#And found the perfect lacy shirt with wide sleeves to go with it that I didn't even remember being in my closet

[thyandrawrites]

Me: I'm not really into halloween. I don't mind doing nothing for it

A friend: what about a themed party? It can be as light as you want, no need for full costumes, no pressure. Who's in?

Me: *is suddenly interested in halloween and does absolutely want a full costume*

[nocturnal-milk-dud]

Black Lace and Wine

Next

Pairing: Benny ‘Borracho’ Magalon x Reader

Summary: When you accidentally send a nude during a night of heavy drinking.

Rating: R?

Warnings/notes: Alcohol consumption; inebriation; sexual content; swearing; Maurice Compte’s arms; I know nothing about what crime scene technicians really do or what their work schedules are like, that’s not what y’all are here for anyway; listen. i told myself just have it be a oneshot. why are you writing this like it’s going to be more than that? here we fucking are. Benny deserves more fucking content, okay? He deserved more in the movie and he deserves more now. If you’re on the taglist and don’t want to be, or aren’t on the taglist and want to be, let me know.

Word count: 1470

It was a good night. You were out celebrating with your team. The case was closed, the bad guys put away, and you didn’t have to take the witness stand. 

You hadn’t found anyone to go home with which was a bit disappointing, but it wasn’t the end of the world, all you needed to have fun was yourself, anyway. You were feeling yourself that night, giddy and warm from the booze. You put on some sultry music and took off your dress, leaving yourself in a pair of lacy black panties and your knee high boots. You looked yourself up and down in the mirror and smiled at yourself, biting your lip. You felt sexy, you felt good. Maybe it was just the alcohol, the success of the case, but you didn’t care. Life was good, and so were you. You set your phone up and started taking pictures: one straddling a chair, your bare back to the camera, hair pulled over your shoulder, turning your cheek coyly to the camera. The next you had your knees bent up on the chair, arm draped over your chest, eyes cast down demurely. You kept going, all the poses you could think of in every room of your apartment. You drank more, too, cracking open a bottle of red wine. The last one you took was of you lying on your side on the couch, hand playing with the lip of your underwear. You placed your empty wine glass on the kitchen counter and walked back to your bedroom, flipping through the pictures on your phone. Was it the wine talking or were they all amazing? You clumsily unzipped your boots and kicked them off before falling into bed and selected the last photo you took. You tried to edit it, but your phone froze. You should have known better than to keep hitting buttons, you should have just waited. But you kept tapping away at your unresponsive phone, and when it finally did respond, you watched as the screen flashed through all of the selections you had unconsciously made. One of which was to share the picture. You’d never sobered up faster in your life. You sat up in your bed, urging your phone to work faster. Who did you send it to? When you saw the name, you threw your phone away from you and put your head in your hands. You tried to tell yourself that it could have been worse. You could’ve sent it to O’Brien for Christ’s sake, but it didn’t make you feel better. You got up and put a shirt on, suddenly feeling uncomfortable, and tried to settle yourself.

“Okay, bright side: there’s no case right now. You have some paperwork, but you can easily work around their hours, you’ve done it before,” you said to yourself. In fact, you’d always done it. It was actually a suggestion your boss had made when you took the job. She said Nick and his crew got the job done, but they weren’t people you wanted to be around if you wanted to get yours done. She’d said it with such a final tone that you’d taken it more as an order than a suggestion. That separation didn’t exist in the field though, and your work there made you understand her stance on the office work. You didn’t have to report to Nick, but that didn’t stop him from trying to interact with you. You wished it did. Your first day he’d introduced himself, standing too close, smelling of alcohol, cigarette smoke, and cheap cologne. You had made quick work of that conversation, breaking away as soon as you could. That was also the day you met Borracho for the first time. Benny.

“Borracho,” you said, letting the r’s roll over your tongue. “That means ‘drunk’.” 

“Estoy muy borracho,” you muttered to yourself now, hiding your face in your hands. You looked over at your phone where it sat disturbingly silent. Maybe you hadn’t actually sent anything. He would’ve responded if you had, right? You picked up your phone carefully, like it would explode if you jostled it too much, and checked your messages. Yep, there it was. Of all the pictures you took, he got the one with your tits out and your hand almost in your underwear. You let out a feral groan and threw your phone away again, planting your face in a pillow, determined never to show it again. You couldn’t help but wonder why he hadn’t responded to it--of course you were grateful--wait, were you grateful? Which was worse? A response or silence? You couldn’t decide. 

“Maybe he’s asleep like a normal person because it’s two in the morning,” you mumbled into the pillow. You knew that was bullshit, though. It was a Friday night and they’d just closed a successful case. You gasped and sat up on your elbows, eyes wide. Would he show it to the others? No, you decided. They may not be the nicest group of guys but they were better than that. You got ready for bed, deciding you would just ignore the situation, praying it would somehow sort itself out. 

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

Borracho was true to his nickname when his phone went off. He fumbled with it and unlocked it to see your photo, and almost choked on his beer. He coughed and sputtered, alcohol dripping down his chin onto his shirt. Borracho set his glass down and wiped himself clean.

“You okay, Borracho?” Connors asked.

“Take it easy, bro,” Z said. Borracho nodded, waving the two of them off. He glanced around him, making sure no one would see over his shoulder, and looked at the picture again.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his eyes sliding over your form, careful not to miss an inch. “Borracho!” Nick called, startling him. He almost dropped his phone on the floor. “You comin’?” 

“Yeah,” he said, tearing his eyes away from your picture and finding his breath again. 

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

A week went by. You had almost forgotten about the picture, but there was a voice in the back of your head that nagged at you. Borracho had never responded to it. On the one hand, you were grateful, but was he unimpressed or something? That was a sexy photo, you were sexy...right? Of course you were. If he wasn’t interested, that said nothing about you. It was a week of you arguing back and forth with yourself over your level of desirability. You would see a reflection of yourself in the bathroom mirror or the elevator door and your lips would be pursed tightly, your eyebrows knitted together in a permanent state of confusion. You would rub the wrinkles out from between your eyebrows and unscrew your jaw, remembering all the times your mother would tell you your face would get stuck that way. 

You always arrived at the Sheriff’s Department long after Nick and his crew were gone and you worked into the early hours of the morning, leaving before they arrived. It wasn’t a perfect schedule and neither was theirs, but for the most part it worked. And every day you were grateful when you weren’t called out to another crime scene, but Christ, paperwork was tedious. Tonight was like any other. You pulled into the parking garage as the sun fell low and made your way into the building, heading for the elevator. The door started to close and you caught your face in the reflection, tightened up once again. You worked at it as a hand stopped the door and it slid back, letting Borracho step inside. You moved perhaps a little too far to the side, backing into the corner, gripping your bag tightly in front of you. Borracho nodded to you and pressed the button for his floor, taking his place to wait. Was it just you or was the ride longer? Was it just you or was there less air? He’d seen you naked. Well, almost naked. And he’d said nothing. Were you breathing too loudly? Were you breathing too fast? Was your heart rate normal? Was it always that warm in there? Were your thoughts always that loud? 

“Shut the fuck up,” you whispered to yourself.

“What?” Borracho asked, turning to you. 

“Nothing,” you said, “just left something in my car.” You cleared your throat. 

“Looks like we’re both forgetting things,” he said. “Had to come back for my jacket.” You noticed now that he was wearing a short sleeve button down over a white t-shirt, and you noticed too how the sleeves hugged his arms. Okay, it was definitely too hot in that elevator. The door finally slid open and Borracho started for the hallway. 

“You look good in lace, by the way,” he said over his shoulder. You hoped he didn’t see you drop your bag.

Taglist: @massivecolorspygiant @vanthrefrigeration @madlyhowling @lettherebrelight​ @funtasi @m1sund3rst0od @girlpornparadise​​ @1zashreena1​​

[thoseofgreatambition]

rosemary & mint

duet masterlist

description: george was rude enough to come into your work earlier that week and put you in an absolute tizzy with how handsome he was! you were determined to make him pay. it’s a mutual surprise though, when you discover how effective the tiny things can be in making someone lustful. after all, he’d called coming over a ‘date’ hadn’t he? 

author’s note: this is set in ‘98, so a little while after the war. so we’ve skipped ahead a few years from the ‘last’ update. i think y’all will love this, and enjoy the filth haha! this is the next part in @ickle-ronniekins​ and i’s series! hope y’all love it! 

warnings: sexual content, drinking. minors beware. 

length: 5.1K 

You never would have thought of yourself as someone who was cheeky. A bit of a ditz at times-- though intense healer training had landed your head outside of the clouds a bit more often. At least while you were working. 

Except when George had come in. You felt the familiar tingle and warmth in yourself grow once more remembering how it felt to touch his skin. It wasn’t fair! It was absolutely rude of him to become so handsome in the intervening years! If you weren’t in such a tizzy just thinking about the muscles in his arm you would write him a letter and give him a piece of your mind. 

You’d had your fair share of adult dreams. You were human after all. Your penchant for romance novels probably egged it on at least a little bit. George had inhabited every single one of them so far. However, that was the first time you’d come so intimately close to him shirtless, and you still felt more affected than any of those dreams that had come before. It was incredibly rude of him! Especially with that cologne. If he weren’t due to come over soon you would have locked yourself in your room with a quieting spell. A rude man! However, as you cleaned yourself up you grinned, you had a plan for payback! You’d remembered some crucial information Fred had imparted upon you years before when he was quite drunk. George liked legs and bottoms more than breasts and arms. Thus, you were in your best set of leggings, paired along with an older sweater-- one that tended to slouch off your shoulder. You’d even paired it with a lacy bralette. Reasonable enough for unpacking furniture. You couldn’t help but giggle as you looked at yourself in the mirror, tying your hair up in the sparkly ribbon he’d made for you a few years prior. He would see what happens when he was so rude and handsome! Payback! Now!

You noticed with a frown how wrinkled the pads of your right hand’s fingers were. With a flush you hide your hand inside the baggy sleeve. 

Hopefully he wouldn’t notice that. 

George wasn’t sure why he was nervous. It was you! He’d seen you only a few days before. It was fine. You seemed more nervous than you used to, but perhaps it was because you were at work? The memory of your fingertips dancing across his wound still made his throat clench. Everything seemed different and the same at the same time. Your smile, your jokes-- more grownup than they were before! You carried yourself differently too. He wondered if you thought he did as well. 

The cardboard handle of the six pack of beer in his hand felt as if it was going to leave a rather nasty bruise-- the perfect amount of sensation to get himself out of his thoughts. You still had the ribbon he’d given you. Still sparkling just as brightly as the first valentines day out of Hogwarts. Granted, he still had the ribbon you’d given him didn’t he? Still tied to his wrist. More brown than blue. Quite tattered after years of nonstop wear. He couldn’t take it off. It was what he’d hung on to during the war. The chance of seeing you again, when pushing you away, had hurt so bad. Especially when you’d seemed so sad about it. But now-- now was the chance to change that. To show he was grown up. To show you that things had changed. There was nothing more to worry about. He could completely and utterly love you now. He always had-- but he could finally show it. Perhaps. Perhaps if you didn’t love him yet-- he could get you to fall for him. To make your breath catch when you saw him. To make your pupils go wide. To make your fingertips itch to pull him closer. If George could make himself funny enough. Wonderful enough. Smart enough. You would fall in love with him. Hell-- he would take even the slightest bit of fancying. Whatever it would take for you to open up your heart to him. He’d be a good boyfriend, he thought. He would be a wonderful boyfriend. 

It was when he had to adjust his grip on the six pack again that he realized he’d lost himself in his thoughts at your doorstep once again. Frowning at his own absentmindedness, George knocked on the door. Unsure of what he was expecting, he still found himself blown away by you when you opened the door. Your small smile was the same, the way it grew wide and your arms flung around him to hold him close. All the same. His arms were clunky around yours, and while George always took care of where he placed his hands, he took an extra amount of care that night. He cursed whatever being-- if there were any-- who was up in the sky for this. You were wearing leggings, and George already found himself plagued by far too many impure thoughts to be occupying your presence. Still, you dragged him inside. Absentmindedly he noticed that your right hand had wrinkled fingertips. Perhaps you’d been washing some dishes. He saw a few in the sink. 

“Thank you for coming to help Georgie! It’s been positively dreadful. This is the first proper night off I’ve had in a while. Can you believe I’ve been paying rent on this place for a month now? And couldn’t move in?” Already, you were talking quickly like you would when the two of you were younger, remembering something unjust that wound you up so bad that George simply needed to buckle in until you’d gotten all the words out of your head. Bloody hell, you were cute when you got wound up about things like this. George made a very conscious effort not to look at your bum, and instead focused on the task before him. It was a tiny flat, with a small living room attached to a kitchen. Down the hall there were only two doors. Which he presumed to be your bedroom and the restroom. “--Maybe I ought not complain. I’ve been getting some extra money with the shifts I’ve picked up… and I don’t want to be ungrateful.” He could already see it-- the little circles looping around in your mind. You were doing everything you’d always done. Padding around in a circle as you thought aloud. Playing nervously with the ribbon in your hair. Fiddling with the baggy sleeve. It was like everything was the same and different at the same time. Because you stopped your walking, like you’d never done before. You giggled like he hadn’t heard before. Fixed the ribbon to tie your hair back tighter until it looked less like a bow and more like a shoestring. Like you’d never done before. The mustard colored sweater was draped off your shoulder, showing a lacy strap that George willed himself not to wonder about. “Sorry. I’m ranting. I’m just glad you’re here. I missed you bunches, you know.” 

He’d forgotten how easily you could fit your hand through his ribcage and steal his heart from him. However, he was just discovering how you could do the same to him in other places. He’d been in love with you through adolescence. You’d occupied every fantasy he’d had. However, he was still trying to work through the shock that he’d stumbled into something akin to a fantasy he’d had last fall. When you wore a dress with leggings. George hadn’t the foggiest what he’d done to bless him like this. Or a curse. He wasn’t sure. He couldn’t help the smile that came to his face. It was dopey. He knew it. He wondered if this would be the time that you finally saw through him. “I missed you bunches too.” The sting of the war seemed so eager to come back. How you’d cried when he’d insisted on staying apart and no contact. How his hands had shaken when he wrote back to your sweet note saying that you couldn’t write to him anymore. “You did?” Of course he did! How could you not tell? 

“Always. I missed you the whole time, silly.” It looked like you were proud of yourself almost, the little laugh as you tug him into a hug once again. It was baffling, but George couldn’t make himself care. 

You were back in his arms. And George was determined to win you over somehow. 

George had never quite felt like this before. The tension in the air as he watched you bend over and stretch to grab things and put your bed together. Your flushed face as you attempted to put on a fitted sheet all on your own-- the muggle way, you’d exclaimed. The giggles as he watched beads of sweat start to form on your hair line. Your hair falling out of place. He’d never seen that happen before. The way you kept wetting your lips in concentration as he reached up to hang your pictures. 

The way you looked at him through half lidded eyes when he’d had to take off his sweater until he was back in the t-shirt he had on underneath. When you offered to crack open the beer he’d brought, George was quick to accept. He needed something cold, before you noticed something rather embarrassing about him. It was when you were putting away your dishes while he had begun to set up your table and chairs that he finally thought of something to talk about. What had you been doing! Perfect-- a perfect topic. Very appropriate. “May I ask you something?” You looked at him over your shoulder, the little smile still on your lips, eyelashes fluttering. “Yes Georgie?” Perhaps it was because he was so goddamned turned on, or perhaps it was because the two of you had discussed far more sexual things before the war. “Is that uncomfortable?” You frowned, and turned to properly face him, “Is what uncomfortable?” His face was bright red-- why did it have to be something lacy? He had such a thing for lacy garments. “Your strap. For your bra. Isn’t it uncomfortable?” There was a look akin to pride on your face that George didn’t understand-- maybe it was something new? “It’s comfortable. The lace is very soft, and since it’s wide the weight is distributed well.” You walked over slowly to him, and George found himself automatically sitting down on the table-- as if something told him he needed to sit down for what was about to happen. “You can feel it, if you’d like.” Surely, he was hearing that wrong. Carefully, George kept his gaze on the half undone ribbon atop your head. Would that be what your hair looked like after a night together? It was when you giggle that he directed his gaze back onto you, “I can what?” “Feel the lace! You can see it’s not uncomfortable.” He watched you tug your sweater down a bit more, to expose more of your shoulder along with the edge of the cup. “‘Ts alright. You had a good question.” 

Lost for words, George gently reached out and laid his hand on your shoulder, thumb running over the black lace. You were right. “It is very soft.” He could hardly speak. You managed to step in between his knees so you were so incredibly close. Silently George studied the expanse of skin you’d exposed to him. How many kisses could he fit? How many hickies? How delightful would it be to rip this sweater off of you and cover your entire body with kisses? What did the rest of this look like? How soft were your breasts? Your thighs? Were your panties lace too? It felt like his entire head was spinning, and the spell was only broken when you stepped away with a giggle. “I told you!” back to unpacking dishes you went, standing on your tip toes for the tallest shelves. “I wear it to sleep sometimes. Since it’s not structured. With some matching shorts. Very soft. The silk is good since I get hot at night.” As George stood up, he realized he was uncomfortably aroused at the moment. He sat back down and tried his best to hide his lap. “Could you grab some water for me please, Y/N?” The odd smile you’d had all night was gone. Replaced with the sweet one he was so familiar with. “Are you thirsty Georgie?” 

“Very.” 

It was awful really. Awful how wonderfully you tucked into him. How easily his arms wrapped around you. How your nose felt against his neck as you nuzzled against his skin. Both of you half drunk and half awake. George had wondered a few days ago why his amortentia scent had changed to mint and rosemary after he’d seen you at work. It’d always smelled like sunshine and daisies. It was enough to scare him a bit-- was he falling out of love with you? The answer was no, he found now that you were tucked so delightfully against him as you sat on his lap. Playing with his fingers like you were fascinated by them. You’d changed your shampoo and your perfume. It just made him throb a bit more painfully for you. Then again, it could have been because you were sitting in his lap and kept wigging a bit as you tried to get comfortable. Drunk, and simply glad you were apparently innocent enough to not understand what you were sitting on, George kept his mouth shut. Something was telling him however, that this may have been at least a bit planned by you. He’d helped plenty of girls move in to new flats. None had worn perfume or sat in his laps. Or invited him to feel their bra. So perhaps-- perhaps-- you were interested in him even if it was a little bit. What did that mean though? He knew you weren’t the type for quick shags. Nothing wrong with it, but he’d listened to you prattle on about romance cliche’s and waiting for ‘the perfect time’ to know you weren’t trying to get him into bed. Or at least he was pretty sure. Didn’t matter either way-- you were drunk. He was drunk. Everything was off the table. That didn’t stop him from fantasizing though. George wondered if he was going to get home and tell Fred and be mocked for not realizing something obvious. Perhaps you just wanted to dress pretty? That seemed like something you would do. And to flirt a bit? You’d done that too at the hospital. Though he had started it. Maybe this was just flirting. And it meant that you were just a bit interested him, even if it was on a physical level. The idea that you found him attractive already made him swoon. Perhaps it was just enough to ask you out soon. Or to show you that he was more than just attractive. You were tracing patterns on the palm of his hand, your ear perfectly poised to hear the thundering of his heart. “You have big hands George.” “I do?” “Mhmm. They’re nice.” 

Tentatively, George rested one hand on your waist, and another on top of your thigh. It was a bit odd-- he was worried about being too forward, but he hoped that this wasn’t too rude. “Is it okay if I hold you like this?” “Yeah.” Your voice was soft, “I like it when you hold me.” It felt like you were blowing air directly onto the embers of his lust. He could show you how nicely he could hold you, couldn’t he? Sure-- George didn’t have experience in that fact. But he was eager to learn. He could learn for you. He would do whatever you asked for him to do. Far too soon, you were crawling off his lap to stand up, grinning down at him as you swayed just a bit while you giggled. “Georgie, do you want to stay the night? You’re too drunk to apparate home, and my floo isn’t set up yet.” He gave a short nod, he’d been wondering how soon he could excuse himself to get home and work out his frustration, but apparating while inebriated was an easy way to lose a limb. “Thank you. I’ll sleep in here.” granted, there was no couch in your living room yet, just a few more boxes. You gave a frown to his response, “No-- I’ve got a big enough bed. It’s a queen. We can share. You hurt your back this week! You can’t sleep on the floor. Healer’s orders.” There was a moment as he stared at you that he wondered if that was really alright before he finally nodded. If you were okay with it, then it was okay. You’d shared a bed before and cuddled for the night. Then again, there was a problem he would need to work out before he shared a bed with you. “Can I use your shower first, love? I don’t think you’d want me sweating up your bed.” There was the little smile on your face again, and George realized like a slap to the face that the sexual tension in the air was mutual. “You can use my shower Georgie. There’s loads of fresh towels.” As he walked into the bathroom, George wondered if you actually did notice that he was hard or not. It was as if he no longer had any sense about him. He’d been turned on for the past few hours and the idea of finally getting some relief made him throb so hard that his stomach clenched. George turned the shower to the hottest temperature he could managed before stepping in. His clothes on the bathroom floor, discarded haphazardly, his red hair stuck to his face long enough to nearly block his vision. With his golden eyelashes fluttered shut, George used his right hand to steady himself against the shower wall while his left and reached down to slowly begin to tease his cock, imagining your hands instead. 

When his grip became firmer he choked back a moan, cursing at himself to remain quiet. He needed to be fast enough that you wouldn’t notice anything was amiss. Have a quick wank, go to bed, wake up and deal with anything odd in the morning. “Georgie-- I’m going to get changed in my room alright? I’ve grabbed some extra blankets for you!” “Thank you.” He hoped his voice wasn’t so choked with lust that you would notice. The idea of you wearing the matching shorts you’d described earlier nearly made him cum already. The sexual tension was mutual wasn’t it? That much he could tell. Were you wet like he was hard? Were your hands jammed down your panties? Were you dreaming of him walking in, finding you like that and getting fucked senseless? Because bloody hell-- George sure was. There was a rather loud moan that George couldn't help but let out as he sped up his pace. His breathing ragged as he leaned against the wall. 

Pure lust was not something he had felt before. He hadn’t thought that it would be such a terrible thing to deal with. Hopefully he could deal with it before you wondered why he was still in the shower. 

You were desperately scrubbing your hands in the kitchen, annoyed at yourself for not being able to control your lust. Your fingers were wrinkly again! He would notice! Dammit. You were the one who was supposed to drive him crazy, and you’d just wound up desperately trying to work yourself to orgasm as quickly as you could so you could think straight. Git. Silly man. This wasn’t how the romance novel was supposed to go! He was supposed to see you, realize that you were a grown woman now and kiss you senseless. Breathlessly admit that you were all he’d ever thought of. All he’d ever dreamed of. Shag you until you were screaming his name as he whispered how much he loved you into your ear. Why couldn’t he ever play along? Oh well, you thought with a thrill of pleasure, you knew you’d turned him on at least. You’d been sitting in his lap after all. You giggled as your face heated up. You hadn’t thought about that aspect really when you had planned for the night. All your plan had been was to make him think you were terribly attractive based on what you were wearing, and feel the same sort of flustering you’d felt at work, but it seemed that you had brought it farther. Then again, you’d also made yourself more flustered than you’d felt at work. Satisfied that both of your hands were equally wrinkled now that you’d finished washing your hands, you smoothed down the oversized cardigan you wore over your silk pajama set. The shorts were rather short but it made you feel so cozy that you couldn’t care. You also reckoned you would look sexier without the fuzzy socks, but you were cold dammit! “Ah-- Y/N?” George called out nervously from the bathroom. Peaking your head down the hall, you gave him a grin before walking over. “Yes?” “Is it okay if I sleep in my shirt and boxers? I don’t have an pajamas here.” Immediately you felt your face heat up at the thought, “Of course! Sorry, I didn’t think about that. You ought to keep some over here just in case.” “Planning on having me sleep over more often?” Your only response came with a giggle, as you turned off the lights and crawled into your bed. “C’mon, bedtime.” It was an odd silence when he crawled into bed, normally the two of you cuddled immediately, but that felt like a less easy task now. There was more to think about now. You wondered if he could hear your thundering heartbeat. For a long time you simply stared at the ceiling, as you wondered if you ought to simply stay on your side of the bed. As much as your lust was screaming to roll over and shag him senseless until you were full of him, the shy bit, the romantic bit held you back. “Georgie?” “Hmm?” You could see him roll over to face you, and you covered your face a bit with the blanket, only your eyes peaking out. Why did you feel so shy now? All of a sudden? “Do you ever feel like-- now that you’re a grownup you ought to do things a certain way? And then confused about if you like doing it like that or not?” What a silly question! Silly girl-- head in the clouds. He was going to call you silly and laugh at you--

“All the time. Since I left Hogwarts.” Your eyes widened a bit, shocked that you weren’t alone in your experience. “Really?” “Mhm. It’s pretty common, Y/N.” Gently, he reached out and took your hand. “You’re not alone, you know. Don’t know why you keep thinking you’re odd for things that are normal.” You were grateful he couldn’t see how embarrassed you were in the dark. “Because I’m a bit silly.” “So? Doesn’t mean you’re odd.” It was with a chuckle from George that you found yourself being embraced, his hand so gently on your waist, his weight ever so slightly on you. It felt incredibly safe to wrap your arms around him. Like you were protected. Like the fear of being by yourself during the war was gone. The fear of having someone knock on the door and open it to doom. You were safe now. Someone was there. The person you wanted to be there, was there. You took a deep breath to soothe your nerves, and tried to relax despite the heat in between your legs growing once again. It was so easy to imagine him saying softly against your skin that he loved you. Or wonder what his long fingers would feel like drifting into your shorts. 

“Goodnight, Y/N.” “Goodnight, George.”

Your sleep was restless. Punctuated by imagined kisses. Bites from your lover on tender skin. Pinches to your nipples through your thin top. George whispering into your ear asking you to tell him please, how much you wanted him? A delicious pressure to your core as your ground down on something-- his hand? It made you shudder at the thought. Little gasps as you heard him saying your name. Not wondering how so suddenly your room had been lit with candles or where his clothes had gone. And all of a sudden it was over. You were seconds away from orgasm and you were being jostled awake with concerned hands. Not a lovers hands. “Lovey? Y/N?” Tears sprung into your eyes from loss of imagined contact. “Huh?” “You were having nightmare.” You looked at George confused, before he continued. “You were shaking and gasping. Sweating and talking in your sleep.” 

He was still clothed. Of course he was. A dream. With a wash of embarrassment you realized your legs were locked around one of George’s-- and put together what exactly you were grinding down on in your dream. Perhaps you could crawl into a hole? His hand was so gentle on your cheek, his voice so full of concern. “Are you okay? What was it about?” Immediately you shook your head as you sat up straight. Nope. You couldn’t tell him that. An odd sense of guilt flooded you-- that wasn’t a good thing you did, was it? Was it a good thing to have such an explicit dream about him when he was right next to you? Or was it okay since he was attracted to you? Or perhaps that was the crux of it-- you had his physical attraction and not the emotional kind? Not the love? Perhaps that was it, he finally saw you as a grownup but not the kind of person he would want to date or love. Perhaps that was it? Why he hadn’t talked to you through the war? Nervousness and anxiety clenched at your heart and made you curse your clitoris as it continued to throb in blind lust. Why couldn’t your body read the room! This was not the time. Were you rude for dressing up like this for him? Was that a rude thing? You hadn’t planned on asking him to stay the night-- you’d have told Fred the same thing. Asked him to stay in bed as well. Then again you certainly wouldn’t have tried to do that to Fred-- “Y/N.” His voice was more firm this time, as if he was deliberately trying to cut through your thoughts. “What’s happening? Please tell me.” “Just..” your voice felt foreign in your mouth. “A weird dream. A weird one is all. I’m going to take a shower and calm down.” You slipped out of bed, not noticing his hand that reached out for you and dug around in your drawer for a pair of sweatpants along with a large sweater. Silently you left the darkness of the bedroom for the abrasively bright light of the bathroom. You turned the temperature to as could as the knob would allow before stepping into the stream of water with a hiss. This finally seemed to banish your lust away for a bit. Allow for more rational thoughts. Perhaps dressing up nice was fine enough. It was normal. You were an adult. You had a grown up job and your own flat. You could do whatever you wanted. Fantasies as well. You were an adult. You could indulge in your own fantasies. Somewhere along the line though you’d stepped into deeper water than you’d thought you would. Sitting in his lap was too far, you were sure. No matter how nice it felt to know that he also lusted for you. You’d found yourself in the odd section of the ocean where the water wasn’t technically deep enough to drown you, but it was deep enough to make you uncomfortable. The alcohol was still heavy enough in your blood that you were unsure of all the ins and outs of everything. After you scrubbed yourself clean, and bundled up in your fresh and pajamas you finally crawled back in bed. Expecting George to have fallen asleep. Except he hadn’t. He reached out to take your hand and let out a small noise of surprise, “You’re freezing!” “Took a cold shower.” “You’ll catch a cold, lovey.” “I’m a healer-- that’s an old wives tale!” 

There was a chuckle from George, “You can go over to the burrow and tell my mum that she’s an old wife then.” He couldn’t see you frown, but he could feel you swat at him. “I would never be so rude to Molly! She’s too nice.” “Just like she raised me to be nice?” “No, like she raised Fred to be nice.” “You’re a mean friend.” “Only because Fred is my best friend.” You laughed as George pulled you closer, the levity felt like it’d flooded back in the room. “I’m not your best friend?” “No, I’m so sorry Georgie. I’ll accept new applications in January, you can try again then.” “I plan on it.” Your head rested very comfortably on his shoulder. “Thank you for helping me tonight Georgie. I appreciate it.” “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. You know you have me wrapped around your finger.” Through the darkness you could tell he was looking at you a certain way. Almost expectantly. You couldn’t figure out why. “I’m sure you say that to all the girls, Georgie.” “Nope. Just you.” 

Again with the odd look. Like he was thinking you were about to say something or notice something. 

Perhaps another thank you was in order. “Thank you again, then.” He let out an odd little sigh and a chuckle before laying his head back on the pillow. “When I saw you again I thought you were all grown up-- but it’s nice to see you’re still you.” Your brow furrowed a bit, unsure of how to pick that apart. It didn’t matter though, because George was playing with your hair, no matter how cold and wet it was, and peaceful sleep seemed to be tugging you back into its hold. “Goodnight.” “Goodnight, Y/N.” He stroked your back until you finally fell asleep. What a nice way to let yourself doze off. Your dream this time around was much less based in debauchery. In fact, you could almost hear him say he loved you. 

It was a wonderful dream. 

taglist: @georgeweasleyx @seppys-return-to-madness @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @darling-details @laneygthememequeen @lupinsx @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @bobduncanlover @dreamer821 @feffffffy @the-hufflepuff-of-221b @62442-am @wtfweasley @obsessedwithrandomthings @sleep-i-ness @shadowsinger11 @shadychaoticcollection @haphazardhufflepuff @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @hood-and-horan @geeksareunique @insearchofnewdreams @lumos-barnes @thatfuckingliardavidtennant @slytherinqween @xinyourdreamsx @skiving-snackboxess @wildfire-whizbangs

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[valhallanrose]

Whole Lotta Trouble 🍋

@sunrisenfool​ requested 13.) “You’re so in for it when we get home” for Zelparo from this prompt list. And then I got carried away because...women, so it became a fic.

1.7k. The only CWs that apply are light citrusy content and my sapphic ass having way too much fun writing this.

Fic Title: Whole Lotta Trouble by Stevie Nicks

It was a beautiful day in Vesuvia, and Amparo was wreaking havoc on Zelda’s self control. 

There was a farmer’s market in Goldgrave that opened every weekend, and Zelda, being the way she was, had been eager to go - so they’d planned on doing a bit of shopping together and getting some lunch before Amparo started rehearsals for a new ballet the week after. 

It was pleasantly warm, and Zelda had worn one of her favorite tops that fell between cute and comfy - the daisy print one with the plunging neck, knotted at the base of her ribs and with wide sleeves that fluttered in the breeze - and yet somehow had been absolutely murdered when she met up with Amparo and saw the combination of open blazer and lacy bralette worn beneath it. She had also planned on fucking with Amparo a little bit with her choice of top, but it wasn’t so much fun when the tables were turned, was it?

Zelda had been sneaking disrespectful glances here and there, usually when Amparo wasn’t looking, but the real test began when Amparo had set her hand low on Zelda’s bare back to guide her through a rather crowded area of the market. Her hand was hot on Zelda’s cool skin, the feeling lingering even when Amparo pulled it away to gesture to a stall around the corner that sold beeswax goods that she liked.

The two of them meandered around the stand, sometimes picking up beeswax candles and sniffing at the light floral scents and sampling honey offered by the merchant, before Zelda paused at a small collection of tins stacked neatly on the table. She lifted one, carefully unscrewing the cap to sniff and letting out a small sound of surprise when she realized how pleasant it smelled. 

“Amparo?”

The woman in question, only a few feet to Zelda’s left, offered up a hum of acknowledgment as she picked her way through lipsticks made out of beeswax, swatching the sample colors on the back of her hand as she went. 

“Do you know what this is? It smells nice, but I don’t think it’s lip balm.”

Amparo glanced up after a moment of comparing swatches, stretching her hand out to Zelda as she stepped closer. “That’s a solid perfume. Which of these do you like best? I can’t pick between these two.”

Zelda turned Amparo’s hand slightly, examining the colors in question before tapping the one on the left. “This one. Better for summer, I think, and you have one like the other.” 

“I do, but I haven’t seen it in a while. I thought I should replace it, I do like the shade.”

“You left it in my bathroom a couple weeks ago. I keep forgetting to give it to you, remind me next time we’re at my place.” Zelda lifted Amparo’s hand and kissed her knuckles before returning to the stack of tins. She idly popped them open and sniffed the different scents as Amparo collected the lipstick she wanted and wiped her hand clean of all the different color samples, only looking up again when an arm settled around her waist.

“I thought you didn’t wear perfume?” Amparo said, lifting a container to her nose, and Zelda shrugged lightly as she slid the lid back onto the tin she’d just wrinkled her nose at.

“I do for special occasions, but I always feel like the scents wear off so fast with the sprays I’ve bought. Maybe I’ll have better luck with a solid perfume.” Zelda offered her a different tin. “I like this one - it’s rose, lime, and vetiver. What do you think?”

Amparo took a deep breath, then nodded, giving Zelda’s waist a squeeze. “I like it. Where do you usually spray your perfume, though?”

“I usually dab a bit on my wrists, but that’s all. I worry about putting on too much and giving myself a headache.”

“Mhm. Try putting a bit…” She swept Zelda’s hair back from her shoulder, and before Zelda realized it, she could feel Amparo’s lips on her skin, pressed to the pulse point just below her ear as the arm around her waist squeezed her a little tighter. Zelda took in a sharp breath as her teeth teased the delicate skin, but before she could fully process, Amparo pressed another kiss there and pulled away with a broad grin on her face.

“...there, too. I think it’ll make you smell delicious.”

When Zelda could only manage a blush, Amparo laughed, plucking the tin out of her hand and carrying it to the merchant with the lipstick she’d picked out for herself before Zelda finished her temporary short-circuit. She returned just as Zelda’s brain seemed to kick back into gear, realizing that Amparo had, in fact, bought the perfume for her.

“Amparo -” Zelda started to protest, but Amparo waved her off, kissing her temple and setting the container in her hand with a smile. 

“Don’t worry about it, it’s my treat.” Amparo pressed another kiss to her pout, and Zelda couldn’t help but smile up at her as the blush faded to a light trace beneath her freckles. 

Not to say she wasn’t keeping score for when she caught Amparo in private later. If it weren’t for the fact that she had rehearsal starting next week, Zelda would have been this close to putting a hickey on her ass. 

“Well...thank you. Would you at least let me share some strawberries with you?”

“Only if you’re buying them because you want to and not because you’re trying to pay me back.”

“No, I wanted to chocolate dip them tonight. They’ve just come into season, and if I’m left to eat them all by myself, I’ll make myself sick.” Zelda laughed, looping her arm through Amparo’s and finding her hand to give it a squeeze. “You wouldn’t let me suffer like that, would you?”

“Hm...no. No, I wouldn’t.” Amparo squeezed Zelda’s hand back, the two meandering further into the market to find the strawberries in question. 

Zelda was picky about her fruit - they probably checked three stalls before she found the pound of strawberries she wanted - paying the merchant and happily digging one out as soon as they’d turned away. As soon the fruit hit her tongue, Zelda let out a contented hum, blissful look on her face as she flicked the leaves into a nearby trash can. 

“That good?” Amparo teased, and Zelda nodded, pulling one out to offer to Amparo as they stepped off to the side together. 

“I love strawberry season. When it’s the right time of year for them, they’re absolutely perfect. Do you want one?”

Amparo nodded, but rather than take it from Zelda’s fingers, Zelda watched as Amparo gently wrapped a hand around her wrist and brought her hand closer to her mouth to take a bite of the fruit. Her deep brown eyes never moved away from Zelda’s, who was completely transfixed as Amparo’s lips brushed against her fingers before she leaned back, chewing thoughtfully as if Zelda wasn’t seconds from undressing her with her eyes. 

“It is good.” Amparo mused, swiping her thumb across her lower lip when she released Zelda’s wrist. “Think I could get another?”

Zelda stared at her for a long, long moment before she shook her head, tucking the bag of strawberries carefully into her purse so they didn’t get crushed before she answered. “Maybe later. I still want to make sure I have enough to dip.”

There was a beat of pause, then two, as Zelda tried to decide what to do with herself while looking around the market. But, well, Amparo was right there...

You know what? Fuck it. 

She glanced around before she snatched Amparo’s hand, dragging her off toward an alley just off the market while her girlfriend giggled all the while. Zelda waited until they were well out of sight before grabbing Amparo around the waist and pressing her against one of the smooth stone walls around them, the purse Zelda carried settling against her back and out of their way.

“You’re the absolute worst.” She hissed, without a hint of malice in her voice as she leaned in to press one kiss to Amparo’s lips, then two, hands skating down to squeeze her hips in both hands.

“You love me.” Amparo laughed, her fingers slipping under Zelda’s chin and drawing her back in for another kiss before she could reply that yes, of course she did, but Amparo was still terrible. 

They met each other halfway, gentle kisses quickly turning heated as Amparo’s fingers tangled in Zelda’s hair and brought her in closer, closer, closer still. Amparo’s other hand slid up her back, dipping beneath the hem of her shirt to stroke up her spine as Zelda hitched one of Amparo’s legs over her hip and held it there with the hand behind her knee.

Zelda’s hands roamed, squeezing Amparo’s thigh in one while the other trailed up her side to playfully tug on the lacy strap of the bralette she wore beneath the blazer. Her lips trailed down Amparo’s throat, nipping lightly at her collarbone before her lips skimmed across the top of her breast just as Amparo gave her hair a light tug - 

Zelda nearly jumped out of her skin when a crash sounded at the top of the alley, realizing they were still a little too public to finish what they’d started as she reeled back to try and compose herself. Sheepishly, she cleared her throat, looking back at Amparo with rosy cheeks and mussed hair she attempted to comb with her fingers. 

Amparo only looked at her with mischief on her face, lipstick smeared and hair disheveled while making no effort to straighten her clothes as she eyed Zelda like she wanted to yank her right back in for more. And Zelda almost did dive back in for more, but she held back, letting out a shaky breath instead as she leveled Amparo with a playful glare.

“You’re so in for it when we get home.” Zelda breathed, and Amparo’s entire being screamed her satisfaction at getting exactly what she wanted, lips turned up at the corners and an eyebrow raised before she moved to press another kiss to the corner of Zelda’s lipstick-stained mouth.

“Your place or mine?”

[mlinkwell]

Frill Seeker

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol (S.Coups) x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Smut / kinda fluff maybe idk

Word Count: 2.3k

So, how soon can you be ready?

You smiled down at your phone as you stepped through the doorway to your apartment. Seungcheol had texted you, confirming that he and the boys had successfully weaseled their way out of practicing all night so you could all go out together instead. You shuffled inside so you could set your bags on the kitchen counter and reply to Seungcheol before making your way to the bedroom. You sat at your vanity, various products covering the surface. You hooked your phone up to the speaker and sat it among your makeup. You looked over yourself in the mirror. You wanted Seungcheol home early, but it did mean you had significantly less time to get ready.

Almost an hour later, you were staring yourself down in the mirror. You still weren’t dressed, one of Seungcheol’s sweatshirts draped over the lacy one piece you were wearing.. Your makeup was done and you just needed the perfect outfit to mask the frills that sat at your hips. You moved your head along to the music as you rocked back in forth in front of your clothes. Your rap skills were not up to par with your boyfriend’s, so you chose to hum along with his parts instead as you searched.

“You like my voice this much, baby?” You heard from behind you. You jumped, whipping your head around and your eyes landing on Seungcheol. He was leaning against the bedroom doorway and holding a glass of wine in each hand. His white shirt was unbuttoned slightly, the sleeves pushed past his elbows. He’d been in scheduling meetings since the morning, not leaving the conference room until he’d successfully talked the staff out of anyone staying for rehearsals.

“It’s not exactly new information,” you shrugged, a smirk playing on your lips once the surprise subsided. Seungcheol began walking towards you, extending one of the two glasses of white wine as he got nearer. You stood up and accepted the drink. One hand now free, Seungcheol pulled you closer and captured you in a quick kiss. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” he said before moving his eyes down your body, causing you to giggle slightly at how easily you could read his expression. He laughed when his eyes met yours and sauntered out of the room, making his way all the way to the kitchen and grabbing the bottle of wine. 

You turned back to your closet, still pondering how to tie your one piece into an actual outfit. Moments later, Seungcheol returned with the bottle of wine, refilling the glass you’d sat on your vanity and returning it to your hand before wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder. You relaxed in to him, still focused on the wall of clothes in front of you. Seungcheol began nosing your shoulder, leaving a kiss on every centimeter of skin he could between your neck and the fabric of the sweatshirt. You turned your head to meet his lips. A smile immediately graced his face when you parted, and you couldn’t help but go in for another. Seungcheol moved you back and forth, dancing to the music with your lips still moving against each other.

“I need to get dressed,” you mumbled against his lips.

“Can I watch?” He asked teasingly.

“I’m honestly offended you would even ask,” you deadpanned as he backed away from you and sat on the bed.

“What have you done today?” He asked as he got comfortable. 

You sipped on your wine, thinking back through your day before recounting the minimal details for Seungcheol. You told him about work and seeing your friends at lunch. Seungcheol then took over most of the talking, lounging back on the bed and sipping wine while telling you about the boys praying he could get them out of staying all night.

He was mid-sentence when you raised up on your toes to pull a pair of black jeans from the shelf. You raised your arms to reach it, his sweatshirt rising up and revealing your basically bare backside to Seungcheol. The fabric caught on the curve of your butt, leaving you exposed and leaving Seungcheol speechless for a moment.

“What’s this?” He asked as he got up, a wide grin on his face and he quickly approached.

“What’s what?” You asked. Before you knew it, Seungcheol was turning you back around and pulling the sweatshirt up your back.

“This.” You contorted around to try and see what he was talking about, your eyes meeting the little lace heart your back. You smirked and looked up at Seungcheol. His eyes hadn’t moved from your ass, his fingers trailing down your back to touch the lace at the bottom of your one piece. They stopped here for a second, feeling the frills before moving to lower to your bare skin. 

“Watching me get dressed requires you letting me put clothes on,” you told him and hit him with the jeans in your hand to get his attention. You pulled his sweatshirt off. Seungcheol’s eyes widened as he got a full view of your lingerie in the mirror on the closet door. You began stepping into the black fabric, careful not to catch your foot in the distressed fabric.

“You mean I have to go all night knowing you're wearing that under your clothes?” He asked, his hands coming to yours as you attempted to zip and button your pants.

“You’ll get to see it again when we get home,” you said, watching him through the mirror.

“But we’re already home,” he murmured against your neck, one hand coming up to move your strap from your shoulder and chasing it with little kisses on your skin. You sighed, still watching your reflections. His left hand started pulling your (still) unfastened pants back down your thighs. You had a feeling you weren’t winning this one; you didn’t really want to, to be perfectly honest.

You leaned into him, your hand going to tangle in his hair and giving the black strands a light tug. His eyes found yours in the mirror, his lips still moving on your skin. You turned your head to him, eyes meeting.

“Just don’t mess up my makeup too much, okay?” His lips twitched up into a smile as you began moving your body to face him. He brought his hands up, one cupping your neck and the other at your cheek as he connected your lips. You moved closer, hands running up and down his muscular arms. 

You allowed yourself to get lost in the way Seungcheol was kissing you. You found your hands moving from his shoulders to his chest. Your fingers traced down his collarbones, running over the bare skin exposed by the few open buttons that you were planning on adding to. As you found the first button and slipped it open, Seungcheol smiled against your lips. He allowed you to completely open his shirt, and you gladly ran your hands up and down his abdominal muscles.

Seungcheol broke the kiss and squatted in front of you. His hands grabbed the front of your pants and jerked them down your legs. Before you could even step out of them, he was touching you again, hands sliding from your thighs to your ass.

“God you look so fucking good,” he gritted out as he groped you roughly. You giggled at the compliment and ran your hands through his hair. You stepped back carefully, sitting at your vanity seat to get out of the black fabric at your ankles. Seungcheol stood up, his waist now eye level with you. You smirked, looking up at him as you undone his belt and pants. He began gathering your hair in his hand, already knowing exactly where he wanted this to go.

“Remember what I said about my makeup,” you warned as you pulled his boxers down his thighs.

“Yes, ma’am,” he responded, mouth hanging open immediately after at the feeling of your tongue running over his shaft. You wrapped your lips around the tip and hollowed your cheeks, slowly moving your head back and forth. You let your tongue dance around him in your mouth. Its quick motions were in complete contrast to the torturous pace in which you were moving up and down his length. His grip in your hair tightened and his eyes were squeezed shut. 

You placed your hands on his thighs and moaned around his cock. Even you were getting tired of your teasing, and you bobbed your head at a faster pace. He opened his eyes, watching you take as much of him as you could, one hand leaving his thigh to follow your mouth. Quiet curses were leaving his lips every time you sucked harder at the tip before moving back down. He was trying as hard as possible not to buck into your mouth, knowing you could leave him needy if he tried to go as hard as he so desperately wanted to.

You took a deep breath through your nose before sliding down again. This time, you didn’t stop until you’d taken all of him. He gasped at the feeling, swearing through gritted teeth and fighting the urge to hold you there with the hand in your hair. When you came up for air, you quickly replaced your mouth with your hand, focusing on the tip. You looked up at your boyfriend, who was watching you with dark eyes. You smiled and he laughed playfully at you before pulling you up by your hair.

Your lips met again, much rougher than before. His hand left your hair and made its way down your back, over the curve of your ass and between your lips. You jumped slightly when you felt his fingers brush the thin fabric covering your core to the side. He wasted no time wrapping one hand around your waist and pulling you closer to him as fingers moved further, mumbling comment about how wet you were against your lips. He never stopped kissing you as his fingers eased into you, catching you small moans. Your grip on his biceps got tighter the faster he flicked his wrist. Soon, you were a whimpering mess, trying your hardest to keep up with Seungcheol’s kisses while he worked you up. Your legs were shaking ever so slightly and you were leaning your weight against him. Suddenly, Seungcheol tore his hand from you and turned you around.

“On your knees, babe,” he instructed, pushing you forward lightly until you placed your knees on your vanity seat. You were face to face with yourself once again: hair messy, pupils dilated, and skin glistening slightly already. You caught a glimpse of Seungcheol behind you; he gained your full attention when you felt his tip running up and down your folds. He smirked at you, holding eye contact in the mirror while pushing into you. Your mouth dropped open in a silent moan. The cocky grin remained on his lips as he began thrusting. Each move was deep and took your breath away. You were a panting mess. Your eyes had fluttered closed and your back was arching, your body chasing the pleasure.

“Fuck,” you heard Seungcheol grunt out. You felt his hands leave your body and you opened your eyes to see him stripping himself completely of his shirt and throwing it to the floor. You bit your lip and tried to keep your body somewhat in control, your legs shaking again as you neared your release. Seungcheol moved one hand up and down your side, the other keeping your hips in place as he fucked into you. The contrast between his hard thrusts and soft touches got to you, and you came faster and harder than expected, moaning his name in an airy voice.

You clenched around him and he grunted, eyes meeting yours in the mirror again. He could tell by the sated expression on your face and the tight contractions of your walls. He gripped your hip with one hand, the other grabbing your shoulder and forcing your upper body against him. He ran his hand from your shoulder down the front of your body, moving over skin to cup your lace covered breast. “You look so pretty all fucked out, baby.”

He picked up the pace, his thrusts faster and rougher all at once. You let out a broken moan at the change of pace, your eyes never leaving Seungcheol. Sweat had accumulated at his hairline, a few drops running down the side of his face and his chest flushed and glistening. Had his lips not been directly at your ear, you wouldn’t have heard his deep groans over the sound of skin on skin. It was all so much, so hot. You were overwhelmed and oversensitive by the time Seungcheol slammed his hips against you, holding you tight against him as he came in you.

His forehead rested on your shoulder as you both caught your breath.

“Fuck,” Seungcheol breathed out as he raised up. He pulled out of you slowly and brought his hands to your shoulders to rub them softly. He kissed the top of your head before asking, “Are you good, baby?”

You giggled and nodded at him, turning to catch his lips in a kiss and asking, “Think you can make it through the night now?”

“I’m satisfied for now.” He winked at you before leaning for another gentle kiss, then scooped you to lay on the bed, letting you relax and calm down while the two of you waited to hear from the boys. You curled up against Seungcheol, neither of you bothering to get dressed before you had to. Seungcheol turned to you, his hand caressing your cheek and his eyes crinkling as he smiled. “Your makeup’s still fine, by the way.”

[patchwork-panda]

If A Moment Is All We Are (26/?)

AO3 link: HERE

Music is recommended for this chapter. When you hit the first **, please open up this link: HERE When you hit the second **, please open this link for the BSD 1st ED

It was dark.

So, so dark.

I opened my eyes as wide as I could and then squeezed them shut just to check that they were actually open. They were.

I swallowed uneasily and tried to stay calm.

Earlier, when he was carrying me to the car, Dazai had accidentally jostled me awake. When I looked at him, he simply said he was taking me back to the ADA, specifically to the infirmary so Dr. Yosano could heal me with her Ability.

“It’s going to be rough,” he’d murmured softly into my ear, “and she’ll probably keep you overnight, but it’s better than being in a hospital for several weeks.”

I heard a crack of a smile in his voice.

“You’ll be okay.”

I’d then floated in and out of consciousness as Dazai had gotten in the back seat with me, buckled in my seat belt and laid my head against his shoulder for support. As the low rumble of the engine starting slowly filled the car, I found myself drifting off yet again. I was so out of it that I didn’t really remember the trip... Except for one small detail.

At one point during the ride, I thought I felt Dazai brushing his long fingers through my hair. He was singing something under his breath, something low and pleasant that sounded like it had nothing to do with suicide... and his singing voice had sounded so beautiful that I could feel myself smiling as I listened...

That was the last thing I was aware of before I passed out entirely and woke up in this pitch-black room. Where the heck was I?!

Groaning a little, I tried to stretch out but found almost immediately that I couldn’t. My arms and legs were strapped down to a partially upright table—a cold, hard slab of a table I didn’t remember being strapped into. I then tried moving my hands and flexing what little muscle I had but instantly regretted it when my entire body was suddenly flooded with a sharp, electric surge of pain.

Right. My arms and ribs were still broken.

I rolled my head to the side with a sigh of defeat, my neck cracking loudly as I moved. It was pretty clear to me now that even if I were at full strength, there was no way that a weakling like me would be able to break free from these restraints. They were probably made for holding down the monstrous strength of an angry Kunikida or a starving Kenji... Which just left one question...

Who strapped me in here?

There was a soft creak.

I swiveled my head towards it and saw a sliver of light appearing in the corner, watching as it grew wider and wider until I realized it was the light from an open doorway. Then I heard a hollow “snap.” Lights—bright, white and blinding came on all around me, flooding into my eyeballs with such intensity that I winced and screwed my eyes shut against the onslaught.

** “Well, well, well,” a low, feminine voice purred, “If it isn’t our newest recruit? You’re hurt, aren’t you...? Kyou-chan?”

Heels clicked against tile, the sound echoing sharply throughout the room. I looked up to see Dr. Yosano in a lab coat and gloves, the golden butterfly clip gleaming brightly in her hair. I should’ve felt comforted at the sight of her but there was something about her smile—something sinister that made the blood turn cold in my veins...

“Y-Yosano-sensei.”

I tried to crack a smile but found my face feeling oddly stiff and frozen.

“Yeah, I guess I am... Dazai-san said you were going to heal me?”

Yosano’s smile widened.

“But of course, my dear.”

Her black-gloved fingers went for the buttons of her lab coat and that’s when I realized she hadn’t been wearing her tie. In fact, she wasn’t even wearing her shirt.

I suddenly wished I’d opted for a normal hospital...

“Welcome to my special operating room,” Dr. Yosano continued, slowly shrugging off her white lab coat. “I’m sure Tanizaki-kun has told you plenty of stories about what happens here, but let me be the first to reassure you...”

Her lab coat dropped to the floor and she kicked it under a tarp.

“It’s not as bad as he makes it sound.”

My eyes widened.

There were tarps everywhere, covering the other chairs, the floor—even the surgeon’s lamp over my head was covered in a thin sheet of plastic.

“Y-Y-Yosano-sensei...”

I could hear my own teeth chattering as I spoke.

“Wh-why’s everything covered in plastic? What are you—?”

I heard a heavy thunk.

Clad in only a lacy black bra and a matching set of panties, Dr. Yosano had dropped her thick black faux-leather bag on the ground and was now bent over it, fumbling with all sorts of things that jangled and clattered with a jarring metallic frequency. I couldn’t see past the edge of the table where she crouched but I could definitely hear her squeal of delight when she found what she was looking for.

“Kyou-chan.”

Something gleamed from underneath my table and I bit back a scream when I saw Yosano rise from the floor with an actual honest-to-God machete—the kind I once saw in a horror movie—in her gloved hands. The shine of the machete’s long, polished blade was reflected in the manic glint in her purple eyes and as I struggled against my bonds, I fully understood why the patients in this room needed to be strapped down.

“I believe I once told you how my Ability works, yes?” she whispered. “That I can heal you back to perfect health so long as you’re on the verge of death? Well, unfortunately, Kitten... you’re not quite there yet.”

“Unfortunately?!”

I started to shake.

“See, that’s where this beauty comes in,” the good doctor explained, running one finger along the edge of the blade. “You’re not quite injured enough, so I have to speed the process along. I mean...”

She shot me a pointed look.

“You do want to get better quick, don’t you?”

I didn’t have the courage to shake my head ‘no.’ For some reason, I found myself nodding instead.

“Good. In that case...”

Running her tongue over her glossy pink lips, Yosano approached.

“The doctor is in.”

Slowly, lovingly, she leaned in and tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear. The golden butterfly shone in her short, dark hair.

“It’s not very often I get to patch up a girl,” Yosano crooned, her fingers deftly sliding from behind my ear down the line of my jaw. “Kyouka-chan is very good at avoiding severe injury you see, and it’s not like the office girls ever see combat...”

She cupped my chin and lifted my face up towards hers.

“But don’t worry, Kitten,” she whispered softly, “I promise I’ll take good care of you...”

She let go of me, raised the machete high into the air and let out an absolutely maniacal laugh.

“Hold still.”

She swung.

The last thing I heard before her machete buried itself in my flesh was the sound of my own terrified screams ringing in my ears.

***

“All done!”  Yosano called brightly.

Fully clothed once again, she threw open the door to the main office, which hit the wall with a loud crack but not even that was enough to shake me from my stupor.

With no wheelchair available in the Agency infirmary, Dr. Yosano was forced to cart me into the room on a dolly, the kind that movers normally used to bring furniture into a house. While the wheels squeaked against the tiles below me, I sat mutely on the flat metal surface, staring straight ahead with blank, unseeing eyes in an upright fetal position. My knees were drawn up against my chest and my arms were wound so tightly around my body that I was cutting off the circulation the good doctor had just restored. But it’s not like having any amount of blood flow would’ve made a difference.

I was still feeling completely numb from the trauma of what had just happened. Had I spent the entire night in the infirmary? Two nights? I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that it was mid-morning, that there was bright sunlight streaming in through every open window but I was still feeling cold and numb in a way that had nothing to do with my body.

Someone approached and it took me a full ten seconds to remember where I had seen his concerned face before.

Tanizaki Junichiro frowned.

“Told you,” he mouthed without actually speaking, shooting a nervous, furtive look up at the terrifying woman who had literally just cut me apart and put me back together again.

“Come on,” he mumbled instead, struggling to pry my arms away from my body. “Let’s get you to your desk. You can pass out safely behind your laptop the way the rest of us do after ‘treatment’...”

As he gripped my wrists over the jacket sleeves and pulled me off the dolly, I looked up into his face, full recognition dawning at last. I tried to speak but found my mouth unable to cooperate with my brain.

“T...T...”

Tanizaki raised an eyebrow.

“Yes?”

“T...Ta...Ta...!”

Tanizaki was now looking slightly disturbed.

“What is it, Kusunoki-san?”

Unable to hold back any longer, I burst into tears.

“Tanizaki-kunnnn!!!!” I wailed, latching onto the redhead’s waist.

“What the—?!” Tanizaki squawked, instantly blanching. “Kusunoki-san, get a hold of yourself!”

“I was so scared!” I bawled, hanging on tighter even as Tanizaki tried to peel me off of him. “You were right! You were right about everything! I swear, I’ll never let myself get hurt ever again! I’M SO SORRY—”

“Kusunoki-san...”

Hiccuping, tears and snot running down my face as I clutched at the ends of the red sweatshirt Tanizaki tied around his waist, I turned to my left to see Naomi, standing there with a chilling look in her dark blue eyes.

“May I ask you why you’re hanging on so tightly to my dear brother?” she asked, her voice no louder than a whisper. “Is there something I need to know?”

Shaking my head, I was forced to let go as Tanizaki finally succeeded in pushing me away. I hit the ground with a sharp smack as Junichiro ran to his sister’s side, apologizing profusely and begging her not to take it out on him later on tonight, at which point I finally remembered to clap my hands over my ears and do my best not to listen.

Fortunately for me, someone else’s indignant shout suddenly shook the room.

“Like I said before, we’re the Armed Detective Agency, not the Lost and Found! Go take that thing to the police station instead!”

As one, we all turned to the door to see Edogawa Ranpo, standing in the doorway looking extremely irritated, with his arms loaded to the brim with an actual stack of pastry boxes. Behind him was a rather short, thin young man with close-cropped brown hair in a black tie and gray slacks—a regular office worker from the look of him. He was clutching a pink embroidered handkerchief in one hand.

“Now let go!”

Scowling, Edogawa snatched the end of his brown poncho out of the young man’s other hand and stomped into the room, the boxes in his arms wobbling dangerously as he went. Suddenly spotting me, he stopped walking and paused to squint at me.

“Oh, Kusunoki.”

Edogawa looked me up and down and frowned.

“I heard you got sent to the Infirmary. You all better now?”

When I gave him a very shaky nod, Edogawa nodded approvingly, then jabbed an index finger back at the guy in the doorway and demanded:

“Then do something about this guy, will you?”

“Do something?” I repeated, glancing towards the door.

The office worker waved.

“What... do you want me to do?” I asked blankly.

Edogawa slapped a palm over his face.

“Ugh. Do I have to do everything around here?” he griped. “Here—!”

He shoved the boxes in my arms and I let out a tiny squeak as I struggled to keep them all from falling over.

“Take these to my desk—and if you drop a single one, you’re going out to buy me two of whatever hits the floor. You!”

He jabbed his finger at the guy in the doorway once again. When the office worker perked up, Edogawa pointed in the direction of the client booth.

“In there.”

No sooner had I finished putting the boxes of pastries on Edogawa’s desk (taking extra care not to drop or smush a single thing) than the Great Detective grabbed me by the back of my shirt and dragged me to the client booth. The young man was already sitting and appeared to be fiddling slightly with the handkerchief in his hands.

I sat down opposite him.

“I’m Kusunoki,” I said, bowing slightly. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Miura,” the office guy said, also bowing awkwardly. “Thank you for your time.”

I glanced up at Edogawa, who had not taken a seat on the detectives’ side with me. His arms were crossed and he was tapping his foot impatiently.

“Tell her what you just told me,” he ordered.

“Uh, yes!” Miura stammered. “You see, I found this earlier today, at the subway entrance around the corner from here.”

He held up the pink handkerchief. There was a capitalized “R” embroidered in one corner and it looked slightly damp, as if the young man had taken the time to wash it in the sink before bringing it in.

“I don’t know who dropped it but, if it’s not too much trouble, could you help me return it to the rightful owner?” Miura asked.

“Uh, Miura-san,” I started, shooting a quick look over my shoulder at Edogawa, who was standing behind me and seemed only to be growing more irritated with every passing second.

Clearly he didn’t want to be kept from his pastries while they were still hot and fresh...

“I hate to repeat what my senpai said earlier, but...” I pressed my lips together. “We’re not the Lost and Found. Lost items are better off being returned to the police station—”

“But you’re a detective agency aren’t you?” Miura pressed. “I heard you’re the best in Yokohama! My friends tell me you solve cases the police can’t handle. They told me...”

He dropped his voice and looked around even though the door to the client booth was closed and the three of us were clearly alone in here.

“They told me a newcomer solved that recent serial kidnapping in their first week here—”

I flushed.

“Oh, uh, that—”

“—and that if all else fails, you have the power of a legendary genius at your disposal—”

“That is absolutely, one-hundred percent correct!” Edogawa crowed, suddenly beaming like he was being interviewed on TV.

I turned all the way around in my chair to gawk at Edogawa just as he slammed both hands on my shoulders and shook me in a friendly, if somewhat overly excitable way.

“In fact...”

He grinned and I suddenly felt the need to run.

“Kusunoki-kun here is the one who caught the serial kidnapper! And she’d be more than happy to help you return the handkerchief.”

My jaw dropped as Miura looked on in amazement.

“Ranpo-san, what—?!”

“On two conditions. One...”

Edogawa held up a finger.

“You buy the whole office a party-sized box of pastries from that new macaron shop downtown.”

I balked but Miura only nodded readily.

“Two...”

Edogawa held up a second finger.

“You have to go with her when it’s time to return the handkerchief. In fact, I want you to be the one to personally hand it over to the owner.”

Edogawa shot me a meaningful look.

“You got that?”

I breathed in sharply as I suddenly understood his meaning.

Edogawa wanted me to see into this man’s future and find the person he hands it back to. But how was I supposed to do that when I didn’t know when this event was going to take place?

As if reading my thoughts, Edogawa motioned me closer.

“You said that before,” he whispered in my ear, “when you looked into my future, you saw a massive book, right? And that there was writing in it, right?”

I nodded.

“Look for the word ‘handkerchief,’” Edogawa instructed me.

And with that last bit of advice, he patted my shoulder and walked out of the client booth.

‘Look for the word ‘handkerchief?’’

I frowned. I must’ve still been a little dazed from Yosano’s “treatment,” because this made no sense. Look for a word... Look for a word...? Why would Edogawa instruct me to do something like this? Unless...?

I let out a soft gasp as it came to me.

Edogawa really was brilliant...

Taking my cell phone out of my pocket, I set a timer to “vibrate,” and tucked it back inside my coat pocket. I turned to Miura and stuck out my other hand.

“Can I see the handkerchief?”

Miura nodded and as he passed the handkerchief to me over the table, I carefully switched on the timer and reached out for Miura’s hand.

If this worked, I’d have a new way to use my Ability...

My fingers brushed against Miura’s just as the timer went off and I closed my eyes and let the vibrations wash over me.

I felt a pull—just the slightest of tugs on the tips of my fingers, as if a small child were yanking on them and leading me forward. Taking a deep breath in, I concentrated on the sensation and let it lead me away...

...And I floated down, weightless, and sank into that dark tunnel once more.

When I opened my eyes again, my body had disappeared. All that was left of me was a pair of eyes and the memory of a form I’d long since left behind. Taking a moment to look around, I examined my surroundings. Words, silvery and undefined, twinkled all around me like stars, floating in the air in long, sparkling columns, like strings of crystal beads hanging from a massive chandelier. I quickly spotted the four walls of the tunnel and the four corners where the walls met and nodded to myself (or at least that’s what it felt like) as I realized I was once again in a giant, translucent book.

This was the “Story of Miura’s Life.”

I stared ahead of me, down the “tunnel” that was actually not a tunnel, but reams and reams of transparent pages and considered the task ahead.

Edogawa had said to look for the word “handkerchief.” Basically, he wanted me to find the very next instance of the word “handkerchief” and touch it to “activate” the vision—in the same way I’d done with the date and time when I’d looked into Edogawa’s future.

But what if the word showed up multiple times in Miura’s future? How was I supposed to know which one to touch?

Feeling nervous, I looked around and randomly selected a word to focus on. As before, the longer I stared at it, the more it began to take shape and within moments, the silvery amorphous blobs to my left condensed and became a legible set of characters.

“Armed Detective Agency.”

Okay, not what I needed.

I glanced back down at the hall of loosely glittering words and grimaced.

I may have found my way back to that strange metaphysical space where a person’s future was written down as if it were a literal story, but today the situation was different. If the words didn’t properly materialize until I spent enough time looking at them, how was I supposed to pick out a single word like, “handkerchief,” much less get to it in time before Miura got weirded out by my so-called “narcolepsy” and pulled away?

If only Edogawa was in here with me to give me some kind of hint...!

Fighting the growing sense of panic, I closed my “eyes” once again and tried to focus.

Concentrate. Think about the words you’re looking for. What exactly are the words you need to see?

Without thinking about what I was doing, I wrote the words “return the pink handkerchief” in the air.

At once, there was a sound like a chime. I opened my eyes to see the words I’d written hanging in the air, glowing before my eyes like molten gold. But before I could reach out and touch them, they shot off into the distance, streaking through the book like a shooting star in the sky.

I ran after it, phasing right through the translucent pages like a ghost, silvery words parting around me like curtains and fluttering in my wake. My Ability was guiding me—taking me to the exact moment I needed to see. I stopped running as the glimmer of gold stopped moving at last, shining like a beacon in the air, just up ahead of me. Knowing instinctively what I had to do, I reached forward and touched it, shielding my eyes as the entire page in front of me suddenly materialized like a solid wall.

I’m standing in front of a train station.

I’m halfway across town, nowhere near the place I picked it up, but the detective girl is insisting this is the place...

The clock nearby chimes three times... It’s two in the afternoon, a full week after I first picked up the handkerchief...

I sigh and glance down at the handkerchief in my hand, this tiny pink square I happened to pick up. I stare at the softly embroidered “R.” Something about this feels familiar but I’m not sure what...

I look up. A girl is walking towards me. She’s not really looking up at me or any of the other people around us but at the ground. She has softly curled, light brown hair and big eyes and—woah!! She’s really cute!

I can feel my heart beating faster as she approaches. Her skirt and purse are the same color as the handkerchief in my hands.

Panicking, I wave to the dark-haired girl behind me, the detective—oh man, she’s not even standing anywhere close is she? I can’t see the look on her face but she’s mumbling something, pushing me towards the girl with the pink skirt.

I can’t do this—I can’t!!

My mouth’s already open—too late!

“Excuse me, Miss,” I hear myself say.

Uwaaah... she’s looking at me... What do I do?! She’s so freaking cute...

I hold out the handkerchief

“Are you looking for this?”

She stops, she stares at me and her hands fly to her lips. She’s nodding...!

Suddenly, the girl disappeared. Darkness fell over my eyes, something pressed against my face and I let out a strangled gasp when I realized I was now back in the physical world. The handkerchief slipped right out of my hands.

“Guess who?” a warm, familiar tenor whispered right into my ear.

“What the—Dazai?!” I shrieked.

Irritated, I reached up and tried to remove his large half-bandaged hands, but before I could grab hold, Dazai jerked my head to the side and laughed.

“Let go of me!”

“Not until you turn around to check~!” Dazai sang.

“Dazai, I know it’s you,” I snapped, getting to my feet, “so take your hands—”

Wrenching his hands away at last, I spun to face him. But as the cool air hit my face at last, I realized my cheeks were wet.

I froze.

I hadn’t been crying, so that could only mean one thing...

Gingerly, I reached up and brought the tips of my fingers to the area below my eyes. They came away wet with flecks of bright, red, fresh blood.

“...shit.”

Had Miura seen...?

At once, Dazai gasped dramatically.

“Oh my gosh, Kusunoki-kun!” he cried, frantically digging a handkerchief out of his own pocket. “I’m so sorry! Your makeup is all smudged.”

He smushed his handkerchief against my face and stared smearing at the area over my eyes.

“But don’t worry, I’ll fix it!”

“Ah—wait—Dazai-san, stop!!” I sputtered, making a face as part of the hankie went into my open mouth. I spat it out and tried to fight him off as he kept wiping at my eyes.

“I said stop! I can do it myself!”

“But I wanna help,” Dazai whined as I finally snatched the hankie from him and held it up against my eyes.

“I think you’ve helped enough,” I mumbled.

Clearing my throat, I tried to turn around so I could speak to Miura again. Unfortunately, because I couldn’t take the hankie away from my eyes, I ended up doing an awkward shuffle and bumping back into my own chair instead. I hissed as a bruise appeared on my shin and immediately scowled as I heard Dazai stifle a tiny snicker behind me. Thankfully, before I could hurt myself further, I felt Dazai’s hands at my back as he helped guide me in the right direction.

“Uh, Miura-san?”

I did a sort of half-bow in apology, hoping I didn’t look too stupid doing it (what if I was bowing at the wall the way Katai had done with me?!). At least Dazai hadn’t laughed this time, so maybe I was safe...

“Yes...?” Miura’s voice sounded tiny and unsure, and thankfully, was coming from right in front of me.

“I can figure out who that pink handkerchief belongs to, but you’re going to have to give me some time,” I babbled. “Do you think you could meet me back here in a week? Around one in the afternoon?”

“One in the afternoon?” Miura asked, sounding ecstatic.

There was a loud clattering noise as he hurriedly got to his feet, nearly knocking over the table from the sound of it.

“Yes, Detective! I’ll set my calendar—oh crap, it’s this late already?!”

I heard the glass door slide open, followed immediately by the sound of running feet.

“I gotta go back to work,” he called, his voice growing quieter as he ran further out into the hall, “But I’ll be back! See you in a week Miss Detective!”

There was a bang—the front door of the Agency office slammed shut and I took Dazai’s handkerchief away from my eyes at last.

“Oh my God, that was too close!” I gasped, turning to the tall, bandaged detective beside me. “Do you think he saw the blood?”

“Judging from his reaction, probably not,” Dazai said, shrugging.

“Thank goodness...” I moaned, sagging on my feet in relief.

I probably should’ve expected something like this to happen, given what happened the last time I used my power with Edogawa. But in all honesty, I’d expected the side effects to be a little better this time...

I should probably have more control by now. After all, Edogawa hadn’t seemed worried...

Shoulders slumping a little, I glanced down at Dazai’s handkerchief and winced. Two bright red spots, roughly the size of a pair of ten-yen coins, had bloomed like rose petals in the middle of the white and gray striped cloth. They were still wet to the touch. I crumpled the handkerchief in my hand and sighed.

“Thanks for helping me out back there, Dazai-san...” I mumbled sheepishly. “I’m... sorry about your handkerchief. I’ll go wash it for you.”

But as I took a step towards the open door, Dazai shook his head.

“You don’t have to do that right now, Kusunoki-kun,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Yes, it is!” I insisted, to Dazai’s apparent surprise. “President Fukuzawa asked you to keep my Ability a secret, didn’t you? You really helped me out back there. I mean...”

I chewed the inside of my cheek. Heat crawled up my neck as I remembered that the last time I’d interacted with him, he’d been carrying me (princess style) around because I was injured. I suddenly couldn’t look him in the face.

“It’s not only that... you saved me from getting blown up after I fought Akutagawa. You... you saved my life. Dazai-san, I...”

I twisted the handkerchief in my hands. My face felt hot.

“I... owe you one,” I finished lamely, staring at his feet.

For a moment, silence reigned. Dazai watched me quietly as I fidgeted with my hands in front of him. Then he raised an eyebrow.

“You owe me one, huh...?” he asked, rubbing his chin. “Well...”

I looked up just in time to see a familiar smirk crossing his face and before I could stop him or even react, he walked over to the door and started pulling it closed.

“I can think of a few ways for you to pay me back,” he whispered, his dark eyes gleaming with possibility. “In fact, why don’t you keep that handkerchief. You might need it later...”

My breath hitched in my throat.

“What do you mean by that, Dazai-san?”

“Oh, I think you know exactly what I mean...”

I took a step back, only to hit my chair again and I cursed as I accidentally sat back down in it.

“What’s the matter, Kusunoki?”

Two half-bandaged hands shot out and grasped the armrests. I glanced up only to find myself staring directly into Dazai’s chocolate brown eyes. His lips parted seductively.

“You seem a little nervous.”

“I-I’m not nervous,” I stammered, heat flooding into my face. I struggled not to squirm in my seat as Dazai’s grin widened.

“I just want to know why you closed the door...!”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Dazai asked.

His dark, tousled bangs fell into his eyes as he cocked his head to the side.

“I wanted to make sure we weren’t interrupted.”

“Inter...?”

My cheeks were on fire. My voice was no louder than a squeak. I shrank back into the chair as Dazai slowly leaned in close.

“After all,” he murmured, his voice low and husky in my ear. “This is a very personal matter...”

“Dazai-san...!”

This was it. My heart was beating way too fast and my face felt so hot, my brain was probably boiling over. I was going to pass out on the spot...!

I closed my eyes and braced myself. But to my surprise, nothing happened. Instead, I heard the flapping of paper and when I opened my eyes, a sealed envelope had appeared before my eyes. I blinked at it.

Dazai grinned.

“For you,” he said sweetly.

I stared, looking from Dazai to the envelope and back.

“Eh?” was all I could manage as Dazai placed the envelope in my hand and went to take a seat on the coffee table in front of me.

“What?”

He propped his chin up in his half-bandaged hands and looked at me.

“Disappointed?”

I scowled and returned my attention to the envelope, my cheeks burning in humiliation and rage.

“You wish,” I snapped, refusing to look at him as I tore it open. “And you know what? I take back what I said earlier, I...”

I trailed off as I looked inside the envelope. There was only one thing inside and I grew quiet as I lifted it out.

It was a Polaroid—a very old one—and the rectangular image nestled within the yellowed, off-white frame was grainy and faded with age. I could see three people in the picture, all laughing and smiling as they toasted one another with tiny cups of sake. They looked like they were having the time of their lives. Squinting at them, I brought the picture closer to my face, peering more carefully at the two figures on the left and I let out a soft gasp as I finally recognized them as a much younger Mr. and Mrs. Yamazaki. They were wearing their wedding clothes—the same clothes they were wearing in the big photo in Mrs. Yamazaki’s apartment—and as I followed their gaze to the left of the photo, I realized I knew who the third person was.

He had to be the former president of Tanaka Investments—Tanaka Ichiro’s uncle, the man who started the business. The more I stared at him, the more I began to see the family resemblance: the angle of the jawline, the shape of the nose...

I lowered the photo and looked at Dazai.

“Where... did you get this?”

“Shimada-san dropped this off last night while you were resting in the infirmary,” the bandaged detective answered. “He said to tell you, ‘President Tanaka sends his regards.’”

My eyes widened.

“He did?”

Dazai nodded.

And as I glanced back down at the photo, I thought I saw something written in black on the back side. I flipped it over.

“To Tanaka Isshun,” I read aloud, “Thank you for everything. I owe you my life...  Yamazaki Shuji.”

I grew quiet. Dazai took his chin out of his hands and sat up.

“Something wrong, Kusunoki-kun?” he asked. “You look confused.”

I put the photo down and glanced up at him.

“I... I don’t understand,” I said. “If President Tanaka had this in his possession the whole time, then why would he have told me that Shuji-san was a bad person?”

Dazai’s eyebrows drew together.

“When did he tell you this?”

“Yesterday,” I said, thinking hard. “Or maybe it was the day before...?”

I shrank down in my seat a little as I told him the truth.

“It was the day you were in Nagano...”

“Ah.”

Dazai’s expression grew placid. I looked away from him and back at the photo.

“I-in any case, he said Shuji-san was desperate to escape Nagano, that he was willing to do anything it took to leave CORVID, include faking his own death. If this photo tells the truth, then why...?”

The photo wrinkled in my hand.

“Why did he give me this?”

Dazai grew quiet. Noticing my hand was shaking, he gently took the photo from me and examined it.

“I think...” he said quietly, lowering his eyes and scanning the picture, “that this is a thank you present. A gift for the rookie detective who saved him from being killed by a car bomb in that dingy parking garage.”

His expression softened into a smile as he handed the photo back.

“It’s also an apology.”

“Apology...?”

Confused, I took the photo from him.

“For what?”

“You remember that conversation we had back there in the conference room?” Dazai asked, as I looked back up at him. “The one about the goodly apple? About whether or not the apple is still good when you finally learn the truth?”

I nodded.

“Well,” Dazai said, his deep brown eyes sparkling as he regarded me, “I think this is President Tanaka’s way of saying you were right. That Yamazaki Shuji was, in fact, a good person.”

He leaned forward, his expression gentle.

“While I was in Nagano, I got to talk to Shuji-san’s family,” he said. “Do you want to know the reason why he wanted to leave CORVID?”

He leaned forward and tapped the photo.

“I heard he left...”

The tip of his finger brushed Mrs. Yamazaki’s face. Dazai smiled.

“So that he could get married.”

I breathed in sharply.

As I stared at the photo in my hands, at Mrs. Yamazaki’s smiling face, Dazai stood.

“I have one more present for you. And before you say you don’t want it,” he said, waving me off as I opened my mouth to protest, “It’s not from me.”

He placed a second envelope in my hands. Inside was a short letter and a beautiful bookmark in the shape of a flowering tree branch.

“It’s from Tomie-san’s family,” he said as I took out the bookmark. “They wanted to say thank you for saving her.”

“But I...”

I swallowed thickly. A lump was forming in my throat.

“I didn’t...”

I heard my own voice crack as I spoke. I hung my head.

“I didn’t save her,” I whispered.

As I stared at the photograph in my left hand, Mrs. Yamazaki’s smiling face began to blur.

“She was still murdered a week later... How could they still think I saved her...?”

“Because you gave her an extra week.”

Something large and warm settled on my head. I felt Dazai’s fingers slipping through my hair as my eyes began to burn and sting.

“A full seven extra days that she was able to spend with the people she loved, who loved her in return.”

Dazai smiled, his expression tender.

“And those seven extra days may have meant more to them than you and I could ever know.”

** A single drop fell onto the photo, followed swiftly by another.

“See,” Dazai said, as one by one, the tears began to fall like spring rain onto Mr. and Mrs. Yamazaki’s smiling faces.

“I told you that you’d need the handkerchief later.”

Taking the photo from me, Dazai reached over and placed a comforting arm around my shoulders as I broke down at last.

“In the end you were right, Kusunoki-kun,” he whispered, gently rubbing my back as I cried into my hands. “I guess all a goodly apple needs to be a goodly apple... is someone to believe in it.”

[jasons-exposedspine]

Negan and Lucille Chapter 1

Summary: Negan is completely captivated by Lucille and she is captivated by him too. But she is hiding a lot of pain behind her fake smile.

Warnings: language, abusive father, kissing, mention of self harm.

A/N: i began writing this because i thought it would be good to have a multi chapter series of Negan and Lucilles life. From school to their marriage to Lucilles sickness. If you get triggered by abusive parents or any abuse at all and self harming you can skip this chapter and the other chapters to come. I’ll put warnings for those chapters.

Relationship: Negan x Lucille

The pitch lights were shining bright as Negan was waiting in line beside the fence to bat, it was the biggest game of the season. Negan loved baseball and he had fun playing in grade eleven. He had already batted three times but he enjoyed it, being able to hit the ball as far as he could. He had a good swing and he hit the ball further than anybody else in the team that he was in. Negan was last in the line because he had just batted in a line of five and they all get obviously one turn. The feeling of the wood of the bat was smooth under his fingers as his grip was loose on his slugger. 

He turned his head towards the stands and sitting right in the middle was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Her hair was as dark as the night sky and her eyes were as blue as the ocean. Her skin was the perfect tanned completion similar to his in a way and her smile could light up a room. He didn’t understand how he had not noticed her before, she was a vision. She turned her head and looked dead into his eyes, she flashed a small smile and gave a small wave. He smiled widely showing his beautiful dimples and waved back, she giggled and turned her head. He had to get to know her and he had to ask her out now he just wanted the game finished. 

He stared at her the whole twenty minutes that he was in the line then the sound of the couches voice pulled him out of his trance. He lifted the bat above his shoulder ready to hit it hard. The ball was thrown and he watched it sail through the air, he swung the bat hard and the ball flew so far away. He dropped his bat and the dirt kicked up as he ran as fast as he could. He saw in the corner of his eye that girl in the stands standing up and cheering for him. He slid in the int and his foot touched the white mat before the ball could and he had helped the team win on that home run.

 All the boys on the team crowded around him and cheered him and pat him on the back. He just wanted to find that girl in the stand so he walked slowly across the pitch to the fence. It took him a while before he spotted her in the crowd, she was walking towards him. He smiled as she walked towards the fence to talk to him, his heart was beating fast in his chest as she approached him. “I noticed you staring at me” she beamed her voice was sweet. She knocked the breath out of him, his palms were sweaty and he blushed deeply.

“Yeah fuck I’m sorry for being all creepy and shit but I couldn’t un notice such a fucking beauty such as you.” She blushed deeply “I’m Lucille” she said holding out her hand “I’m Negan” he said taking her hand and shaking it. “Nice home run by the way” she commented “thanks I’m the best fucking batter in the team.” He tried not to boast but he wanted to impress her. “Um did you wanna go out sometime?” He asked fiddling with his hands, fuck he had never been this nervous around a girl before. 

“Sure I’ll give you my number” her smile was so beautiful, he loved it. He grabbed his bat and settled it on his shoulder as he followed her through the crowd. She was wearing baggy jeans, a oversized evil dead t-shirt and black boots and her hair was down past her shoulders. He followed her into the parking lot to an old black ford that was parked next to a willow tree. She pushed the key into the driver side door and unlocked it. Negan leaned his bat against the side of the car as he watched her pull a piece of paper and a pen out of the glove box.

The wind blew through the tree making a few leaves drop down onto the top of her car and it made her hair wave a little. She handed him the strip of paper “do you wanna give me yours?” Negan took the pen from her hand, his fingers brushed hers and they both blushed, he wrote his number on the paper. She took the strip of paper from him and put it into the front pocket of her jeans. “Do you need a lift home” she asked pushing they key into the ignition and turning it to hear the purr of the engine.

 “Nah I got my fucking car but I’ll talk to you at school tomorrow.” She smiled at him again “ok well don’t fucking crash” he chuckled at her comment. “Don’t fucking worry yourself doll I won’t” he snatched up his bat as she closed the door of her car. He began walking down the isle of cars as she backed out of the parking space. As she drove past she beeped her horn and he waved to her and a huge grin spread across his face. Lucille had liked Negan for a while but she never thought she would have a shot. He always had all the pretty girls and Lucille never thought she was pretty.

Her father told her that she was a useless whore and that she was fully and he still told her that to this day. Her father hit her and her mother too but her mother was too afraid to leave her father. Lucille wasn’t allowed to have a boyfriend by her fathers rules but her mother didn’t care. She had a boyfriend when she was fifteen but he left her because of her father and he wasn’t good to her either. Negan lived with just his mother because his father wasn’t good to his mother and him so she took Negan and left. 

The girlfriends he had weren’t really girlfriends they were just a quick fuck that wanted something more afterwards. But the girl he had just met was different, she made him feel nervous and shy he was never like that around girls. She was gorgeous and he wanted to know what her personality was like. Usually just wanted a pretty face and some sweet pussy but this girl he wanted to know more about. 

The next day at school Negan found Lucille sitting on the stands by the playing field. Her long black hair was blowing the wind as she was drawing on a fresh page of her sketch pad. She looked up ever few seconds to look at the scenery and sketch it on the page. She was wearing a Marilyn Manson shirt with ripped jeans and black biker boots. His heart began to pound hard in his chest and his palms were sweaty. He took a deep breath in and walked towards her on the stands, the metal of the bench seats creaked under his feet. 

He sat down next to her on the seat and she turned her head, a smile spread across her face. “Hey Negan” she said sweetly “hey Lucille” fuck why was he so nervous around her. “You can call me Lu y’know it’s fine” her Southern drawl was stronger than his and he loved that. “So did you wanna go to a party some of my friends are having tonight?” Lucille knew her father would say no but she wanted to go with Negan so she was gonna lie and say that she was go nan stay with some friends.

“Sure Negan what time?” Negan smiled “how about seven will that be ok?” Lucille nodded. “Pick me up on the corner of Lowell street which is my street” he smiled widely and his heart nearly exploded. “Fucking great i can’t fucking wait Lu” she giggled at his excitement which only made him smile wider. He looked over at her sketch book and saw a drawing of the playing field and it looked just like what he was seeing in front of him. “You draw well” he commented making her blush, she looked out to the playing field. “Yeah i do it to keep my mind off of shit” Negan stood up “i gotta bounce but i’ll fucking see you tonight Lu.”

 He bent down and kissed her cheek softly making her blush and giggle. “ok Neeg’s i’ll see you tonight” he liked that nickname but only she could call him that. Once was out of sight he jumped up in excitement “fuck yes” he whispered to himself. Lucille squealed with excitement “fuck yes” she giggled, she was so excited for tonight and she knew just what to wear. Luckily her father was working the nightshift so her mom could help her get ready.

Once school ended Lu rushed home in her car to go shower and get ready, she basically ran through the door. “Hey Lu how was school?” Lucille rushed into the kitchen all jumpy and excited. “Well someones excited” her mum said smiling “mom i met a guy last night called Negan and i’m going on a date with him tonight.” Her mom rushed over to her and grabbed her books out of her hands and put them on the wooden kitchen table beside them. “Lets go upstairs, go shower and you pick what you wanna wear and i’ll do your makeup.” 

Lucille was so excited, she flew up the stairs and showered. She ran to her room in her towel, she had another hour to pick what to wear and her mom could do her makeup. She went into her closet and picked out her black dress that went down to her knees, she picked out her sexy black lacy panties and bra. She slipped on her black stockings and then her dress with sleeves, she put on her doc Martens with the red roses on the sides. She brushed her hair and did two braids that went into a little ponytail so her black hair was half down half up. She then put on all her bracelets on her right wrist to cover her scars and new wounds.

Her mom came into her room and began to do her makeup, first her foundation, then her eyeliner, then her black and purple eyeshadow, her mascara and last but not least her nude lipstick with gloss over it. Once she was done she flew back down stairs and out the door down her street to wait for him on the corner. She waited two minutes until she saw a black truck come speeding down the road. As soon as he saw her his blood rushed straight to his dick and his hair stood on end. He pulled up and got out of the drivers side and walked around to the passenger side door. 

He was wearing a pair of black jeans with a grey t-shirt and a black leather jacket that was unzipped and his dark hair was slicked back. He opened the passenger side door and held out his hand, she took it “ma’am” he said as she stepped into his truck. “Thank you sheriff” she said letting go of his hand he smirked as he closed the passenger side door. Her heart was beating fast as he got back into the truck sliding onto the bench seat next to her. “Lets fucking go doll” he beamed as he sped down the road, truth is he was so fucking nervous.

“Where are we going Neeg’s?” she asked looking out the window at the sun going  down over the hills. “The party’s in the fucking woods near a hill we’re almost there” he said that just as they turned off the road to a road that led into the woods.  After a few moments of driving they pulled up next at least ten other cars and there was light from a bonfire. Negan killed the engine and got out of his truck and walked over to the passenger side door. He opened it and held out his hand, Lucille took it a stepped out of his truck. “Thank you” she said letting go of his hand, he closed the door and locked the truck. He bent his arm at the elbow offering for her to take his arm and she took it by slipping her arm around his. 

The cool leather his jacket making goosebumps appear on her skin, the sound of ACDC was playing loudly and peoples voices could be heard. Lucille wasn’t the most popular girl in school she was like the loser so she was nervous about being seen with Negan. As they walked into the space there were people sitting around the huge bonfire making out and drinking. Some were dancing and smoking and some were sat on the roof of the blue truck parked near the fire.

Lucille felt like just running and hiding but she didn’t want to upset Negan and he was good so far. “I’m gonna go and get a fucking drink you want one Lu?” she slid her arm from his and looked up at him. “Can i have a beer please?” Negan nodded “i’ll be right fucking back” he leaned down and kissed her cheek. Returned around and walked over to the table that had cartons upon cartons of beer. Lucilles dress had pockets so she pulled out her pack of cigarettes and her silver zippo. 

She pulled out a cigarette and put it between her lips, she flicked the lid open of her zippo and flicked the flint. She lit the cigarette and flicked the lid of her lighter closed and put them both back into her pocket. Lucille took a long drag before before blowiangthe smoke into the cool night air. Negan approached her with their beers in his hands. He handed her her beer and she took a long sip of it before holding it beside her. Negan saw the cigarette inner hand “can i have one?” Lucille pulled the pick and her zippo back out of her pocket. She pulled a cigarette out and handed to him and she handed him her zippo. She took another drag before turning her head to blow the smoke away from Negan’s face.

“C’mon let’s sit by the fucking fire” Lucille nodded in agreement and followed him over to one of the many logs placed around the fire. Lucille took another sip from her beer as did Negan. “So who do you live with Lu?” she turned her head to look at him, his hazel eyes were sparkling. “I live with my mom and my dad but we are pretty fucking poor and my dad is an asshole.” Negan’s face softened “i live with just my mom cuz my dad was a fucking asshole too.” Lucille smiled “I guess thats one thing we have in common” she said taking a drag of her cigarette. 

“I guess it fucking is” Negan replied taking a drag of his cigarette, Negan still felt nervous. “I gotta take a piss i’ll be back” Negan said placing his beer on the ground and getting up. He walked off into the woods, Lucille just sat their finishing her smoke and sipping her beer. Blonde headed girl walked up to her “oh no” Lucille thought it was Samantha the girl who bullied her. Lucille flicked her cigarette and stood up from the log and she came face to face with Samantha.

“Well if it isn’t Lucille the whore” Lucille just rolled her eyes and scoffed “says the one who gets guys to pay her to fucking suck them off.” Samantha chuckled and rolled her eyes “so why you here just to find someone to fuck?” Samantha scoffed. “No i actually have a fucking date unlike you” Lucille retorted feeling braver than she ever did. “Oh yeah who with your dad” that comment hurt Lucille a little “no Negan actually.” Samantha laughed hard “Negan wouldn’t bat an eye at you, you’re just a fucking loser with a rapist for a dad bitch.” Lucille just ignored her comments even though the ones about her father were true. 

Negan walked into the fight and stood in front of Lucille. “Well actually you’re fucking wrong she is my date Samantha” Negan drawled. Samantha stopped laughing and swallowed hard “why would you want to date a fucking lowlife like her when you could have a girl like me.” Negan chuckled “because she doesn’t suck guys off for money and she is actually fucking genuine not like you. Your just a fake ass whore who only wants men who can fucking own you and buy you every fucking thing. So leave Lucille the fuck alone or i will fucking sort you out myself” Samantha just looked blankly at both of them and stormed off.

Negan chuckled as she stormed off, he turned around and excepted Lucille to begin tears butte wasn’t. “You didn’t have to defend me y’know, i’ve been putting up with her most of my life.” Negan moved stepped closer to her and reached up to push a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I know you can but she had to be put into her fucking place she should know better and fucking live you alone now that i’ve fucking sorted her out.” Lucille looked up at him “thank you for defending me, guys have never really done that for me before.” Negan smiled at her before taking her hand and pulling her back towards his truck. 

She didn’t question him she just followed him along. He opened the passenger side door for her once again and she stepped into his truck and slid onto the bench seat. The truck shook slightly when Negan shut the door, he walked back around to the driver side door. He sat on the bench seat and pulled the door closed and pushed the key into the ignition and the truck started. He backed the truck out and drove it back down the road they came down and turned right on the highway.

Lucille looked out the window and watched the street lights speed past her eyes, Negan was the only guy who had ever stood up for her like that. Negan turned into one of the many diners in their town and parked the truck at the front of the diner. “What do you want to eat Lu?” Negan asked as he was getting out of the truck. “Whatever you’re having but i want a chocolate milkshake please” Negan smiled at her “sure just stay here i’ll be out fucking soon.” 

He closed the driver side door and she watched him walk into the diner. While he was in the diner she sat and thought about him. He was sweet and funny and he hadn’t put a hand on her, yet this was their first date. But she could tell that he wasn’t like that, she didn’t know how she knew she just did. A part of her was afraid, if her father found out god help her and her mom. Lucille was afraid that if she told Negan he would leave her and she didn’t want that. So at that very moment she decided to not tell Negan about her father and her boyfriend rule. 

She was pulled out of her thoughts when the driver side door opened and Negan placed the bag of food in the middle of the bench seat. He then handed her her milkshake “thank you” she said softly as she took it from his hand. Negan got into the truck with a drink of his own and pulled the door closed behind him. “Alright doll lets fucking go” he said backing out of the parking space and turning left on the road. The smell of the food was making her mouth water and her stomach grumble but she was patient. 

Their date wasn’t over yet but she didn’t care she didn’t want to go home. Negan turned off the road onto a dirt track that led to the top of a hill. He parked the truck on the top of the hill and killed the engine, the truck was facing the moon. The moon was full so it lit up the sky and the area that surrounded them. “You wanna come sit on the fucking hood?” Lucille nodded, the paper bag with the food it cracked as Negan picked it up. Lucille jumped out of the truck and walked around to the front of the truck, she placed her drink on the hood. she then climbed up the bull bar and leaned her back against the windscreen. She grabbed her drink and took sip.

The truck shook when Negan climbed up the bull bar he set the food down in between them and sat down. Negan unlaced his boots and kicked them off and threw them into the open window of his truck. Lucille did the same as him and laid back down staring at the sky. Negan handed her food to her and she took it saying thank you as she always did. She unwrapped the cheeseburger that he got her and bit into it. They just sat there quietly and looking up at the sky, both to nervous to say anything. 

Lucille had finished her burger so she scrunched up the paper it was wrapped in and threw it into the paper bag. She took a long sip of her drink and set it back down on the hood of the truck. “The moon is so pretty tonight” Lucille said nervously “not as fucking pretty as you.” Lucille blushed deeply and her heart was beating fast in her chest. “You’re just saying that i’m not pretty i’m fucking ugly” Lucille scoffed. Negan turned his head to look at her but she was looking forward. “Lucille look at me” Lucille turned her head and was met with his sparkling eyes.

“Don’t believe a word that fucking bitch says you are fucking beautiful and you aren’t a whore she is. You are a sweet and fucking caring person who deserves the fucking world. That fucking bitch doesn’t deserve anything in the world” Lucille stared into his eyes. She turned her head back to look at the sky but Negan kept staring at her. She really was beautiful on the inside and the outside, this was their first date but from what he had seen she was sweet and caring. He moved his hand slowly towards hers and he slowly laced his fingers with hers. Her hand was much smaller than his and he thought it was cute that her hand was much smaller in his big one. 

Goosebumps spread across her skin and her heart was beating faster in her chest. It began to get cold so her body shivered slightly, Negan noticed.  He let go of her hand and sat up to take his leather jacket off. He draped it over her shoulders and she pushed her arms into the sleeves, it was warm from him wearing it. They both played back down against the windscreen and Lucille grabbed his hand again, their fingers intertwined.

His jacket smelt like nicotine and mint along with leather it was intoxicating and she loved it. Lucille shifted a little closer to him feeling the heat radiating from his body. Negan’s heart was beating fast in his chest as was hers, he turned his head to face her. They stared into each others eyes, Negan reached up to cup her cheek and softly caress it. He shifted closer to her so they were only a breath apart and their noses were touching. He leaned his face closer until his lips pressed softly against hers and she instantly melted against him. Negan pushed himself up so the upper half of his body was over hers. 

She tangled her fingers in his dark hair while her other hand was on his shoulder. Negan cupped his cheek while his other hand was on her stoking covered thigh. Lucille’s tongue traced the seam of his lips and Negan complied by opening his mouth. Her tongue licked against his and explored his mouth he tasted like chocolate and mint. He moaned quietly at the taste of her like chocolate and nicotine.

Negan shifted in between her legs, she bent her legs at the knee a placed her feet flat on the hood of the car. All that could be heard was the wet sounds of their lips and Lucilles soft moans. She had never been kissed like this by a boy before usually it was dominant and emotionless. But with Negan it was slow and loving and the feeling of him grinding softly against her core was making her love it even more. They made out like this for at least thirty minutes before they were both hot and flustered and Negan pulled away. 

“I better get you home baby” Negan said pecking her lips, Lucille was dreading going home. She picked up her drink and jumped off the hood of the truck and opened the passenger side door. She jumped into the truck and pulled the door closed behind her Negan started up the truck and drove back down the road. He turned left onto the highway and started heading back to her street. Lucille moved her hand on top of his and laced her fingers with his. She was scared but she did her best to hide it so she just squeezed his hand. 

Negan looked over at her and noticed the fear in her eyes he turned his head back to focus on the road. “Whats wrong Lu?” he asked concern lacing his words “nothing Neeg’s i’m fine just drop me off where you picked me up please.” Negan knew something was up he could tell by the fear in her eyes and the way she was squeezing his hand. He turned down her street and pulled up at the corner where he picked her up from. “Thanks for dinner Negan and thanks for sticking up for me” Negan smiled at her and rubbed his thumb softly over her knuckles.

 “No fucking problem baby i had a good time too did you wanna do this again on Tuesday?” Lucille thought for a moment she knew what her dad would do but she didn’t care “sure i’d like that” she replied. She leaned over and kissed him softly on the lips then pulled away and kissed his cheek softly. She opened the door of his truck and stepped out all the while still holding his hand. She grabbed her boots in her other hand and looked up at him hiding her fear behind her smile. Little did she know he could see right through that fake smile and he could see she was scared.

“Oh you’re jacket” she went to take it off “no its ok you keep it on you look badass with it on and it fucking suits you.” Lucille blushed and her heart swelled with love and it distracted her from the fear she felt. He leaned down and brushed his lips over the back of her hand softly and she smiled back at him. She walked backward still holding his hand but her fingers were sliding from his grasp. Her pinky finger curled around his until her hand was fully pulled away from his. It was like if she let go of him she would get hurt which she was when she got home. Negan pulled the passenger side door closed and blew her a kiss she caught it and blew it back.

 Negan drove off leaving Lucille with love and fear in her heart. She walked home slowly dreading what was to come, she walked up the path to her house and gulped as she turned the doorknob of the front door. She opened the door and closed it softly behind her and her dad appeared from the kitchen. “Where have you fucking been Lucille?” her father growled she cowered in fear. “I was just out with sone friends daddy no boys i promise” fear was slowly filling her as he walked closer to to her.

“Where did you get that jacket?” he asked looking over it “one of my friends gave it to me its one of hers.” Her father raised his eyebrow “you’re fucking late Lucille” she swallowed hard. “I know and i’m sorry daddy i just got held up” her dad lifted his hand and back handed her across the face and she fell to the ground. “Thats no fucking excuse you know the fucking rules you little slut!” he spat as she wiped the tears falling from her eyes. “Y..yes daddy i’m s..sorry” he scoffed, she pulled herself up from the floor and stood up.

 He slapped her again but much harder and she wiped her face and ran up the stairs and locked her door. She ran over to her bed and buried her face into the pillow and cried her eyes out. She pulled Negan’s jacket tighter around her and she inhaled deeply, his scent calming her down. He made her feel good and mostly he made her feel safe like her father couldn’t touch her. She dried her tears and stood up from her bed and wiped off her makeup and got into her pyjamas. She put Negan’s jacket back on and zipped it up and fell back onto her bed his scent calming her once again.

LIKE OR REBLOG FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER!!

@you-a-southpaw-doll  @savedpeople @negan-morningstar @negan-the-cat @smcc212 @negans-lucille-tblr

[crqstalite]

Little Something. [Koth Vortena/F!Sith Inquisitor]

Based on Koth's idle dialogue - 'Got a little something on your...there you go'.

Set Post Knights of the Fallen Empire, Pre-Knights of the Eternal Throne.

-

Oh what had she done to deserve this? A beautiful evening out, little to no threats to speak of...it seemed that things were finally turning up for the young Sith -- or Commander, as most addressed her these days.

Yes, they were in the middle of what seemed like a never-ending war against a galactic superpower. Yes, there was a new problem every damn day. Yes, the star fortresses would need to be dealt with at some point. Yes, her family and more importantly, her father was still missing and assumed dead. Yes, Senya and Arcann were out there somewhere after her failed murder attempt. Yes, the Gravestone was still under heavy repairs and wouldn't be ready for weeks more. And yes, SCORPIO and Vaylin were still very much at large and probably planning her demise from their fancy little Spire.

She hated SCORPIO with a passion. Arcann would always top that list, but SCORPIO was a close third after Vaylin.

But today was not a day to reflect back on their failures, on what was wrong. Today was a day to celebrate. And celebrate the Alliance would. Arcann was off the throne, and the Alliance was growing larger by the day with new recruits from across the galaxy. She may not have been the most perfect commander in the galaxy, Sith rarely were, but she was passable. She wasn't dead yet, which was a plus by itself. Odessen has finally hit it's summer cycle, just in time for their little party. The evening on Odessen was just beautiful, the day beginning to end but the party just starting. The valley is painted in colors of gold and pink with the lights sending shadows every which way. For now, she's not afraid of them.

Well, nothing with the Alliance was ever little. It had become such a widely anticipated and attended party that she and Lana had to move it down into the wilds below the main base to keep things from getting too out of hand. Corsha is very happy that after her little debacle with Valkorion, they'd sent a team down to clear out the forest from the little beasts that seemed to have a taste for flesh. It was very satisfying to watch as they were essentially exterminated, and she figures HK would've had a field day. There was no trace of Satele and Marr though, to Theron, Lana and her disappointment. She was beginning to think she may have imagined the whole thing, seventy-two hours of pure hallucinations as Valkorion played games with her mind. Wouldn't put it past him.

But now, they had a beautiful valley to be in tonight. All that was well would end well.

She just barely avoids getting knocked into by a Mandalorian, who ignores her for the most part and continues arguing with another of his brothers or sisters. She chuckles, today wasn't a day to be upset about the little things. Getting here in the first place was the good part. Senya wasn't here to sing for them like she'd promised, but there were plenty willing to take her place. It wasn't a particularly formal event, which is why their most recent and more violent...excitable allies were still in their armor -- beskar'gam according to Torian -- but some others had taken the opportunity to dress up a bit. She herself, itching to get back into her formal clothes had swiped at the chance, managing to find a dress somewhat like her favorite one that was surely still in her apartment on Dromound Kaas. A beautiful dress that hugged her hips, a dark red bodice with lacy sleeves up to her elbows, and a small slit that only ran about a third of the way up her thigh. She'd had to go for a style that cut off just below her knees, just in case a beast just managed to breach their little sanctuary, which was rather sad, she always adored trains. Her mother's planned wedding dress had one that was beautiful and lacy, which she hopes she'll wear one day.

Her face heats as she thinks of the man she hopes has to wait to see her in it.

She walks a tad faster to find the rest of the inner circle of the Alliance. In a small overhang decorated with string lights further away from the action, she finds that Theron hasn't forgone his red leather jacket, but has changed into clothes that aren't ripped or stained with blood. A little dressier, she'll give him that. He still wears his blasters, maybe expecting trouble, but the ever present datapad isn't anywhere to be found. Hopefully confiscated by Lana, who stands nearby and is surely joking with him, a rare smile on her red-painted lips. Her outfit has also been forgone for the most part, instead choosing a lightly armored forest green set.  Green had always been her color, the shade one would compare to the grass at night, striking against her pale skin. Her blonde hair had been pulled up into a ponytail at the base of her neck. She says something else that makes Theron roll his eyes, though a smile becomes evident.

They've relaxed into their roles well, her right hand man and woman. She wonders how the Empire and Republic have been able to get on without them, she surely wouldn't have won as many battles without Lana's battle prowess and Theron's admirable ability to retrieve intel as fast as he does, "Commander. Surely you're enjoying the festivities?" Lana asks, a smile in her voice as she turns from the disgruntled ex-SIS agent.

"Of course, you did well, Lana. I couldn't have done this on my own," She responds, praise evident and mirroring her smile. It's genuine, the aesthetic is beautiful and the mood is high. Lana is extremely talented, and she's very lucky to have her by her side (and not on the opposite faction), "Thank you for all the work you put in."

"It's nice to be appreciated. Thank you, Commander." She nods in acknowledgement, before doing a once over. Her expression changes into one of curiosity, "Were you expecting us all to dress as you have? I apologize for the lack of dress code."

Corsha laughs as she sees the Sith dart her eyes to the armored men and woman nearby, "No, I simply enjoy the finer things in life. Arcann hasn't exactly allowed me much time to wear things like this, so I'm taking advantage of the lull in activity. Maybe one day I can get back to being myself, but for now I'll take the small victories."

"I'm sure there's someone who appreciates it more than we do." Theron says, rather matter of fact as Corsha waves him off. She knows exactly what he means, and when her gaze leaves his, he chuckles quietly, "I don't know where he is."

"You could at least say I look nice before you tease, Theron," She rolls her eyes, feigning offense, and though he gives her the universal 'alright I'm done' gesture with his hands, the mischief twinkling in his eyes gives him away entirely. She doesn't know when he became such a joker, or why. He's enjoying this a little too much, but she lets it slide -- he isn't working for once. And, who knew he had a sense of humor anyway, "So rude. They were right when they said chivalry was dead in the Republic."

"Hey, don't have to bring factions into it, this is an Alliance," He says defensively, before leaning over to Lana as if Corsha's forgotten he's there, "Do they actually say that?"

Lana stifles a laugh herself, "Always. It's a popular saying, mostly among young women describing agents like yourself."

"Whatever they say, Hylo did amazing at bringing in the food," A shiver runs up her spine as she turns to the arrival of the final member of their original quartet. Koth has his dreadlocks tied up, a nice look that makes her blush a bit. His jacket isn't absent, but he's instead left it open, a black shirt and darker blue pants underneath it. His goggles are gone from their typical place on his head. Maybe he doesn't immediately see her, but when his dark eyes do land on her, they widen in a way she hasn't seen out of him before, and sets something ablaze within her, "Whoa, if I'd known there was a dress code --"

"There isn't. Corsha has simply decided to impress us all," Lana answers for her, and Corsha is sure that she's turning the same color as her lipstick, "Rather nice, don't you believe?"

"Yeah, definitely," The answer is clipped, but it's clear he doesn't mean it that way. There's so much hidden beneath that one sentence that she isn't immediately able to say anything else. Out of earshot of anyone else, she'd probably get his real opinion, anything else he wanted to say to her. Koth had admitted over and over again he was horrible with words, which she didn't believe, and was even less likely to say much else in front of anyone else. Unfortunately Theron and Lana had very quickly realized their relationship had grown serious after the interaction days ago when they'd gotten back from Arcann's flagship (so maybe she had launched herself into his arms and had kissed him hard, completely high on adrenaline and forgetting there was anyone else present, but that was no one's business but her own) Lana had apparently suspected since Asylum-- and the pair acted accordingly. Like small children, of course. The teasing was well-hidden and far and few in between even before then when they were with the rest of the Alliance, at the very least, but it still annoyed her to no end when they'd gotten less subtle about it in the days past. One of them had better catch someone's eye soon, just so she can turn their actions on them and force feed them their own medicine, "Hylo's got a cake. Don't know where she got it from, but if you don't get any now, chances are you won't at all. Jeez, those Mandos have torn through Hylo's poor buffet."

"Considerate of you, Koth. You didn't just eat it all yourself first?" Lana teases. She really does want to ask what happened before her release from carbonite, as there are so many inside jokes the two have. Or whatever happened to the pair that made Lana faux paranoid about him literally eating everything. Surely a situation like the one on Zakuul, when the infamous three minutes phrase had been banned from any com channel while they were on missions.

"Hey, I'm not that big of a douche," He responds, a grin on his face. He's not offended, and Corsha doesn't understand why. Personally, she would be. Theron gives her a knowing look, as if he's just as confused. Lana nudges him gently a moment later, barely noticeable if you weren't paying attention, and starts off toward the rest of the congregation of the Alliance. Theron hesitates for a moment, before maybe picking up on what she was doing and follows after in a brisk pace.

"You said there was cake?" Corsha turns to him, brushing a curl behind her ear, "Hylo mentioned managing a few treats for the Alliance, but I wasn't expecting one."

"It's been a while since I've had cake instead of field rations," Koth responds, scratching the back of his neck before holding out the napkin covered package he had, "Brought you a slice."

"I thought you said there still was some left? I could've gotten my own." Corsha says, though gratefully takes the cake. It looks so sweet, like something she would've enjoyed immensely as a child. Her sweet tooth couldn't be denied, even in a moment like this, "Did Hylo say what it was?"

"Cake?" He shrugs, "Anybody's guess what flavor, don't think we can really afford to be picky, yeah?"

"I can afford to be picky if I wish, Vortena, not to mention the influx of credits we've received lately has been very helpful with getting supplies in. We've got escrow for once," She responds, a chuckle on her voice as he grins sheepishly. The cake is terribly sweet after she takes a bite, even enough that she has to keep from balking at it. It's some sort of fruit, not one she can name off the top of her head, but it's good. She'd have to go back for another piece, or see if they can get it more regularly.

"Cor," Koth catches her attention again after she's finished, and she turns to him, confused, "Got a little something." He says, lifting his hand to his cheek, surely to mirror where the offending crumb of cake was. She brushes just about everywhere near that spot, getting more and more frustrated as time passed, and he eventually gives up, growing closer and wiping it off himself. Her heart pounds, even though he doesn't linger long, "There."

"Thanks," She nearly squeaks, and he drops his hands to his side. They sit in an uncomfortable silence for a moment, though they watch as the party rages around them in a quiet roar. She smooths her skirt out after she finishes with the cake, careful not to get a trace of it on the immaculate crimson skirt. It hasn't been particularly long since they'd become a lot (a lot was saying a lot, more that just Lana and Theron could put their assumptions to rest and Torian, Major Jorgan, Gault and Vette knew now) more public with their relationship, if not also more comfortable with the idea of one (Koth had become her very first boyfriend, and she was sure that with as nervous as he was, that she was probably the only one who stuck around this long or had gotten this personal), yet she still fumbled in these situations. She wasn't extremely suave, and her social meter was very easy to deplete . Skytroopers didn't try to find out more about you or take you places they thought you'd like, all they did was chase after you and shoot at point blank range.

Boys weren't like that, unfortunately. Well, according to every holonovel she'd ever read on the subject, they weren't supposed to be. At least Koth liked the silence sometimes. He had a lot to say when he did get really fired up about things, but most of it didn't require a response from her. She could sit in the co-pilot's chair of the Gravestone and just listen.

Still, it was odd trying to be more than just friends. They'd kissed a few times, she'd nearly died in his arms, but there was something different about it now. Like there were expectations to how she should've been acting once they unofficially put the titles of boyfriend and girlfriend on each other, but this time there wasn't anyone to ask for help going forward. This wasn't a battlefield with clearly labelled maps and tactics. This was a new experience entirely, and she felt so horribly lost.

Well, there was, but not anyone she'd want to get help from.

"You do look...really nice, Corsha," He says, quiet enough that she has to strain to hear him, "Real pretty."

"Thank you, Koth," She plays with the lace on the sleeves, but makes the effort to make eye contact with him. And regrets it nearly immediately. Stars, who had the audacity to let his eyes be this pretty in the setting sun? Or make him this pretty to begin with? The way he looks at her...it makes her feel more safe than anything else, more loved than anyone else, "You clean up well."

"Good to hear it," He answers, his expression softening considerably.

She turns his own tactics on him, "You've got a little bit of cake...there." She states, moving her hand to where it would be on her own face, an invisible crumb on his jaw. He raises an eyebrow, surprised maybe as goes to wipe it off. Again, and again and just once more on the other side before he sighs in defeat.

"You've got me, blasted cake is staying there for all the trouble it's worth." He shakes his head, just before she grows closer and after a moment of hesitation, presses a kiss to his jaw. He's a lot taller than she is (there's over a decade separating them, but unfortunately Corsha wouldn't ever be as tall as either of her parents, or her boyfriend), but she's glad she doesn't lose her balance as she stands on her toes to reach. He stiffens, surprise evident in his expression as she steps back. She considers saying something, but decides against it.

"I'm sure someone needs me somewhere, seems that's all there is to life these days," She says, playing with the curls that barely graze her shoulders. Great, now she's hot and she can feel sweat beading at the top of her forehead. Where did all that confidence go, staring down Arcann for the second time only a few weeks ago? How she feared a man's reaction versus her own death would be lost to her.

"And if that's me?" Koth asks her, gently pulling her further into the alcove by the wrist, "You know I'm not good with words, but I'd be lying if I said I wanted to spend the rest of the party with anyone else."

"Not a fan of the noise?" She asks, still completely aware of him loosely holding her wrist. In his hands, she figures it must be rather thin. SCORPIO had a larger body than she did, the skinny girl who'd never really grown into her armor. Gah, it was always so easy to find her own flaws with him. She might've been the Commander of the Eternal Alliance, but it didn't immediately mean that she deserved him, "There are plenty of places to relax at further away from anything else."

"Do you really have anywhere else to be?" The world fades around her, pushed out of view of the rest of the party goers she's sure, "Because if you're going to pull something like that, you might as well do it right."

Do what right? She wasn't about to waste any cake on him, she might be head over heels but to waste such a treat on him? She hadn't lost her mind yet, to Valkorion, love or otherwise.

He fills in that blank for her, gently growing closer and tilting her chin up. It isn't forceful, not nearly as passionate as the last one, but still undeniably sweet. She leans into the touch, resting her hands on his chest, his arms resting around her waist. That sweet taste is back on his lips, but it is so very desired this time. She wouldn't go as far as to say all that cliche stuff she'd read about in the holonovels, but a shiver runs up her spine when he pulls away.

Okay, she'll say one cliche. She desperately wants to get lost in those eyes.

And, she wouldn't mind him holding her like this a lot more often.

"Beginning to think maybe we need cake more often," He says, mischief in his voice as she leans her head against his chest for just a moment. Her heart is beating in tandem with his, and for someone that makes her want to take him so far away from here, "What do you think?"

She nods, grinning as she looks up at him. She tries something new, the word playing with her mind before she says it, "I'd second that, love."

His smile only grows, and it's the first time she's ever called him by the term of endearment. He presses another kiss to her forehead, and she laughs quietly, lifting her head to kiss him again. Stars, maybe inviting him to live with her in her apartment wouldn't be so bad after all.

He stills a moment later, mouth still open to say something else, a concerned look on his face, "What? Is there something wrong?" She asks, more curious than worried, but Koth usually had a good reaction time that she trusted.

"Don't look now," Koth shakes his head, a groan sounding. Not particularly caring, she turns over her shoulder anyways. It isn't immediately obvious what has him so worried, so she's about to go back and say it really was nothing until she spots Lana in the crowd. Talking with Gault, yes, but every once and a while her golden eyes dart back to them. She scans routinely for Theron, who's hidden better and is leaning against the table that used to be laden with food, but still a smirk on his face. Either he's planning on bothering her again later, or he's started a bet with Lana. She didn't have much hope on it not being the latter.

She gives a disappointed look to Koth that's mixed with annoyance, "Beginning to also think we need to find more hiding spots on base before Lana never lets us live this down."

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Coffee and a Wedding (Chapter 4)

Welcome to my weekly apology for Friday’s series. How have you all been since I last spoke to you? Those of you following Dust- recovering well, I hope. As always, I love hearing from everyone. Also, as always, the tag list is open. 

Clint x ofc, eventual smut, coffee shop AU and my personal challenge to hit as many tropes as I can. Got a trope you want to see? Let me know and I’ll see what I can do. 

Chapter 4

Absently I smoothed down the silky fabric of my blouse as I paced back and forth in the room. Clint was on the phone with the cafe manager he left in charge for our trip for a quick check in before we headed out to the tavern. Sarah said the place was just fancy enough to make me want to dress up a bit but I couldn’t really be sure how much of that was from her simply not wanting me to embarrass her with my ratty jeans and tee.

It wasn’t really that I had dressed up all that much but for me, it was something. My jeans didn’t have a hole in them and they were clean and neat for once. They were not faded. Matched with a shinny lavender blouse, I thought I looked pretty damn good, all things considered.

The fabric was so soft and smooth, while I waited I kept running my hands over the fabric. I nearly jumped out of my skin when a large warm hand ran down my back.

“It’s so smooth!” Clint laughed while slipping his phone into his pocket. “Sorry, I couldn’t help it. You kept petting the shirt so I wanted to too.”

“Everything good at the cafe?” It was so damn hard to pretend like it was normal for her boss’s hand to rest on her lower back, thumb rubbing back and forth.

“Yeah. The order of syrup was late and panic insured since they’re almost out of vanilla.”

“Oh heaven forbid, no vanilla lattes.” I laughed at my own joke because I wasn’t sure what else to do.

“Indeed!” He opened the door for me and the show was on. Oddly enough, it felt like the show had already started before we left the room because nothing seemed different when we stepped out that door.

“And what did you tell them to do, in your infinite wisdom?” It felt so close to normal to tease him, to joke like this while we walked down the hall. His hand fell from my back but when we turned to the lobby, his fingers laced with mine. It was just an act. It was just part of the act. I had warned him that family, friends could be lurking anywhere.

“Mix vanilla extract with one of the extra bottles of simple syrup. Taste and adjust as needed.” Clint shrugged but it was honestly something I wouldn’t even have thought about doing.

“The Taxi should be out front.” I nodded.

~~~~~<3

Clint helped me out of the cab but my feet were hardly on the pavement before arms wrapped around me suddenly. The force knocked the wind from my lungs and a thin frame with surprising strength lifted me up off my feet and spun me around. All I could see was a flurry of blonde hair and a pink lacy jacket- if you could call it that, it wouldn’t keep her warm. It was her laugh that gave Sarah away, as if someone else would quite literately sweep me off my feet.

“It’s so good to see you!”

“You just saw me like a week ago.” My laugh probably gave away that I wasn’t nearly as indignant as I wanted to pretend to be. Sarah and I had our differences, we didn’t always get along now or as children but one thing never changed. Though sometimes I didn’t like her, I always loved her.

“Like two weeks ago!” She insisted as she put me down and directed her attention to Clint and the wide smile on his face.

“Clint! It’s so good to see you!”

“It’s so good to get out of the city.” He wrapped her in a warm hug for a moment before stepping back to my side, heavy hand resting on the small of my back and thumb stroking the smooth fabric.

“Guys, this is the man I’m going to spend the rest of my life with, Matt.” It took everything I had to not roll my eyes. I was never the most dramatic when it came to romance. “Matt, this is my sister, Alexis and her boyfriend, Clint.

Matt stuck out his hand first to Clint to shake his hand. “Matt Matthews. It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

I was proud of Clint for not rolling his eyes at the name. But really, what sort of name was that? I couldn’t get ‘Bart Barton’ out of my head ever since Clint made the joke about the names and my mind went there every single time I heard Matt’s name.

~~~~~<3

“So, what do you do for a living?” Matt asked once we were seated, eyes trained on Clint as if trying to decode him.

“I own a cafe, actually.” Clint answered, not shying away from whatever was going on in Matt’s head. Sarah took the chance to tell Matt how cute the cafe was and praise the coffee as we ordered drinks.

One drink became two. Two became three and I was feeling pleasantly warm. Clint’s arm was draped around my shoulders at times, fingers playing with the edge of my sleeve. Everything seemed to be going well. Clint was always present with subtle touches and warm smiles while staying focused on everyone at the table. Just enough of a show to sell our story and it felt so normal, so natural.

“So-” Matt started as he finished his third drink and ordered another. “What’s the deal?” He waved a straw at us, clearly feeling the drinks and Sarah looked a little more worried than I would have liked.

“Excuse me?” Clint asked. He was calm, relaxed and unconcerned even as I stiffened up at his side. His large hand found my knee and rubbed. I wondered if he was trying to tell me something. Perhaps, ‘calm down, I’ve got this’?

“You’re clearly older.” Matt started only to have Sarah hush him for being out of line. “You normally date the kids you work for?”

“It’s fine, I’ve got nothing to hide.” Clint assured Sarah before directing his attention to Matt. “This is actually the first time I’ve involved myself with an employee before.”

“So it’s not some weird power thing you get off on?” Matt slurred, taking a long sip from his drink before starting again. “If it’s not a power thing, what? There something wrong with you so you can’t get a woman your age?”

“Matt!” Sarah snapped again before turning her attention back to us. “I am so sorry, normally he doesn’t drink.”

“No, I get it. He’s just looking after your lovely sister.” Clint leaned back, tipping the chair back in the process before declaring, “I’m a mess” as if that solved everything.

“So you can’t get a real woman?” Matt challenged.

“We’re leaving. I’m so sorry, Clint.” Sarah pulled Matt to his feet only to have to support him as he wobbled.

“I haven’t dated in a very long time.” Clint answered., again leaning back in his seat, tilting the chair back and eyeing Matt with a simple confidence that would not waver. “I work too much and I take shit care of myself. I ordered pizza for dinner five days in the last week and my laundry only gets washed when I’ve run out of boxers. I’m not perfect by any means.

I don’t know what the hell she sees in me, but she sees something. And she makes me want to live up to whatever it is that she sees- to be a better man. Is there an age difference between us? Clearly. I’m the oldest person at this damned table. And I can assure you at no point has our relationship and its status mattered in way of her employment. And most of all, she’s an adult. As am I.

What we have works for us, right now. And if or when it stops working, we’ll move on and deal with that like the adults we are. Now, let the lovely Sarah take you home and put you to bed.”

“I am so sorry.” Sarah again repeated.

“It’s fine.” Clint assured her. “Don’t worry about the tab, I’ll get it. Just get him home and into bed. He’ll sober up by morning and feel like an ass, I’m sure and that’s good enough for me.”

Sarah nodded once and I watched as she walked Matt out. It was shocking, seeing him act that way and I felt terrible. Clint didn’t deserve that and my heart hurt. He said such amazing things, such wonderful things and really, none of them were true.

“Well, that happened.” Clint announced and orders us another round. “We deserve one more drink.” He reasoned.

Though Matt and Sarah left, Cling and I still sat close. His fingertips still trailed over the fabric of my blouse at times. Heads tilted together as we joked. It was easier to joke about what had happened than to deal with the fact that Matt had been so clearly out of line. I tried so hard to ignore all the warning signs screaming at us that he had some issues.

But what could I say? What could I do? They were getting married in a few days time and all I really had was one bad dinner with him. That’s hardly something to raise flags about, right?

I knew I had to talk to Sarah about it. There was a point in our lives where we talked to each other about everything. It’s hard to say exactly when that changed but it did. Now, I didn’t know if I was overstepping to bring up my worries after just one dinner.

“You okay?” Clint’s words were slightly slurring and I wondered if mine were too.

“Yeah, just thinking.”

“No thinking.” He declared as he stood from his chair. With an inviting hand I couldn’t turn down, he pulled me from mine and onto my feet. I loved the way he seemed to pull me around as if I weighed nothing. And after seeing him without a shirt, it made sense why he was able to.

“What?” Yep, I’m the picture of class and can totally keep up with what’s going on around me.

“No thinking, let’s dance.” The way he said it made it seem as if it was decided.

“I can’t dance.” I had a feeling it really didn’t matter, though.

“It doesn’t matter.” At least I got that much right. “I’ll teach you. And when in doubt, have another drink.”

“Because that’s responsible?”

“Just like imaginary boyfriends?”

“Fair point.”

~~~~~<3

After a certain number of drinks, I don’t think I cared anymore that Clint and I were only playing pretend. He was a good dancer, spinning me around the small dance floor in the restaurant. I however, was tripping all over myself yet somehow, he kept me from falling even as the world tilted and twisted with each spin.

I was so damn aware of the way his hands moved, caressing me as he guided me. The dining room was open and as the night got colder I became more aware of the warmth of him. Sometimes, he held me close as we swayed and moved together. Closer than I had ever dared to expect outside of maybe the wedding reception itself.

His eyes were bright and blue, alight with the twinkling lights around us. There was a life to him that I hadn’t seen before. That’s not to say that he seemed dead or undead before- just that this was a different light in his eyes than I saw when he was setting up a new machine or trying out a new mix of syrups.

It was a light I was having a hard time looking away from. It was a light that made it hard to remember that this was just a game. Just pretend. But god how I wanted it to be more than that. To be something other than that. To be real.

Perhaps I was just drunk, but it seemed like he was getting closer as we swayed to a slower song. His breath fanned over me and I swear, I hadn’t noticed it before. His hands were so large and his grip on me was firm. I felt safer in his arms playing a game of pretend romance than I had with any man I had actually dated in a long while.

He was getting closer, I was sure of it.

“Son of a-” Clint blurted out when he crashed his hip into the corner of a table, sending drinks spilling and people clamoring to stand. “I am so fuckin sorry.”

“Watch where you’re walking.” A man snapped.

“I’m so sorry- let me- Hey, let me get those for you? Yeah? I’ll cover those and all’s good, yeah?” Before I knew it, Clint was pulling me toward the hostess and passing his card. In what seemed like a blink of the eye, we were outside and running down the street before anyone could chase us down and demand the cost of dry cleaning from Clint.

The alcohol was swimming through my system now, mixing with the adrenaline and fresh ocean air. It was an intoxicating mix that seemed to sweep us away. The stars glittered in the sky and off of the distance, I could hear the waves crashing against the shore. Part of me wanted to chase that sound, to chase the perfect romcom this night had become.

“We should get back to the hotel.” The words broke the spell. It wasn’t fair. But he was right. We needed to get back, get some sleep and be ready. I had Sarah’s bachelorette party to go to tomorrow night and my liver needed every second it could get to recover.

~~~~~<3

The room was cool and I would have given anything to be wrapped up in Clint’s arms to stay warm for the night. It was a dumb daydream and I knew I needed to not let myself get swept away with the act.

I grabbed an over sized tee shirt and a pair of shorts out of the dresser drawer I had dumped my clothes in earlier and made my way to the bathroom. The world tilted and swirled around me still but after downing a glass of water, it got better.

After changing and washing the day off my face, I almost felt human. Almost. Turning off the bathroom light, I found Clint already asleep on the couch in nothing but a pair of purple plaid pants slung low on his hips.

There wasn’t a reason not to take in the sight of him. Every bit of him could have been sculpted from stone. Yet he had countless small scars. Clearly, her boss had lived his life and in a way that the story was written on his body. It only made her want to know him more.

I could have stood there watching him sleep all night but I didn’t. The bed was singing a siren’s song that pulled me away, convinced me to go to it instead of enjoy the view I would only get to see a few times in my life.

As an afterthought I turned back toward him, grabbing a blanket from the closet on my way to his side. After carefully draping it over him, I knelt at his side. I’d never seen a more handsome man with my own eyes. I don’t think I could ever find another.

It was impulsive. I leaned forward and ever so softly pressed my lips to his cheek.

I don’t know what I thought that would do or change. I guess I had hoped that it would somehow cure me of my childish crush, having gotten to kiss him. Yeah, it was just on the cheek but it was just a crush. Still, as I stood up- my heart pounded in my chest.

It didn’t change anything. Nothing changed. Since nothing changed, I’d just have to climb into the bed and pray for the spell to be broken by morning.

~~~~~<3

The sound of grumbling woke me. The room was dark but there was just enough light coming in from the windows to see him. It was clear that he wasn’t comfortable. I could only imagine the aches and pains he would have by morning.

“Clint?”

“Shit.” The word was a hissed whisper. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Yet here we are.”

“You’re cranky when you first wake up.” The warm laugh filled the room.

“Pretty sure we had this conversation yesterday.”

“Fair point. Go back to sleep.”

“Will you?” I couldn’t help but ask.

“I’ll try.” The dark blob that I knew was Clint shifted around on the couch some more.

“The couch is pretty uncomfortable, huh?”

“I just don’t fit well.” He quickly followed the statement up with, “I’ll be fine though. Just gotta get used to it.” I stood, pulling a pillow to my chest in the process. There was something about being alone with him in the room, in the dark that made me feel more exposed than ever before. “What cha’ doing?”

It was so hard to think with how gravely his voice was, thick with sleep. “You take the bed for a bit. I’ll fit better on the couch.”

“I’m not making you sleep on the couch.”

“Well you’re not sleeping on the couch, either.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“You wont.”

We bickered back and forth about who would sleep where when he stood, rather suddenly and the dark figure stalked through the room. It was hard to keep track of where he was as he moved through the shadows with silent ease.

His arms were around my waist in an instant and a shriek slipped out of my lips only for me to clamp my hands over my mouth to cut it off before someone called the cops.

“What are you doing?!” I demanded.

“Sleepy… ‘m tired.” He grumbled as he lifted me up and tossed me on the bed.

I bounced a few times and he climbed in next to me. “What are you doing?!”

“It’s big enough for both of us. This is dumb. We’re adults. Go to sleep.” He demands as if it was that easy. Yet somehow, listening to his soft snores I eventually managed to do just that.

~~~~~<3

Tag List: @theheartofpenelope, @winterisakiller, @tnystrk-exe, @0-0-0-0-0-0-0-7, @j-u-s-t-4, @theoneanna, @missaphrodite23, @bradfordbantams, @ruebx, @hufflepuff25, @toozmanykids, @tinchentitri, @bambamwolf87, @nonsensicalobsessions, @michelegurl, @xoxabs88xox

 Michelegurl- I cannot tag you and it appears that your blog is gone or renamed?

[ashleyswrittenwords]

How To Be A Queen [Part 11]

Note: Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh. I said no cliff hangers. I’m a liar. Also wtf this surpassed 40k words. It’s 85 pages long on my word doc. How in the hell.

Summary: Princess Zelda is at a loss. Her handed royal responsibilities have begun to weigh heavily on her and she is eventually backed into a corner. Live a life she loathes or run away from everything she’s ever known? Navigating life is hard, and Link forces her to learn that she doesn’t have to do it alone.

Warning: Cussing. Like big boy words.

Previous

Next

Part 1

How To Be A Queen

The few days before the festival flew by. Mrs. Harper had barely finished our gowns on top of the many last-minute requests from other Hateno residents. Anju and I were enlisted at times along to help with sewing. It was hectic, but I loved it. Nothing was expected of me other than my occasional assistance. Over the duration of this time, I had rarely bumped into Link. When I did, he asked what I was up to and was off again as quick as he came. Every now and again, I’d notice him hanging off to the side with that same group of men helping with putting together decorations or stalls for the festival. Sometimes talking with Aryll, other times being pushed away by her.

A boy ran across the courtyard in hot pursuit of a rooster while two other children trailed behind in fits of light laughter. The sun had long since set and a myriad of lanterns were lit around the village. Jovial music played from a makeshift band of young and old musicians alike. Some drifted off to join other festivities while others jumped in to fill the gap. The musicians hooted and hollered louder than their own instruments at times. The music never lost its beat and had been playing boisterously since early evening. I had never heard the likes of the tunes they played, but I could tell it could get the most sober man to clap along.

Which, incidentally, was what I was doing near the edge of the crowd. Sharla Harper had just parted from me to join the dancing throngs of people after our idle witnessing of her husband playing the violin with aggressive enthusiasm. Admittedly, I had turned down a dance with her and chose to become a sort of wallflower instead.

A thin-stemmed glass was pushed into my hands and Malon came into view. Her cheeks were red from alcohol and a smile brimmed her cheeks as she spoke, “Drink! We won’t be able to get free booze like this until Spring.”

“And without the judgement to boot,” I said, trying to match her enthusiasm and stole a glance around us. It seemed like everyone and their grandmother was taking part in the festival’s pleasantries. Not that I was expecting a castle ball’s scrutiny, but this was a completely different world after all. People were laughing, singing, dancing, and I was under the impression that they truly wanted to be here with their loved ones to celebrate another successful harvest season. I was out of my realm and I was loving it.

“You look like you’re having an amazing time and you haven’t even done anything yet,” Malon said, bringing me out of my thoughts. I shrugged and touched the glass to my lips, suddenly realizing I was beaming at nothing in particular.

“Have you seen him?” Her grin was almost devious and I took a small sip of the sparkling ricewine. It smelled vaguely of roses and the color was a matching light pink. “Who are you talking about?” I asked absently, my eyes were drawn to the band before meeting hers.

“Oh, don’t play coy. You know who I mean,” Malon’s voice was lowered as if anyone was eavesdropping.

I wrapped my arms around myself, the glass held lightly in my right hand. I spun a little, feeling my gown twist around my legs. I felt light and appreciate that the only layers needed was a bodice and a white slip. I admired how my drink wasn’t far off from the color of my dress and shook my head, “He probably doesn’t want to look after me all the time. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” The woman looked frustrated, “He’s missing out on the most beautiful woman in Hateno and it’s not a big deal?”

I laughed and rolled my head back to look at the sky, “You’re being ridiculous or are you talking about yourself? Because the latter would make sense.” The stars were glistening, not a cloud in the sky. It was like the goddesses blessed the night and were watching from above.

“I’m serious,” Her words were drawn out and she gripped her own glass tightly, “You look hot tonight.” I hid my smile behind the drink. “Thank you, love. You look gorgeous tonight too.”

There were a few men that hung around us. They stole looks at us and I felt bashful. I did feel confident in how I presented myself though. The gown Mrs. Harper had sewn together was perfect. The gown’s neckline heart shaped and was drawn tightly around my waist before flowing in an A-Line skirt. A thick lacy white ribbon was wrapped around my middle and a grey shawl was wrapped around my shoulders and tucked underneath my arms. It was very effective in keeping out the cold, but I dared not to stray far from fire pits that were littered throughout the square.

My shoulders loosened and I quickly realized I had downed the wine as I listened to Malon’s rambling. She gasped and took it from me, mumbling, “We need more drink.”

“Hm?”

“We need more drink!” She said quite a bit louder and turned. I lost her in the crowd and didn’t bother following.

Alone again, I turned my attention to the music and the dancers. They twirled and the partners parted to make lines, then moving through to find their partners again. The ladies bunched their skirts in one hand, laughing and stomping to the beat. I felt a hand on my shoulder and I jumped.

I looked over my shoulder and expected Malon but found Link squeezing between a couple. His hair hung partially in his eyes from navigating through the crowd, then he looked at me completely and I felt like my world stopped. The space around us seemed quieter than before and all I wanted to do was hear what he wanted to say. The air felt suddenly so warm that I was almost wanting to take my shawl off.

He had opened his mouth speak but seemed to forget his words. Instead he looked at the band. So, I did too. Occasionally, I looked over to see if he would finally say something – anything. He wore a nice white long-sleeved shirt and he smelled like mead. It could have been anyone that smelled like that around us, but I supposed since we were standing so close it had to be him.

“Hey,” he finally said. Link wasn’t really making eye contact.

For whatever reason I started laughing. Something about the prolonged silence and the sudden greeting tickled me. I didn’t doubt it was the ricewine from before that helped fuel it. Link finally looked fully at me and a flash of confusion ran across his features. Then, he was laughing too.

“Hello Link,” I managed to say between giggles. He was just softly smiling now, not nearly as troubled as before and watched as I calmed myself down. “I’m sorry, Malon forced a drink onto me before you got here.”

“She forced you to drink?” Link asked, sounding worried. His eyes flicked to the faces behind me, as if looking for her.

“Oh no. No, no,” I put a hand up, “I was more than happy to oblige. She just put it in my hands.”

He seemed relieved and then grabbed my hand that I had somehow put on his chest. I don’t remember doing that.

“Do you want to dance?” He lightly rubbed the top of my hand with his thumb as if it was a natural thing to do. As if he’d done it before.

“I,” I had no idea what to say. “Yes,” I said, my heart beating quickly as I glanced at where the music was playing and back to him. His smile reached his eyes and I panicked, “I-I mean no.” My eyes grew wide as I realized what I had said, “I mean yes! But!”

At this point I’m sure I looked redder than the tomato pin cushion Anju’s mum uses.

“I don’t know how to dance!” I said quickly in a horrible attempt to recover. I must have looked like a bumbling idiot.

“You knew how to dance the last time,” he said plainly. “Zel, are you sure you want to? We don’t have to.”

“Yes!” I had the itch to fiddle with my hands, but he was still holding one of them. Why was I so nervous? It was Link. It was only Link. “Ballroom dancing is all I can do. Usually it’s only 1-2-3-4 1-2-3-4… but this is not ballroom dancing and I’ll look-“

“You’ll look beautiful.”

I stopped talking. Feeling that feeling in my chest bubble up again. I felt inexplicably happy. So happy, in fact, that my brain forgot to spit out words for me to say. He thinks I’m beautiful?

“And,” Link continued, shrugging his shoulders, “I’ll only dance with you. So, if you don’t want to, we’re both missing out.”

“That’s evil.”

Link nodded knowingly, “I know, but it has to be done.”

“I don’t know the steps.”

“There really aren’t any steps. Just follow what everyone else is doing,” he said, tugging on my hand. “If it makes you feel any better, it’s gotten to the part of the night where everyone’s too drunk to care.”

I raised an eyebrow, “How do you know the right things to say all the time?”

That toothy smile was back, “Trust me, it’s pure luck.”

He led us out of the audience. The music was even louder here and somehow someone snuck a drum into the group of already noisy instruments. I gathered my skirts in one hand like many of the other women and somewhere along the way either Link had let go of me or we were forced apart. Now I was sandwiched between two rather large women. I copied the swaying motions and found myself doing rather well. One of the women nearly tripped and the other started cackling. There was a weird box step and the group moved forward as someone on a fiddle played vivaciously.

I noticed we had separated into lines with lines of men and boys themselves moving between and finding their partners. Rather inelegantly a smaller boy bumped into me but held out his hands. I paused, confused, but crouched down and offered my own. His little fingers interlocked with mine and we did a small circle swaying dance. I laughed at his pink face.

“You’re a rather good dancer,” I said.

He looked at me in surprise but put on a brave face. “Thanks. Mum says so too.”

I looked up to see Link with one of the women before with an expression not too different from my dance partner’s. His eyes caught mine and I tried hiding my laughter. Link mouthed something and I shook my head, not understanding. A beat went by and partners separated and reconjoined. Link closed the gap between us and didn’t hesitate to interlock his fingers with mine.

“Hey,” he said again.

My lips twitched upward, “Hello Link.”

“I see you found someone else to dance with.”

“Oh, yes. He was so charming. He stole my heart and left just as quick. Didn’t even catch his name,” I sighed wistfully. The couples moved to form a large circle with another group making another inner circle. We happened to end up on the inside.

“Really?” He asked with a surprised voice, “I’m so honored to know that the next king of Hyrule hailes from Hateno.”

I studied his face. The shape of his eyes, the small scar on his cheek, the way his smile started out lopsided before evening out on his cheeks. I nodded slowly. “Wouldn’t that be something?”

He spun me around and I pursed my lips, “I don’t want a king, though.”

“No? What do you want then?”

I shrugged with a smile, “I don’t know. Kings are awfully boring. Instead, I want someone who can make me laugh and smile.” I thought for a moment, then nodded, “Yes, that sounds about right.”

He hummed, “So, a court jester.”

“Exactly. A dreamy court jester.”

Link laughed at my expression and we were pulled apart again. The cold air replaced where his warm hands were, and the same sequence of dancing went on. After what seemed like forever, I had snuck from the dance and into the chattering audience once more. I hadn’t seen Link in quite some time, so I assumed he couldn’t find me on time to make a convenient exit together. It hadn’t bothered me and I found Anju and Aryll by a food stall.

Aryll noticed me first and pointed me out to Anju with her meat kabob, “Lookie here!”

Anju lit up when she saw me, making me smile back. “Do you want some?” I agreed and she gave me her half of the stick. “I’m full anyway.”

I thanked her and hung on the side, vaguely listening to their conversations as I watched people pass.

“Does he dance good,” Aryll said with a mouth full of steak.

I nodded bashfully, not bothering to ask how she knew. “He can waltz well too,” I said, pulling a roasted carrot off and popping it into my mouth.

Aryll blanked, “Pardon?”

Anju giggled, “Are you serious?”

“Mmhm,” I swallowed, “During the winter solstice ball.”

Aryll started choking and Anju laughed loudly, trying to smack her friend’s back in a lame attempt to help. “Oh-Oh my. Get him. I want to hear more. A first-hand account by the man himself,” Anju waved me off, keeling over at Aryll’s expression.

I walked around aimlessly for a moment and found a stray waste bin for the now empty stick. In all honesty, I had no idea where to find him. He had just narrowly found me before but looking at all the people it felt like searching for a needle in a haystack. There was no way everyone was from this little town and from what I overheard I was mostly right. Many people came from more rural outskirts.

My eye caught someone walking out of the square. It looked like Mac, one of the first people we had seen upon coming to Hateno and he seemed close to Link. So, I made up my mind to follow him.

“I’m sorry,” a man cut into my path and I stopped. “Do I know you?”

I squinted in the faint light of a lamp. He was a middle-aged gentleman with graying hair, but I didn’t recognize him. His smile was sweet and gentle, as if he already knew the answer. I shook my head, “No, sir. I don’t recall. I hope you find the person you’re looking for.”

His smile widened, “My deepest apologies.”

I looked at him questionably and he moved slightly to the side, giving me allowance to move past. I felt scrutinized and looked at my feet as I left. Strange. Nevertheless, I saw Mac just barely disappear around a corner and I followed. It was quieter here other than the soft chatter of standoffish groups. Some merchants hung around; others began packing up. I suppose it was that time of night. I hugged my shawl closer and felt unsure.

Mac didn’t move fast and he held two pints of mead - one for each hand. He turned another corner and Toma shouted his name.

“-you took so long I’m basically sobered up.”

“You are nowhere near sober. You can barely walk,” Mac grumbled and I heard a clanking of glass. I stopped just before rounding the corner with him. It felt weird to barge in, I didn’t know them like that. What was I going to say? That I stalked Mac to find them?

As I was thinking about excuses I heard Link say something mildly insulting to Toma and I thought Kafei’s laughter was a warning for a heart attack. He wheezed so bad he started coughing. “You sound like an old man,” Toma quipped, “You got asthma too.”

“Oof. That hurts, mate,” Kafei coughed again to clear his throat, “At least the ladies think this old man is sexy.”

“You have exactly one lady,” Link chimed in, laughing at his own joke.

“Um, one more than all of you!” He shouted, “Besides I have a multitude of women in several other regions. A platoon. You remember when I went to Gerudo Town?”

“Yeah. When you were ten.”

“I was an early bloomer.”

“Does Anju know that?” Mac’s voice disappeared into the pint.

“This conversation stays here and if anyone else knows you’re all dead,” Kafei shouted, again. Even if they didn’t tell, Anju was bound to overhear all the way in the square.

“I’d pay money to see you fight Link,” Toma snickered, “500 rupees right now.”

“Link is a fucking knight.”

Link snorted, “I’ll let you beat me if you split it.”

“With how competitive you are? I don’t want to die young.”

“You’re already old.”

“I’m only two years older than you, fucker.”

There was a wide array of bickering between Toma and Kafei. I rehearsed my excuse in my head, ‘Oh, no. I’m lost! Wait, friends? Thank heavens I found you all. I was just so lost. Aryll wanted to talk to you, Link.’ Okay, no, that won’t work. That sounds worse than stalking one of them.

“Besides Link already has a girl,” Kafei said, “We’re obsolete, boys.”

“Shut up,” I could barely hear Link. I swallowed thickly, thinking about just walking away, but I’m sure they would hear a pair of heels on the stone. Perhaps I can take them off.

“Who? Blondie?” Toma asked.

“That one girl,” Kafei asked. There was a bout of silence. “Selma.”

“What? That’s not even close to her name,” Link chuckled. Toma began laughing unnecessarily loud.

“Zelda!” Toma shouted, “Her name is Zelda. I remember. She’s cute. I almost bedded her.” His words started slurring. Someone probably hit him because there was a light “Ow” that followed.

“She’s not mine, believe me,” Link said.

“What’s the color of her eyes?”

“Green,” he didn’t even miss a beat.

“You’re basically married,” Kafei clapped his hands together. “Congratulations.” I stared at my shoes and felt my face flush. I wasn’t supposed to be here. My hands felt sweaty. I should slip away.

Link didn’t say anything for a long moment. “Trust me, that will never happen.”

Kafei made a noise, “Why not? Why else would you bring someone like that here?”

“Her dad-“

“Yeah, I get it. Her dad paid you. But you could have taken her anywhere. Rito Village and see the aurora borealis, the tops of Mount Lanayru, the warmth of the Gerudo. Anywhere in Hyrule. But you took her here. I’m assuming this girl comes from money and she could have gotten a whole party of people to accompany her just like how every rich person does. But it’s just you. So, what’s the catch?” Kafei quieted down. I pulled at my fingers, feeling overly nervous.

“It doesn’t matter,” He sounded frustrated. I could imagine that he was doing that tick where he ran a hand through his hair and lightly pulled at it as he did. Link sounded annoyed and for whatever reason it upset me. “She’s just immature and wanted to do something her parents wouldn’t allow. I was a convenient solution. She doesn’t mean anything to me, not like that. Lay off, alright? It’s fucking annoying.”

My blood ran cold. What?

“You don’t mean that. You know that I know you don’t,” Now Kafei had raised his own voice, “It’s bullshit.”

“It’s just a job. Nothing more. I’m literally just walking her from place to place and getting money from it. Easiest gig I’ve had in 5 years. Are you happy?”

There was silence other than a sniffle. I quickly went to hold my nose.

“What was that?” I heard Link say.

Toma cleared his throat, “I’m sorry I think I had too much of your aunt’s chili.”

“Are you kidding me, Toma? I swear I should beat your ass,” Kafei said. The bickering continued and I took it as my cue to leave. My heart felt heavy in my chest. ‘I should have expected this,’ I thought repeatedly.

Anju found me before I did her. She was smiling brightly until she saw my face. “Goodness, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I knew I couldn’t smile to console her. “I think I’ll be off tonight instead.”

“Off?” She looked bewildered, “Off to where.”

“I’m not sure. Anywhere to be honest.”

She stared at me with concern filling her eyes and we later walked wordlessly back to her parents’ residence. They themselves were still at the festival and I felt a pang of guilt for not thanking them properly. She offered me a bag and I packed what little I had. The focus was getting out of here. I had gold and the clothes on my back. Anju packed what food she could.

Anju stood in the doorway of my temporary bedroom with my traveling clothes now clean and folded, “I won’t convince you to reconsider nor will I ask what happened.”

She set the clothes down on the bed and took my hands in hers, “However, when you go can I please tell Link?”

“I’m not so sure,” I found it hard to keep my voice steady. I couldn’t decide if I was simply mad or disappointed or sad. Whatever it was weighed heavily and all I wanted was to leave.

She dropped her hands and I frowned, “I think it’s for the best that I go alone.”

“Do you truly believe that?”

“No, but I’m trying to.”

Anju stepped out and I changed. With the backpack strapped, I followed her out of the village. There were plenty of people leaving from the festival and we didn’t stick out. Once we reached the outskirts I turned to her, “Anju, it’s okay if you want to go back. I don’t expect you to be out here in the cold with me.”

“It’s just that I don’t want to leave you,” she was tearing up, making me do the same.

I embraced her, “I’ll be okay! And you should be okay too. You’re one of my closest friends and I wish nothing but happiness for you.”

“Be careful. Whatever he said or whatever he did… I’ll kill him if you want me to, Zelda.”

I laughed tearfully at her comment, “It’s fine, Anju.”

“No, it’s not! Obviously not.”

I shrugged my shoulders, “All he did was make it clear that he didn’t want to babysit me.” I cleared my throat, “And that’s fine.”

She wasn’t too convinced but relented. “I’ll miss you.”

We said some farewells and I made sure to have her do the same with Aryll and Malon. Then, we parted. I had produced a map from my coat pocket, found Hateno, and traced my finger to the Gerudo region. I’d have to back track quite a bit before reaching a new trading route, but I supposed it couldn’t be the worse of situations. I thought momentarily of going to the Spring of Wisdom, Mount Lanayru was right here, but decided that would be awful in the dead of winter. Gerudo region it was then.

I had been walking for a half hour or so. I took my time, there wasn’t anywhere I had to be immediately. No one to keep up with and no one to listen to. I frowned to myself, his stories weren’t that good anyway. In fact, they were boring and dumb. Tears pricked my eyes. They were very dumb. I hated the fact that his absence gave me no solace. I went into this whole idea of traveling with excitement for my independence and look where that has gotten me? I should be excited. Eager, even. I was just a job, huh? Well, he should be relieved that I left without him. Hell, maybe Link wanted me to leave.

The tune of the festival music was repeating in my head. He had a stupid smile too. And I lied to Aryll, he dances very badly. A tear escaped from my eyes, leaving a trail that the cold air clung to. I’m not crying. I am not crying. I hated the way he talked and the way he’d look at me. Even the way he looks. Why not just add that to the pile too? Amongst it all, the thing I most hated about Link Forester was how he refused to get out of my head.

“Where are we going?”

I screamed and my neck nearly snapped off with how fast I looked to my right. I nearly started bawling.

“Why did you leave?” Link Forester didn’t even want my answer to his initial question, not like it properly registered in the first place. I stopped in my tracks. Link was staring at me as if he was angry.

“How did you find out so fast? How did you-”

“Anju is a bad liar. Why did you leave without me?” Link had frustration written all over his face.

My tears had dried and were replaced with anger. “Don’t talk to me like that. If anyone should be angry, it should be me!”

He looked taken by my outburst. I was too, my bottom lip quivered and I started walking again. I didn’t want to face him right now. He said enough and I didn’t want to hear it again.

“Could you at least tell me why you’re angry?” He sounded defeated, tired and that in itself riled me up more.

“You’ve been dishonest with me!” I threw my hands up. It was obvious, was it not? “I’m immature! I mean nothing to you and I’m just a job.”

Link didn’t move to negate anything. Instead he just watched my emotions bubble over idly. I bit my lip hard to stop from outright crying. “I would be fine if you had told me upfront that you felt that way. I would have accepted it and we would move on like that. It’s not odd that someone deals with me just for money. I’m accustomed to it. I expect that.” I put a hand behind my head, trying to find my words before speaking again. Slower now, partly to myself, “I didn’t with you. I wanted desperately to believe that you hung around because you liked me. That may have been my own fault. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

He just kind of stood there and stared. He was still wearing the same clothes from earlier tonight, his shoes were changed into boots though and he had his sword strapped to him. He was refusing to look at me. I drew my attention away from him. Link’s silence only confirmed my feelings and I hated it. Something dawned on me and I drew in a breath. If he wanted Princess Zelda of Hyrule, he could have her.

“I want to remind you that you are no means tied to my agency,” I had found my voice. It was an odd feeling to speak to him like this. But it did make him look at me.

My eyes stayed on him and he seemed shocked as if it were news to him. It wasn’t anything untrue. I stood tall in my boots and tried to void any feelings I had for him. They didn’t matter, much less to him.

“What are you talking about?” Link said incredulously.

I breathed inward. I knew I didn’t want to say it. In reality, I didn’t want him to leave my side. He was a comforting constant that kept me situations caused by my own shortfalls… but for someone who didn’t want to be by my side by pure choice alone wasn’t right. Goddesses, I want to be selfish and tell him he can’t leave my side even if his life depended on it. I knew he’d do it. I resented myself.

“You’re bounded by orders, right?” My heart was in my throat. “In the beginning I told you that you didn’t have to come with me. My uncle may be general, but by birthright my words hold higher precedence than his.”

I paused to read his face. There wasn’t much difference, as if my words didn’t register. Link moved his head to the side, as if about to deny me.

Frustration built within me, “Look! All I’m saying is that you don’t have to be here! I may be your charge and you may be the captain of my guard, but I’m also the high princess. So…” I pursed my lips, struggling to find purchase on what I was trying to communicate, “So, you don’t have to follow me around and deal with – everything. You can go back to Hateno or go back to Castle Town if you want to. Tell my father I fell into the mouth of a crocodile, I don’t care. I’m sure he’ll be relieved.” My voice gave out and cracked, “I apologize for getting you wrapped up in my own desires. It was never my intention.”

“Zelda, you can’t-“

“I’m sorry, but I really don’t want to hear another lecture right now,” angry tears stung my eyes. I sounded completely outlandish, but Hylia knows I was in too deep. There was a painful truth in my ramblings, and the harsh reality in his eyes stared back at me. “Everyone I’ve ever met has expected something from me and it usually ends in disappointment. Save yourself the breath.” I couldn’t look at him anymore. Here we go. Oh, woe as me. I turned and started walking, halfway into a jog. You know, in one of my sappy romance novels in Castletown the girl had a similar outburst. Poured all her frustrations out and tried leaving. It happened several times, but he always stopped her. Got her to stay until they could figure something out. Something to patch up their issues.

But I wasn’t living a sappy romance novel. I let my emotions triumph my logic all the time and nothing good has come of it. It was pathetic and impractical to think that I would ever have something akin to that. No knight in shining armor reached out to stop me. For the first time in a while, I wasn’t followed either.

  I wasn’t sure how much time went by. I did know how much I cried.

A lot.

Anju had snuck tissues into my bag and I’ve never been more grateful for a person. I didn’t look back after I left him and after an hour or so I did. He wasn’t there, unsurprisingly. I was tired and wrestled with stopping, but I knew if I walked through the night I could end up at the stable in the early morning hours and a soft bed sounded much nicer than the dirt.

I wasn’t too sure about the time. It was very late and it was silent other than the constant sound of my footsteps. I had hummed a long-forgotten song earlier. It was hard walking by yourself I found. It was colder too. I had my coat of course and it was formidable against the temperature. But it didn’t compare to a person.

Against everything that happened tonight, I missed him. What was with bad nights and celebrations? What an odd streak of bad luck.

My ears perked up to another sound. A steady tapping? I knew it wasn’t just my sound. My eyebrows creased and my heart beat faster.

“Leave me alone, Link.”

It continued.

“I told you before to leave me alone!”

Again, it continued and I whipped around.

It wasn’t Link.

Note: Hey beech. So that was spooky. Who is it? Idk. We’ll see, I’m so tired.

[waltzofthewifi]

Kota Chapter 3: Cats Can’t Play Chess

Beginning | Chapter 2 | ToC | Chapter 4

Marinette was about to pull her hair out. How was Alya believing this?

"- Miss the movie for me," Lila was saying. "I'll just have to work extra hard once this injury passes to catch up on homework."

"It really is no problem, Lila," Alya replied. "Me and Marinette can just see it next week. Right girl?"

Marinette rolled her eyes. "Except Lila's probably going to pull another excuse to get you to do her homework."

"Im not doing her homework for her," Alya said, also rolling her eyes. "Honestly, stop assuming the worst just because it's Lila."

Marinette sighed and looked around the classroom, hoping someone would come to her defense. Lacy's eyes met hers, and Lacy gave her an encouraging smile, but there was worry in her eyes.

Marinette couldn't blame her. She'd been bullied enough herself enough to know how scary it could be. And Lacy was still new - yeah, she and Alix has grown close fast, but the friendship was still only three weeks old, and her friendships with the rest of the class were still growing. She didn't have the same history Marinette had with the class - not that it seemed to matter, Marinette thought dryly.

Marinette looked at the only other person in the class that knew Lila was a liar, but Adrien looked half asleep. Of course, with an akuma right by his house last night and an early morning photo shoot, he had every right to be tired.

Marinette sighed. So much for back up.

"What's wrong with someone else doing your homework?" Chloe asked. "Sabrina does mine all the time, and she's happier for it."

Sabrina nodded eagerly as the rest of the class - minus Adrien, being half asleep - rolled their eyes.

As Marinette put her books away, Nino poked Adrien, waking him up from his daze, Alix challenged Kim to race to the park, and Rose started talking to Juleka about the newest Kitty Section song. Just like that, the class was back to normal.

Alix and Kim left first, followed by Lacy, Nathaniel, and Max, who was already talking statistics about the race. Chloe was next out, followed by Sabrina, and Marinette joined Rose and Juleka on the way out. Behind her, Nino had finally managed to get Adrien standing and walking.

"I love the new t-shirts Marinette," Rose said. "They're perfect!"

Juleka nodded. "Everyone likes them."

Marinette couldn't help but smile. "I'm so glad to hear it! I was worried that the-"

Doors to a classroom flew open, cutting off all conversations.

"I am Chessmaster! I will make all of you members of the chess club, and then the school will have to fund me!"

"I heard about the chess club!" Rose said. "They lost one of their members, and were shut down because of low attendance! I would be upset too if that was one of my clubs.."

"We have to get out of here!" Marinette said.

The three girls were close enough to the stairs to risk running down and heading for the doors. Behind them, Marinette noticed Nino push Adrien into a classroom, and Ivan and Mylene making a break back to their classroom.

When the girls reached the bottom of the stairs, Marinette broke off and headed to the bathroom. Thankfully, it was empty.

"Hawkmoth doesn't take a break, does he?" Marinette muttered. "Tikki, spots on!"

Chessmaster's dress, of course, looked like a chessboard.

It was brown, was alternating light and dark squares. The dress reached the ground, and had short, puffy sleeves.

The rest of her was half-white, half-black (which looked awful, Hawkmoth needed to pick a color scheme and stick with it) and she had a tiara like the queen piece. In one hand she held a staff, topped with what looked like a chess piece.

"I bet that's where the akuma is," Ladybug muttered.

"I was thinking the same."

Chat Noir landed next to her, an irritated look on his face.

"You okay Kitty?" Ladybug asked.

Chat Noir yawned. "Just tired. I think I need a cat nap."

Ladybug nodded. Chat Noir had mentioned last night that he had an early morning today, and last night's akuma had kept them both up for what felt like ages.

"Don't worry," Ladybug said. "I bet this will end quickly. So far she's only really made people play chess. That's pretty harmless, right?"

It was not a quick end.

Apparently, Chessmaster could also summon large, animated chess pieces (which frustratingly didn't seem to function as chess pieces, and instead could go anywhere they wanted) and also had the same move-mapping power as Party Crasher. It didn't help that a bishop had stepped on her lucky charm before she had a chance to see what it was. Thankfully, Ladybug and Chat Noir had avoided being captured, but they had taken a few beatings along the way.

The worst had to be the knight who threw Ladybug through a wall.

(Mind you, she had been thrown into walls plenty of times before, but through a wall was a lot more painful.)

Groaning, Ladybug looked up. She was in an apartment, somewhere near the school, but that's all she could tell without sitting up. And she didn't want to sit up quite yet.

"Ladybug?"

Ladybug blinked, finally forcing herself to sit up. She looked to the source of the voice, realizing that, by chance or by luck, she had ended up in one of her classmate's apartments.

She had never met Lacy as her alter ego. Lacy always stayed as far away as she could from akuma attacks, either out of survival instincts the rest of Paris seemed to lack, or because she was still unused to the idea of Ladybug's cure. Even now, she seemed less star-struck than Alya or Chloe would be, and more concerned.

"Are you okay?" Lacy asked, kneeling next to Ladybug.

"I'm fine," Ladybug said. "I take hits like that all the time. Are you alright, Miss...?"

"Lacy. And yeah, I'm fine."

Lacy held out a hand, and Ladybug accepted the help up. Just as she stood up, her earrings beeped their last warning.

Ladybug looked around, needing a place to hide, but there were no good hiding spots in the small living room.

"Upstairs."

"Wha-?"

Before Ladybug had time to react, Lacy was pulling her up the stairs to the second floor. Lacy shoved the superhero into an empty room, and the door closed behind her just as Ladybug's transformation dropped.

"That was a close one," Marinette admitted, leaning back against the door.

"Good thing Lacy was so quick to realize what you needed!" Tikki commented.

Marinette nodded, her eyes wondering the room.

It was obviously Lacy's room, but it didn't look anywhere near what Marinette had expected. She always pictured her classmate having one of those coordinated rooms, with a Disney theme or something.

Instead, the room was a mish-mash of everything. Her bed was covered with fuzzy blankets of various colors, her walls with photos she must have taken herself. She had more clothes on her desk, bed, and closet door than in her actual closet (which had been left open that morning), and had replaced her desk chair with a yoga ball. Beside her desk was various moving boxes still left unpacked or half-packed. Nearly every corner of the room had a pair of shoes thrown half-hazardly against the wall.

"And I thought my room was a mess," Marinette commented.

Her eyes wondered to the pictures on the wall. She knew she shouldn't peak, but curiosity killed the Ladybug, and she found herself walking over to them anyways.

She immediately spotted a picture of herself, working hard at something in the library. Marinette had seen the picture before - Lacy was good at warning people when she had taken a picture of them - but she had never had a chance to compare it with the rest of the photos.

But they were all so similar.

Alix was making a similar face in one of the photos - nose scrunched in concentration as she flew around a corner in a skating race. In another, Alya had wide eyes as she recorded something on her phone. She spotted a photo of Lacy's stepmom, Elisabeth, beaming in a wedding dress, and another of blonde-haired girl Marinette didn't recognize, miming to herself while reading a script.

No poses, no forced smiles, no blank expressions. It was obvious what Lacy liked to focus on.

I'm, uh, really good at reading facial expressions, Lacy had said. It hadn't seemed like enough then, for that conversation, but now Marinette wondered. Had that been how Lacy had sensed what Ladybug needed? Had it been that clear on her face - filled with worry, looking around for something?

A small, timid knock on the door followed by receding footsteps knocked Marinette out of her thoughts.

Marinette cautiously opened the door, but no one remained in the hall. In front of the door was a plastic bag with a first aid kit, water bottle, and granola bar.

"That was really thoughtful of her!" Tikki said as Marinette closed the door again.

"I'll have to thank her when I get the chance," Marinette agreed.

She didn't need most of it - the suit protected her from any cuts, there wasn't much she could do for the bruises, and she wasn't hungry - but she was dying of thirst. It took her about a minute to gulp down the water, and Tikki finished her macaroon about the same time.

"We should get back out there," Marinette decided. "Tikki, spots on!"

Chess pieces can't climb, so of course Chat Noir was taunting them from the roof of the school.

"I couldn't do much but distract without you," he said. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Ladybug replied. "Just had to recharge."

Ladybug looked out over the courtyard. Random Parisians had joined the students playing chess, and Chessmaster was teaching Mr Ramier the basics.

"You didn't happen to see what my lucky charm was?" Ladybug asked.

"Oh, it was a Ladybug themed chess set!" Chat Noir said. "It looked really cool. Until it was run over."

"Chess? Why would it want us to play chess?"

"Well, I hope it's not that direct," Chat Noir said. "I don't know about you, but I know nothing about chess."

"Ohhh," Ladybug said. "That's so obvious! Lucky charm!"

She wasn't surprised when a spotted megaphone fell into her hands. She held it up to her mouth.

"Chessmaster! Chat Noir here doesn't know anything about chess and wants to learn!"

Chessmaster was floating up to them faster than Hawkmoth could say It's a trap.

Ladybug grinned and readied her yoyo. "Gotcha."

"And then Chat Noir actually stayed and got some basic chess lessons!" Alya finished. "You should've seen it! He was so cute."

"So I saw," Marinette replied, rolling over from her back to her stomach and propping the phone up on a pillow on her bed. "That video is one of your most popular posts."

"I know," Alya said. "I hope this means the chess club gets the boost it needs. I'd join myself, but between the blog and helping Lila with her homework, I don't have the time."

"Same. I'm too busy helping out at the bakery and being class president, I don't think I could join another club! Speaking of class president business, did you read through the email I drafted on getting cushions for some of our seats?"

"Sorry girl, but I didn't get the chance."

"Alya!"

"Don't blame me, blame Hawkmoth! I would have had plenty of time if I didn't spend an hour playing chess. Besides, you're a good writer. Trust yourself."

"Yeah, but you're better." Marinette sighed. "Just read through it once, okay? I already don't think Mr Damocles will like it, but I promised Rose I'd try and I really want to give it my best."

"Of course," Alya said. "See you tomorrow!"

"See you."

Alya hung up, and Marinette groaned and flopped on her bed.

"This is the fifth time Alya's said she'd do something for me and blown it off," Marinette said.

"She has a point," Tikki commented. "I'm sure lots of people had their schedules thrown off by Chessmaster."

"I know, and I wouldn't be worried so much if it was just things like that. But this is also the first time in weeks she updated her blog! And she hasn't said anything herself, but I overheard her mom say something about her grades dropping when she visited the bakery yesterday. I'm just worried her helping that liar is interfering with her own life!"

"Have you told her this?" Tikki asked.

Marinette sighed. "No. Anytime I say anything negative about Lila, she gets defensive."

"What if you asked her mom about it? Or Nino?" Tiki suggested.

"I don't know, that feels like going behind her back."

Marinette rolled over onto her back and looked up at the skylight.

"Tikki?"

"Yes?"

"Are you feeling up to transforming?"

Ladybug landed on a rooftop, looking out at her city.

There was a certain freedom in her transformation, even with the burdens of being a superhero. As much as Lila might hate Ladybug, one classmate couldn't hurt her now.

Looking around at what had been damaged by the battle, Ladybug smiled at the thought. It didn't seem like Hawkmoth could hurt her, either, even if he was a thorn in her side.

There was always a voice in the back of her head in akuma fights, worrying that the damage this time would not be fixed. But once again it was - houses rebuilt, walls fixed, bruises on her side vanished. And for once, Ladybug let herself feel the confidence the rest of Paris experienced in her. When the next akuma hit, when the next building crumbled, it would vanish - it needed to, as a hero Ladybug couldn't let herself get too arrogant - but nothing was at risk now. She could just let herself feel.

Ladybug sat down at the edge of the roof, feet dangling in the air, and relaxed.

She wasn't sure how long she stayed there, but when her eyes began to droop, Ladybug headed home.

That's when she noticed the balcony light.

Ladybug frowned. Hadn't that been Lacy's apartment? Against the light, she could make out Lacy's figure sitting out on the balcony, feet dangling over the edge. Ladybug swung over, landing next to where Lacy was perched.

Lacy jumped when she landed. "Ladybug?"

"Sorry for scaring you," Ladybug said. "But I wanted to thank you for earlier. You were a big help."

"Really?" Lacy asked. "I mean, all I did was give you a little space."

Ladybug smiled. "Don't underestimate the effect a small action can have. That little space was exactly what I needed."

"Glad I could help!" Lacy smiled at her, brightly and honestly, but her expression slipped a second later. She turned out towards the city. "Do you ever get used to it?"

Ladybug frowned. "Used to what?"

"Seeing it destroyed," Lacy replied.

With a sigh, Ladybug sat down next to her. "No, not really. It's not easy seeing your home destroyed."

Lacy smiled, a little bitterly and sarcastically and a little too much like she knew what Ladybug meant. "No, it's not."

"You're not originally from Paris, are you?" Of course Marinette knew that, but Ladybug had no reason to know.

"I'm from Brooklyn," Lacy said. "In America. But I spent a lot of time in Manhattan, and Long Island, and that took a lot of storm damage a few years ago. It was difficult seeing it like that."

"I can imagine," Ladybug admitted. "But even without a magic cure like mine, people rebuild."

Lacy snorted. "Buildings. They rebuild buildings. That's not the important part."

"No, it's not," Ladybug agreed.

"How do you do it?" Lacy asked. "You're constantly being beaten, or thrown through walls, or nearly drowned, and you're doing it for people you don't really know."

"It didn't start that way," Ladybug replied. "When I first became Ladybug, I wanted to run far away. And I almost did - but that would have left my partner - my friend - all alone. I started because of him, and because of my other friend, and my parents. And somewhere along the way, I started doing it for all of Paris. But it all started for one person." Ladybug smiled at Lacy. "I think that's how a lot of heroes start."

"Just one person," Lacy repeated.

"You're a lot braver than you think," Ladybug said. "Trust me."

[themildestofwriters]

Writing Ask Game

Thanks to the magnificent @gottaenjoythelittlethingzz​ for tagging me in this wonderful little tag.

I don’t think I’m going to choose one WIP rather just the universe itself – The Divine Intervention universe. By that, I mean I’ll be doing it for these two novels I’m working on: Divine Intervention or: What Comes After Immortality? & The Trials and Tribulations of a Virgin Goddess.

1. Describe the plot in one sentence.

Divine Intervention or: What Comes After Immortality? 

A goddess and a girl meet at a bus stop and while things are a bit awkward at first, they soon begin hitting it off and begin regular correspondence, however, there’s something more lurking under the surface that neither of them wish to peruse and that one thing is forgiveness and love respectively.

The Trials and Tribulations of a Virgin Goddess

Sex and Babette go together as well as water and oil, yet it was not always this way and in this story she decides to heal herself, to improve herself, and to choose love over her almost selfish desire to dwell on the past and wallow in a pit of guilt and suffering.

2. Pick one sight, smell, sound, feel, and taste to describe the aesthetic of your novel.

Divine Intervention or: What Comes After Immortality?

Flashes of blood, death and gore in the small hours of the night. The smell of petrichor as rain descends. The sound of deathly silence. The feel of soft arms holding you tightly. The metallic taste of blackened blood coughed from the lungs.

The Trials and Tribulations of a Virgin Goddess

Bodies intertwined in a lover’s embrace. The smell of lust in the air. The sound of ceaseless screaming. The feel of suffocating pain and smooth stone. The bittersweet taste of lip balm.

3. Which 3+ songs would make up a playlist for the novel?

Because I’m not very knowledgeable on music myself, this list is filled only with songs I have on my phone.

Divine Intervention or: What Comes After Immortality?

“Viva La Vida” by Coldplay; “Accidentally In Love” by Counting Crows; “Superman (It’s Not Easy)” by Five for Fighting; “Stressed Out” by Twenty-One Pilots; “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran

The Trials and Tribulations of a Virgin Goddess

“Somewhere Over The Rainbow” by Israel Kamakawiwo'ole; “All of Me” by John Legend; “Let Her Go” by Passenger; “Like A Virgin” by Madonna; “A Thousand Years” by Christina Perri

4. What’s the time period and location in which the novel takes place.

Both books take place in the modern era and mostly in Salisbury/Adelaide, South Australia. WCAI? takes place in 2016 and TTVG takes place in 2017. However, at least specifically in TTVG, it does take place in other countries with Babette visiting Japan, America and perhaps even England as either a part of her job (Street Performer) or as the plot demands.

5. Is this a standalone or a part in a series?

Well…

6. Are there any former titles you’ve considered but discarded?

For WCAI? I only had Divine Interruption and for TTVG there was “Babette Visits A Sex Shop” “Babette Visits An Adult Shop” and The Weird and Wonderful Sexual Awakening of Babette Mewlyn.

7. What’s the first line of your novel?

I have a tendency to only have a single line to begin a book.

Divine Intervention or: What Comes After Immortality?

“The sky was a dark crimson haze.”

or

“It was supposed to be a bright and sunny Saturday morning in suburban Adelaide.”

The Trials and Tribulations of a Virgin Goddess

“We had planned this for nearly an entire week now and today was the day.”

8. What’s a dialogue you’re particularly proud of?

“ “心配しないで,” she said, a devilish smirk twisting onto her lips. “少なくとも 見る かわいく 、ジョセフィーン様.” “ – Divine Intervention or: What Comes After Immortality? Chapter 2(draft)

If you’ve got a problem with my Japanese, please tell me because I’m winging it on Google Translate and outdated information.

“ “It—it hurts.” It took all my power to just say that and once I did, I was hit by a new wave of grief—of agony—of heart-rending guilt. ” – The Trials and Tribulations of Babette Melwyn Chapter 3(draft)

9. Which line from the novel most represents it as a whole?

“It—it hurts.”

10. Who are your character faceclaims?

Babette… well, I’m tossing up between these girls: Jaimie Alexander; Abbey Lee Kershaw; Amanda Seyfried; Astrid Berges-Frisbey; Zoey Deutch; and Willa Holland.

For Josephine, she’s a bit difficult to find a face claim for. If you’d like to help, that would be appreciated but so far, I’ve not found anything that fits her yet.

11. Sort your characters into Harry Potter houses!

Babette Melwyn – Slytherin

Josephine Williams – Hufflepuff

Henrietta Phillips – Ravenclaw

Maria Camhain-Schmidt – Gryffindor

Kurt Schmidt – Gryffindor

Flynn Camhain-Schmidt – Hufflepuff

Adrien Williams – Hufflepuff

Samuel Meric – Gryffindor

Sofía Meric – Hufflepuff

Harrison Williams – Ravenclaw

Alyssa Williams – Gryffindor

Samantha Bailey – Ravenclaw

12. Which character’s name do you like the most?

Respectfully, I love them all, specifically the girl’s names. Henrietta, Josephine, Babette, Alyssa, Maria, Sofía.

13. Describe each character’s daily outfit.

Babette Melwyn; Babette’s daily outfit could be summarised as well cared for rags with a history with radioactivity. By this I mean, Babette hasn’t changed out of the dress she wore when a group of revolutionaries decided to nuke her. While incredibly old, magic makes a great cleaner and preserver for the cloth and during the course of this novel, she’s usually seen wearing it often. It’s a plain black form fitting V-neck dress with long sleeves that reach up to her hands. The skirt used to be long and flowing, but since being nuked, it’s much shorter, ending around her calves—jagged and looking like some kind of tattered flower blooming from her waist down.

Aside from the dress, she wears leather strapped calf-high sandals and her ruby necklace—her ruby necklace is a constant with every single last outfit she wears.

After settling down on Earth, she finds herself wearing other bits and pieces. She feels comfortable outside her tattered remains and has a small wardrobe filled with a verity of clothing. Her aesthetic could best be described as gothic and Victorian gothic. Expect lots of lacy black dresses of varying lengths along with several sundresses and perhaps a few gowns. Hats are usually wide-brimmed and floppy, and she will not wear heels.

Josephine Williams; Josephine doesn’t have a daily outfit because she’s a normal person who doesn’t have a set outfit and often changes as the clothes she wore previously gets dirty. However, she has that kind of… art student vibe to her, befitting her artistic inclination, though she does were certain jewellery or outfits that have a certain Hellenic aesthetic. What you’ll mostly see her around in is either some kind of cardigan, perhaps a really large jumper while wearing a dress, whether short or long with some leggings underneath. She mixes it up, shirts and shorts, pants and with different colours as well. She keeps her options wide and varied but if you spent enough time with her and paid attention, you’d notice similarities.

Heels, like her girlfriend, is a no-no, but her outfits are certainly more colourful then Babette’s who prefers black and occasionally other colours.

14. Do any characters have distinctive birthmarks/scars?

Babette has a lot of scars but specifically there’s the scars across her heart—two, specifically, one on her back and on her chest, both from being impaled by a weapon that wiped out all life in a galaxy. It wasn’t fun getting that one.

Josephine once had a scar on her calf, but I think she might not have any major scars nor any tattoos—yet. I might give her a distinctive back tattoo that’s basically a string of astronomical symbols which relate to the Underworld in Greek Mythology.

15. Which character most fits a character trope?

I wouldn’t be able to say for sure but I’m sure that Babette and Josephine both fit into a character trope/archetype.

16. Which character is the best writer? Worst?

Babette, hands down. Babette’s not so good at writing songs and whatnot but she’s an academic and a Bard, having transcribed ancient texts, her own stories and a few she’s plagiarised from Earth because Earth Copyright doesn’t exist outside of Earth. Out of the main characters, I’d say that Josephine isn’t so good at the writing of things and prefers visual art. Like, she could write a story, but it’d read like a synopsis.

17. Which character is the best liar? Worst?

This entirely depends on when we take the characters. Before Babette was unceremoniously dethroned, she was a magnificent liar who would often use the skill in her youth on the run. However, at the same time, she’s spent literal aeons alone and her skills at lying have atrophied. She still does it, she’s just noticeably worse. I would say the worst liar would probably be Adrian because out of the children characters, he’s younger and got the biggest tells out of the lot of them. And yes, I have to pick children because everyone else are massive liars whether it’s lying to themselves, their parents, or others. In my experience, everyone lies at least once and their skill isn’t proportional to how much they

18. Which character swears the most? Least?

Henrietta swears like a fuckin’ sailor, Josephine can swear but only does it rarely—or at least where people can’t hear her.

19. Which character has the best handwriting? Worst?

Babette, again due to living for millions of years and the necessity she had to perfect her handwriting. So far, I’ve described her handwriting thusly:

��…it was clear that it was one-hundred per cent handwritten, and it was a masterpiece. Each letter, each word was written in a way that made reading it clear and easy to read, but also incredibly pleasing to the eye. Cursive, almost like calligraphy but written in clear bull-point pen, as if someone managed to distil handwriting into an artform then decoded to perfect it because why not?’ – Divine Intervention or: What Comes After Immortality? Chapter 4(draft)

Unfortunately, she’s not so good at art unless it’s literally putting the image in her mind onto paper using magical means. Nevertheless, I could see her girlfriend asking Babette to do some calligraphy for her blog.

Flynn has the worst but honestly you can’t blame the kid… he’s a kid!

20. Which character is most like you? Least like you?

I’d probably have to say Babette, but it’s a close tie between her and Josephine because both of them contain facets of me but are also their own people with different desires and personalities.

Least like me are the other characters, pretty much. Henrietta, Maria, Kurt, Samuel, Sofía, Flynn, Harrison, Alyssa, I’m not really like these characters at all.

21. Which character would you most like to be?

Josephine. Hands down, Josephine. Listen, I like Babette and all and she’s an extension of myself in some ways, and, honestly, I’d feel a lot more comfortable in her skin then my own, but Josephine is just a quiet suburban girl with her own slice of the Earth doing her own thing. She’s an artist, she’s got a loving family, a healthy online presence, a healthy sleeping schedule, and… yeah.

To tag some folks, I think I’ll tag: @randomestfandoms-ocs; @rose-writes-and-drinks-tea; @ariellaskylark; @focusdumbass; @i-tried-and-i-loose; @undinisms; @alixismad; @sweet-scribes; @sunlight-melodies and literally anyone else who wants to try it!

[frejahertziswritingthistime]

The neighbor, chapter 6

A/N: God, I’m literally over the moon with the reception of this story! It’s going to be somewhat of a slow burn, full of sexual tension and I’m so excited to show you all how this is going to advance!

Hope you’ll like it – remember, feedback feeds the writer. A reblog goes such a long way, replies, likes, and asks about my story really makes my heart soar. I hope you’ll like it!

MASTERLIST

The neighbor masterlist

Buy me a coffee!

Pairings: Mechanic/AU-ish!Dean x reader

Warnings: SEXUAL TENSION (I was sweating writing this), language

Who, me?

 After the almost-incident on the stairs, it was like a dam had broken. Dean was constantly around, more than before, and every single word he said, was dripping with implications and every undertone was screaming sex. He wasn’t alone. I decided that two could play his stupid game, and even if I did get flustered and stuttered through half of my words, I was not backing down.

Which led me here. Standing, staring at my door, in a pair of short cut-off jean-shorts, a flannel tied up, a little gaping at the cleavage – just enough to show my black, lacy bra off – and a pair of leather boots, with my hair in a braid down my back. I was just about to reach out for the handle, when I remembered something, and smirked, turning towards the bedroom instead of going outside.

I pulled the box full of weapons out from under my bed and scanned it. Guns, guns, more guns. I grinned, as I spotted the one thing, I had been looking for – my silver knife, with the leather hilt and the holster for it. I wasn’t above playing dirty, and this was dirty – Dean had told me once, that he found it way too sexy, when girls walked around with their knife like Tomb raider – in a holster around their thigh. I was happy I didn’t forget, but at the same time, I was worried; I might make a completely fool out of myself. I sighed and quickly strapped the knife down, tightening the holster and flicking my braid, before walking confidently out of the front door, before I could regret my decision.

It was hot as Satan’s asshole outside; the Kansas heat was sweltering, and I could feel sweat collecting already. I had my entire rouse set up; a bag of potatoes in hand, the bowl of water and a pot in the other, along with a bottle of water in my back pocket. I walked quickly and confidently towards the small bench situated right next to the house, and next to Dean, who was currently working over the hood of my car. He was shirtless, and it made a familiar tingling and heat swell in me, but I ignored it, bending over the bench with a low moan, setting my stuff down.

Dean looked up quickly, looked back at the car and then shook his head, looking back at me with wide eyes. I definitely had his attention now. I smirked and him and stretched, arms above my head, and turned just a teeny bit so the silver knife glinted a little in the strong sun. I could almost hear him gulp. I had to focus on keeping the laughter at bay, when he – in his haste to take everything in – tried to rest his arm on the car but slipped and dunked his forehead against the popped hood with a groan.

I quickly pulled my water bottle out and drank a little, letting a little water spill over and slide down my neck, on to my boobs, before it disappeared under my shirt. I cocked an eyebrow at him in a silent what? And turned back to the bench, sitting down with my legs spread a little wider than necessary. Dean heaved a deep breath and adjusted himself, before clearing his throat.

“Uhm… That’s an outfit, Y/N.” I smiled at him, as I pulled my knife out of it’s holster and tore through the bag, that held the potatoes. I shrugged. “Yeah, I mean… It’s hot, so…” I bit my lip, trying to seem so damn cavalier about it all, but my heart was hammering and all I could think was please, just fuck me, please, please… Dean cleared his throat as I started peeling the potatoes with my knife, letting them plop into the bowl of water, when I had them peeled. “What exactly are you doing…?” He asked in a husky tone. I looked at him and smiled innocently.

“Oh, just peeling potatoes, D. You don’t have a problem with that, do you?” He gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing a little. He shook his head and smiled. “What’s with the nickname, sweetheart?” I smiled and plopped another potato in the water, before I whipped my knife on my shorts, letting it linger around my inner-thigh for a fraction of a second – just enough for him to see. “Since your fake name is so close to your real name, I’d hate for me to mess it up. D is just way better, don’t you think?” My voice was sultry and had an undertone, I’d never thought I’d hear from myself. I was full on flirting, and judging by Dean’s reaction, it worked. He chuckled under his breath and smirked at me. “Alright, sweetheart.” He turned back to the car, focusing on the engine again. Time to up the ante.

I peeled a few more potatoes before groaning loudly and wiping my forehead for sweat, that wasn’t there, before standing up and unbuttoning my flannel. Dean looked at me, eyes comically wide, and followed my hands unbuttoning my shirt. “Wh-what are you doing, Y/N?” He asked in a husky whisper, his eyes flittering over my exposed bra. I smiled and him and cocked my head to the side, biting my lip. “It’s so damn hot out here, I can’t stand wearing long-sleeved right now. Hope you don’t mind, D.” I said, winking at him as I slipped the shirt from my shoulders. I was now standing in front of Dean, bra on display, short shorts and an empty holster on my thigh. I felt sexy. He shook his head and drew in a few ragged breaths. “N-no, it’s… Uhm… Your home too, so…” He sounded distracted. I smiled and turned around, heading back to my potatoes. It wasn’t the sexiest thing to do, peeling potatoes, but it was the best I could come up with – so far, so good. His eyes kept flicking back and forth between the engine of my car and my breasts. I smiled at him every single time, his eyes fell on me – he forced a few smiles back, but he was definitely getting distracted. Perfect.

When the last peeled potato landed in the water with a soft plop I stood up, grabbing my water bottle and sighing deeply. Last ditch effort to fuck Dean up completely. I squinted against the sun and took a sip, letting the bottle linger close to my lips for a few seconds – just long enough to grab his attention – and then, I winked at him and poured the content of the bottle over my face, letting it drench my bra and slide down my stomach. He sucked in a breath and I moaned at the cool water running down my body, before I caught his eyes. His green eyes were almost black with lust, and he followed a drop of water dripping down from my neck to my bra. I stepped closer to him, our chests almost touching and ran a hand through his beard, while maintaining eye contact.

“The beard really suits you, D.” I whispered in a sultry voice. He was leaning in, but before he got too close, I backed up, grabbed my knife from the bench and the full pot of water and potatoes, and set off to the staircase. When I reached it, I turned to look at Dean, who was staring after me with his jaw slack. I smiled. “You should close your mouth before you catch a fly, sweetheart.” I laughed out loud at his dumbfounded expression.

 A few hours later, the sun was setting, and I had managed to actually eat something – the plan had worked perfectly so far, and I was on to step 2: take Dean Winchester down. I scrambled to get to my phone and quickly plunked in Charlies number, calling her.

“You, what’s up?” She answered after the second ring. I grinned. “Step one was perfect.” I said. She laughed and whooped. “Perfect, my little padawan, you’re doing amazing. God, I love this!” She squealed. I laughed. “Alright, so what now?” She asked. I put her on speaker, as I trotted around in my apartment, gathering the skimpiest pieces of clothing, I could find. “Well, step two is going to be a make it or break it, Charlie. I don’t know if it’s going to work, if I’m being honest.” “Ooooh-kay, what’s the plan?” I sighed and threw two bras down on my bed.

“Well, I may or may not have purposefully broken my shower.” Charlie laughed. “Man, this oughta be good.” I laughed and sat down next to the bras. “So, the plan is to call him up here, tell him what’s the problem and wear the damn sexiest slash sluttiest clothing, I can.” Charlie sighed dreamily. “Would it be too much to ask for a picture?” I laughed. “Charlie!” She giggled. “Alright, sorry, sorry.” “Anyway, when he comes up, I’ll be wearing that and I’ll tell him… Oh my god, it might not even work. What if he hates bad pickup lines, or shitty porn-dialogue?” Charlie sighed. “First off, you didn’t even tell me what you were going to say. Secondly, this is Dean we’re talking about. That dude would get his dick stuck in a drain pipe, if it told him a bad pick up line.” I grinned. “Maybe. Okay, I’ll tell him that I think my pipes may need cleaning… I think they might have to get stuffed.”

Silence rang through the phone, before a loud burst of laughter came through the speaker. Charlie was hiccupping at the end. “Dude, that is fucking amazing! I wish I could be there to see that shit, honestly.” I grinned. “So, it’s a good plan?” She giggled. “Perfect plan. After that, what are you going to do?” I sighed. “I don’t know, we’ll see what happens. I’m not going to bang him, I just want to… I don’t know, fuck him over.” Charlie laughed again. “Well, you’re going to fuck him sideways to Sunday, if this plan holds up. Good luck, girl!” I grinned. “Thanks, Charlie. I’ll see you Monday!” “May the force be with you, young one!” She hung up, leaving me to handle my outfit crisis on my own.

Before I could change my mind, I quickly slipped on a new black bra, lace covering the swell of my breasts perfectly, and a pair of black, lacy underwear. I was never one for thongs, so boy-shorts it was. I pulled my flannel on over it, and quickly dialed Dean, pressing the call-button before I could forget.

“David speaking.” I smiled and put on my most sultry voice. “D, I think my shower is broken. Will you come look at it?” I could almost hear him gulp. “Sure thing. Give me a minute.” He hung up. I drew a deep, calming breath. I wasn’t here to actually get it on with Dean, I just wanted to tease him. A lot. And yeah, maybe I did want his dick in the general vicinity of my pelvis, but that was a topic for another day.

A hard knock sounded from the front door, and I shouted, “Come on in, I’ll be right out!” and the door creaked open. “Y/N?” Dean’s voice rang through the apartment. I smiled and opened the door tot eh bedroom, stepping out. Dean’s eyes racked over my body. The flannel was open and hit the top of my thighs, showing off my legs and everything I had picked out – his eyes lingered on the black panties, and I cleared my throat, happy that I could elicit such a reaction from him. He coughed awkwardly, looking back at my face. I bit my lip.

“So… Uh… Shower?” He asked, pointing to the bathroom. I nodded and followed him in, walking close to him – I could feel his body radiating heat, and fuck me, I wanted him. He had changed into a more casual outfit, a pair of gray sweatpants and a loose t-shirt, and he was carrying a tool-box, which – for some reason – made me a little hot and bothered. I love men, who can use their hands.

I stepped in front of him, and led him inside the bathroom, bending over the tub, showing off my ass, as the flannel rode up. I could hear him spluttering, but I chose to pretend to not have heard it. “So, it won’t turn on for me, D…” I said in a loud whisper, looking back over my shoulder at him. He gulped. “Alright, let me have a look.” I smiled and stepped away, leaning against the sink. “I think the pipes might need cleaning, D.” I said. His hand slipped on the edge of the tub at my words. He turned around and cleared his throat.

“What did you just say?” I smiled sweetly. “Maybe… The pipes are a little stuffed?” I bit my lip. In a flash, he was on his feet, and against me; his chest was heaving, and his eyes were darkened as he scanned my face. He had effectively trapped me in between his body, the sink and his arms. I stared defiantly up at him. “You better watch your words, sweetheart. You’re in deep fucking water.” I grinned. “Who, me, D? What are you going to do?” I leaned forward, and my lips glided over his earlobe as I whispered: “You’ll spank me?” His breath hitched, and he pulled away sharply, catching my eye. “Oh, you have no idea, sweetheart.” We were so close, our noses were touching, but I refused to back down. I pressed my chest a little up, letting him feel the swell of my breasts. “Try me.”

In a blink of an eye, his lips were on mine. It was fierce, heated, a little angry and most of all, desperate. He grunted against me, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me completely flush against him, swallowing my moan and let his tongue dance against mine. His beard was both soft, but scratched me in such a tantalizing way, all I could think was I want you between my thighs, and I moaned again, letting my hands run through his hair. It was a harsh kiss, and his hand grabbed my ass tightly, making me yelp a little – it wasn’t in a bad way, and it merely made me even more horny. My legs had somehow wrapped around him, his hands supporting my weight, as we bit each other’s lips, kissed and moaned against each other.

He pulled away as quickly, as he had crashed his lips against mine, heaving and panting. He searched my face, before his eyes softened, and then widened. His voice was shaky, as he backed away.

“Fuck… I’m… I’m sorry, Y/N.” he ran out of the bathroom, leaving me a frustrated, panting and honry mess.

 My plan had backfired.

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[ellanainthetardis]

I have an idea for a prompt but it lacks your creativity: Effie is really self-conscious about living in Twelve as a Capitol and she wants to be more District somehow for Haymitch because she thinks that's what he wants. But it's more ridiculous than working and he convinces her that she's perfectly fine for him. Please consider it at least. 🙈 Thank you!

Here you go ! [X]

District Fashion

Effie studied the image the mirror gave back,not entirely pleased with the end result.

She blamed the lack of proper salons and beautyparlors in Twelve, the cardboard box of hair dye still open on the sinkpromised natural results but the color didn’t look quite natural to her. Shetentatively touched her new raven black locks and swallowed with somedifficulties. She had never liked her hair, had barely tolerated it when it had been dyed bright colors, but shewasn’t sure what to feel now that her familiar strawberry blond strands weregone. It would take some getting used to.

With a small sigh, she grabbed her hairstraightener and went to work. She would pin it up, afterwards, in the fashionthe women in town always did.

She wasn’t sure what she was trying to achievewith that make-over, truth be told. She had been living in Twelve for sixmonths now and she still stood out like a sore thumb. It annoyed Haymitch, sheknew, the attention she attracted everywhere they went.

Most women in this District had hair as blackas Katniss and most people wore earth-toned clothes. With her blond hair andher colorful outfits… The whole thing marked her as Capitol and if there was one thing she didn’t want to be anymore,it was Capitol. She wanted to beaccepted. Loved if possible. Makefriends… Make Haymitch start looking at her like she sometimes caught himlooking at some of the prettier women in the District. All those women had longdark hair. All the women she had ever seen him pay attention to for the last fourteenyears all had dark hair. It was his type. She was only the exception – to a lotof things.

Once she was done with her hair, she took careof the make-up. None of the women wore make-up in Twelve and it wasn’t asacrifice she was ready to make but she was skilled enough to make it look as if she had none. She didn’t likethat much either. Her features were so plain, without the make-up to make themlook sharper, more perfect…

She stopped paying attention to her face onceshe placed down the last brush and finally turned to the shopping bag she hadput aside for last. She discarded the plushy pink bathrobe and carefully hungit behind the door before taking the outfit out of the bag.

The bathroom’s door handle turned just as sheclasped the lacy black bra on – granted, she doubted the women in Twelve worelacy lingerie under their awful clothes but, just like the make-up, she justcouldn’t accept certain things. There was a curse and an impatient knock on thedoor when Haymitch found it locked.

“The fuckyou’re doing in there?” he grumbled. “You’ve been up here for hours.”

She clucked her tongue at his attempt to just walk in the bathroom while she was init. They had had several conversations – that had turned into fights – on thesubject because she felt some things should remain mysterious and she didn’t particularly enjoy seeing him waltz inwhen she was using the toilets or having to stand under the shower while heused them himself.

“I was taking a bath.” she answered, hoping hewouldn’t notice the slight catch in her voice. “What is it?”

There was an irritated scoff. “Maybe I want touse my bathroom, yeah? Thought about that?”

“There is another one down the hall.” shepointed out. Never mind the restroom downstairs.

“Why do you lock the door to take a bath now?”he frowned – she could hear the frown in his voice. “Nothing I haven’t seenbefore… Might have joined you too.”

A smile stretched her lips and she forgot to bedisgusted by the awful brown cotton pants she slipped on. It was long, straightand didn’t really flatter her figure but it was preferable to the shapelesslong skirts some women wore.

“You could always take a bath later and perhapsI will join you.” she teased.

“I don’t take baths by myself.” he snorted andthen hit the door again, a little impatient. “You’re gonna open this anytimesoon? I feel stupid standing there talking to wood. The fuck are you doing?”

“Getting ready for dinner.” she retorted.

She didn’t need to see to know he was rollinghis eyes.

“You and your pampering.” he grumbled. “Thekids are downstairs so whatever you’re doing, do it faster ‘cause food’s on thetable.”

“I will be there in five minutes.” sheanswered, listening to his mutters fade away. Seconds later, the stairs creakedunder his weight.

She completed her outfit with a blacklong-sleeved shirt that she tucked inside the pants before remembering thatmost women wore it out. But thatdidn’t look very stylish – not that any part of this was stylish – and she eventually concluded that she could give the District look some flairso she left it tucked inside and slipped on the sturdy boots that everyoneseemed to be wearing. She walked out of the bathroom to check her reflection onthe full-length mirror mounted on the wardrobe door.  

Not glamorous.

But there was little she couldn’t pull off.

She adjusted the pants and decided that, maybe,she could buy some tighter ones. It wouldn’t be too terrible if they were atouch tighter. Her face still looked too natural for her taste and the hair…She could learn to like the hair in time.

She didn’t look Capitol anymore and that wasthe most important thing.

She wasn’t sure she had managed to look entirely like someone from Twelvethough.

She could hear voices drifting from the kitchenand she was nervous when she finally walked down the stairs. They were alreadyall sitting at their usual seats around the table when she made her grandentrance.

Katniss was the first to look up and she gaped.

Peeta was next and his eyes grew wide.

Haymitch had his back to her and he didn’t moveat all, simply stopped talking and stared at the kids.

“She was up to something in that bathroom,yeah?” he said, his tone wary. “ I knewit. Tell me she didn’t shave her head.”

“I did not shave my head.” she scoffed. “Howpreposterous.”

“Did you chop all your hair off?” he asked.

The length of her hair was often a subject ofdebate. He liked it long, she found it unmanageable. And yet she consented tokeeping it shoulder-length because she loved it too much when he reverentlycombed the curls with his fingers every night. Sometimes, he even took thehairbrush from her to do it himself. That was probably their best kept secret.

She pursed her lips. “My hair is safe.”

“Well…”Peeta winced and then immediately backtracked when Katniss not so discreetlykicked him under the table. “No, I mean… You look lovely, Effie.”

“Thank you, dear.” she smiled, now really nervous because the boy didn’tseem to mean a word of it and Katniss was still staring like she had grown asecond head.

“Oh fuck…”Haymitch whined, still making no move to look.“It’s pink, yeah? You went and dyed it pink again.”

She cleared her throat, annoyed. “Are you goingto turn around any time soon?”

“Not if I can help it.” he retorted.

She rolled her eyes and entered the kitchen,moving into his line of sight. He had been expecting it naturally and hadprobably simply been teasing her but, clearly, whatever he had thought he wouldsee, it wasn’t… this.

He looked her up and down three times before he frowned. “The fuck is this? Is this a joke?”

There was another kick under the table. Thistime, it was Haymitch who startled and glared at Katniss. The girl liftedpointed eyebrows.

“Fashion.” Katniss declared as if it explainedeverything. “District fashion.”

He made a face. “Yeah, I ain’t blind,sweetheart, I see she’s going native,I’m just wondering what the fuck shewas thinking.”

“You do not like it.” Effie deduced, not evenbothering to hide her disappointment.

She knewher Capitolness had always bothered him. She had hoped…

“Cause I was supposed to?” he scowled.

She gritted her teeth and blinked back thetears of humiliation that burned her eyes. Notin front of the children. Certainly notin front of the children.

“It’s not very you, Effie, that’s all.” Peeta pointed diplomatically.

“That was rather the point.” she huffed. “Ifyou would excuse me, I am not very hungry tonight.”

She fled upstairs before any of them had timeto comment again, pushing the bedroom door close behind her but not quite naïveenough to think it would remain shut for very long. She went to stand in frontof the mirror again, almost tearing the hair tie off her head.

“Idiot.” she accused her reflection. It wasblurry, mostly because of the tears. She wiped the few that slipped throughbefore the door opened and Haymitch stepped in but she didn’t really have timeto compose herself. And without the heavy make-up she used to wear, it was hardto immediately school her expression into detachment. “Go back downstairs,Haymitch. We have guests. It is rude to abandon them.”

“The kids ain’t guests and now you’re upset.”he grumbled awkwardly.

He didn’t say that bad things happened when shewas upset. He didn’t say that she tended to have panic attacks or curl up in acorner for hours at a time or start scrubbing the whole house from floors toceilings. He didn’t say it. But he thought it and she knew it.

“I am fine.” she lied.

He scoffed. “Like hell you are.” He shook his head and sighed. “Look… I’m sorry,alright, sweetheart? I thought… It looked like you were making fun of us.”

She turned around, a scowl on her face. “Iwould never.”

“I know. That’s why I said sorry.” hedeadpanned but then waved away the sarcasm with a slightly shaky hand. “Theboy’s right. It ain’t you. What’sgone through that pretty head of yours?”

He came closer and she let him. When she didn’tprotest his proximity, he wrapped his arms around her waist and she leanedagainst his chest, propping her head on his shoulder.

“I simply did not want you and the children tobe ashamed of me anymore.” she confessed in a whisper.

“What?” It came out almost as a growl. “The fuck you’re talking about, Effie?”

“I see how people look at me.” she insisted.“You do not say it but you are embarrassed because I am too Capitol sometimesand the children do too. I simply wanted…” She let out a long breath and shookher head. “I thought you would like it. You like brunettes. Granted, it is ashade darker than I thought it would be and the clothes are terrible but all the women you eye whenyou think I am not looking are wearing this sort of things and…”

“Okay, stop.”he ordered, drawing her a little away from him. Not far enough that she wasn’tstill in his arms but just enough that he could sneak his hand under her chinand tilt her head up. He looked confused and a bit anxious. “Princess… I’venever been ashamed of you. Fuck, ifanything I expect you to be ashamed of me.The other way around… That’s not even a question. And the kids… Effie, the kidslove you.”

She had to make an effort to keep her breathingeven and she averted her eyes. “But I am not your ideal and I want to be your…”

“Sweetheart.”he cut her off again, letting his hand trail from under her chin up to hercheek. “I don’t care what you look like. You’re beautiful. Whatever your haircolor, the scars, how much you weight… I always find you beautiful.”

“That’s only words.” she whispered, hastilyblinking now because there was a lump in her throat and her eyes were badlyburning. “They are nice words but you do not mean them. Men never mean them.You will see someone younger, more your type, and…”

“I’ve seen younger. I’ve seen more my type.” Heshrugged. “None of them are you and I’m not interested. I don’t fucking care what everyone else thinks,you’re beautiful to me. Maybe that’s only words but that’s also the truth.” Hesighed and drew her in his arms again, cradling the back of her head in hishand, his voice rough. “I like you best when you look like yourself. I don’tneed you dying your hair or stuff like that. I like the real you. You’re beautiful. I don’t know how many timesI’ve got to tell you that for you to start believing it.”

She buried her face in his shoulder and bitdown on her bottom lip because she didn’t want to fall apart about that. Being seen without wig or make-up…He had requested it at a time when it wasn’t fashionable and she had neverreally understood his fascination for her plain bare self.

When she was dressed in silk, her hair done andher face painted, she knew she was beautiful.

When she was exposed, raw and withoutartifices… She didn’t understand how someone could look at her and see anythingworth their time.

She had been raised to believe a woman ought towork to keep a man interested andHaymitch… Well, Haymitch kept proving her mother wrong.

He let out a long sigh again and petted herhair.

She knew without having to ask that he wasdisappointed by the lack of wild curls – she also knew he would never admit toit.

“Do you hate the color?” she enquired, alreadytrying to figure out how she would get rid of it and back to her blond hairwithout a decent hair salon. Perhaps she could go to Eleven or Ten. Surelyeither of those District had a competent hairdresser. “You always liked me witha dark wig…”

“It’s different.” he said carefully. “It’s notforever, yeah? It’s gonna go back to red eventually.”

She rolled her eyes. “I do not have red hair and now youare just trying to infuriate me.” There might be reddish hues to her blond hairbut she did not have red hair nomatter how much he teased her about it. She waited a second and then licked herlips. “I hate the outfit.”

“Then, take it off.” he snorted, letting go ofher to sit on the bed, clearly intending to wait for her to switch clothes.

She figured he wasn’t about to let her off thehook about dinner. Not when she was still underweight from her stay in Capitolcells and struggling to keep on the right side of that problem.

She didn’t waste more time, aware that thechildren were waiting downstairs, probably hungry, and that their supper wascooling down. She slipped the long sleeve shirt over her head and kicked theboots and the pants in the corner where she would dispose of them later.

“Thereyou are.” Haymitch smirked, his grey eyes slowly studying her lacy underwear.The lingerie was really her, truth betold: her favorite mix of sexy and comfort. “Always hiding under ridiculouslayers.”

The last part was added with a hint of sadness thatshe preferred not to address. It might be complicated for someone from aDistrict to understand but Capitol people with the right breeding were taughthow to hide their true self behind smoke screens from infancy. It was adifficult thing to unlearn.

She slipped on colorful striped woolen tightsand a pink little woolen dress she particularly liked. She checked herreflection again, quite liking the contrast between the dark strands and thepale pink.

“Better.” he commented, coming to stand behindher to press a kiss on her neck. “You’re made for colors, sweetheart. Leavebrown to boring people.” He pressed another one higher, closer to her ear. “Nomore thinking we’re ashamed of you, alright? ‘Cause… I swear that’s bullshit.”

“Do not tell the children.” she begged. Itwould only hurt them and the last thing she wanted to do was let her sillinesshurt their feelings.

“Your secrets are always safe with me.” hepromised.

She turned her head and kissed him properly,humming against his lips when his hand wandered south.

There was no time for that now but later maybe…Later she would let him tell her she was beautiful again.

[zackgardner]

acts of man

acts of man - Zack Gardner - fiction - 4069 words - 2016

1

The Bastard weaved through the swaying crowd expertly avoiding eye contact from any parties unwanted. He was more handsome than he had the right to be and an assuredness that women found alluring and men found as arrogance. That being said, the Bastard had many friends, couldn’t help but attract people to him. Everything he said was funny or smart or biting or deep. Everything he did he succeeded in. And everything he wanted, he got. He was listening to that band before you’ve even heard of them. He could mix drinks, any drink, and new almost, if not all, of those quirky cool pub tricks. And you know that cute girl from the coffeeshop that you were thinking about asking out? Yeah, he had that too. He was at every party that you’ve ever been to, and every party that your friends have ever been to, too. Wherever he was, music and laughter filled the air and the wine flowed freely, blah blah blah. He was the guy that you wished you were in college.  

2

The Bastard worked his way toward the kitchen, away from the crowd. And away from what he was pretty sure was Mastadon on vinyl. Who bought metal on records? The crowd was heavy, but he could slice his way through it, parting the crowd biblically. Everyone he brushed against had a better time, a better story, a longer kiss, a harder orgasm. He stepped into the small kitchen, a group of girls gathered around the table in the apartment's breakfast nook, making mixed drinks with a blender. They all glanced up as he stepped into their peripheral. They were laughing and carrying on. The Bastard pondered what he was hungry for, perusing the selection. Pigtails, hmm.

3

The Bastard dressed quietly as… Kim? Kate?... the Girl slept unaware. Her unconscious unabashedness was a distinct contradiction to how she had acted at the party last night, her fit body sprawled out twisted in the sweat-soaked sheets. He pulled out his cell phone (the one you were planning on getting when it went on sale) and took a picture. Slipping the phone back into his pocket and smoothing his wrinkled shirt, he turned to the door. He wanted a farmboy special with an extra side of bacon and a strong coffee. And maybe a nap. Swinging the front door wide, the Bastard disappeared in the glare of the morning sun. The Girl rolled over and blinked away the sleep, smiling with a contented sigh. She stretched a full-body stretch, the blankets sliding down her bare flesh. She sat up, noticing that he was gone. Hm. What a wonderful night. She wondered when and if she would see him again. What a perfect gentleman.

 4

A man handed him a pair of aviator shades as they passed on the street. Sure, they were his recently deceased father's, but this fellow seemed like he needed them, squinting in the sun. The Bastard strolled the three city blocks to the diner, stepping into the interior as an elderly husband held the door for his tottering wife. He took off his new sunglasses, hung them on the 'please wait to be seated' sign stand and sat at the nearest empty booth. A petit waitress, fresh out of high school greeted him with fresh coffee before he could even pick up a menu (not that he needed one.) She bit her glossy lip and asked him if he was ready to order, wondering how it got so warm in the diner all of a sudden and what her boyfriend would say if he knew what she was thinking about doing to this complete stranger. The Bastard ordered what he wanted, taking pleasure in the way the girl's cheeks flushed when he made eye contact with her. A couple walked in behind him, waiting patiently in the vestibule for a waitress to seat them.

 5

It started as a muscle twitch down the Bastard's back (hairless, mind you, and not from waxing.) and progressed to a nervousness that he had never experienced. Now, it wasn't a great nervousness, it's just that he'd never felt nervous before and it was new to him. He was halfway through his massive breakfast when it hit him, wiping his mouth with a napkin the waitress had furtively passed to him, her phone number smeared with bacon grease. The Bastard paused mid-sip, his coffee still piping hot, his head cocked like a dog hearing a car pull into his master's driveway. Something was wrong. And that, unto itself was wrong. Nothing was ever wrong. Not to him. He turned in his seat, toward the wrongness, toward the hiccup in his perfect world. He didn’t notice the man. The man was inconsequential. The woman that walked hand-in-hand alongside him as they followed the waitress was the nexus of this… wrongness. She had short hair, a bob, reminiscent of the flapper era, complete with a lacy black band holding it in place. She had a full bottom lip and a thin top, curved at the ends with a promise of dimples on her fair cheeks. A long neck led down to her perfect clavicle, creamy and pure. Her white shoulders were bare; a cardigan bunched up at her elbows like a shawl offset the thin spaghetti string tank top that showed just a glimpse of her midriff with each step. The straps intermingled, somehow sensuously, with the straps of her dark bra barely visible through the lighter shirt. Her curvy legs were caressed as she walked by a silky knee-length skirt, the pleats revealing nothing but her striking outline. Argyle socks encased in tiny leather boots of some new fashion finished her look, clopping with each step. She let out a small laugh at something the man beside her said into her ear, and a sharp pain lanced into the Bastard's chest bringing him back to himself. Then they were past him, sitting two booths up, and everything was right again. The span of those five seconds felt like an era, like time had slowed to an excruciating crawl.

 6

She applied more lipgloss in the stainless steel reflection of the kitchen's oven, blowing herself a kiss. She tightened her bra-straps, lifting and adjusting her meager breasts, and stepped back out into the serving area putting on her best smile. She frowned at the empty booth, her excitement gone. At least she had his sunglasses that he had forgotten. She would cherish those… Maybe she'd have her boyfriend wear them later that night. She smiled at the thought and moved on to her next table, a couple that had just sat down. The Bastard walked hurriedly down the street, glancing backwards and fingering his collar. What the hell was that?! He mopped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve, regaining his composure, his stride slowing to match. He finally stopped in front of a storefront, flowers and fresh fruit on a flat rack. He closed his eyes and let it out. It flowed from him invisibly, yet affected everything in a diminishing radius of the Bastard. Pedestrians smiled, knowing that where they were going was going to be fine, walking with renewed energy. The elderly shopkeeper in the store glanced at his wife of forty years and winked at her, nodding his head toward the back staircase. She shuffled to the door, locking it and turning the open sign. The flowers on the rack became fresher straightening and angling their now vibrant blooms toward him, the fruit losing any sort of imperfections, reverting to its ripest. The Bastard sighed and resumed walking. That's better. He passed a homeless man, crouched on the sidewalk, who handed him his begging cup with a smile. The bastard took it without question, jangled the coins and threw it in the next trashcan he passed, brushing his hand clean on his pant leg. A car pulled up beside him, the passenger door opening to reveal a man asking him if, hey buddy, did he need a ride? Sure, thought the Bastard. Why not.

 7

Yes, he knew the band that was playing now. Intimately, I hear. They almost had to cancel last summer's tour, the bassist, she was bedridden. He also owns the LP they released under a different name when the lead singer went on hiatus.  Yeah, he could introduce you, later at the merch table? The Bastard weaved through the crowd that thinned out the further he moved from the small stage at the back of the bar. His pilsner glass was perpetually three quarters full and never, never, spilled. Yes, he drank craft beer, and, yes, he could describe subtle nuances in the flavor. He felt more at home now, among his element, the morning's anomaly all but forgotten. The heavy base and the heavy alcohol content in his amber gave everything a fuzziness, and unclear edge. He pulled back and let the alcohol seep into his system, feeling the effects. It affected everyone near him as well; a circle within arm’s reach feeling more intoxicated than they had seconds prior. The Bastard had been here all evening, playing pool and darts, talking with the patrons, helping the band set up, exchanging tips with the bartenders (who he knew each by name) and drinking. He had even spotted this evening's conquest, a long-legged blonde that looked nothing at all like that girl from the diner. Nothing at all, he had made it a point.

 8

They stepped out of the bar, and the blonde bent over to fix the clasp on her heel. The short dress she was barely wearing pulled up enough for the Bastard to know that it was going to be a fine evening indeed. She stood pressing out the wrinkles in her dress giving him a coy look that directly contradicted her panties. He put out his elbow and she took it. She whispered an urge to go back to her place, her free hand wandering down inside his suit jacket (the one you wouldn’t wear even if you owned it, out of lack of confidence). They began a stumbling stroll in the brisk evening, shadows waxing and waning with the passing of streetlamps. They passed an architectural firm, the smoked glass doors softly illuminated from inside. The doors banged open behind them, a man immersed in a phone call exiting, shouldering a messenger satchel and setting off at a brisk pace toward the Bastard and his consort. So familiar the man was… The Bastard watched him, brow furrowed, as he passed them unnoticing.

 9

She smiled to herself assuredly, walking home alone. In the morning he would call, and maybe they would get breakfast… Maybe they could drive upstate and see her parents. It's been a while and they'd surely like to know that she'd finally found a good man to settle down with. The Bastard followed the man from the diner. The guy who had been with the girl. The girl he'd been forcing himself not to think about all night. Was he on the phone with her, talking to her?! Was he going home to her?!! It was infuriating. The Bastard's handsome features twisted in anger. How come this guy could be with her and he could not? He began walking faster, closing the distance. His hand was on the guy's shoulder before he knew what he was doing, spinning him around. The guy smiled at the Bastard and wished him a warm hello as the Bastard pulled back and punched him squarely on the nose. Now, the Bastard had never been in a fight, had never had to. His charisma was enough, more than enough to smooth over any altercation he had ever been in. And this didn’t count either. This was not a fight.

 10

The guy looked up from the sidewalk, confused and smiling through the twin trails of blood pouring down from his nose into his mouth. This must be some kind of mistake, he was horrified that he had offended this fellow, his mind racing to think of what he had done, of a way to make it up to this nice man he had just met. A kick to the ribs (designer slip-on boots, elegantly stitched yet ruggedly fashionable) repeated and repeated again put that thought on the back burner, yet the man still tried to voice apologies for whatever he had done. The Bastard came to an awareness, his hands flat against a brick wall, the man from the diner curled in a fetal position below him, spitting blood onto the ground, trying to say something. The Bastard wiped a line of spittle from his mouth stepping back, aghast. He let it all out then, poured it out from the bottomless pitcher inside of him. The crumpled man leaned his head back against the brick, smiling contentedly, but the Bastard felt no different. Just numb, numb and disgusted with himself. He stumbled backwards from his fallacy, turned and ran without thinking.

 11

The Bastard found himself in a nondescript alleyway, hands on knees and panting. What was wrong with him? He was not like this. He curbed the flow from within, holding it all in, trying to use it to make him feel better and knowing it would not. He stoppered it from the world looking at his shaking and bloody hands. He made a fist, clenching, trying to push out the adrenaline and regain his composure. The Bastard closed his eyes at took a few breaths, straightened himself and wiped his hands clean with a monogrammed handkerchief he had borrowed from someone who really thought he could use it. He ran his fingers through his disheveled hair and fixed his jacket as shadows fell across him from the mouth of the alley. A handful of jostling figures had been watching the Bastard's actions, drunken fraternity brothers out for a night, like every other night, on the town. An aura of cheap beer, chewing tobacco, homophobia and crass sexist remarks wafted to the now calm and collected Bastard. They came toward him menacingly, one of them actually cracking his knuckles stereotypically.

 12

He finished brushing himself off, tossing the handkerchief onto the dirty alley and glanced up at the approaching crowd. He still held it all inside of him. The Bastard spread his hands wide, to the seven or eight husky college boys advancing on him. He smiled kindly and let it all out. It flowed from him like a dam bursting, having built up from bottling it in. The demeanor of the gang instantly changed, from an ass-whuppin' party to the home-coming of an old friend. They greeted the Bastard warmly and exited the alley with him at the center of their cluster, arms draped over shoulders. They were the best; the future held nothing but prosperity and luck for them. Tonight they would conquer all. They headed jovially on to the next pub, ready to take on the world.

 13

Morning found the crew groggily waking up on the fifty-yard line of a high school football field, surrounded by empty bottles, pools of chunky vomit, and assorted souvenirs from the night before. The Bastard woke refreshed, six hours later and twenty-five miles away in a presidential suite of a luxury hotel. (Not the nicest one he's ever been comped, but much nicer than that one you've been to.) He showered until the hot water ran out, which coincided at almost the exact same time he decided to get out. He dressed and went down to the hotel's restaurant for breakfast, leaving his keycard and dirty clothes in a pile on the floor. After a nourishing breakfast, the best, the waiter confessed he's seen come out of the kitchen in years; the Bastard left the hotel and wandered back toward the city, getting picked up by the first car that passed him.

 14

The wrongness started shortly after he was dropped off, the driver giving him the contents of his wallet and wishing him well. The Bastard knew it for what it was instantly and began turning circles in the semi-crowded street, craning his neck to find her. He pushed it from within, a torrent emanating outward, his thoughts a pinpoint focus on his recollection of her from those few seconds the morning before. A timid touch on his shoulder snapped him back to reality, reigning in the flow. The Bastard turned, and there she was. She took his breath away, staring into his eyes. She wore a light flowered sundress and clunky flip-flops. She wore a kerchief in her hair, tied back like a pirate, a small scoop of bangs tucked behind an ear. The nervousness was there tenfold, his neck sweating and his hands shaking. But she was looking at him. Gods, she was smiling at him. No, of course she had time to stop and get a bite to eat. She was only going to visit her fiancé at work. He had been mugged the night before, and she thought she'd surprise him and take him out to lunch. You know, make him feel better, show him support. But no, she could do that any day really.

 15

They had a wonderful time. She laughed at all of his jokes; he said all the right things. The Bastard was enthralled. He'd never felt this… this need. The nervousness made him giddy and excited. Lunch turned to drinks, and drinks turned to dinner. They played a few rounds of trivia on the pub tabletop kiosk passing the little screen back and forth, fingers lingering for the touch. The sun had started to set, and they had moved to the open air dining area, as there had been a table cleared just before they had requested seats. The Bastard draped his jacket over her shoulders when he noticed her shiver, his hands giving a gentle squeeze before returning to his seat. She had turned her head, caressing her cheek against his hand when it lifted. She had made the request, not him, to go back to her place. She had, not him. He had made sure of it. The door fell open with them groping at each other, kissing the hard kiss that bruises lips and clacks teeth. Passion kept the key from turning the deadbolt until the third try, the Bastard's shirt all but unbuttoned, the straps of the girl's dress and bra hanging dangerously low on her arms. He pressed her against the wall, kissing her neck from jaw to shoulder, and lower yet. She kicked the door shut and pulled him into the darkened apartment, with the assuredness of one who knows where everything is.

 16

He dropped his shirt and started on his belt (leather, adorned with silver workings), looking up at the view of the girl silhouetted against a window, the lights of the city detailing her dress sliding to the floor. They fell on the bed, the girl straining to flick on a side lamp. She moaned and arched her back as he unclasped the front of her bra, the Bastard leaning down on her. They moved together, flesh on flesh, the salty taste of sweat and synchronized heavy breathing punctuated by gasping and two sets of groping hands. The sound of the apartment door swinging open and the sudden light from another room cast over them froze them both in the act. They were nose to nose, and the girl giggled nervously, mischief in her eyes. The man, her fiancé, stepped into the light of the doorframe and dropped his bag. The Bastard wasted no time, hopping up from the rumpled bedsheets and striding over to the man he had beaten to a pulp the night prior and shaking his hand heartily. The man smiled back through a bruised face, taking the extended hand and allowing the Bastard to lead him out of the room. He cast one confused glance back into the room at the writhing girl on the bed, his thoughts muddy. The Bastard led the man back out to the front door, letting it flow out, soothingly assuring him that he could come back later, no problem. The man thanked him and wished him a good evening.

 17

The Bastard returned, the girl sitting up on the bed, coaxing him with one curled finger. Initially she had a look on her face like she was trying to remember something, something important. But that faded as he came closer, letting her guide him on top of her. He felt wetness on his neck and pulled himself up to look at her in the stark reading light. She tried to pull him back down on top of her, but he could see it. She was crying. She embraced him, raking her nails down his back and moving her hips with his. Joy and arousal and lust and… and a forlorn sadness. The Bastard sat back in the bed, that nervousness, that wrongness, returning in a crushing wave. She sat up, perfectly nude, glistening sweat and leaned forward to touch his knee, asking what was wrong. She looked at him lovingly, understandingly, yet eyes still glistening with tears. He stumbled backwards out of bed, avoiding her touch, appalled at their tableau. He apologized profusely, gathering his discarded clothing hurriedly, doing his best to avoid eye contact. He fled the apartment, ignoring the heart-wrenching pain.

 18

The Bastard ran and ran, unsuccessfully trying to flee from himself, slowing finally at the mouth of a familiar alleyway. He turned down it, much like he had the night before, hands shaking and out of breath. This was new to him too. Damn her, what did she do to him?! He drew a ragged breath and held it in, trying to slow his breathing, his hammering heart. The pain was still there, the pain of what he did mingled with the pain of being away from her. Tears brimmed over his eyelids and tracked down his cheeks. This was new for him too. He let it flow from him, head in his hands like a child. He pushed it out trying to get rid of it, knowing it would never comfort him, trying to empty out the endless pitcher inside of him. He peered through blurred eyes as footsteps from the street brought another familiarity from the night before. The college boys rounded the corner, almost drawn to the torrent he had released, shouting greetings to the Bastard and clapping him on the back. They put their arms around him, hoisting him out of the alley with promises of the epic evening yet to come. The Bastard was dragged along for half a block before he realized what was happening, and when he did, a sudden realization came over him.

 19

The Bastard pulled it all back into himself. He drew it in like he had let it out so many times before. He drew it in and he stoppered it again, sealing the endless pitcher. It took a few paces for the crew to realize the change in the atmosphere… and to wonder who this stranger was amidst their band of brothers. All it took was a salacious wink directed at one of the larger fellows to spark the fire. He was down before he knew it, his former friends surrounding him and throwing punches and kicks and anything that would connect. The Bastard shielded his head with his hands, curled up prone in the fetal position gritting his teeth, immersed in pain. He could feel ribs breaking, and knew like he knew anything else, that he was bleeding on the inside, somewhere near his liver. His cheekbone may have been cracked, but he wasn’t sure as the swelling from that eye was commanding all of the pain in that area. He bled from his nose, mouth and oddly his left ear, multiple cuts and gashes on this face, back and hands, and a pretty nasty gash on the back of his head where one of the good ol' boys smashed a discarded vodka bottle.

 20

He lay there long after they lost interest and wandered off in his pooling blood. The Bastard whimpered, tears still streaming from the one eye that wasn’t swelled shut. The greatest pain was still her.

[the-jade-cross]

Spirit of Winter - Chapter 3

Jack treaded silently down the hallway. It was almost midnight and the only ones up were Tooth and Sandy. North was out cold in an armchair by the fire, covered in garland. Bunny was curled up on the carpet at his feet like a little dog, his foot occasionally thumping like he was chasing something in his sleep. Tooth and Sandy were off doing their duties, so Jack was the only one awake in the pole.

He soon found the door he was looking for. He had explored most of the pole… except one particular hallway which led to the ‘girls’ quarters’ which consisted of guest bedrooms used for female guests, namely Tooth. Jack knew that if he wanted to find Scarlett’s old room, he would find it down there.

Sure enough, he found that the door across from Tooth’s bedroom was unmistakably Scarlett’s. The door was of a rich copper color, painted with red, yellow and orange autumn leaves. The door handle was shaped like an acorn. And hanging on the door was a large orange S.

Using the key, Jack opened the door and stepped inside. He couldn’t believe how fresh it felt in there considering that no one had used it in 500 years. He then realized that consider how there was no dust, North probably had the yetis or the elves clean it occasionally.

The room was really neat, even to Jack who’s room was empty except for a large four poster bed that was always covered in snow. The rest of his room was filled with snow which he shaped into snowmen or snow desks and chairs.

The walls were of logs, giving a log cabin feel to it. In the corner was a fireplace…. Dry and cold. Above the fire was the mantle where sat an old clock… still clicking and several pictures in frames. Near the door was a vanity desk, the wood a deep brown with iron leaves decorating the whole mirror. There was nothing on the desk except a single box in the very center. Across from the door was a small narrow corner where a bed was perfectly situated so that at the head of the bed was the window and on either side were the walls. The dark brown, orange and red sheets and blankets were made perfectly, and the bed looked incredibly inviting and friendly.

Stepping into the room, Jack wandered to the fireplace and peered at the photos. One was of Scarlett and Bunny. The girl was on his back, her arms around the rabbit’s neck. Bunny was laughing and the girl was smiling but that was all Jack could see for she had bangs that covered her whole face except her smile. Jack felt his heart stop when he saw the picture… even with her whole face obscured… she was beautiful. Her smile made Jack’s heart flutter.

Another picture was of Sandy, Tooth, North and Bunny. The last one was of two young teens who looked to be about Jack’s age… a girl and a boy. The girl had shortly cropped hair and she wore a rather skimpy outfit. She wore a tank top that was riding up her stomach and a short skirt that barely covered her thighs. Her legs were not as long as Scarlett’s but slender and her stomach bare because of how she was holding her tank top up slightly. She looked pretty… but Jack could tell from the amount of makeup she wore that she was the one who tried to be the center of attention.

The boy looked to be rather tall, possibly about Jack’s height with dark hair and striking eyes. He was incredibly handsome with long straight hair that covered his ears, the back of his neck and most of his forehead. He had deep eyes that were the kind that would draw a girl in. Jack felt a deep pain in his chest. He must be the Spirit of Summer.

Jack was about to head over and look into the box on the vanity shelf when he heard a loud yelp which he knew belonged to Bunny. Flying back into the globe room, he wasn’t the least bit surprised to find Bunny and North groggily rubbing their eyes as Tooth flew around, not showing any signs of exhaustion while Sandy was telling them a whole story about all his work he had done that night while the rabbit and North stared at him blankly.

Jack snorted and grinned innocently when all eyes settled on him. Bunny opened his mouth to snap at Jack for laughing in such a situation, but he froze, his ears perking up. He no longer looked like he had just woken up for his eyes widened and his head darted around as if looking for something, his ears twitching.

“Do you guys hear that?” he whispered.

Everyone froze. They knew that Bunny’s keen hearing was one to be respected and he only said something like that if he sensed that something was wrong.

“What does it sound like Bunny?” North whispered, looking around frantically.

Bunny looked around before he froze, lifting his ears in one particular direction, “It sounds like…. Breathing…. But it’s not ours.”

Just when Jack was about to suggest that it might be an elf or yeti, a soft sound split the silence. All eyes snapped to the rafters where Bunny had been listening. The rafters were concealed in the shadows…. But they could clearly make out the soft giggling that was coming from the shadows.

“Took you long enough Bunnymund,” a soft voice remarked from the shadows. “I have been watching you guys sleeping for at least an hour. Your senses are aging.”

Jack glanced at Bunny. For a split second he thought he would see Bunny grab his boomerang and say something snappish at the unknown person… but that wasn’t the case. Bunny’s eyes widened and his mouth parted in shock, as was the same for everyone else but Jack.

Tooth stopped flying and settled down on her feet, something Jack rarely saw. Her humming wings stopped and Jack thought that the silence couldn’t get any deeper. Finally, North whispered.

“Can it be?”

Jack’s attention was drawn to the shadows when he could hear the sound of hands and boots touching wood as someone skillfully leapt from beam to beam before landing on the ground. The person’s boots didn’t make a sound on the floor… it was light she was feather light. Still standing in the shadows, the person stood up straight before slowly walking out of the shadows into the light.

“Long time no see guardians,” Scarlett Autumn said, smiling.

Jack felt all the air sucked out of him as he beheld the guardian of autumn. The first thing that caught his attention was her bright red hair that fell from a high ponytail to her waist. She had perfect bangs that framed her face and fluttered slightly over her eyes…. Which were a deep amber color, a color Jack had never seen on a person before. Her face was fair without any freckles… and was perfect. Her nose was petite, her eyes almond shaped with long black lashes, slender eyebrows and perfectly shaped lips.

She was petite that was for sure, coming at least to Jack’s shoulder in height. Her legs were long and seemed to be even longer considering her outfit. She wore a white short-sleeve lacy blouse that came to her collar bone but left her shoulders bare. Over the shirt she wore a dark brown corset like jacket that hugged her slender waist and perfectly shaped chest. It was laced up the sides and around her waist hung a dark red belt which held a quiver full of crossbow bolts. She wore a pair of dark brown leather boots that were laced all the way up the front and were thigh high with a slight heel which was surprising considering how she made no noise in them. She wore a white lace skirt that matched her shirt that came almost to the top of her boots and over that, she wore a brown leather skirt that was about a centimeter shorter and matched her jacket.

She had leather strips wrapped around her upper arms in a Saxon style and around her wrists and hands she wore black knitted gloves that came almost from her elbows to her hands, but the fingers of the gloves were missing. In short…. She was beautiful.

“SCARLETT!” Tooth screeched, flying across the room at an incredible speed and grabbing the girl into a bone breaking hug.

The girl let out a soft chuckle and hugged the fairy back. Jack felt his face go slightly pink at the sound of her laugh. While her voice sounded like an angel…. Her laugh was like music… and when she smiled…. Jack felt his head swimming.

In a single bound, Bunny was across the room tackling the girl in a football tackle, earning a laugh from the girl. When the bunny and fairy finally let her go, she rushed over and wrapped her arms around North’s wide waist. By then, there were tears streaming down the old man’s cheeks and he encased the teenage girl in a huge hug. When he pulled back, the girl turned to see Sandy staring up at her with a huge girl. She crouched down to his level and the little man wrapped his arms around her neck while she hugged him back.

Jack found himself grinning from ear to ear at the sight. He had never seen the four guardians this happy before and from the look on the girl’s face, it was mutual.

“Where have you been?” Tooth insisted, “We were so worried!” “We missed you like crazy mate!” Bunny added. “It was never the same without you.”

“You came back just in time!” North cried, his voice shaking the room. “Crickey, you haven’t met Jack yet!”

“Jack?” the girl asked.

Jack sucked in his breath. His name rolling of her tongue made him want to just freeze up in an ice cube and die. Since when did his voice sound so perfect?

“As in Jack Frost?” the girl inquired.

Bunny sighed and rolled his eyes. He looped a furry arm around the girl’s neck and pulled her into a headlock, earning a grin from her. “Better believe it because he’s a pain in the neck!”

Jack crossed his arms and glared at the rabbit as Bunny turned the girl to look in Jack’s direction. Scarlett lifted her rich amber eyes and they met Jack’s bright blue eyes. She froze in Jack’s grip, her eyes widened slightly, and her mouth parted just the tiniest bit. It was all Jack could do from gasping at the beautiful sight of her stunned silence.

The girl seemed to collect herself before doing something that Jack could barely grasp. Unable to move her upper body because of Bunny’s grip, she flipped completely upside down and wrapped her legs around the rabbit’s neck. She then pushed his head to the side so much that he loosened his grip on her neck and she broke free of his grasp, crouching on one of Bunny’s shoulders. In a split second she had leapt into the air and landed gracefully in front of Jack, not making a sound with her feet. She flashed a bright smile onto her face and thrust out her hand to him.

“A pleasure to finally meet you Jack! I’m Scarlett.”