mumbles. 

He is so nice. So nice and hot and sweet. Objectively, what she’s about to do is a terrible idea, and might torpedo a really good thing that they have, but if she doesn’t come clean now her own guilt is going to drive her insane.

“Okay, I have a confession to make.” Percy raises his eyebrows, slurping the last dregs of his drink. “When we met… and then when we hooked up the first time… I may have… thoughtyouwereJason.”

He blinks. “Pardon?” he asks, mumbled around the straw.

Annabeth buries her head in her hands. “Please don’t make me say it again.”

“You… thought I was Jason?”

“Well,” she sputters, glaring at him through her fingers, “you were being all bro-y with Thalia!”

He is valiantly trying to hold in a smile. “You know, I distinctly remember telling you my name that morning.”

“I was really hungover,” she whines, “and you were shirtless and making breakfast so I wasn’t really… paying attention.”

“For a whole week?”

This is so embarrassing, why couldn’t she just keep her stupid mouth shut? “Yeah.” She slumps her shoulders, stuffing her hands into her jacket pocket. “Sorry.”

She’s not entirely sure what she expected: at best a couple of weird looks and a tentative promise to meet up later that would end up not working out, at worst she thinks he’ll just get up and leave her here at Bryant Park. Either way, they’d be doomed to months of awkward interactions, until eventually they wouldn’t be able to be around each other, and Thalia would have to pick a side--and Annabeth’s seen what Thalia does to people who cross her family. She’s seen Thalia beat a dude to pulp for calling Nico the f-slur. Picking Percy over Annabeth? That’s nothing.

So when he starts laughing, Annabeth is completely at a loss. Slowly, at first, then all at once, he’s laughing so hard his shoulders are shaking, and he has to put down his salad so it doesn’t topple over onto the grass. His head is tilted back in joy, the grey, late afternoon light adamant that Annabeth can see all of his features clearly, from his screwed up eyes to his bright, white teeth to the single dimple in his cheek.

Of course, even his laughter is hot. Asshole. 

“You thought I was Jason!” He shrieks.

Annabeth crosses her arms, scowling. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I really don’t mean to laugh,” he giggles. Annabeth can feel her own giggle rising in response, and she ruthlessly quashes it. “I can definitely say I’ve never heard that one before. You do know Jason is blond, right?”

“As a matter of fact, I did not. Besides, you and Thalia look exactly alike.”

He scoffs. “No we don’t.”

“Uh, yeah you do. You, Thalia, and Nico are all basically clones of each other.” 

“Okay, Captain Glasses, whatever you say.” He rolls his eyes, but there’s no heat behind it.

“I’m sorry,” Annabeth feels like she has to say again.

He cocks his head. “For what? For thinking I was Jason? He’s a pretty cool guy.”

“No, for,” she blushes again. All this blood rushing to her head can’t be good for her. “For sleeping with you when I still thought you were Jason.”

Percy scoots closer to her, throwing her a grin and slinging his arm over her shoulders. Without even realizing that she’s doing it, she settles in beside him like she’s been doing it her whole life, slotted up against his torso, tucking her booted feet beneath her legs. “I am choosing to take that as a compliment,” he says, smirking. “You couldn’t resist my charms, even when you thought I was a brogrammer.” 

Annabeth can’t help herself. She kisses him, wiping that smug grin right off his face, and when she finally retreats, after what feels like hours, he looks so dazed she could probably keep calling him by any name she wanted and he wouldn’t even realize it.

After their lunch, they meander for hours, headed in a vaguely southerly direction, holding hands the whole time, a steady, uninterrupted flow that took them all the way from Midtown to Greenwich Village. He tells her about his first day at ballet school; she tells him about her favorite monuments. “There are two architectural environments in America,” she says, ranting, speaking with enough force that she might forget the feeling of his hand in hers, “endless dead suburbia, or cities where every single building is either a concrete or a glass block--and not even Brutalist concrete, just shitty, poorly designed, paint-by-numbers concrete. It is an absolute travesty of modern government that they don’t fund any public works projects anymore.”

“That’s why all the gardens and stuff?” he asks.

“Nowadays everything is built by the lowest bidder. At least I get to add some beauty back into the city.”

“I know what you mean,” Percy says. “Paris is practically overflowing with public works, you almost forget about it sometimes.”

She sighs. “You’re so fucking lucky. Paris is so beautiful and everything in New York is just hideous.”

“Aw, come on,” he says. “Not everything. What about the Empire State Building, or Central Park?”

“Well, obviously, those,” she says, just a teensy bit flustered, but she’s not about to give up the argument without a fight. “I just mean like, normal, every day buildings: offices and apartments and stuff. It’s all so samey and boring.”

He looks to her right, pointing at the building they are passing. “What about this one?”

She turns.

If she had known they were headed this way, she never would have taken them past here.

“It’s… okay, I guess,” she mumbles, staring up at the arched windows, pedimented doors, and Rococo details of Miss Minerva’s Private Pre-College Prep School. A shudder goes down her spine, like someone walking over her grave. “There are better Beaux-Arts buildings.”

Sensing her discomfort, he picks up the pace, and changes the subject.

Finally, he stops outside a nondescript building, turning to face her. “This is me,” he says, a little bit mournfully, squeezing her hand. “Are you okay to get home safely?”

This man is ridiculous; it’s not even dark out. “I think I can manage a few blocks,” she says, lightly swatting him. “Isn’t it kind of early for you, though? It’s only four o’clock.”

He flushes faintly, one hand coming up to rub at his neck. “Uh, well, I always give myself a little extra time--you know, time blindness and everything.”

“You baked in extra time in case I wanted you to walk me home, didn’t you?” She mock-gasps, secretly delighted. “Scandal!”

“Guilty,” he grins. “You’ve been to mine so many times, I was curious.”

She just barely stops herself from laughing out loud at the very idea of Percy coming to her apartment--as if. Thalia hasn’t even been to her apartment. Nobody knows where she lives, none of her neighbors know who she is, and this is entirely by design. “Cut me some slack; a girl’s gotta have some mystery. Can’t make it too easy for you, can I?”

“I have a feeling you’ll never make things easy for me,” he says, white teeth gleaming.

“You better believe it,” she smiles back. “Now that I’ve foiled your plans, are you going to be too bored?”

“Oh, I’ll think of something,” he shrugs. “I’m very resourceful when it comes to boredom.”

Inspiration strikes, and she grasps his hand, pulling him down the alleyway. She almost hates to admit it, but she has something of a Pavlovian response when it comes to hanging out with Percy. Annabeth has come to expect some really excellent sex whenever the two of them meet up, and maybe spending all afternoon with him has made her a little bit horny. 

She presses him up against the brick wall, hidden from the street by the long afternoon shadows, and kisses him. His hands flounder for a second, before coming up to rest on her shoulders, this thumbs tapping against the base of her neck, fingers fluttering on her jacket. It’s an intimate touch, kind of chaste and very respectful, and he holds her with precision and grace. He wouldn’t do anything she wouldn’t want to. This is a date with no expectation of sex on his part. But Annabeth does not want grace right now, spooked by the ghost of her old school. She does not want precision. She just wants him. She just wants to keep him on his toes, keep him interested, blow his mind a little. 

She just wants to blow him, to be honest. 

He squeaks into her mouth as her hands fly to his belt, deft fingers practically ripping it off of him in an increasingly familiar motion. “H-hey,” he says, squeezing her shoulders, “this is--”

“Do you not want me to?” she asks, one hand playing at the top line of his underwear. 

“No--I mean, are you sure? I’m-I’m okay with this, I just want to--”

“I know.” She kisses his cheek, then drops to her knees. “But we’ve got some time to kill, don’t we.” 

Afterwards, when she’s finished with him, Annabeth wipes her mouth, and he whimpers. 

“Ho… holy shit,” he pants, flushed and trembling. 

She tucks him back into his boxers, doing up his fly. “There we go. That was better than being bored, right?”

He nods wordlessly, swallowing, shaking. His eyes are glassy and glazed, stupid like he’s just shot out his brain through his dick.

In the short time they’ve been together (though, honestly, this might be the longest relationship she’s ever been in before… and they haven’t even broached the “dating” conversation yet) Annabeth has been on the receiving end of several different Percy looks. His face will light up with joy when he first lays his eyes on her, so happy to see her (though she can’t really fathom why), glinting like the sun on the water. His eyes will narrow, glaring, even as he furiously tamps down on his growing smile when they start arguing over something stupid, like Annabeth’s affinity for olives. He’ll grin at her, knife sharp and slanted, licking his lips and looming over her after she comes down from yet another orgasm via his mouth or his hands.

Percy looks at her now like someone took a bat to his head, and instead of seeing stars, he sees little miniature Annabeths flying around. 

He pulls her to him and kisses her, entirely too sweet for what she’s just done to him, but that is also a very Percy thing. And when she leaves him with a final kiss on his cheek and squeeze of his ass, she can feel that look burning a hole through her jacket, following her down the alley and around the corner, and she finds that she doesn’t mind the weight of it at all.