#was a little busy with life but I am back | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

imaginespazzi · 7 hours ago

Text

All Fell Down ~Part 7~

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

afd masterlist w/ @azzibuckets

A/N: Good evening lovelies <3 I know, I know, I know, this is suuuuper late but life has been so very busy but I think y'all will like this chapter!

It’s been a long night.

And it’s barely even started.

The car ride back to their dorm had been completely different to what car rides together used to be, filled with music and two voices -one boisterous, the other more reluctant- singing along to whatever song was playing from Paige’s playlist. This time, as they’d settled into their switched passenger and driver seats -eerily similar to the night at the bar- there hadn’t even been that familiar argument -one that Paige always won- about who would control aux. Instead they’d chosen to sit in an awkward silence that was suffocated by the lingering tensions of the last few weeks.

Paige had started off the car ride trying to be uncharacteristically still, until she’d eventually given into her ticks and her good knee had started bouncing, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. And that familiar urge -one that had once been so simple and easy to give into- had crept up Azzi’s spine; the urge to reach over and tangle their fingers together, to still the blonde. But she kept her hands resolutely where they were on the wheel and Paige had continued to move restlessly, like she was waiting for something -somebody- to be her anchor.

Azzi wishes she could be that; wishes that instead of the silence that had entrenched the car ride, she could have found the right words to say to Paige. But it didn’t feel like the right moment to talk about the injury and it sure as hell didn’t feel like the right time to talk about them- or at least what’s left of them. And it’s an odd feeling really, because for as much as Azzi’s not really a talker, she’s always known how to talk to Paige. Ever since their first plane ride, having a conversation with Paige -from the most serious nothings to the silliest everythings- has always come to her as naturally as breathing. It used to be her favorite thing in the world. Talking to Paige. Just being with Paige really.

She misses it.

She misses everything.

God, she really fucking misses Paige. Her Paige.

They seem to breathe out identical sighs of relief as Azzi enters the apartment parking lot. Paige even seems to stop bouncing for a slight second, as she leans back against her seat. A small, knowing smirk flickers across her face as Azzi meticulously begins to reverse into the parking spot nearest to their building.

“Seriously?” Paige asks, raising one eyebrow.

“What?” Azzi retorts defensively, her focus set firmly on achieving the perfect parking form.

She isn’t looking at the blonde but she can practically feel Paige rolling her eyes at her, “dude why can’t you just pull-in park like a normal person.”

“Because I don’t want to,” Azzi replies haughty, finally satisfied with how her car is aligned as she shuts off the ignition,

“Or because you’re still scared of backing-out,” Paige teases and Azzi huffs.

“I am not scared,” she protests immediately.

Paige hums mockingly, “it’s okay Az. I’d be scared too if every time I backed out, I ended up crashing into something.”

“I do not crash every time I back out,” Azzi squeals, her voice uncharacteristically high-pitched as she folds her arms and turns her body just enough to glare at the older girl.

“Baby you’ve done it at least six-” Paige pauses, her eyes widening as her brain catches up with the word -or really the word- that had just slipped involuntarily from her lips. She opens and closes her mouth a couple of times before swallowing hard and tearing her face away from the brunette, her jaw clenched and her body rigid.

Azzi doesn’t look away immediately, her eyelids blinking as she lets the term of endearment wash over her, seep into her veins and flood into her heart in a way that almost feels cathartic. It’s been weeks -it feels a little bit like years- since she’s been called that, since she’s felt that familiar warmth that seemed to fill her from within every time Paige called her baby. It’s almost a little embarrassing how much she likes it; how much she’s missed it.

“Paige-” Azzi’s not quite sure exactly what else she wants to say -thinks say it again might not be the most appropriate thing to say right now- but it doesn’t matter because Paige doesn’t wait around to listen.

Instead the blonde is pushing the passenger side door open and practically flying out of her seat, not seeming to care that she’s just sustained a rather major injury. It catches up to her quickly though and Azzi’s out of her seat just as fast, as soon as she notices Paige wincing in pain.

“Jesus Christ P,” she chastises as she rounds to the other side of the car, one of her arms instinctively curling around Paige’s waist to support her weight, “take it easy.”

“I’m fine,” Paige mutters but she makes no effort to move away, instead subconsciously leaning more of herself against the brunette for support. And they’re so close together now -Paige’s lips right against the base of Azzi’s neck- that the younger girl can feel the blonde’s breath fanning against her skin. It causes an achingly familiar little shiver to run down her spine. Azzi gulps, blinking her eyes rapidly as she tries to focus on anything but the blue of Paige’s eyes and the reddish hue tingeing her cheeks.

I wanna kiss you so fucking bad she thinks

“I’mma grab your crutches okay?” she says.

As Azzi finally looks away, maneuvering the two of them closer to the backdoor so she can use her free hand to grab Paige’s crutches from the backseat, she thinks she sees a brief flash of disappointment flicker in the older girl’s eyes.

She thinks she probably has the same look in her own eyes.

She wishes they were both brave enough to do something about that.

She wishes they could go back to what they used to be.

***

“Welcome home!”

Azzi’s not remotely surprised that when they do finally make it up to Paige’s apartment, she opens the door to find it already filled with their teammates. She’d expected as much when she’d seen the way Evina had looked at the two of them -with Azzi’s gentle grip on Paige’s waist and both of them holding their breaths- as they’d made their way out of the hospital room. They would’ve been here anyways to support Paige through her injury but Azzi’s sure that this- whatever it is- between her and Paige that their teammates had most definitely picked upon is another reason for their presence. So that they can act like a buffer; so they can stop Paige and Azzi from somehow making things worse.

Right now, they’re all packed into the living room of Paige’s apartment, bright reassuring grins on their faces as their two teammates enter. Clearly they’d planned this somewhere in between being in the medical room and on the drive here, to turn tonight into a party of sorts and to take the blonde’s mind off of her unfortunate situation. It’s a kind sentiment and Azzi’s a little awed at the assortment of food -all from Paige’s favorite places- that they’d somehow managed to convene all together on the kitchen counter in such a short time. But she can tell from the way the blonde’s shoulders have tensed next to her, the way she forces herself to stand up just a little bit straighter despite the weight it puts on her injured knee, that as much as Paige appreciates everything their teammates have done, it’s not what she needs right now. Still, the older girl -always the people pleaser- contort her features into a smile as she hobbles on crutches into the apartment, Azzi following warily behind, ready to catch her if she stumbles.

“Amari bro get your ass off the couch so P can sit,” Christyn hisses, nudging the taller girl next to her.

Amari raises an unamused eyebrow, “why should I move? You move.”

Christyn huffs as she stands up, “kids these days. Y’all don’t know how to respect your elders. But here Paige,” she pushes Paige towards her now vacant seat, not noticing the way the blonde grimaces at the movement.

But Azzi sees it. No matter how fleeting it is, she’s far too attuned to everything Paige to not notice the immediate discomfort flashing across the other girl’s face as she reluctantly squeezes in next to Amari, one of her hands immediately going down to subtly massage at her knee. Loud conversation (after a brief beeline for food) crescendos throughout the room as Azzi perches on the armrest next to Caroline, the cacophony of the chatter muted out by the fact that her entire focus is on Paige.

Paige, who just smiles solemnly at all the sympathy being directed her way. Paige, who thanks Olivia gratefully when the taller girl hands her a plate of food instead of letting her get it herself. Paige, who laughs hollowly at Amari’s attempts at lightening the situation. Paige, who nods along as everyone tells her everything is going to be just fine.

Except, Paige hates sympathy. She hates when people do things for her because they think she can’t. She hates when someone tries to falsely cheer her up about an otherwise miserable situation. And more than anything, Paige hates -absolutely detests- being told that things are going to be fine when it feels like her whole world is crashing around her.

And Azzi knows these things, because no matter what, Azzi knows Paige.

“Alright y’all, movie time,” Evina says excitedly, “y’all wanna do action or comedy?”

Immediate cries of action vs comedy ring out through the room, all of the team,-except for Paige, Azzi and Evina who’s clearly regretting even posing the question- voicing their preferred choice at the top of their lungs.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Evina puts her hands up in surrender, the last okay coming out with more force than intended, before she turns to Paige, “you pick.”

And Azzi sees it before it disappears, the brief flash of irritation that Paige immediately masks with a saccharine smile and she feels her own jaw clench. She knows her teammates mean well -are trying their best to be there for the blonde in their own ways- but she’s been through this before. She knows how every kind gesture slowly morphs into being more of a thorn than a rose.

“Ion really have a choice. Actually um-,” Paige hesitates as she slowly picks herself off the couch, “y’all pick. I’mma just uh- I’mma go get changed into something more comfy.”

“Oh okay cool,” Evina nods in understanding, and then, “do you need help?”

Paige freezes.

Azzi sucks in a sharp breath.

No one else seems to quite grasp the change in atmosphere.

“What?” Paige asks slowly.

“Do you need help?” Evina asks again innocently.

“Do I need help dressing myself?,” Paige says, her voice dangerously low as the tension in the room thickens palpably, “No Evina. No I don’t fucking need help,” she curses and Azzi flinches, “I’m injured, not incompetent Evina. I can get fucking dressed by myself.”

“I-” Evina falters, her eyes widening at being faced with this version of Paige that the blonde keeps hidden beneath the surface.

Paige blinks, anger morphing into a mixture of embarrassment and regret. The room has gone quiet, everyone’s attention now on their star player who looks crestfallen. And amidst it all Paige eye’s wander helplessly towards Azzi, irises dancing as they convey a thousand messages -i need you, help me, i feel like i’m drowning, can you save me?- before she tears them away, hesitating for a split second before hobbling towards her room.

Everyone watches her go in silence and Azzi waits patiently for the click of a door, before she finally gets up from the armrest she’d been occupying and stands in front of her team. It’s a position she seldom takes, especially as a quiet freshman still trying to navigate the waters of being in one of basketball’s most storied programs. And as she stares out at her teammates, now all looking expectantly up at her, she’s filled with the urge to cave into herself, shrink back and camouflage herself into the safety of being in the background but she can’t. Because this time, it’s about Paige.

“Y’all have to go,” she says quietly, but firmly, immediately raising a hand when it’s met with a chorus of protests, “I know you mean well and I know you wanna be there for her but you have to go. She needs more time to process. And y’all can’t be here right now while she does. You guys have to go.”

Her teammates are rightfully hesitant, looking between Azzi and the door Paige had disappeared behind as they deliberate over what their freshman has just said.

“What about you?” Evina asks finally.

“What about me?” Azzi asks, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Do you have to go too?” the oldest member of the team asks pointedly

Azzi bites her lip, her fingers fidgeting with each other but when she speaks, there’s conviction in her voice, “I’m gonna stay.”

“Good,” Evina says softly, giving Azzi a small smile that’s filled with a hint of pride before in true Mama E fashion she rounds on the rest of the team, “all right y’all heard Azzi. Time to get packing.”

There’s a few half-heartedly annoyed grumbles as the rest of the team begins to gather their stuff and head towards the doorway. Azzi waits for all of them to leave -fighting the sudden urge to beg them to stay again because really she’s kind of terrified of this moment- before she draws in another deep breath, letting herself count slowly to ten as she walks towards Paige’s room.

“Paige,” she calls out tentatively as she knocks on the mahogany door.

It takes a moment for Paige to answer and in that time Azzi’s mind lets itself overthink to wondering if maybe she shouldn’t have stayed.

But then-

“Az?” Paige’s voice is heartbreakingly small.

“Yeah it’s me,” Azzi reassures softly, “can I- can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

Azzi hasn’t been in Paige’s room since the morning they left for the Bahama’s -their typical morning that had started with them wake up in the comfort of each other’s arms, following by the easy teasing and banter that often followed once they were both properly- and it feels almost bittersweet to be back here. Every corner of this room is tainted with memories of what they had been, and what they’d never been able to become.

As soon as Azzi enters the room, her eyes immediately find Paige lying on the bed, her legs dangling off the end of the bed frame as she stares up at the ceiling while repeatedly throwing up and then catching a toddler-sized orange basketball. She doesn’t look at Azzi as she enters her room, continuing on with what she was doing.

“Hi,” Azzi says softly, lingering awkwardly right beyond the doorway.

“Hey,” Paige replies back.

And then nothing.

The silence -filled with nothing but the swish of the basketball- stretches endlessly between them. Azzi’s eyes sift through the little details of the room. Not much has changed but it still feels almost foreign. Azzi hasn’t been in Paige’s room since the morning they left for the Bahama’s -their typical morning that had started with them waking up in the comfort of each other’s arms, followed by the easy teasing and banter that came so naturally to them once they were fully awake- and it feels almost bittersweet to be back here. Every corner of this room is tainted with memories of what they had been, and what they’d never been able to become, what they are now.

Azzi lets her eyes close for a minute as she swallows away the onslaught of feelings threatening to spill over like bile. When she opens them, Paige is looking at her with an expression she can’t quite decipher. Slowly, Azzi crosses the room - Paige’s eyes tracing her every move- and she hesitates slightly, before finally lying down next to the older girl. There’s still plenty of distance between their bodies but Azzi can still feel the heat radiating off of Paige’s body. She turns her face towards the other, the both of them now lying side by side, on their back but facing each other. They don’t say anything for a while, just staring at each other, letting themselves just be.

Paige breaks the silence first.

“I should apologize to E,” she says remorsefully.

“Probably,” Azzi agrees, “but I think she understands.”

“She still out there?” Paige asks, and as much as she tries to hide it, Azzi still catches the resigned tone of her voice.

She shakes her head in answer, “nah, I sent them all home.”

Paige quirks an eyebrow at that, “you sent them home? As in like you told them to go?”

“Yeah,” Azzi shrugs, “I knew it’s not what you needed.”

Paige’s eyes soften, “thanks Az.”

They melt back into the quiet -something rather serene in this silence in comparison to the one they’d been suffering in for so long- until Paige turns her entire body towards Azzi.

“I can’t do this without you,” she confesses in a whisper, her voice etched with uncharacteristic vulnerability as the teardrops begin to cascade down her rosy cheeks, “I can’t lose both. I can’t not have basketball and not have you. I need you Az. I really, really fucking need you.”

“You have me,” Azzi says slowly, as she turns her own body towards Paige’s, one of her hands instinctively reaching out to caress away the blonde’s tears, as her other hand finds Paige’s, finally tangling their together, “I’m right here P. You have me.”

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

148 notes · View notes

artvscvntymullet · 3 days ago

Text

MOONLIGHT CONFESSIONS - WILLNE

the night was a blur, and so were the boundaries, could that be so wrong...

content warnings : none really, a little bit of pining and mild emotional tension(?)

word count : 1300 words

A/N: im back !! its literally been like a week but it feels so much longer. i am finally on the mend, and i plan on writing many more before i start my exams (the end of school has come round so fast im not ready for uni haha)

The bass from the club thrummed through the streets, a deep pulse that vibrated through the pavement beneath your heels. Laughter and music spilled from the open doors as your friends danced under neon lights, completely lost in the moment. But despite the energy, the heat, the excitement… you weren’t feeling it tonight.

It wasn’t the club, or the music, or even the endless cocktails with tiny umbrellas. It was just—something about this night felt different.

Maybe it was him.

Will had been by your side the entire trip—laughing with you over overpriced airport food, nudging you awake on the flight when you dozed off on his shoulder, playfully flicking water at you when you both waded into the sea earlier that afternoon. He was your best friend. Had been for years. And yet, something about this trip… about tonight… made your heart ache in a way you didn’t understand.

You turned, glancing at him from across the dimly lit club. Will was standing near the bar, his usual easy-going smirk on his lips, but his eyes found yours instantly.

And just like that, the noise, the flashing lights, the suffocating heat—it all disappeared. He raised an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly, asking without words: You okay?

You hesitated, then sighed, pushing through the crowd toward him. "I think I need some air," you admitted, leaning in close so he could hear you over the music.

Will didn’t hesitate. "Come on," he said, reaching for your hand. His fingers curled easily around yours—too easily—like they belonged there. And maybe they did.

You swallowed hard and let him pull you through the crowd, past the sea of dancing bodies, until you emerged into the quiet, humid night.

The streets were quieter here, only the distant sounds of waves crashing against the shore breaking the silence. The two of you walked aimlessly, letting the cool night breeze brush against your skin.

"You okay?" Will finally asked, his voice softer now, lacking the usual teasing edge.

You hesitated. "Yeah, just… I don’t know. Tonight felt overwhelming, I guess."

He hummed in agreement. "Same."

That surprised you. Will was usually the life of the party. The one dragging you onto the dance floor, the one who never turned down a dare, the one who made everything fun. "You didn’t seem overwhelmed back there," you pointed out.

He chuckled, shoving his hands into his pockets. "That’s ‘cause I was too busy watching you."

You nearly tripped. "What?"

He laughed, catching your elbow to steady you. "Relax, I just meant… I could tell you weren’t feeling it. So, I wasn’t either."

Your heart clenched. Had he really left the club just for you?

Before you could respond, the two of you reached the edge of a secluded beach. The moon hung low over the horizon, casting a silver path across the dark waves. It was breath taking—or maybe that was just the way Will looked right now, his features softened by the moonlight, his expression unreadable.

"Wow," you murmured.

Will smiled, his grip on your hand tightening for just a second before he let go. You almost protested at the loss of warmth.

Without thinking, you kicked off your shoes, stepping onto the cool sand. "C’mon," you called over your shoulder.

Will hesitated, but then he sighed dramatically. "You always do this. Drag me into weird midnight adventures."

"You love it," you teased.

He didn’t deny it.

You walked in comfortable silence, the waves lapping gently at the shore, the sky a canvas of stars. It was peaceful. A stark contrast to the chaos of the club.

After a while, Will exhaled a quiet laugh. "This reminds me of that summer trip back in college."

You smiled at the memory. "Oh my God, when you almost got us lost hiking?"

He groaned. "Okay, first of all, you were the one holding the map!"

"You told me to turn it sideways!"

"Because I thought it would help!"

You both dissolved into laughter, the kind that made your ribs ache. When the laughter faded, you looked up at him, feeling a warmth in your chest that had nothing to do with the summer night.

He was already looking at you.

"What?" you asked softly.

Will shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "I was just thinking about how much things have changed since then."

"Yeah," you murmured. "We grew up."

"But not really." He smiled. "You still drag me into adventures. I still follow."

Your heart pounded. There was something unspoken in the air, something dangerous and exhilarating and terrifying all at once.

"Will—"

"You look so beautiful in the moonlight," he interrupted, his voice barely above a whisper.

The world tilted.

The air left your lungs, and suddenly, it was just him—just his dark eyes, just the way he was looking at you, like he was seeing you for the very first time.

"Don’t do that," you whispered.

His brows furrowed. "Do what?"

"Say things like that."

"Why not?" He took a step closer. "It’s true."

Your throat tightened. This was dangerous. Will was your best friend. Your person. If you let yourself believe, even for a second, that this could be something more… you didn’t know if you’d survive losing him.

He seemed to read your hesitation, because he exhaled, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"You don’t have to say anything," he murmured. "I just… I think I’ve always known, you know? That it was you."

Your breath hitched. "Will—"

"I’m not asking you to say it back," he said quickly. "I just—needed you to know. If I didn’t say it now, I don’t think I ever would."

The ocean roared in your ears. You wanted to run. You wanted to stay.

You wanted to kiss him. And so you did.

The moment your lips met, the whole world disappeared. It wasn’t rushed, it wasn’t desperate—it was soft, and slow, and right. Like every unsaid word, every stolen glance, every late-night conversation had led you to this moment.

When you finally pulled away, Will’s forehead rested against yours, his breath uneven.

"Wow," he murmured, his lips curling into a slow grin. "That was… about time."

You let out a breathless laugh, your fingers still curled in his shirt. "Yeah," you whispered. "About time."

Will chuckled, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into the safest place you’d ever known.

And under the moonlight, with the waves whispering secrets at your feet, you knew—this wasn’t just a holiday fling, or a fleeting moment.

This was the start of something real.

Something more.

#will lenney #willne #uk youtubers #willne x reader #willne fluff

89 notes · View notes

kxsagi · 2 days ago

Note

Hear me out.. Kaiser x psychiatrist reader !?!;&&(:&3 not like she was his patient but like she sorta met him through Some dating app and then met up after 3 months of online dating, and the moment they had conversations and observing his reactions, she could read him as much as he could read her, and he finds out she’s a psychiatrist and he starts to try and toughen out a little more but she calls him out but they end up in a chill date and see each other to the point where they get serious 🤞

“𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬”

a/n: hey pretty, ngl you requested this 5 times (i’m assuming by accident) 😭 but it’s totally okay lol

i really love this plot because i am a neuroscience major myself hehe

(dk art credits pls forgive me)

the city lights sparkle beneath you, stretching as far as the eye can see. you can’t help but admire how quiet and peaceful it is up here. it feels like a world away from the chaos of kaiser’s usual life. but then again, he’s still kaiser, even up on this private rooftop, surrounded by an absurdly expensive spread of food, wine, and the soft glow of string lights overhead.

kaiser sits across from you, leaning back in his chair, trying to look like he’s the one who planned this whole thing. there’s an edge to his calm, as if he’s waiting for something to go wrong. it’s cute, almost like a nervous habit he’s pretending isn’t there. but you see through it. of course, you do. you always do.

you pick up your wine glass, swirling it slowly, watching the red liquid move. “so,” you say, breaking the comfortable silence. “this is our first in-person date, huh?”

he shoots you a look, that signature cocky grin pulling at his lips. “i could have gotten you a better view,” he says, pretending to be nonchalant. “but i figured this would do.”

“oh, i’m sure,” you reply with a raised eyebrow. “definitely better than the crowded restaurants or a public park. i mean, you want to avoid the paparazzi, right?”

kaiser chuckles, but it’s the kind of laugh that barely hides his discomfort. you know he’s trying to maintain control of the situation, keeping that ever-present tough guy act. but it’s slipping. it always slips when he’s with you.

“you’re not intimidated by me, are you?” he asks, leaning forward slightly, his eyes narrowing with that familiar challenge in them.

you take a slow sip of your wine, deliberately keeping your gaze steady. “oh, no. i’m terrified. just like the rest of the world.”

the way his eyebrows shoot up in surprise makes you grin. he hadn’t been expecting that. it’s a tiny victory. you’ve learned that, with him, the quickest way to get him to open up is to make him laugh, or make him feel just the tiniest bit uncomfortable.

“you know,” he continues, putting his glass down, “i don’t really do dates like this.”

you lean back in your chair, setting your wine glass aside. “why so?” you ask, feigning curiosity.

he shrugs, trying to act casual. “i mean, i’m usually too busy with my career. dates like this,” he waves his hand in the air as if to gesture to the entire rooftop, “it’s not exactly my thing. but i figured… i don’t know. maybe this time’s different.”

you let the words sink in for a moment, watching him squirm ever so slightly. “different, huh?” you tease, leaning forward. “i think i’m starting to understand. you think you have to impress me, right? show me how cool you are?”

he coughs, looking down at his plate as if he’s suddenly lost his appetite. “what? no. of course not.”

“uh huh,” you grin, barely holding back a laugh. “i don’t know, kaiser. it kinda sounds like you’re overcompensating.”

he glares at you, but it’s more playful than anything else. “i’m not overcompensating,” he says with a huff. “i’m just trying to make sure you don’t regret this.”

you pause, your gaze lingering on him. “kaiser,” you start slowly, “if i wanted to regret this, i would’ve gone on a date with someone like, i don’t know, someone else. but i’m here with you.” you give him a pointed look. “so relax. you don’t have to put on a show.”

he lets out a long, dramatic sigh and leans back in his chair, as if the weight of the world has been lifted from his shoulders. “i knew i should’ve called someone for advice,” he mutters under his breath, but you catch it.

“advice?” you ask, genuinely curious. “what’s that gonna help you with?”

he shrugs. “maybe how to be more mysterious or something.”

you laugh, unable to stop yourself. “mysterious? really? you’re already so mysterious, it’s like a puzzle that no one’s ever going to solve.”

“oh, trust me,” he says, leaning forward with a sly grin, “you’re never going to solve it.”

“we’ll see about that,” you tease, but then something shifts in your mind. the words come out almost without thought, something you’ve been meaning to tell him. “you know… i’m a psychiatrist.”

kaiser’s smirk falters, his eyes narrowing slightly in curiosity. “what?” he asks, his voice a little more cautious now. “you didn’t –”

“yeah,” you interrupt, your tone light. “i’ve been reading you since the moment we met, kaiser.”

he blinks, then leans back in his chair, clearly processing. “wait, that’s why you’re always so… i don’t know… good at reading me?”

you nod. “yup. you’re not as complicated as you think. i just know how to pick up on the little things. body language, tone, how you react. it’s all pretty easy to read once you know how.”

the realization hits him, and you can see it in his eyes. the pieces click into place, and a quiet awe settles over him. “so, you’ve been… analyzing me this whole time?” he asks, the hint of a smile on his lips, but now there’s something deeper behind it.

“not exactly,” you laugh softly. “but i do pick up on things most people don’t. it’s part of the job.”

“that’s… honestly kind of terrifying,” he admits with a chuckle, his eyes still locked on you. “no one’s ever been able to read me like that. not even my family, coaches, or teammates.”

you shrug, taking another sip of your wine. “well, maybe that’s because they don’t know you like i do.”

kaiser’s gaze softens, a little unexpected vulnerability showing. “and you’re not scared of it?”

“scared?” you repeat, a bit confused. “why would i be scared? if anything, it just means i know when you’re full of shit.”

he laughs, a genuine, hearty laugh this time, but there’s a warmth in it that wasn’t there before. it’s like the wall he’s been building up between the two of you is finally cracking. and you realize, with a jolt, that you’ve made him genuinely interested. not just in your words, but in you. and that’s something he’s never experienced before.

“i don’t think i’ve ever had anyone see me like this,” he says, leaning forward, his voice quieter now. “and i like it. you’re not just another person in my life, someone who’s just there because of who i am.”

you look at him, taking in his expression. for the first time, you can tell he’s not putting on an act. “so what does that mean for us?”

he looks you in the eye, the confidence that usually lingers in his tone softened by something real. “i think it means i’m willing to see where this goes. seriously.”

you smile, your heart skipping a beat. “yeah?” you tease lightly. “is this the part where you finally drop the whole ‘untouchable’ thing?”

kaiser grins, a hint of his old arrogance creeping back into his voice. “maybe. but i’ll never make it that easy for you.”

you laugh softly, leaning back in your chair, finally feeling like you’re on the same page. and for once, you’re not sure where this is going, but you’re both invested in finding out.

#hot girls love michael kaiser #michael kaiser #kaiser michael #michael kaiser x reader #kaiser michael x reader #blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk #bllk x reader #kaiser blue lock #kaiser x fem reader #blue lock x fem reader #mind games

86 notes · View notes

aboutcustardcreams · 3 days ago

Text

The Weight of Silence

Summary: You and Rio have a chat, then strike a sort of deal, deciding to keep Agatha out of it... for now.

a/n: I know, I know, it's been way too long, and I'm really sorry. Life got in the way—first busy, then sick, then busy again. But here I am, still alive, and I truly hope there’s still someone out there who’s interested in this story o3o

previous chapter

You thought that was the right moment. Rio sat beside you, watching Agatha tuck in her son. Your eyes flickered from that scene to the woman by your side. A soft smile tugging at your lips as you reached out a hand toward her, your fingers lightly brushing on top of hers. Rio had felt your eyes on her, before you touched her. She knew you were thinking– she presumed you were waiting for her to say something, anything.

A wave of fondness darkened her cheeks when she was met with your loving gaze. “You okay, sweetheart?”

You nodded your head slowly, the smile still on your face, though tight, a bit forced, but not untrue. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"

"Of course." She replied in a breath.

Rio eyed Agatha. She assumed you would want her to join you two, but when you gave her hand a squeeze, she realized that wasn’t your idea at all. Her brows furrowed at the light shake of your head.

“Just you and me,” your voice trailed off. “If you don’t mind.”

A soft, surprised ‘oh’ slipped past Rio’s lips. “S-sure, that’s fine by me.”

Rio swallowed thickly, as she watched you stand up. “Good.”

She nodded once more before rising to her feet. There was nothing wrong with having a word alone with you… was there? To be completely honest, the idea terrified her, she feared the pull of the Fates would be even stronger.

“Let’s go that way…”

Before moving away from the fire, you caught Agatha’s gaze from where she lay on her side next to Nicky, just a few feet away. You smiled at her, while she only frowned. Knowing her, she was probably wondering where you two were sneaking off to. Nicky flashed you a quick glance, his eyes bleary and endearingly adorable. It was only a matter of time before he drifted off. You wiggled your fingers in a small wave and mouthed, ‘be right back’, to which he responded with a sleepy smile.

Had it not been for Nicky curling up tightly against Agatha’s side, you knew she would have gotten up and followed you.

She cast a glance at Rio. The Green Witch caught the plea in those blue orbs, even without a word being spoken on her part. Rio felt as if Agatha feared she would do something to you, something bad, something that would break her apart, and the worst thing was that she was right, because eventually... But not now, not yet. She offered her a quick smile before following you into the forest.

“What did you want to talk about?” Rio asked as you stopped and leaned against a tree.

You tilted your head and looked at her. Really looked at her. You didn’t answer immediately, too distracted by the storm of emotions she stirred inside your chest. You had missed looking at her like that. Admiring her. Your other wife. “It’s so nice to see you again, you know? Be together again. It reminds me of the old days–”

Rio looked down for a moment and smiled, a brief, hesitant smile, the tip of her shoe digging into the soil underneath her. Among the three, you were the sentimental one, that one person that with words could turn her world, their world, upside down just like that. "You say that now. But soon, you and Agatha will find another reason to hate me.”

You shook your head at her words, then stepped closer. Her words made an odd pang rise in your chest. Was that really what she thought — that you and Agatha had harbored hatred for her? Fair enough, because for a little while, you did. At least you thought you did. But that was a lie. A complete fabrication of your mind.

“No. No, it’s not like that.” You reached for her hand, intertwining your fingers with hers. She exhaled a shaky breath, clearly unconvinced, because she still remembered the way you had pushed her away the night she took Nicky. The same night she swore she wouldn’t.

It had been her fault, really. She had lied, and you and Agatha had seen through it before she could even make it true. So what else could you have done, if not hate her for it?

“I’m sorry, okay?” Your voice softened. “I should never have held any resentment toward you. It was just… hard to accept, especially when you said I couldn’t bring him back, that I wasn’t allowed–”, you lightly shook your head and inhaled softly. It didn’t matter anymore. Why? Because you still did it. You did it and succeeded. “I acted like a bitch to you, and I regret it. I will regret it every day.”

Rio’s eyes softened, a light smile spread across her lips. She never once thought you acted like a bitch, never once blamed you for your feelings. “Silly, silly woman–” a scoff slipped past her lips as her hands found your shoulders and gave them a squeeze. “You did what any mother would do. You fought for your child.”

Arching an eyebrow, you gently corrected her and said, “our child.”

She let out a low chuckle at that. “Yeah, yeah I know that.”

“Answer me on this, okay?” you murmured, feeling your heart pound wildly in your chest as you leaned closer, so close you felt her breathing crashing against your face. Soothing. Inebriating. You inhaled as she hummed, encouraging you to ask your question.

“Nicky is safe, right? He’s not in any danger anymore.” Despite being rather confident about it already, your voice came out quite shy and insecure.

Rio swallowed hard, licking her lips before answering. “Yes. You saved him, mi amor. And you did not do just that — you gave him magic.” Her eyes brimmed when she said that. “I felt it when I stood close to him earlier. You gave him a piece of you, didn’t you?”

You nodded your head, with a smile. A more relieved one. "Yeah. It will take a while to fully manifest, but it will." you admitted quietly. “I wanted to give him the best chance in life, and I thought by giving him magic– which has always been his right to possess, I– well, I think I did it, didn’t I?”

It genuinely was all that mattered to you. That he could live a normal life, like any other boy his age. Grow up, fall in love, have a future. Be a witch.

“Of course, you did it,” her hands cupped your cheeks, the moment she noticed the sudden vulnerability in your eyes. As if you were afraid of the way she would react once she found out about it. “You did good, I promise. You did incredible,” she cooed, her voice was warm, unwavering despite the clear emotion filling it. Her throat tightened at her next words. “You will need to teach him how to master his silver.”

She mentally cursed herself because what the heck? The moment his magic emerged, the Furies would already have you. That was the truth.

“Yeah–” you nodded your head, without much enthusiasm. You weren’t stupid, not really. You could read those you loved pretty well, and those included also a certain ancient cosmic entity such as Lady Death. She had no secrets to you. Not really. Not for long anyway. “You’re a great teacher, too. Both you and Agatha.” A pause. “You know,” your voice trailed off, “just in case.”

The crease between Rio’s brows deepened. “I– listen, I need to tell you something–”

You shook your head gently, your hands gripping around her wrists as her fingers lingered on your face, and brushed over your cheekbones. “I know,” you said. You really didn’t, no– but it wasn’t hard to figure that your actions had consequences. And those consequences were just waiting to be paid.

“I don’t understand,” she stuttered, clearly taken aback. “What do you know?”

You grimaced, waving your hands in front of her, as if trying to shape your words into something she’d understand. “Whatever you have to do. Whatever you said was going to happen to me if I saved Nicky– do it. It’s okay. I accept it.”

If Agatha could hear you now, she’d probably slap you in the face, or worse. “Just please… don’t leave Agatha and Nicky if something happens to me.” You said ‘if’ though you meant ‘when’. “But pinch them in the side if they grieve for me too long–” the smile that tugged at your lips was in stark contrast with the sadness in your eyes.

Rio’s thumb brushed over your bottom lip, as her eyes flickered from that juicy spot to your eyes. With a slight shake of her head, her voice came out both firm and urgent. “I don’t know what you think is going to happen to you, but you’re not going to die. I’m not taking you,” she let out a tired sigh, as she took into your confused, adorable expression. “I have no interest in taking you–“ a pause, a small grimace, partially amused. “I mean not like that.”

An incredulous chuckle bubbled out of you. “Oh- You’re not?” You asked, eyes widening a bit.

She sighed again. “No, I am not,” she repeated, hoping it would stick to that stubborn head of yours. If ripping out her own heart, right here and now, could spare you from the punishment you were destined to endure, Rio wouldn’t hesitate. Could Death die? Probably not. Surely not. Immortality really sucked sometimes. Many didn’t know– didn’t even presume she had a heart that beat. But Death did have one. The only difference among hers and others was that her heart carried the pain of all living forms, plus hers. That’s why it was so heavy sometimes (most of the time).

Your brows furrowed, when a tear slipped from Rio’s thick lashes, making you wonder what was troubling her so much. “And yet– you’re crying. Why?” you asked, wiping at her tears with your fingers. The more you touched her face, the more your gaze lingered, the more Rio felt like crumbling. Cosmic entity, her ass.

She let out a weak, humorless laugh. "You're so damn clever, aren’t you? Brave, intelligent, annoying—”

“Uhm, thank you?” you half-joked, though your voice wavered, your own eyes stinging with unshed tears. If Rio was crying it meant that you were still doomed and even if it wasn’t death, it didn’t mean it was any less concerning.

But it was okay. You were ready. And you wanted her to understand that.

“I’m sorry- Didn’t mean the last part,” she shook her head, and inhaled shakily. You mouthed ‘it’s okay’, voice soothing and reassuring. “I just– I wish I could do more. I wish I could stop this,” she waved her fingers, without addressing the issue with words, simply because she couldn’t find the strength to do so. You saw the struggle in her eyes, the panic rising. “You don’t deserve any of this, you hear me?” Her voice wavered, but her conviction didn’t. “Don’t you ever let yourself believe, even for a second, that you do–”

You started playing with the tips of her hair, winding the strands between your fingers, in a way you hoped it would soothe her. You had accepted your fate, whatever that was, so why couldn’t she?

“How much time do I have left?”

Rio paled and flinched as if struck by an invisible blow. “I… I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice so fragile, so painfully honest, that it sent a chill down your spine.

You pulled away, with a nod, then averted your gaze. The best you could do would be make the most of the time you had left with your family. Make memories.

Rio said you wouldn’t die, which meant you’d have to endure something else entirely. And a part of you thought that meant being separated from your family. You couldn’t think of anything worse than that.

“I fear what the Fates will do if I let too much time pass.” Your eyes locked with hers, when she spoke. She was doing it again, breaking the rules for the sake of her family. Rio was giving you time, just as she had given it to Nicky. Your heart couldn’t be fuller. “So I say about a month, before—”

You lifted a finger to her lips. “Don’t tell me. Please…” To know what awaited you wouldn’t make it any easier, so why suffer in advance?

She wasn’t convinced it was a good idea, but nodded anyway. It was your decision after all. She folded her arms over her chest. “If you’re sure…”

“I am,” you insisted, voice light. “All I needed to know was that I will not die. The rest— whatever it is — I’m sure I can take it.”

“The punishment is meant to last three years,” Rio added nervously.

You gave her a curt nod and clasped your hands. “Okay. Good, I guess. Magnanimous of them,” you added, light sarcasm filling your tone.

Rio rolled her eyes, with a scoff. “I wouldn’t use that word to describe the Fates,” there was a slight smirk on her face that eased the weight on your shoulders, even if just a bit.

But gods– Rio resented them and she would have for the rest of her… eternal life. “This punishment— it is serious, I won’t lie about that, but not impossible to bear, especially for someone like you.” She admitted.

You gave her a sincere, appreciative smile in return. “Oh I know that. I’m a second class kind of green witch after all, am I not?” You joked.

Rio groaned at your antics. Of course, you remembered her calling you that. Of course, you’d use it against her now. Her gaze softened, the moment the sound of your laughter mingled with her brief, low chuckle. “You know I never believed that, don’t you? You’re much more than that.”

You pursed your lips, waving at her. “Now you’re talking as if I’m gonna die tomorrow, so you want to make amends with me,” you huffed.

Death frowned, “That’s not true! I was just being sure you knew how I really felt.”

“I already do. I always did.” Your voice lowered a bit on the next part. “Don’t treat me differently from now on just because of…you know…”

“I wasn’t doing that,” Rio shifted, noticing your suddenly vulnerable demeanor. “I’ll still make your life a living hell, mi amor.”

When you chuckled, Rio’s heart soared. You knew there really was no bite to it. “Two can play this game, you know that,” you playfully nudged at her.

The other witch rolled her eyes, with a hum. “That’s all I ever want,” she whispered, tone gentler, “a fair competition.”

You nodded, then looked away for a moment. Pursed your lips, deep in thought once again, before speaking.

“Let’s keep this between us. I don’t want Agatha to know about any of this — even less our son.”

She frowned, taking a step forward. Her fingers ran through your hair, as she asked, “are you sure you’re willing to lie to her?”

You were quick to reply. “It’s not a lie,” you pointed out. “Look, we will tell her, just not now. Agatha needs to relax and be present for Nicky. The worst is over but that doesn’t mean our son doesn’t need protection anymore. He’s just a kid, and soon enough his magic will manifest. He needs his mom.”

He needs you too, Rio wanted to scream, but held back.

“Plus we do have a full month together, don’t we? I won’t waste it by being sad or preoccupied with what’s to come and neither should she.”

“You don’t have to pretend with me, you know,” Rio muttered, not believing for a second you were okay with that.

“Pretend, what?”

A sigh. “To be okay.”

“But I am okay.” You insisted.

“Amooooor–”

You chuckled at her whiny tone. “I mean it, Rio. I am.” You knew she needed to hear those words more than you needed them to be true. “Sure, I would do without this punishment, mind, but I’m okay. You said it yourself, I can handle it.”

Rio wanted to burst into tears, but she held back. She was supposed to be of support for you, and yet you were the one giving it to her. “Don’t you ever change, amor,” Rio pulled you closer to press a lingering kiss on the crown of your head. “I like you just the way you are,” she whispered against your hair, voice filled with emotion.

“Only like?” You asked, teasingly, nuzzling against her neck.

Lady Death pulled away and laughed softly. “Course not,” she pointed out. “I love you.”

Your cheeks reddened right away, and your eyes softened. It still felt like the first time you heard those words. “I love you too.”

She playfully wiggled her fingers against your cheek. A soft giggle escaped you before you could stop it, the ticklish sensation made your head loll to the side. Grinning, she leaned in closer, her lips hovered just inches from yours, as she took in your magic eyes— eyes that she could never get enough of. “You look so much like Nicky when you’re all squirmy,” she murmured, delighted.

“Shut up,” you huffed, though amused.

She arched an eyebrow, “make me–”

“You’re just so desperate to kiss me, admit it.” You teased.

Her tongue peeked out from her mouth, as she grinned. “Is it so obvious?”

“A little,” you admitted. “You can do it, you know– Instead of acting all innocent.”

She let out a low dark chuckle at that. “Ah, but I do love to be courteous, mi amor.”

You groaned playfully then pulled her in, your hands around her neck, hers around your waist. When your lips crashed against hers, Rio responded to the kiss with a ‘mmph’, fingers tenderly brushing the skin around your hips. Your eyes fluttered close and your whole body tingled.

When you pulled back, because contrary to her, you needed to breathe, her eyes were darker.

“Oh, how I’ve missed this,” Rio whispered to you.

You swept your tongue over your bottom lip, to have a second taste of her. “We should go back to Agatha.”

“Yes, we should,” she replied, though she didn’t exactly take the initiative.

“You’re not moving,” you pointed out.

She laughed richly. “Neither are you,” she added, and you whined. Not a childish whine, mind. It sounded more like a needy, hot… utterly irresistible kind of whine. Rio’ grew a mischievous smirk as she captured your lips for another kiss. You whimpered, the moment the Green Witch wrapped her teeth around your bottom lip, sucking on it, before pulling, ever so gently, and let it go with a pop.

“Rio…”

She huffed out a chuckle at your tone.

“So this is what you two went off to do, huh?” It was Agatha. Her voice, sharp, a bit judgmental, caused you and Rio to snap your heads in her direction. “And I thought we needed to have a talk first. How silly of me to presume we had unfinished business–”

“Aggie,” you tried, raking your fingers through your hair as to shake you out of this sudden arousal. You stepped closer to her. “We did talk and everything’s fine. It really is. We can move on–”

It didn’t come as easy as you thought to look into her eyes and lie to her face. But you meant it when you said you wanted to keep it a secret for a while. Your entire family needed some peace and quiet. Some normality.

Agatha frowned, as her gaze flickered from you and Rio alternatively. As a mother, she worried. As a wife, she worried. Agatha Harkness simply worried and you couldn’t help it, or could you now? “Is it really?”

“...Yeah,” Rio sighed. Her heart ached for her, but she had to respect your wishes.

“Can we just– make a fresh start? Us three, and Nicky? I know you want it, too.”

“You want my approval so you can go back kissing Rio like a starving wolf?”

Rio laughed softly, and you snorted. “She’s our wife, Ags.”

“Not for seven years, she wasn’t,” she huffed, and just like that, Rio’s laughter faded. Your stomach clenched.

“She’s here to change that,” you insisted. Gods, it was getting harder to keep your tears at bay. Because you needed Agatha to believe that. You needed her to trust you and Rio, to be willing to move forward, to choose joy instead of resentment. To choose life for a goddamn time. “Give her a chance like I did, please– We both know she deserves it.”

Rio moved so slowly, Agatha didn’t even realize she did. She felt her fingers curl around hers, and clenched her eyes shut with a sigh. Agatha didn’t pull away, and that was something, a sign, a silent welcoming.

“Please, Agatha. Let me in–” she croaked.

The purple witch shivered, the moment you too took her hand in yours. “Please, Aggie.” Both of you looked at her with insistent, pleading, stunning eyes.

“Is Nicky safe?” she asked, and Rio nodded right away.

You nibbled the inside of your cheek, wishing, praying even she wouldn’t ask further questions.

“Is she?” She eyed you, concern filling her eyes.

You knew it wasn’t right to lie to her. But what other choice did you have?

Rio bit down her bottom lip, while nodding. “Yes, my love. She, too,” she said with a small smile.

Agatha studied the two of you for another moment, mulling over her words and yours. As if to make sure she wasn't missing anything. You wouldn’t lie to her face like that, would you?

“Okay,” she finally gave in. Rio should have felt relieved, yet all she felt was her stomach twist violently.

You weren’t doing much better but you’d make up for her. You’d create unforgettable memories, making sure they spent the best month of their lives.

You pressed closer and tugged at her clothes. “Thank you, Ags.”

She hummed, bent down only slightly to peck your forehead. “Don’t thank me yet. I can still change my mind.” You knew she didn’t mean that, so you chuckled.

Rio joined too. Agatha exhaled softly, stroked your hair tenderly, before eyeing her other wife. With a slow, deliberate motion, she beckoned Rio closer. For a moment, the Green Watch thought she would tell her something like ‘I watch you’ or ‘I don’t trust you yet’ or ‘Another misstep and I kill you’, instead she said, “It’s good to have you back,” she whispered, cupping Rio’s cheek lightly.

Gods– this was going to be much harder than she thought.

A short whimper tumbled from Rio’s lips. “It’s good to be back,” she echoed, with a glimmer in her eyes.

#agatha harkness #rio vidal #agatha harkness x reader #kathryn hahn #aubrey plaza #agatha all along #wlw #lesbians #agathario x reader #agathario #nicholas scratch #mcu #rio vidal x reader #rio vidal x you #agatha harkness x you

61 notes · View notes

kmt123whatsthetea · 11 hours ago

Text

The Weasley twins birthday headcanon

A/N: I am back for a short moment. I only realised the date about an hour before midnight and went “Oh damn, I could write a fanfic for our ginger boi’s”. I did one last year and I’m hoping to explore more of the twins’ kinky sides in this short piece, cause we all know they’re wild. So enjoy, and happy April Fools day. I realise that this isn't as NSFW as I’d usually write but it's late and I had no time to plan.

T/W: Unprotected sex, Sex shop and item descriptions

~Another year, another year older

~The twins had found quite the balance in their life. They had a business, a strong brotherhood, and the prettiest girlfriend they could have hoped for

~The had been dropping hints for what they both wanted for their birthday, as many people do

~Whether it's glancing at a shop window for too long or that one magazine, people will subconsciously give away what they want

~Maybe that's why it both surprised you and didnt, at the same time, when a new shop moved into one of the winding ways of Diagon Alley

~The store was filled with various leathered items, phallic displays on nearly every shelf, and books galore on everything from positions to spells for both pleasure and ‘torture’

~The only first ventured inside with the innocent lie of ‘getting to know the new neighbours’

~Little did you know that they’d walked out with a shopping list

~It wasn't your fault that you took a peek, how else to know what a person wants?

~The list was for a few of the spell books, some restraints, and many outfits

~After taking a peek into the shop to do some birthday shopping, you scanned the various isles of outfits

~Nurses, Slutty uniforms for both student and teacher roles, Sparkly lingerie, Underwear of the crotchless variety, and more leather and latex than a bikers crew

~Picking out a few wouldn’t hurt, they'd be appreciative at least

~Of course that's not all you got them. Joke books, various bits and bobs like aftershave and whatnot, and odd colourful socks

~Waking them up was the easy part

~You had put on the skimpiest, tightest lingerie that the shop had to offer and prepared the cake

~Half was orange while the other was purple, candles surrounding the edge so they both had their own collection to blow out

~Not that they’d notice the cake in their nearly naked girlfriends hands

~Singing Happy Birthday like Marilyn Monroe entertaining the president definitely roused them, and their jaws were practically left on the pillow from how stunned they were

~They had to usher you to put the cake down before they pulled you onto the bed and ripped your new pretty lingerie off

~They recognised it instantly, but seeing you in it was more than they could handle

~Instant morning wood

~Fred mumbled something about putting birthday money towards some of the heftier things in the shop, like a certain sex swing that had caught his eye

~George had been drawn to the prettier pink dresses and stockings with pink bows that the shop had, maybe even a certain type of nickname in mind ;)

#george weasley #george weasley fic #fred weasley #george weasley x fem #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x you #fred weasley smut #fred weasley fic #fred weasley x you #george weasley smut #fred weasly x reader #fred weasely x y/n #fred wealsey fic #george weasly x reader #weasley twins #weasley twins smut

54 notes · View notes

faretheeoscar · 22 hours ago

Text

The Oils of Madness

Join the TagList! • Main Masterlist • Buy me a coffee! • Linktree

Content: 🔥18+, Brief mentions of murder and choking, male masturbation. Let me know if I missed any!

A/N: English is not my first language so I'm sorry if there’s any mistakes.

Dividers by: @/thecutestgrotto

Word Count: 2k~

Laurent dipped his brush into a deep, rich red, the color of passion, revolution, murde– scratch that, that one stain on his studio floor, was wine okay? 100% wine, not blood, WINE, no matter what people said they saw, no matter if the screaming was too loud that night, he really insisted to the authorities the stain was wine and also that the screaming lady?

She was just doing it in pleasure and after that she… she moved to… Spain, right? Right! Okay I feel we are diverting a little from the plot here, he was… painting… yes? Painting not plotting to seduce another woman or man with this painting, he wasn’t gonna try break up marriages who’s lovers disappeared all the sudden or moved abroad, he was locked in and was gonna paint this time, he swore, no perversions, no funny business, just he and the canvas and the paint that was spreading across the canvas in slow, deliberate strokes, tender even. He squinted at his work satisfied.

“Yes… yes, this is coming along nicely,” he murmured to himself.

The painting, naturally, said nothing. Because it was a painting.

Until it wasn’t.

“Are you serious right now?”

Laurent froze, brush hovering midair. He blinked. Looked around. Consider whether or not he’d actually just heard something or if he’d finally lost his mind after too many late nights inhaling turpentine fumes.

The canvas sighed.

“Mon dieu, you are serious. You’re painting me like that?” The lady said in a very bad French accent.

Laurent stared. The voice was coming from the half-finished portrait. He had been trying to capture the face of a nameless muse, someone elegant, mysterious, with a depth in their gaze that hinted at the passion he felt inside. Instead, the face looked at him with the distinct expression of someone unimpressed with a lukewarm bowl of soup.

“I—” Laurent began, then stopped, then started again. “I don’t know what you mean.”

The canvas scoffed. “Oh, come on. I know you’re an artist, but even you have to see this. My nose is crooked. One eye is bigger than the other. And what’s going on with my lips? Am I pouting? Do I have an allergic reaction? Am I both?And what’s with the soup?!”

Laurent bristled. “You’re in progress! I haven’t finished you yet!”

“Oh, that’s reassuring,” the portrait said dryly. “So there’s still a chance for you to make me even worse.”

Laurent ran a hand through his paint-smudged hair. He was tired, too tired.Or this might have direct correlation with all the paint fumes. That new ultramarine blue he used for the lady’s dress had smelled particularly strong, something had told him not to buy that oil from that shady vendor. Or maybe he was simply having one of those artist breakdowns people talked about, the ones where they dramatically rip up their work, tear their studio apart and throw themselves onto fainting couches.

Except he didn’t own a fainting couch. Maybe he should get one. Put that on a side note.

“I need some air,” he muttered, stepping back.

The canvas gasped. “Ohhh, excuse me, am I not entertaining enough for you? You bring me to life and now you’re just leaving? How dare you!”

Laurent pointed a shaky finger. “You’re not real.”

“I’m real enough to have feelings, Laurent.I’m real enough and my opinions are as valid as yours, you think that women on the 1800’s don't have rights? Cause let me tell you something…”

That was unsettling. His own painting using his name, it knew his name and now was rambling about rights and stuff? It felt like being scolded by a particularly judgmental aunt.

“I need a drink,” he decided.

The canvas scoffed again. “Oh, sure. Let’s ignore the talking masterpiece and go pour some absinthe down our throat. Very responsible.”

Laurent turned on his heel and went to his shelf, pulling out a bottle. Maybe it was a hallucination and he was remembering how his aunt scolded him, or his mom, after all he had very rooted paternal issues, also an oral fixation… but that’s another branch and kink we’re not exploring here.

The lady in the canvas kept yelling at him, he ignored it, pouring himself a glass of wine. He needed to calm down. Needed to think rationally. This wasn’t the first time he’d had strange ideas while painting—once, he’d been convinced that his own rendition of “The old track to Auvers” was shaking its head specifically at him, mocking him for running out of yellow ochre and he swore he heard the cat in the painting meow. But that was different because that time he saw that the meowing actually came from outside and he was just dizzy from all the booze he had before.This time, it was interactive madness.

“Alright,” he said, sitting back down and rubbing his temples. “Fine. Let’s say, for the sake of argument, that you are talking. What do you want?”

The portrait narrowed its uneven eyes. “I want you to fix me, Laurent. I want to be beautiful.”

Laurent considered this. “Beauty is subjective.”

“Oh, don’t start with the pretentious artist nonsense! You wouldn’t put a painting like this in a gallery! Don’t lie to me!”

He scowled. “…Fine. You’re a little off.”

“A little?”

“A lot. You’re a lot off.”

The canvas grinned. “Good! So fix me!”

Laurent groaned and picked up his brush again. He adjusted the nose, smoothed the eyes, softened the lips. The colors bled into each other, and for a moment, he felt like he was in a trance. Maybe he was. The fumes were finally melting his brain into a surrealist nightmare.

“Better?” he asked.

The portrait hummed. “Mmm. Better. But…”

“But?”

“I think I want more.”

Laurent sighed. “More what?”

Somehow he felt enveloped by her presence as if a ghost of something was pulling him in, Laurent had always known that art could be seductive. The way a brush glided over canvas, the richness of oils, the slow build of something beautiful, something alive beneath his fingertips—it was intoxicating. But never, in all his years, had he expected to be seduced by the art itself.

And yet, here he was.

“You’re getting there,” the portrait murmured, watching him with hooded eyes. Its new golden hues shimmered under the low studio light, blending perfectly into the dark crimson Laurent had so painstakingly layered. The face was stunning now—ethereal, radiant, too perfect to be real. And still, it wanted more.

“I don’t understand what you mean,” Laurent murmured, his breath coming faster than it should.

The painting—his creation, his muse—tilted its head, its lips curving into something between amusement and desire. “You do,” it whispered. “You know.”

A shudder ran through him, not of fear, but of something darker. Something richer. Something that settled low in his belly as he stared at the portrait, at the way the oils gleamed, slick and wet, like skin damp with sweat.

His hands twitched at his sides. “I—”

“Touch me, Laurent.”

He stuttered for a moment. “I–I am touching you.”

The painting laughed, a sound that curled around his ribs like smoke, he could hear it whispering right next to his ear. “Not like that.”

A flush crept up Laurent’s neck, hot and shameful. This was madness. Utter madness. The fumes had finally melted his brain, hadn’t they? He was standing here, aroused by a painting. A painting that shouldn’t even be talking to him, let alone whispering in that low, sultry voice.

Yet his fingers twitched to do as it asked.

Slowly, as if drawn by something outside himself, he reached out, pressing his fingertips against the still-drying oils. It was warm. It shouldn’t have been warm. He dragged his touch lower, feeling the ridges of paint, the way the colors bled beneath his skin, as if the portrait was sighing into his hand.

“Yes,” the painting breathed. “Just like that.”

His pulse thundered in his ears,the dry painting felt rough beneath his touch and the painting didn’t seem to like it, but when he pressed against the fresh dollops of paint, it moaned. There it was. He played with the oils rubbing it in tight circles, to the side left and to the right, in a repetitive motion, the squelching sounds of it making it more real, making the heat of the room becoming suffocating, he felt like he was gonna burst in any moment, he needed to feel the pleasure he was giving to her, he needed it so so so badly.

This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.

And yet his free hand was already fumbling with the buttons of his trousers.

He let out a ragged breath, heat coiling low as he stroked himself, the scent of linseed oil and sweat thick in the air. The painting watched him. Encouraged him. Whispered filth and the moans of the painting sounded like poetry, like the most romantic sonnets he’d ever heard in all Paris, gasps of pleasure curling into his ears like a lover’s sigh.

He was shaking. The colors blurred before his eyes as he ruined the canvas, mixing and matching colors with his fingers. He was losing himself—dissolving into the madness of it all, he’d never felt more pleasure in his life, not even when saw the lights go out of the eyes of that girl when he squeezed that neck as she gasped for air while he nudged his cock deep inside her, the pleasure he felt when he finished and saw that he had murde— ahem I mean, nobody is gonna talk about that okay?! This is not that type of fanfiction and I clearly do not think this man is capable of doing such horrible things, and if someone asks nobody saw anything, understand? And nobody is calling the old time cops again?Capisce?!

Anyways where were we? Oh, right! He’s jerking off– like I was saying, not even with the most beautiful woman he’d ever been in his life, he had felt so much pleasure going right to his cock, it was overstimulating, the feeling of the oils lubricating him making his fist go faster, making the experience feel smooth, feel warmth as if he was inside the sweetest cunt, fucking it relentlessly.

His hand wiped the fresh painting all across the canvas as he tried to hang on to the edge of the easel, trembling, his knees weakening…

Then, with a final, shuddering breath, he spilled onto his palette. The thick white fluid mixed with the oils, the new streaks of ivory started blending into the reds and blues, swirling into new pastel like colors, they were beautiful.

His vision swam. He barely registered his own hand moving, dipping a trembling finger into the forbidden mixture, trailing it across the canvas, as he would do to spread the seed of his own making into a lover's mouth.

The painting moaned.

And then, it smiled. The painting was satisfied. “Perfect,” it whispered. “I’m finally divine.”

Laurent collapsed onto the floor, chest heaving. His mind was a haze of pleasure, of horror, of the stark realization that he had just—That he had just—

Oh, mon dieu. The painting was a disaster.

“Thank you,” it murmured. To then go silent, it didn’t speak to him again, the lady was motionless and the canvas? Was ruined, full of finger and hand prints all over and also full of cum.

Laurent could only stare.

After a while of trying to fix it, he decided it was beyond salvageable, his own hormones and his horny urges had ruined a 2 weeks worth of work, he thought that perhaps it was time to have a mental breakdown and set the studio on fire or maybe it was time to take up pottery instead. Would clay be a good place to deep his co–

Laurent stopped his thoughts, dropped his brush. He was done. Officially done. No more late nights. No more weird paint mixtures. No more whispering to himself like a madman. He needed a break. Maybe he’d go outside, touch some grass, see people…

Like you need to get your ass off of tumblr and go outside and enjoy life, or maybe not? I say this affectionately cause, honestly who am I to say that if I’m chronically here?, Anyways this is my last time breaking the fourth wall cause, This fic? This crack fic?

APRIL’S FOOL!!!!!!

Thanks for reading! Reblogs and comments are kindly appreciated!

taglist friends:

@eyelessfaces @howellatme @ierofrnkk @silvernight-m @ingoldthewizard

@klillaah @lemonzestinmydrink

Special tags for the organisers of the April’s fool event:

@winniethewife @midgardian-witch @ominoose

#laurent leclaire #in secret #oscar isaac characters #crack fic #april fools

24 notes · View notes

inquisitornocturn · 19 hours ago

Text

◇ Inter Stellas Inveniam Te ◇

◇◇◇ Chapter I - In Nomine Dominae Inquisitoris

⚜ 𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: Xavier Calcazar/Volenta Calcazar (OC)/Heinrix van Calox

⚜ 𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖘: Overall story rating - E. Overall tags - romance, disaster polycule, more tba. This chapter - some fondling and erections.

⚜ 𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖞 𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: Even the most powerful have their weaknesses. Volenta has more than a few of her own. One such weakness being her husband. Another - her love for toying with others. Her station permits it, but it doesn't come without consequences, because Lady Inquisitor soon finds herself entangled with another man. And she doesn't know just what events will unfold when the man she's married to gets assigned to look over the Koronus Expanse.

In the 41st millennium, there's only war. Be it on surfaces of planets, on the decks of spaceships or… in personal lives. And those battles are not easily won.

⚜ 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: Volenta has been busy while her husband is away, but upon his return to Terra, Xavier calls her asking for a favor. He needs her to question and inspect his own right-hand man, Heinrix van Calox. But Interrogator doesn't know just what exactly awaits him when he's summoned to the Lady Inquisitor's office. He will learn soon enough.

⚜ 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 6,236 | AO3

⚜ 𝖆/𝖓: Aaaaalright, where do I even begin. Let me put it under the cut.

For those familiar with the name and who haven't seen me speak about this - this is the second reiteration of my OC, Lady Inquisitor Volenta. What changed? Well, I have decided to scrap the story I was writing and restart it. Why? Because the first story was my attempt to adapt this character to a Rogue Trader playthrough. And thus I attempted to make her a Rogue Trader. However, that's not how Volenta was "conceived" nor was it the truest version of her story. I wanted to get there, but the path appeared tedious and, truthfully, dishonest to her. And so I'm writing her story anew, from an angle I always envisioned.

Some of you might have noticed I made some new adjustments. I am no longer going to be using second POV for this, and the events that were in the first version of the story simply never happened, except from the flashbacks, that I might include in this story as well, eventually. For the time being - if you read the first fic, please forget everything you knew about Volenta. It wasn't her. Or rather it was her, just not the most honest and true to heart version of her. This, however, is it. Enjoy♡

Oh, and for those curious - the title translates to Among the Stars, I Will Find You♡

I'm sure most of the men in the galaxy are familiar with the sinking feeling that accompanies the words "Do you think you could do me a little favour, darling?", but when the woman asking the question is an inquisitor it's even less wise than usual to say "No". – Sandy Mitchell “Duty Calls”

“You can do this favor for me, can’t you?” Xavier’s voice comes through the receiver and Volenta sighs, leaning back in her chair. Her leg is draped over the other, wrist on the armrest, fingers relaxed. Black cloak with silver trimmings is hanging on the wall nearby, Inquisition’s symbol facing the room. But she’s not looking at it, she’s looking outside the window and down onto the life below.

“I can, but I’m not too sure if it’s my jurisdiction, Xavier.”

“Everything is your jurisdiction if you want to make it so.”

“It’s not that simple.” She turns to her desk and looks down at the folder that a servo-skull delivered to her office before the vox call came. Printed pict of a man she knows decently, but not too well. Heinrix van Calox.

“Volenta, I wouldn’t ask you to do this if I didn’t think it was of utmost importance that you personally look into this.” Xavier says calmly and she hears some sort of clicking on his end. She knows that because he left to another sector some weeks ago he is only now returning to Terra.

“Are you sure it’s worth this much attention? People will talk that I’ve called him to my office. It might do more harm than good. Why your own people in Ordo Xenos can’t check him?” Tapping her fingers on the papers, Volenta looks at the face in the pict.

“Because they are not Ordo Hereticus and they are certainly not you.”

“You must really hate him.” Volenta smiles slightly, amused by the fact that Xavier got so concerned about his own interrogator to a point he wants her to question and inspect him.

“On the contrary. In fact, I am just making sure that my retinue is not compromised.” A sigh, a pause, then Xavier continues in a more tender voice and more quietly as well. “My dear, you can do this favor for me, I know you can.”

Volenta smiles despite herself and leans back in her chair again. “Of course I can, but should I? Are you not abusing your private ties for personal gain?”

Xavier chuckles and she can imagine him giving her a look full of humorous spark. “Absolutely not. Ensuring that an agent of the Golden Throne has not been corrupted by Ruinous powers benefits all of the Imperium, not just me.”

And she knows he’s right. But Volenta is right as well. No other inquisitor can just call her like this and ask that she personally looks into someone with no other proof of heresy besides that an agent has been on a risky mission. Xavier is pulling the strings to protect himself and her heart warms at the thought.

“When he is coming back?” She looks down at the printout and taps her finger over Heinrix’s face in the pict.

“He should be arriving at Headquarters in about half an hour.”

“Did you tell him to meet me?”

“No. He only reported to me about his mission few hours ago and I instructed him to go to his own office and await my return there.” A pause, some sort of interruption and Volenta has to move the receiver away from her. A crackle as loud as a clap of hands rings out and she winces, but then presses the machine back to her ear. “You can summon him upon the return.”

“Right.” She sighs again and flips through the report pages on just what kind of mission Heinrix has been sent.

“I have to go. We’re about to enter Terra’s segment and I need to be on the bridge.”

“Xavier?”

“Yes, my dear?”

“I miss you.”

A pause, a heartbeat and a breath. Painful silence near tears at her throat like a rabid dog. She has never been an emotional woman, Inquisition didn’t train her to be one, but Xavier is her weakness, just as she is his. “I miss you too. See you tonight?”

Smiling again, Volenta closes her eyes for a moment. “Yes.”

The connection cuts and she looks outside of the window into the skies above, wondering where his spacecraft is right now. Is it above? She didn’t ask where he is going to make planetfall. Not with the flagship, it will most likely get moved to a nearby station for maintenance and necessary repairs. But her husband could either come here, to the Inquisition’s Headquarters, or just head home. Home, to where they spend time together when the Imperium is not calling for them to serve dutifully. And it often does, making moments of serenity even more precious.

Volenta herself has been on Terra for a while now. Besides an odd mission here and there, she mainly attends meetings and dictates operations that draw her special attention. As someone who hunts down heresy within the Ordos itself – she’s tasked with a duty that alienates her from her own people, but also gives her a barely comprehensible amount of power. She is the authority that everyone fears. She is the Inquisitor of Inquisitors. And she does not take her duty lightly.

She also knows that to every agent, being summoned to her office, or if she finds someone herself, that usually means one ending, and one ending only. Her marriage to another inquisitor doesn’t make things easier for her either. Many despise her and Volenta has lost the count of times when someone tried to ruin her marriage and hurt her this way. Out of hatred, out of retaliation but mostly out of fear. Everyone fears her. Everyone, except for Xavier.

He was the one who picked her up from the trenches of an Astra Militarum regiment when she was barely seventeen and he was the one who made her an acolyte. She owes him everything and now she’s… Well, she’s someone he is proud to call his wife and has been doing so ever since that shotgun wedding ceremony fifty-three years ago. It happened fast, just before they both marched into a battle against the Chaos forces. Xavier had a Ministorum priest in his retinue at the time and the man married them in a shadowy armory, with sounds of gunnery muffled by the steel walls. Xavier could’ve sanctified the marriage himself and Volenta, being an Interrogator in her own right at the time, could’ve done the same in a pinch, but someone else there to witness them swear undying love to the Emperor and each other felt more special.

It still feels special whenever she thinks of it, but right now Volenta knows she shouldn’t give into the sentiment or melancholy. So instead of letting her heart beat fast at the prospect of meeting Xavier who she hasn’t seen in weeks, she focuses on the file again and catches the necessary details of Van Calox’s mission. Planet name, mission he was on, the success of such a task, losses reported. Seems Heinrix has been briefly cornered by the cultists. And the more Volenta reads the report, the more she understands Xavier’s personal caution. For three days Heinrix has been missing until his colleagues managed to extract him from the heretical lair. Who knows what could’ve happened there.

Still, according to the report, interrogator has been inspected by the on-board technicians and not have been found to bear the mark of Chaos, but through last few decades their tools have become different. Not more sophisticated per se, but more prone to being overlooked even by those skilled in seeking such signs of betrayal. Very well, Volenta thinks to herself and lets the pages drop, she will inspect him herself.

Reaching to the vox communicator, she presses the button. “Summon Interrogator Heinrix van Calox of Ordo Xenos serving in Inquisitor Xavier Calcazar’s retinue.”

“Any specific time, Lady Inquisitor?” A male voice responds without delay, as if his sole purpose in life is to answer her.

“As soon as possible. It’s not urgent, but I prefer not to delay the inevitable.”

“Understood, Lady Inquisitor.”

Releasing the button she takes a cup of recaf that thankfully hasn’t gone fully cold yet and drinks from it. Half an hour is not much time, but her duties never end, so she puts Heinrix’s file to the side and begins flipping through folder filled to the brim of rumors and gossip about one Inquisitor Gisbern Ghaul, who seems to be collecting enemies faster than tyranids procreate. Glancing at the servo-skull, one of the two, hanging over her right shoulder and making sure it’s ready for her diction, Volenta takes another drink from her cup and begins: “Inquisitorial Enquiry #58963, performed by Lady Inquisitor Volenta Calcazar on 840.M41. Location – Terra, Segmentum Solar. Subject: Suspicious heretical activity by Inquisitor Gisberd Ghaul of Ordo Malleus, Neutra Conclave.”

<Pict attached of the suspect named.> Servo-skull chirps in and Volenta looks down at the file. It also has pict of a man. No way to tell when this was taken, but the inquisitor in question appears to be around sixty. He’s without doubt much older than he looks. Short cropped brown hair, brown eyes, augmetic over his chin and nose. He doesn’t look much different than any other man of the Imperium besides clearly hailing from some Hive world or another, just like herself.

“Inquisitor Ghaul is accused of-“

“Lady Inquisitor.” The vox on her desk clicks to life just as she is about to begin narrating the most credible rumors about the inquisitor, but looks at the machine instead and enables the receiver. “Interrogator Van Calox has been informed of your request to see him and is proceeding towards your office.”

“Very well. Thank you, Antonius. You know the protocol. I am not to be interrupted during the preliminary interrogation.”

“Yes, Lady Inquisitor.” A pause, as if the man on the other end of the vox is too scared to make a mistake. “More recaf?”

“No.”

“Very well, Lady Inquisitor. The Emperor protects.”

Volenta releases the button and waves at the servo-skull for it to drift away, where it lingers by the cogitator right by the other one. The second servo-skull is constantly scanning inner channels of Inquisition’s communicators for any trigger words that a tech-priest in Volenta’s personal employ has invented for her. Nobody knows of this little thing that has delivered her more proof on some traitors than eye-witness accounts through the years. Well, nobody except for the HV-871, who for the sake of laymen goes by the name of Nesex. She considered getting rid of him. One less mouth to speak of secrets it shouldn’t spill, but in the end Volenta prioritized maintenance of the servo-skull over secrecy. She didn’t make a mistake, Nesex is still in her retinue, serving obediently and with pride.

While she’s setting away the files that nobody else except for her should see, Volenta finishes her recaf. She knows that after this she will need something stronger. These past few days have been long and she barely slept because a very panicked servant girl reported three acolytes and one Trusted harassing her with tales of heresy. Volenta’s job, because it happened on the premises of the Headquarters, was to interrogate the four acolytes. None survived.

Still, the job was unpleasant and tedious, and Volenta is trying not to dream of going home. Maybe Xavier will be there, although it’s too early to say. Upon her own returns to Terra, she is usually assaulted with endless tasks and reports thus she doesn’t expect Xavier to go through anything different. Especially because Terra’s own Grandmaster has been sending more and more of his inquisitors to far sectors. Sometimes it feels like Imperium is burning.

A knock on the door and Volenta leans back in her chair, gloved fingers steepled and elbows on the armrests. “Come in.”

Without a pause, the door slides open, activated by her voice command, and behind it stands Heinrix van Calox. His expression is unreadable, icy but not apprehensive. After all, they have met many times. Volenta even goes out of her way to make the man squirm in his uniform when she’s in a more elevated mood. Although most of those meetings happen when she works with Xavier, so she rarely has any private time with him. Not that either of them need it. He respects and fears her, and on Volenta’s end if an agent of the Golden Throne escapes her notice, that’s all the better for them.

“Lady Inquisitor Calcazar, you wanted to see me?” He enters and stops far away, bowing his head.

“Come closer, Heinrix.”

A slightest of pauses, but interrogator does step forwards, reaching two carved armchairs. They are not as elaborate as Volenta’s own, but still nonetheless impressive. Everything in her office oppresses him. From gilded columns to vaulted ceilings painted with images of Emperor’s grace and Inquisitorial moments of historic pride. A wooden desk, several wooden bookshelves, neatly filled with black boxes full of casefiles. A dresser, also wooden, has a plate of drinks in crystal decanters upon it. And of course, countless skulls, aquilas and Inquisition’s own symbols tastefully adorn almost every surface. He sees the candles, the servo-skulls, her cloak hanging from the hook in the wall, and a stand where Volenta’s power sword and a plasma pistol rest, close enough for her to just reach out and take them.

Lingering by the chairs, Heinrix casts just one cursory glance around, allowing himself inspection of the room that he has never been in before. His Adam apple bobs when the man swallows with increasing nervousness.

“I did indeed request to see you.” She begins and watches him with keen interest that makes Heinrix’s palms itch. “Do you know why?” The way she speaks, slow and with every word clearly pronounced, it’s like a weight upon his shoulders.

“No, Lady Inquisitor.”

“No, you don’t.” She exhales slightly and lets her gaze openly roam over his form and stance. “Would you try and guess?”

“With all due respect, Lady Inquisitor, I would prefer if you got straight to the point.” Again he bows his head and she smiles slightly, then stands, making Heinrix immediately fixate his look on her.

“Yes, wasting time is not a habit you have, correct?”

“No, Lady Inquisitor.”

Heinrix watches her walk around the table so that she can lean against it before him. Folding arms on her chest, Volenta eyes him again. “Very well, if you want to proceed with the procedure, I won’t deny your request.”

“Excuse me, Inquisitor Volenta, what do you mean by procedure?”

Her eyes meet his and she notices the slight difference of color in them once again. She finds it endearing and that makes her smile, but just a little. “You have been named to me as a possible victim to heresy. Specifically, you are suspected of being brainwashed and marked by Chaos forces during your capture on Steflin Prim.”

She watches Heinrix’s eyes widen and his face blanch with every word that leaves her mouth. His fingers begin to tremble before they ball into fists, like Heinrix is trying to stave away the shakes that threaten to overtake him.

“Lady Inquisitor, in all my years I served the Imperium and God-Emperor without a fault, who could even suggest such a thing?” Even Heinrix’s voice trembles, although barely noticeably. Maybe someone else wouldn’t notice, but Volenta does. She notices everything and especially the beads of sweat that begin to appear on the interrogator’s forehead.

“Your question should be not who accused you, but what you can do to clear your name of this accusation if you find it duplicitous or fallacious.”

Heinrix pales even further and immediately clenches his jaw like he’s trying to prevent something incredibly stupid from leaving his mouth. “Yes, Lady Inquisitor.” He swallows, feeling his throat become parchment dry. “Please, forgive my shock. I just didn’t expect this to be the reason of why I am here.”

Volenta smiles wider and rises an eyebrow at him. “Really? And what did you expect? That I’ve called you over for a cup of recaf to discuss the weather?” Something almost friendly is in how she speaks, but definitely taunting too. It’s if she’s telling Heinrix that he was stupid not to suspect something dire and potentially endangering his life.

A sweat drop rolls down Heinrix’s temple and he attempts to swallow again then exhales slowly, shallowly. “No, Lady Inquisitor, of course not. I just thought-“

“You didn’t think, clearly. Because if you did think, you would’ve avoided making assumptions about why I call anyone to my office.” Volenta’s smile is gone like it was never there to begin with and for a long moment Heinrix forgets to breathe. He hopes that he can survive this encounter because it doesn’t matter that his mentor is married to this woman right in front of him. One word from her lips can become a death sentence and she won’t even need to have a reason if he displeases her so.

“My deepest apologies, Lady Inquisitor.” Heinrix immediately bows his head, deeper than before, and closes his eyes for just a moment when his rosette swings below him, catching his gaze. Panic is beginning to rise in his heart and throat, choking him not unlike Emperor’s justice he inflicts upon the others. Is it his turn now? But he still has yet so much to do.

“Disarm, Interrogator Van Calox.” She speaks and Heinrix has to use every ounce of his willpower to straighten upwards, meet her eyes and begin the process of removing his weaponry.

Thankfully, he only has his sword and a pistol strapped to the belt. The heavy psyker staff Heinrix only brings when he expects a fight, and this is of course not such an encounter. And even if it were a fight, it’s not the one that he would live through to relish the victory of. Placing his items on the chair on his left, Heinrix stands straight again, jaw clenching so impossibly tight that his teeth begin to feel loose in their sockets.

“Very good.” Volenta doesn’t move, arms still crossed under the chest, emphasizing the heftiness that is clad in black. Heinrix tries not to look. Inquisitor’s own grey eyes row over his form again and Heinrix feels a chill run down his spine. He doesn’t know what to expect.

“Lady Inquisitor, if I could only explain the mission and what happened, I’m sure you would see that this is all just a huge misunderstanding, if not outright a smear campaign against my person.” How weak his voice sounds doesn’t escape Heinrix’s notice and again he tries to swallow but by now his throat is too dry.

“I’ve read your file and your report.” Volenta pointedly glances over her shoulder at a black, open folder, clearly placed in such way that even from where he stands the Interrogator can see his own pict looking at the ceiling. “I don’t think anything you can tell me will clear the suspicions cast upon you, Van Calox. The only way to prove your innocence, if I shall so desire, is to make sure that you don’t carry any heretical markings, willingly taken or otherwise.”

“Lady Inquisitor, I have been inspected upon my return to the spaceship and-“

“Strip.”

One word and yet it sounds as loud as a whip crack in the air. Heinrix just stares at Volenta, completely speechless. Can she do this? No, of course she can. A proper question would be what she cannot do and this clearly is something that Lady Inquisitor very much intends to do. There’s no humor in her eyes that he sometimes sees when she is in the presence of his mentor and there’s not even a cruel yet somehow playful smirk on her lips. Nothing, just a stony expression betraying nothing and her pale grey eyes glaring at him with such power that his knees begin to feel weak. He has no choice.

“Yes, Lady Inquisitor.”

Turning his gaze away to preserve his dignity, Heinrix begins to remove articles of clothing. First the pauldrons and the cape, then his jacket follows. He pauses only one time, to glance at Volenta before unbuttoning his shirt and when she nods, he proceeds without a fuss. Internally, however, he’s burning with shame and Volenta knows that. No matter how stoic or icy Heinrix’s demeanor is even as he undresses, she still notices a faint blush coloring his cheeks.

When Heinrix’s shirt gets draped over the chair’s backrest, atop his jacket and cloak, he takes off his boots, then socks too, placing everything neatly by the chair. Then he pauses again, giving Volenta a second questioning look and when she again patiently nods to him, he lets out a defeated sigh and unbuckles his belt, dropping his pants.

Complete silence in the room doesn’t help Heinrix feel any more comfortable and he knows that it’s on purpose. Left in only his underwear, the man stands tall and hopes to appear dignified enough despite the undignified situation.

“Your rosette, remove it as well.” With her voice illustrating her own casualness about the situation, Volenta pulls off her black gloves without even looking at Heinrix. He hesitates again, then removes the object that he perceives no less holy than the items touched personally by the Emperor.

Before putting it away, Heinrix looks at the rosette, then exhales slightly and sets it aside with respect over the rest of his clothes. Suddenly, his attention is stolen by Volenta when he hears an unpleasant snap. Trying his hardest not to show his alarm, Heinrix watches Lady Inquisitor pull a pair of black latex gloves over her slender hands and feels panic rising in his chest.

“Lady Inquisitor?”

“Lose your underwear, agent.” She says still without looking at him and this time Heinrix just stands, completely taken aback.

“What do you intend to do?”

“My duty to the Imperium and the God-Emperor. Follow my orders or I will be forced to subdue you by any means necessary and proceed with my inspection in conditions that you will find far less pleasant than these.”

Here it is, that sharp look of her eyes that makes his knees nearly buckle and this time more intensively than before. He wants to argue, to defend his pride, his damned dignity. To rise his voice and scowl at this woman that outranks him so much he might as well count himself just a mere canon fodder. He knows that refusing will spell his death. He knows that asking her for mercy will doom him. He has no choice, yet again.

For just a moment, which Volenta permits him without a word, Heinrix closes his eyes, fighting the embarrassment that is burning his face and makes his entire body sweat. One drop slides to the tip of his nose and before doing anything just yet, the Interrogator wipes it off with the back of his hand. Finally, with an exhale, he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear, scowls at the inner conflict and disgrace he’s going through, then in one swift motion he pulls the article down.

Forced not to only undress, but to put his underwear aside, Heinrix opens his eyes and keeps them on his hands while folding the piece of clothing and putting it next his rosette, on a neatly balanced pile of his belongings. He refuses to look at Volenta, unable to keep his expression blank and to pretend that this is not affecting him.

“Good. Shall we start?” Without waiting for his reply, Volenta approaches and he hears dull thuds of her adamantine heels on the carpet when she walks closer. One step, two, three and he sees her before him, although only her bottom half.

At first she just looks at him, smiling to herself upon seeing how distressed and uncomfortable Heinrix is. He doesn’t move, doesn’t even flinch when Volenta reaches out and begins inspecting his body. She starts easy, lifting his chin and looking at his neck, then shoulders, feeling out muscles beneath his skin. There have been reports of heretical tech being implanted in loyal citizens before, she’s not going to make a mistake of letting one of her own walk around with such a contraption. If there is one, of course.

When Volenta takes Heinrix's hand in her fingers, feeling out the flesh, he finally manages to forget the shame of his nudity and observes how carefully Lady Inquisitor is inspecting every inch of his body, bit by bit. He swallows, at last a little bit more at ease. “Did Xavier ask you to do this?” His voice is strained, but he doesn’t care how he sounds anymore.

“Does it matter?” She takes his other hand and despite the heavy blush still coloring Heinrix’s face, he can’t help but rise his eyes to Volenta’s face, seeing nothing but professionalism there.

“No, I guess… I guess it doesn’t.” With a sigh he rises his arms when Volenta begins working on his chest, trying to find the microchip that he knows doesn’t exist. Still, he also understands why she has to look. “I am still honored that you’re doing this yourself, Lady Inquisitor.”

“A blade grows dull if misused. Turn around.” When he does so and Volenta starts the inspection from the top again, moving her fingers over his back with precision as not to miss even the tiniest spot on his body, Heinrix closes his eyes again. “And my senses will grow dull if I’m seated behind my desk, all day, every day, with just the files to look through.”

Heinrix scoffs with amusement before he can stop himself and looks at Volenta over his shoulder, but only sees the top of her head, white hair splayed over her back, loose and silky. “So I have been chosen as a… practice piece?”

“Not at all, the suspicion of heresy is very real.” Glancing upwards at him, Volenta offers him a small smile, but dread fills Heinrix’s chest once again.

“Who… Who accused me?”

“That is classified.” As casually as if she’s doing the most mundane task known to mankind, Volenta squats with ease and makes Heinrix flinch when her fingers now knead his buttocks. Dread is immediately replaced with a new wave of embarrassment and he stands completely still, every muscle on his body taunt from tension.

“Relax. Or are you trying to hide the chip?”

“No! No… of course not. Apologies, Lady Inquisitor.” Sighing, Heinrix tries to relax his body, but the lower her fingers move, the harder it is to actually remain relaxed. Chip be damned, maybe dying is simply just easier than letting her finish. And what about his dignity…

“Part your legs.” She orders with calmness of a slumbering predator and he obeys immediately while staring blankly at the door through which he came. Maybe all of this is a dream after all. Maybe it’s not happening. Maybe the heretics tortured him so severely his mind broke and now he’s living a nightmare without knowing it.

To Heinrix’s relief, Volenta doesn’t actually touch his genitals. She could, he guesses, but she doesn’t and he breathes slightly easier at that. Relaxation becomes simpler to achieve as well. Perhaps he can go through this and come out of the ordeal unscathed, with his reputation cleared.

Movement of cloth reminds Heinrix where he is, for he has gotten momentarily distracted with his own thoughts. He hears Volenta stand and then soon hears her speak. “Turn around again.”

Suddenly reminded of his nakedness once more, Heinrix blushes fiercely and turns around, fighting himself with all the willpower he can muster so that his hands don’t move and attempt to cover the most delicate part on his body. Volenta doesn’t even look at his face and her dark eyelashes are casting delicate shadows beneath her eyes. Beautiful, he catches himself thinking and immediately looks away, to the side and up. Anything to avoid gazing at that face that seems like it’s carved out of purest marble.

Lady Inquisitor is not giving any indication that she’s seeing or even sensing his struggle. Instead she again drops lower and Heinrix inhales sharply. His fingers twitch, and if not for the ardent training as a psyker and an acolyte, he probably would’ve jumped back just now. Her face is so close to his genitals and he prays to the God-Emperor that he doesn’t get an erection. Could Heinrix get sentenced to death for getting an erection? He only knows one thing for sure – absolutely not worth the risk.

Think of something else, anything else, he chants in his mind like it’s another prayer, but Volenta’s fingers become more and more distracting. Sure, they are moving lower, but he doubts that she will skip inspecting his scrotum. No good agent would and what he knows of Lady Inquisitor – she’s the best of the best. He swallows dryly and firmly shuts his eyes, praying every prayer he can recall, even if partially. And yes, here it comes, he knew it would, he knew-

“Don’t twitch so much, Heinrix.” Volenta says and he snaps back to present, forgetting himself and looking down, first seeing rather than feeling that her palm is cupping his balls, so warm through the latex over her hand.

He just gasps, staring down and unable to look away. She doesn’t look back at him, not right away. Only when she uses her fingertips to trace over his shaft, again and again but in slightly different position each time, he makes one tentative step back. It’s not enough to remove himself from her gentle grasp, and he has to admit that she is being extremely careful there, but the attempt is made and this makes Volenta’s eyes snap at him. “Don’t move. This will go faster if you don’t.”

The way she speaks, as this is the most normal thing in the galaxy. He can scarcely believe it. Frozen in spot and with growing terror Heinrix realizes that he lost his focus and thus lost the composure. As if the time itself slows, he watches his shaft swell, lengthen, grow firmer. Pulling back is not an option.

“I’m… I’m sorry.” Is all he can stutter out, shame completely overwhelming him and Volenta smiles, skin crinkling around the corners with the genuineness of it. Emperor… she’s not making this any easier.

“Calm down. You’re a man and these things happen. You’re not the first or the last. I’ve seen everything.”

And yet her face is so close. She’s inspecting his cock as closely as she inspected all of him and Heinrix almost lets himself get carried away by the fantasy. Of Volenta sticking out her tongue, tasting him, letting Heinrix experience hot wetness of her mouth. Oh Emperor…

With a pad of her thumb, even though through the glove, Volenta slides over the tip of his erection, making Heinrix flinch at the sensation. It’s not the most pleasant thing he has experienced, but not really unpleasant either. And why he can’t stop himself from looking? What is wrong with him? He swallows again. Why she’s still smiling?

With an amused expression, Volenta finally lets go of Heinrix and stands. Suddenly, her quite lighthearted smile turns into something almost dark, quite sinister and she raises an eyebrow. “Turn around and bend over.”

“W-what?!” Gasping for air, or maybe a breath of dignity, Heinrix just gawks at Volenta. Sweat is dripping down his body and his cock twitches, making Lady Inquisitor glance down for a moment. Then she suddenly laughs and it’s like crystal ringing within these walls.

“I’m kidding. You can dress again.” With a wink and clearly satisfied with her joke, Volenta pulls off her gloves and throws them into a chute that is uncovered only until a small panel in the wall slides open, then closes. Then another door slides open and she disappears out of sight, leaving Heinrix alone and staring at where she was just a moment ago.

Hearing running water, and assuming it’s a faucet where she is washing her hands, Heinrix begins to dress with trembling fingers. He doesn’t care to put on his clothes properly or in tidy, orderly manner. Instead he keeps throwing article after article onto his body, rushing like he never rushed before. He manages to finish before Volenta returns and while his cloak is askew on his shoulders and he missed a button when doing up his jacket, at last Heinrix feels like he has gotten a shred of his dignity back.

He sighs and closes his eyes, calming heavily beating heart that drums against Heinrix’s ribcage like a trapped grox. Inhale, exhale, just like this, slowly. Finally, he begins to feel like himself and opens his eyes just in time to see Volenta returning.

She approaches with confidence and grace, eyeing his far from perfectly assembled uniform and slightly smiles. “You survived and you get a clean bill. From heresy.” She pauses, then smirks a little wider. “I didn’t find any suspicious lumps either. So, maybe a clean medical bill too.”

Volenta looks way too smug and Heinrix blushes heavily again, trying to find words to respond, but instead of letting him pour platitudes about her doing her job, or anything else, Lady Inquisitor grabs his rosette by the chain in her fist and tugs on it. Immediately he bends down towards her, reacting with preservation so that the chain doesn’t snap and is now face to face with Volenta who looks completely satisfied with his embarrassment. “What do we say?” She whispers and Heinrix gulps down something heavy at the back of his throat.

God-Emperor, her eyes, so uncanny and yet it’s like drowning in a pool of moonlight. And her smile, it looks… inviting. No, he shouldn’t, but it’s almost like she’s daring him.

“T-thank you, Lady Inquisitor.” Heinrix whispers and his jaw clenches. His brain is trying to remind his body not to move, not to lean in even further, not to kiss her because… because… because…

“Wonderful!” She teases, of course she does. Volenta sees the mix of emotions on Heinrix’s face, warring with each other. Fear and respect, need and shame, desire and longing. Duty and passion. She can sense the fire beneath his composed demeanor even if she rattled it significantly just now. “I’ll make sure that interested parties are informed about what transpired and that you do not have any signs or heretical technology upon yourself.”

With that, she releases his chain and Heinrix expects himself to bounce back like a dog that is trying to escape and its lead has been cut, but no, instead he lingers like this for a moment longer, yearning despite himself. Finally, he clears his throat and his back is straight once again.

“Thank you, Lady Inquisitor.” Heinrix repeats, not sure what else to say and he knows that she sees the cracks in his demeanor. What he doesn’t know is just how wide those cracks are.

“Leave now, I have to fill in the report.”

She turns so suddenly that her longcoat swishes behind her like a ship’s sail, then she walks back to her desk, picking up the gloves that got discarded at the start of this. Yet Heinrix doesn’t move. He watches Volenta’s white, long hair draping over her back, over the symbol of Inquisition there, and for just a moment, he finds himself immersed in a vision of running his calloused fingers through that hair while his mouth is pressed to hers.

But then, suddenly and like a thunder, reality comes crashing down. He almost thanks Volenta for a third time, but manages to collect himself and bowing to her back, the Interrogator finally turns as well and walks towards the door. It immediately slides open and without a fraction of a pause, Heinrix marches out. This time, he’s cursing himself in his mind. For being weak, even if the weak part of him was his heart.

But when the door closes behind Heinrix, Volenta smiles and sighs, running a hand over her hair, pushing the strands back. She has done what Xavier wanted of her, but she didn’t need to do it so slowly. Not that Heinrix needs to learn this, of course. What’s important is that she had a little bit of fun with him, and that did brighten her day more than she expected. The way he looked at her, like a starved man. Volenta sighs, still with a smile. Fool, he believed her too, that it’s common for men to get erections. It’s not true, almost everyone has been too damned scared of her to barely not piss themselves, let alone feel aroused. But he doesn’t need to know this either.

Or maybe she will tell him if an opportunity arises. She does like teasing him. A little too much, some would say, but seeing Heinrix so flustered is quite entertaining.

Volenta hopes that she meets him again. She hopes she meets him soon.

But she doesn’t have a way to guess just how soon she will see him.

#rogue trader #rogue trader crpg #rogue trader fanfiction #xavier calcazar #heinrix van calox #fandom: wh40krt #nocturn writes #xavier fic #heinrix fic #volenta calcazar #Inter Stellas Inveniam Te

21 notes · View notes

writing-nothing-but-spilled-ink · 1 day ago

Text

I have another head canon that after Harley dumps joker and she ends up with ivy Jim Gordon ends up arresting her for some crime she's done that week and Jim having known Harley for years and knowing she's not awful just a little misguided just kinda goes...

"ya know what kid I'm proud of ya".

And Harley goes, "uh Jimbo did I hit ya to hard quick how Many fingers am I holding up".

Jim smirks at her antics and goes. "Listen Harley I don't really know you on a personal level and I won't pretend to but I am proud of you for finally getting out of that awful relationship with joker .. that actually took a lot of guts and I'm just happy that your out and relatively safe now .."

And this actually makes Harley tear up a little.

She mutters something like, "didn't think ya cared Jim".

Jim smirks and goes, "ofcourse I do I did try to get you out a few times and I even handled your transfers when he was trying to go after you when you were injured".

Harley goes.. "wait that was you??? I always wondered who would do that for me?"

And Jim goes.. "yeah so very happy you found ivy and that your out of that mess and what the hell we have a few minutes before I have to put you behind bars of ya want I can get ya a decent meal before you go I know ivy will probably busy you out but let this be on me".

Harley leans forward and kisses Jim on the cheek. "Ya know your one of my new favorite people you want someone gone just ask".

Jim smirks and goes, "I won't but I appreciate the thought".

They end up stopping at a few restaurants Jim conveniently pauses right outside ivy's apartment and turns his back and giving ivy enough time to give Harley a kiss and letting ivy give harls her overnight bag. Harley this time decides she'll stay where Jim leaves her at least for a little while no need to make the sweet old man's life harder.

...

imagine batman having to stop by ivy and Harley place for information only to find jim just sitting there and is bewildered he just goes ... "Jim?"

And Jim replies, "batman?"

Ivy goes "last I checked I don't recall inviting you also your about to step on my roses if you don't want my talking plant Fred eating you I suggest you watch your feet". And Bruce awkwardly does a weird batman shuffle to not squish ivy's flowers. And Harley just goes. "aw come on red it's a celebration let's not feed the bat to your plants plus Jimbo doesn't wanna be an accomplice we should respect that."

And ivy sighs and goes.. "fine only cause you asked nicely but if he squishes even one flower he goes out the window". To which Harley goes "ya know what that's fair " and she looks at batman and goes "if she won't let my babies squish them she definitely won't let you". And batman bewildered goes .. "babies??? Did you ..? Do you need help?? You know there's resources right??".

And Harley wrinkles her nose in disgust like what the actual fuck and just goes.

"Oh my god no not the gross snotty drooling tiny people" And she looks at jim and goes, "no offense it's good for you not for me". Before turning back to batman and going, "I meant my hyenas."

To which batman kinda just blinks at her cause for the first time in a while he feels incredibly stupid.

30 notes · View notes

feroshgirlsims · 2 days ago

Text

Chapter 10.4 - If You Give a Fae a Cookie

“Don’t thank me,” Akira rasps. “Don’t thank anyone, actually, ever. For anything.”

Alice looks at him like he’s deluded.

“You thank someone and they think you owe them,” he explains.

“You thank someone because it’s polite.” Her forehead wrinkles as she tilts her head, examining him. “You have the oddest hangups.”

“Yeah, I know. Just humor me, okay? At least try not to thank strangers.” At her skeptical look, he playfully rolls his eyes. “I know I sound crazy.”

“Yep. But I’m cool with that. Apparently, ‘weird dudes with bonkers-ass habits’ is my new kink.” She pops a fry into her mouth and then licks the salt from her fingers, making a delighted little humming sound.

Gods above.

The Moon herself could be standing in this bar and he wouldn’t notice because he’d be too busy watching Alice increase her sodium intake.

“I will be exactly as crazy as you want me to be then,” he purrs.

“Oh, I wasn’t trying to flirt!” she yelps. “I mean, I was flirting, but it was accidental?” she winces, but tellingly, doesn’t drop her fries. “Okay, not accidental. You’re hot. But also kind of borderline crazy—”

“Isn’t that your kink?”

Her mouth drops open, and she looks around frantically, like she can’t decide whether to fight or retreat. He doesn’t want her to retreat; it makes him feel like she’s hiding something and although Akira is willing to put in the time (eternity, obviously) to find out those secrets, he’d love to be worthy of her handing them over.

“What about Vlad?” he waggles his brows. “Are you telling me you like him because he’s nice?”

“What? No,” she laughs, “Vlad is completely unhinged. I think if being nice would save his life, he’d rather die. He’s pretentious and rude and likes the craziest things, and I’m pretty sure he’s punched someone in the mouth for absolutely no reason.”

“But?” Akira leans in.

“But he’s nice to me. And he’s smart and patient and remembers things I forget. He is hilarious, even if half the time, he isn’t trying to make a joke.” Her smile is soft, “I just…I like him.”

“Even though he is rude as hell?”

“You’re rude as hell,” she points out.

“I am,” Akira grins. “So do you like me?”

“I…” her breath hitches. “Theoretically?”

Not in the slightest. “Humor me again.”

“I mean, I guess. I like you too.” She cackles, a mischievous look crossing her face. “You’re uncultured, but I can fix that with, like, four more seasons of 7 Wild Dates and a helping of Lust Island.”

“You are pushing your luck.” The corner of his mouth kicks up as he holds her gaze. “Now tell me the truth without the joke.”

“I like you, but I shouldn’t.” The words tumble out and she claps a hand over her mouth. “Sorry!”

“Don’t say sorry, either,” he snaps. When she tenses, he softens his tone. “I just mean, you don’t have to apologize to me. Alright?” Eventually he hoped to convince her not to apologize to anyone else, either, just as a precaution, but baby steps. “Anyway, how are the fries treating you?”

“Very good,” she rolls her shoulders, relaxing again. “They’re happy to be with me. They were suffering under your rule.”

Akira snorts. “Yeah, very nice of you to eat the fries that never belonged to you that I offered out of the kindness of my heart. Now, back to what you said before. If you like me—”

“Do you wanna play pool?” Alice says suddenly, cutting him off.

“You want to play pool?” he looks around and then back at her again, unable to keep the surprise off his face. “Against me? Have you ever played before?”

“I am a woman of many talents. Did you see how quickly I ate these fries?"

She was talented—and clever as hell. It was part of what he liked. He would do anything for her, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t kick her ass in a game. “Alright, you’re on.”

Akira considers holding back. Even moving at mortal speed, his reflexes are fast, but once they start playing, Alice kicks his ass so thoroughly it should be documented for posterity.

It’s stunning, actually.

She is ten steps ahead of him and always running interference, distracting him with questions that aren’t actually questions and teasing him mercilessly. When she sinks the 8-ball and looks up with a self-satisfied smile, he isn’t sure whether he wants to yell or kiss her.

—Definitely kiss her.

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” he mutters under his breath.

Her laughter is like tinkling bells, followed by the most egregious rounds of snorting as she tries and fails to get herself under control.

“Okay, yeah, laugh it up,” he grumbles. “Has anyone told you that you’re a poor winner?”

That makes her laugh harder. It’s graceless in a way that makes him feel grounded.

“How long have you been planning to get one over on me?” he asks. “And don’t lie,” he adds when she looks like she’s going to hold out.

“Since the first time we met, and you acted like I was a complete dumbass for being in your garden.” She gives him a positively queenly look. “I like to win.”

“Yeah, you do,” Akira agrees, his voice strained. He wants her laid out on this pool table. He wants to kiss her until she’s dizzy and then eat her out. Maybe not even in that order. “Winning looks good on you.”

She winks, and he winks back. “You hustled the shit out of me.”

Suddenly, her entire demeanor shifts. “Are you mad?”

“Why am I gonna be mad that you kicked my ass? Is that what usually happens?”

“My ex was not good with me beating him at things. He had a fragile ego, and I was dumb, so I just put all my energy into protecting it.”

“You were not dumb. Your ex was dumb.” And dead, Akira tacks on in his mind, even if the motherfucker didn’t know it yet.

“I know.” Alice looks up at the ceiling and sighs. “Believe me, I know.”

“But you felt fine kicking my ass,” he says, warmth spreading through him because really, it was the highest honor. “You knew I wasn’t gonna lose my shit, right?”

She lifts a shoulder. “Yeah. I mean, I don’t think there’s a grumpier man on the planet, but you make me feel safe. And…” she tucks a curl back, “I don’t know, it’s not even really about you. I have all these responses that are like default programming after…” she doesn’t finish her sentence. “I’m trying really hard to break them. So, I just wanted to prove to myself that I could do it.”

They leave the pub after that and even though he offers to get her a burger for the road, Alice declines, seemingly deep in thought.

Akira is deep in thought, too. “Hey. Not to dwell on all that shit you said earlier, but I just want to make sure Vlad doesn’t do that to you.”

Gods help him if he is lusting after a man with an inferiority complex.

Alice chuckles and Akira marvels again at how much he likes the sound. He wants to find her most sensitive spot and put his mouth on it until her laughter grows raspy. “What’s so funny?”

“Vlad is fine with me stabbing him if the mood moves me. He’s lowkey excited by it, so uh yeah, I don’t think he’ll be mad if I beat him at a game.”

Well, fuck. That piece of information goes straight to his dick. “I think I’d like him,” is all Akira can croak out.

“Oh yeah? We should hang out,” Alice suggests.

His fantasy served up on a silver platter? Fuck yes. “Yeah, that sounds great. I wanna ask you guys if—”

“And we should also invite my friend Miko! And Vlad’s friend William. It’ll be like a big friend hangout night,” she exclaims, jumping in front of him and clapping her hands.