#Is it okay for outdoor furniture to get rained on | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mint-moon25 · 1 year ago

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AMAZON - PRIME - HAS - FURNITURE - FREE - SHIP

FREE - RETURNS - BUT - CHECK - FIRST - 4 RETURN

CITY FURNITURE - HAS - WEBSITE - FREE - SHIPP'G

NO - MINIMUM - DO - KNOW - THEY - HAVE - IF YOU

GO - 2 - STORE - NEAR - MIDTOWN - TARGET - THEY

HAVE - INSTALLATION - U - ALSO - WANT - THAT

NOT - CHEAP - BUT - FURNITURE - IKEA - IS - YES

CHEAPER - BUT - LESS - CHOICES

CITI FURNITURE - LOVES LEATHER

THEY - SELL - ALSO - THERA - PEDIC

LOVE - LOVE - WITH - REMOTE - YES

CONTROL - WHEN - I - WENT - THERE

JUST - TRYING - GOT - $25 - DIGITAL

GIFT - CARD - YES - THEY - CAN YES

MAIL - CARD - ALSO - FREE

CITI FURNITURE - GIVES - U - MORE

CHOICES - BUT - I - RECOMMEND U

ACTUALLY - GO - 2 - A - STORE - FOR

LEATHER - CHAIRS - COLD - COLD

COLD - HATE - THEM - BAD I WANT

FAUX - FUR - FAUX - FUR - SOFT - 2

TOUCH - SO - IKEA - LOTS - OF - TABLES

DINNING - OUTDOOR - SHIPPING - ALSO

PRICES - SO - LOW - WHAT - IKEA - IS - 4

DELICIOUSLY - LOW - WAREHOUSES

SELF - SERVICE

CASH - IS - NOT - QUITE - KING HERE

DEBIT - CREDIT - CARDS - THEIR IKEA

CARD - 2 - EAT - THEIR - FROSTY - YOGURT

CONE - $0.75 - FORGOT - ADD - TAX - U YES

USE - KIOSK - GET - RECEIPT - BUT PERSON

READY - 4 U - IF - U - LOOSE - RECEIPT THEY

RAN - OUT - OF - PAPER

HOT DOG - CHEAP - $1.25 - VERY - THIN

WATER - SUPER - COLD - AT LEAST $1.25

JUST - ADD - TAX - THEY - DON'T ACCEPT

CASH - DUE - 2 - ROBBERIES - IKEA VERY

SMART - SELF - SERVICE - CHECK - OUT 2

CITI - FURNITURE

KNOWN - 4 - LEATHER - SOFAS - GALORE

GOING - 2 - STORE - IS - VITAL IMPORTANT

SALES - PERSONS - YOU - WILL - B TAKEN

CARE - OF - CHEAPER - AND - BETTER

THAN - CRATE - AND - BARREL - AND 2

THE - OTHERS - SHIPPING - & - INSTALL

OVER - $200 - TRUE - DEPENDS

WOKE UP - 5:09A EST - FINISHED - LATE

WAKING - UP - 4:30A - INSTEAD - 2 - YES

FINISH - WENT - BACK - AND - FORTH - A

FEW - TIMES - WENT - THERE - NUTTY

WHO - WAS - NAKED - 2 DO - POOP AS

WE - TURNED - L - WAS - NEAR - TENT

SO - FACING - BIG - TOPLESS - LUG

BETTER - BLOND - THAN - BROWN

HAIR - SO - WITH - 1 HAND - HAD IT

FACING - SW NORTH RIVER DR - SO

COOL - SAW - MISSING - ON - BOATS

YACHTS - WITH - HUGE - ADS - SEEN

WAS - SO - BEAUTIFUL - 2 - LOOK AT

NICE - LIT - YACHTS - WITH - BIKINI

GIRLS - TONGS - TONGS - VERY YES

SMALL - TONGS - THEY'RE - TRUE

ILLEGAL - PROSTITUTES

$300 - PER - HOUR - THEY'RE THE

ONES - BEAUTIFUL - BLONDS WITH

EXTREME - TONGS - ONE - LINE AS

CLOTH - AT - BACK - THAT'S - STILL

NOT - LEGAL - IN - USA

INDECENT - EXPOSURE - MORE $$

DURING - SPRING - BREAK

SO - GREETED - ME - SUCH - A YES

BEAUTIFUL - VIEW

REMEMBER - OUTDOORS - WATER

MUST - B - ON - NOT - EASY - 2 TOPPLE

DRINK - CONTAINER - 4 - DOGS - CATS

DOGS - DRINK - MUCH - MIAMI - POLICE

HAITI - OTHERS - HAVE - NEVER - DONE

ANYTHING - CRUELTY - 2 - ANIMALS

FELONY - LARGER - FINE

MISDEMAEANOR - SMALLER - FINE

LISA - PRUNE - WHITE - HAG - BAG

YOUNGER - THAN - ME - WRINKLED

SHE - AND - CHICK - LARGE - DOG

THEIR - HISPANIC - BABYSITTER AS

THEY - JOIN - HER

NO - WATER - GIVEN - CHICA - SO

NO - WEE - WEE

NO - FOOD - SO - NO - POOP

CHICA - 36 LBS - RESTRICTED BREED

ALWAYS - LICKS - MY - LEGS - HAND

SO - THIRSTY - LOVES - ZERPHARYNL

NATURAL - SPRING - WATER

$0.51 - NW 2 AV - NW 6 ST ITS

ON - SALE - THAT - PUBLIX

NEW - TARGET - GROCERY - 2

NEW - ROSS - FIVE BELOW - AND MORE

BURLINGTON - COMING - IN - 2024 - YES

FRONT - OF - THIS - PUBLIX - WHERE THE

MIAMI - POLICE - GO 2 - FRIED - CHICKEN

THEY - LOVE - DELI - FRESHLY - MADE

NATURAL - SPRING - WATER

RAIN WATER

WHAT - WILD - AND - DOMESTIC ANIMALS

DRINK - FEEDING - FAUCET - WATER - OR

SMALL - DOG - FOOD - 2 - LARGE - DOGS

BOTH - THIS - WATER - AND - FOOD

POISONS - THEM

BUT - ONCE - IN - AWHILE - LARGE - DOG

FOOD - GIVEN - 2 - SMALL - DOG - BRAND

IMPORTANT - IS - OKAY

HUMAN - FOOD - 2 - DOG - THEIR - POISON

DON'T - FEED - THEM - CHICKEN

THEY - WILL - HUNT - AND - TAKE - HENS

ROOSTERS - IN - THEIR - MOUTH - AS THEY

ARE - HUNTERS - $100 FINE - PER INCIDENT

4 - OWNER

DEAD - HENS - ROOSTERS - ALSO - CITIES

OF - FLORIDA - $500 FINE - PER INCIDENT

6 MONTHS - PRISON - MAX - ALSO - EACH

TIME - FEMALE - MIAMI - POLICE - SAID

U - CAN - CUT - THEIR - HEADS - OFF - KICK

BOX - SCARE

HARRASSMENT - MURDER - ILLEGAL - YES

TRANSFER - NOT - ALLOWED

WILD - LIFE - PROTECTED - IN - CITIES

NOT - TOWNS - OF - FLORIDA - AS THE

MIAMI - POLICE - GET - RID - OF - HOMELESS

THEY - ALLOW - CRUELTY - 2 - ANIMALS HENS

DOGS - THEY - DON'T - FINE - NO - CLEAN

WATER - ON - NON-TOPPLEABLE - CONTAINER

WATER - MUST - B - VISIBLE - CLEAN - EA 24/7

24 HRS - NOT - ONE - HAS - THAT - SHOWCASED

NO - TICKETS - GIVEN

ASK - SMALL - DOG - FOOD - OR - LARGE - DOG

FOOD - NO - ONE - ASKED

NO - MIAMI - POLICE - SURRENDERED - DOGS 2

ANIMAL - SHELTER - CAN'T - TURN - DOWN ANY

FOOD - IS - RELAXED - OUTDOORS - 4 - SMELLY

AND - ANTS - ANTS - LOVE - LOVE - DOG - AND

CAT - FOOD - SO - FULL - OF - ANTS

SO - MIAMI - POLICE - THEY - WANT - 2 - SHOOT

HOMELESS - MALE - NURSES - 2 - GET - THEIR

KIDNEY - BLADDER - $9,000 - EACH - THEN AS

THEY'RE - BURNT - IN - LITTLE - HAVANA MIAMI

HOUSES - REPOSSESSED - HOUSES - $10 - $1 SO

LOVED - BY - MIAMI - POLICE - AND - AFTER THE

EVICTION - POLICE - GET - APT - JUST - FREED

WITH - NO - DEPOSITS - REAL - EVIL - HUMANS

POLICE - 'WE - DON'T - INTERFERE - WITH - YES

EVICTIONS' - SOCIAL - SECURITY - SAYS - SAME

4 - THEIR - BLIND - SSI - DISABILITY - 4 - THE PC

SAYS - SOON - 2 B - AVAILABLE - SECTION 8 HUD

FREE - ELECTRICITY

EVIL - HUMANS - EATING - SOON - THEN - WILL

GIVE - KCM.ORG - OFFFERING - AT - LEAST - $1

HIS - DECEMBER - BIRTHDAY

DR JERRY SAVELLE - 24 DEC - HIS - BIRTHDAY

STARS - IN - USA - KOREA - ACTORS - ACTRESS

THEY'RE - LISTED - IN - GOOGLE - SEARCH

YET - THESE - PASTORS - SPEAKERS

DR JERRY SAVELLE

DR JESSE DUPLANTIS

JOEL OSTEEN

JUST - EXAMPLES

NOT - LISTED - BIRTHDAYS

KIDS - MARRIAGE - SPOUSE - PARTNERS

SO - WHEN - THEY - DIE - U - HAVE 2 YES

GUESS - THEY'RE - WONDERING - WHY

THE - HAVE - 2 - PRAY - PRAY SO HARD

2 - GET - MONEY - THEY - NEED

YET - STARS - USA - KOREA - LOTS OF

JOB - OFFERS - MAJOR - REASON

BIRTHDAY - HEIGHT - AGE - LISTED

GOOGLE - SEARCH

THEIR - FILM - CREDITS - TV SHOWS

THEIR - QUOTES - SAYINGS

CHARITABLE - ORGANIZATIONS

MINE - ST JUDE CHILDREN's - RESEARCH

HOSPITALS - FREE - 4 - THEM - CANCER

USUALLY - ALL - FREE - EVERYTHING - 2

THUS - AFTER - LUNCH - HERE - MAIN

LIBRARY - FORGOT - SPLENDA SUGAR

AND - CHLOROX - SCENTIVA - NEW

GRAPEFRUIT - AND - ORANGE BLOSSOMS

FORGOT - FEW - THINGS

JUST - ECKEL - WATER - BEST - EVER NEW

MARUCHAN - ROASTED - CHICKEN

LOWEST - CALORIES - 280 - NOT 290

BEEF - BEATEN - SO - GOOD - $0.95

ARMOUR - VIENNA - SAUSAGE - REDUCED

SODIUM - I - HAVE- MY - NEW - ROSS - YES

CERAMIC - 4 - NOODLES - SOUPS - NEAT 2

EATING - THAT - SOON - TRYING - BOILED

WATER - ADD - 2 - NOODLES - SOUP - SO

WARMER - CAN'T - WAIT - LATE - LUNCH

THEN - LA FITNESS - TREADMILL - THEN

SHOWER - CAN'T - WAIT

LOVE - LOVE - NEXXUS - 4 - COLORS

MAGNIFICENT SCENT - SOFTEST YES

HAIR - SPECTACULAR - LOVE - THEIR

CONDITIONER - SCENT - MY - HAIR IS

SOFTER - RATED - NO 1 - INCLUDING

COST - CHEAPEST - AMAZON - PRIME

OVERNIGHT - FREE - DELIVERY - CAN'T

WAIT - 2 - TRY - MY - STICK - ABOVE - 4

HANGING - THEY - SHOULD - SAY - THE

PHOTO - LARGER - THAN - IN - REAL US

LIFE - SHOWERING - AT - LA FITNESS

MARY - BRICKELL - SIGNATURE CLUB

CLOSES - 10P - WEEKDAYS

EQUINOX - 5A - 11P - MON - THURS

POOL - AT - ROOF - INTENSE - BOXING

MARTIAL - ARTS - CLASSES - PILATES

HOPE - MARTIAL - ARTS - NOT A JOKE

OR - VIOLENT - BUT - 10P - FRIDAYS

OVER - $300 - MONTHLY - EXCHANGE

CAN'T - CALL - 555 - 4 - EMERGENCY

SO - NEXT - COURSE - DIY - WOMEN

NEIGHBORS - 2ND - FLOOR - 2 - ITS

MASSAGE - ENVY

DAILY - 9A - 10P

EVERYDAY

MEMBERS - $50 - MONTHLY

1 HR - MASSAGE - $50 - ADD - TAXES

4 - ABOVE - BURN - CALORIES - THIS

WAY - SHOPIFY - FUTURE - DAILY 1 HR

MASSAGE - LOOSE - WEIGHT BETTER

TIPS - PLEASE

CAN - B - TAX - DEDUCTIBLE

BETTER - HEALTH - THAN - MEDICATION

BETTER - THAN - ACUPUNCTURE MIAMI

STUDIO - D - ACROSS

HAIRCUTS - $45 - STARTING - WITH YES

BLOW - DRY - AND - MORE

NO - SEOUL - SCALP - TREATMENT 1 HR

LEAST - GETTING - THAT - SEOUL PARIS

HAPPY - HOLIDAYS - EVERYONE

SLIGHTLY - CHILLY - SOFT - TIGHTS YES

NAVY - AFTER - SHOWER

LA FITNESS - THEN - COMING - BACK

FINISHING - BOOK - NICHOLAS SPARK

MAYBE - VETERAN - US ARMY - BANNED

FR - LIBRARY - 6 MONTHS

ILLEGAL - LIBERTY - BY - FEDERAL FUNDED

MAIN - LIBRARY

14TH - NO - STATE - CAN - MAKE - OR CREATE

LAW ... $500,000 - FINE - AND - OR - PRISON 2

JESUS - IS - LORD

SEASON's - GREETINGS - TUMBLR - US KOREA

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luveline · 2 years ago

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wait, wait, wait, wait. ahhh. a bodyguard!james x reader, where reader's been having a bad day and she's been holding in the urge to cry out her frustrations, but when it suddenly starts raining while she's outside, it's what makes her finally crack? and then sweet bodyguard!james is there, waiting for her, with an umbrella & and idk want a james ; - ;

ty for your request! ♥︎ fem!reader

"James, can I go out in the garden?" you ask.

James is on his laptop, an unfamiliar sight. He looks up at you and tries to type at the same time. "Uh, is Donovan on duty?"

You peer through the patio doors. "Not sure." You really need some air. "James, please?"

"Yeah, yeah," he says, eyes on his screen. "Two seconds, I-"

You miss the rest of what he's saying, pushing open the door and taking a few steps into the dry grass. You turn your face up to the sky, a miserable, sad white colour that reflects how you feel.

Today has been stupidly hard, and lately you've been struggling with unhappy feelings. You aren't unhappy, truly, but you feel sort of trapped. Going outside makes you feel better. James hasn't mentioned your sudden keenness for the outdoors, and he hasn't tried to stop you either, he only insists someone be out there with you.

What life is this? Where you can't can't out into your own back garden by yourself? Where every choice you make is either scrutinised or not your own to begin with?

You cover your eyes with both hands and take a deep breath. It doesn't feel very deep. You take another, and another, and soon your breaths don't sound like breaths at all but pathetic, struggling sighs.

The first raindrop is a surprise. The second, expected. The downpour opens quick and fast and you could turn around and hide from it but you don't. You stand in the rain and your breath turns to a sob.

"Fuck," you say.

You swallow it down. You don't manage to stop the tears all together, but you don't cry out. The rain seeps into your hair, kissing your scalp, and it's warm enough to tickle your neck as it leeches downward.

The rain stops suddenly. You look up, startled, but the rain has carried on, the sound like a rushing river.

A black umbrella has been opened over your head.

James stands silently beside you. You're waiting for a chastening. You should've waited for me. You should head back inside. You should, you should, you should.

It doesn't come. You rub your cheek unkindly.

James is looking at you with a mixture of patience and worry. "You okay?"

You nod. His question has a lump growing in your throat, and it burns when you swallow around it.

"You want my jacket?"

"No, James," you say. "I don't want your jacket."

"Let me know if you get cold."

You stare out across the garden. The water fountain has started to fill, and all the furnishings and furniture has darkened, wet. "You're not going to make me go inside?"

James takes a step closer to you. "I just want you to feel better. I don't think making you go back in will help. Do you?"

"No, it won't."

The rain turns to a hammering. "How about a hug?"

You smile at him weakly. "Yeah," you say with a sniffle, "that could work."

He hugs you with one arm. The other is wet from the rain.

"Umbrella's only big enough for one a half of us," he explains.

You tighten your arms around his waist. He's the only thing keeping you sane.

#james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter #james potter x y/n #james potter imagine #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #marauders era #marauders #the marauders #the marauders fanfiction #the marauders x reader #the marauders fanfic #james potter x fem!reader #its bodyguard steve!#bodyguard!james potter

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sirthisisa-wendys · 4 years ago

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The Sacrifice: Part 1.5 (Geto Suguru x Fem! Reader)

synopsis: you meet your captors, but why are you really here?

wc: 1.8k

tw: none

masterlist

Giggling.

Giggling?

Do people giggle in heaven?

When you finally come to, all you can hear are muffled whispers and excited chatter around you.

“Mom? Dad?” You slowly open your eyes and take in the blurry shapes surrounding you, blinking multiple times so that they would take form.

“No mom or dad here,” a soft voice whispers, and cold fingers touch your forehead.

“No,” another voice echoes and finally, you can see who is circled around you. A gaggle of women surrounds you, each one having an unusual skin color - rose pink, cerulean, blood red, hunter green, and mauve - and sporting a set of unfamiliar-looking ears that came to a small pinched point at the tops.

“We’re glad you’re awake!” A woman with short black hair and green skin exclaims, clasping her hands to her clothed chest. “Everyone is shocked when they come here at first, but we’ve never had someone pass out,” she giggles and the other women do as well.

“You made quite a spectacle,” another woman sighs, shaking her rose-pink head. “We had to get the men to help us get you up here.”

Here? You look around the room you’re in, fully noticing your surroundings. You’re still in the clothes from the ceremony, and the pendant hangs neatly around your neck still, untouched by the women. But the room… it’s immaculate.

Every piece of furniture is either gold or white, and to your left, a set of open-air windows are covered by gauzy curtains that blow in the invisible wind. You’re laying in a four-poster bed, covered in white sheets and white fur that looks expensive. And when you run your hands over it, it feels expensive.

“Wait…” you exhale, looking around at the room again. “Am I in the Dragon God’s--”

“You’re not dead if that’s what you’re asking,” The blood-red-skinned woman answers, fingering her long braid. “But I’ll let His Holiness explain.”

“His Holiness?” you mutter, right as a sharp ripple runs through the curtains. All of the women turn to the archways and in one motion begin to scramble there.

“Move, Ariadne!”

“Serena, scoot over!”

“Danai, I can’t see!”

You cautiously slide out of the bed and pad over to where the women have thrown open the curtains and are leaning over the banister to look left and right.

“Do you see them?” Someone asks, and one of them replies,

“Up there!” Your eyes follow to the point in the sky where the mauve hand is pointing, and you can see two figures dancing about in the sky, flashes of gold and white passing between them. As they get closer, you can clearly make out that they’re...

“Dragons.” A black one circles around a white one, both of them exchanging fire in turn. All of the women begin to squeal, their excited chatter like the sounds of birds in the morning light.

“You came to just in time,” the tall, blood-red woman nudges you, smiling widely. “His Holiness and His Highness like to spar during the day, and it looks like they’re putting on quite the show.”

“Ah,” you answer, looking back up at the dragons, who were getting even closer, almost right upon the place where you all stood.

“What’s your name?” she asks, raising a brow at you.

“Y/n,” you reply, fiddling with the edges of your sleeves.

“I’m Clymenestra,” the woman offers her hand to you, and you take it, shaking it firmly. “But everyone calls me Cly. I’m the head of household affairs, so if you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to send for me.”

“Household affairs?”

“Food, drink, sheets, anything you associate with households, I’m in charge of it.”

“So… you’re not the Dragon God’s… wives?”

Cly laughs, tossing her head back and holding her stomach as her fox-like features slide into a wide grin. “Oh, y/n, you are so funny!” You turn back to the spectacle in front of you and watch as the two dragons engage in a death-drop, wrapping around each other in an endless loop.

“They’re going to do it!” Someone squeals and you all watch as they drop into the water right below them, neglecting to emerge for what feels like eons. As you scan the shoreline for any signs of re-emerging dragons, you wonder why two dragons - fire-breathing creatures - would descend into the depths of what appeared to be an ocean. But when two male figures emerge from the sea, you’re suddenly aware that it was just what Cly said: it was all a show.

“Oh! Cly, we have to get their robes!” One of the women shouts and the women break into a frenzy again, scurrying about and opening drawers and shutting wardrobes, hands suddenly filled with different articles of clothing. Clymenestra stands beside you, arms folded over her chest as she oversees the chaos, then opens a set of doors that leads to a large, long hallway. The doors at the end of the hallways open out to the outdoors at the same time, and you watch the women file neatly into the hallway in two rows. Cly tugs you to her side at the end of the line, holding your hand with an iron grip.

“Say nothing until I introduce you.”

When the two men who resurfaced from the sea stride through the doors, you swallow hard, feeling your palms become clammy at the sight of the muscles on display.

Oh, no. They’re hot.

“Your Holiness.”

“Your Highness.”

The women coo these words interchangeably as a black, long-haired man and a white-haired man take the clothing offered to them, wrapping the towels and silk robes around themselves. As the white-haired man gets closer to you, your knees begin to quake under your dress, his blue eyes piercing your soul.

“Clymenestra, it seems we have a new guest here,” he purrs, placing a hand on his hip. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“I’m--” Cly yanks on your hand surreptitiously, which stops your speech.

“Her name is y/n, and she’s the newest addition to His Holiness’ household, your Highness.”

“Ah,” the man sighs, looking away. “I was hoping they would send me a new plaything this time.” The black-haired man catches the end of this conversation, tying his black robe around him and raising a brow.

“Have you asked for a new plaything, Gojo?” he wonders as his black eyes slide to you. Your breath hitches in your throat as you catch his gaze, which is tender and curious. Not at all like the devouring gaze the man with the blue eyes gave you.

“No,” the blue-eyed man mumbles, walking down a different corridor and disappearing.

“I’m sorry about my friend, he’s a little touchy around this time of year,” the black-haired man mentions, and Cly bobs into a small curtsy.

“Your Holiness, this is y/n.”

“What a beautiful name,” he muses, and you bow your head slightly. “You can refer to me as Geto.” When he speaks to you - and so familiarly at that - you feel a shiver run down your spine and rest in the pit of your stomach. “You’re my guest here and I will treat you as such. Have you fully recovered from your episode?” he wonders, and you nod in response, words unable to be formed in your mouth. “Fantastic. Let’s have dinner, I know you’re probably famished after losing your horse.” Cly urges you to follow him down a separate corridor, and you follow obediently.

_____________________________________________________________

Two pairs of eyes are on you as you try to politely scarf down the food offered. When the smell of loaves of bread, meats, cheeses, fish, delicacies you’ve only dreamed of having for the past five years wafted into your nose, your rational mind switched off and your self-preservation kicked in. Now, you were sitting at a table for four in the middle of a large dining hall that could possibly hold twenty couples total. The room is the same white and golden color scheme, only this time, the chairs and table cloths are black.

“You would think the villagers would have fed her,” Gojo - his highness - grumbles as you shove a slice of bread into your mouth. Geto just chuckles, picking at his own food with little interest.

“No, Satoru. They were cruel enough to send her up the mountain, certain she would die. Why would they waste food during a famine?” The famine. You look up from your plate at the black-haired one and frown, mouth full of food.

“We sacrifice women to you so that you’ll send rain.” You mention, and he shrugs, shaking his head. “At least, that’s what the elders tell us.”

“He’s not a rain god,” Gojo replies, steepling his fingers together. “So there’s something wrong about that assumption.”

“But we’ve been doing it for--”

“Two decades.” Geto finishes for you, then looks down at his plate before clearing his throat. “What did you do in the village, y/n?” He wonders, changing the subject suddenly.

“I--” I stole some food. I lived on the streets. I was an orphan.

I am an orphan.

“What difference does it make? Obviously, she wasn’t valuable enough for them to want to preserve her life.” Gojo interrupts, rolling his eyes. “It’s not like she’s not better off up here, Suguru.”

“But--” you try to speak, but Geto speaks over you, holding a hand out so Gojo will stop talking.

“Gojo, I know that. I just want to know a little more about our guest here. Is that okay with you?” The blue-eyed man tosses his hands up in defeat, squinting at you after looking you up and down. “Y/n, tell me about your time in the village. What did you do before you were picked?”

“I was… an orphan,” you admit, and Geto leans back in his chair, humming softly. Gojo runs a hand through his white locks, averting his gaze.

“My condolences,” Geto murmurs, tilting his head to the side so his hair dangled to the left. “Were you very close?”

“Are you going to sacrifice me?” you blurt, and Geto and Gojo both frown. “I mean, am I going to die after eating this meal?” Gojo tries his best to hold in his laughter, but fails miserably, tilting back in his chair as the sharp sounds echo around the room. You turn back to Geto, who chuckles as well and is hunched over in his seat.

“No, no, no,” Gojo wipes the tears from his eyes and continues. “You’re out guest, y/n. We would be horrible hosts if we killed you.”

“So what am I here for?” you reply, and Geto whispers:

“You’re only here to repay a debt, y/n. It has nothing to do with you personally, but just know, you’re not going to die. Actually, I would go as far as saying that you have the opportunity to live forever.”

TAGLIST: @jotazinha @leanne-tamashi @brownskinnedgirll

#geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen getou #geto suguru #jjk geto #getou x reader #getou suguru #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #jujustu kaisen #jjk x reader

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collecting-stories · 5 years ago

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Stormy Weather - JJ Maybank

Request: could you possibly do something similar to the story where jj is afraid of the storm but switch it so jj comforts the girl instead?

A/N: I threw in a CHUD reference because my favorite thing about JJ is that we have the same taste in movies.

Outer Banks Masterlist

☂︎ ☂︎ ☂︎ ☂︎

“What was that?” You asked, jumping at the sudden screeching noise that rang through from JJ’s phone. He grabbed it from the coffee table, nearly yanking the charger out of the wall in his haste, and slammed his thumb against the side to quiet the device.

“It’s just my phone,” He promised as the noise abruptly stopped. The ringing continued in your ears as he unlocked the phone to read the notification, “storm warning I think?”

“Storm warning?” Realistically, you knew that it was a matter of hours, maybe minutes, until Agatha touched ground but you were still hoping that something would verve her off-course. Send her down to Georgia or Florida. You’d settle for South Carolina at this point.

“Yeah. It says-”

“No. Don’t tell me what it says.”

JJ reached for your bare thigh, his warm hand coming down on the skin and rubbing as soothingly as possible. “It’s okay, it’s not for Kildare County yet.”

“Yet?” You nearly shrieked at the word. JJ knew you hated storms, you had explained on multiple occasions how bad your anxiety got during storms and he tried, he really, really, tried, to be considerate and thoughtful but sometimes he just ended up sticking his foot in his mouth.

“Hey, you’re fine.” JJ tried to point out as you got up off the couch and crossed the living room to the large bay window. The sky was already starting to get dark outside and you couldn’t tell if it was from the hour or the storm. Clouds blocked any view of the sun and the wind was starting to pick up. Soon it would rain and then the storm would start.

“I’m not fine JJ. There’s a hurricane coming. I know that. What if it hits here? What if it rips a tree out of the ground and throws it on top of the house? Then what?” You questioned, listing one of a dozen scenerios that were playing out in your head.

“Babe, you need to-”

“Do not tell me to relax.”

JJ got up and crossed the room, hands fitting their place on your shoulders as he tried to steer you back toward the couch. “I was gonna say that you need to move away from the window. That isn’t gonna help you feel better.”

“I hate storms.”

“I know.”

“And I hate weather alerts. Why do they have to alarm like that?” You took a deep breath, “what did it say?”

“It wasn’t for our county.” JJ replied.

“JJ, what did it say?”

“Flood watch. And severe storm moving inward.” He admitted.

“Oh my god.”

“Hey, come on, come with me. Away from the window.” He pulled on your shoulders just enough to get your feet moving again as he finally walked you to the couch.

“JJ-”

“You don’t need to see the storm, that’s not helping you. Just sit on the couch and let me do everything else.” JJ replied, sitting you down on the couch. He grabbed his phone and started to push the coffee table out of the way.

“What are you doing?”

“You’ll see. And you’ll feel better, I promise.”

“I hate storms.” You paled, leaning back against the cushions and looking up at him.

“I know.”

“I hate hurricane season.”

“I know that too.” JJ said. He stopped rearranging the furniture and leaned over to kiss you, soft lips pressed against yours before he pulled away, “it’ll be okay.”

“You shouldn’t have to babysit me either. I know John B asked you to surf the surge with him. You should be out having fun not sitting in the house with me.” You had been feeling guilty about calling JJ to come over ever since you had heard John B in the background of the call bitch that they were supposed to surf when Agatha hit. JJ had chosen you over his friend though, coming over and condemning himself to a night of calming you down as you freaked over an uncontrollable storm.

“There is no where I would rather be than right here with you in the house okay?” JJ promised, “who gives a shit about surfing the surge.”

“You’re a very good liar.” You teased, watching him continue to haul the kitchen chairs and table into the living room. When he got close you reached your arms out for him and he let you hug him, leaning down to kiss the top of your head.

“It’s cause I’m not lying. Now let me go so I can get stuff together.”

“Okay.”

“You’ll be okay, I’m right here.” He reiterated as he left the living room for your bedroom down the hall.

“Can you talk to me while you’re getting stuff?” You called, knowing the house was too quiet to distract you from the storm without constant chatter.

“What do you want me to talk to you about?” He called down the hall. He was currently stripping the blankets and pillows off your bed, trying to hold them all in both arms so that he didn’t have to make more than one trip.

“I don’t know...anything.”

“I went to queen village this morning to get bait with Pope and I was getting ice and the guy that works there, you know the one who hates me?” He questioned, pausing as the comforter slipped from his arms.

“He hates you because you stole from him like four times.” You reminded him, leaning back against the arm of the couch and stretching to lay down.

“He can’t prove it.”

“I don’t understand why he still lets you in the store.”

“Because he can’t prove it.” JJ repeated. “Anyway, I’m getting ice right and he tells me that the ice cup costs money!”

“Yeah, it always does. That’s why I bring my own water bottle when we go there.” You replied as he came in and deposited the blankets and pillows on a chair.

“Whose side are you on?”

“Yours, obviously. So what happened?” You asked as he left down the hall again.

“So I’m getting ice and he tells me the cup costs money so I said ‘but the ice is free?’ and he says ‘ice is free’. So I made a little pocket with my shirt, like so,” JJ lifts the hem of his shirt up to fold over so he can demonstrate the pocket for you. “and I emptied the cup into my pocket and he told me that the ice costs money!”

You laughed, easily imagining your boyfriend trying to hold a cupful of ice in his shirt to avoid paying, “then what?”

“Then I said that he was being a bitch because it doesn’t cost shit and he just said so!” JJ grabbed your arm, “come over here.”

“What are you doing?” you asked as you let him guide you over to one of the wing chairs your mom had inherited.

“Constructing a fort. Sit.” JJ instructed, sitting you down and going back to his story, “so I tell him he’s a bitch and he said he would call the cops if I didn’t leave the store! You imagine him ringing Peterkin or Shoupe just cause I wanted some ice! It should be free!”

“It should be but it isn’t. You know that guy is a stickler, why argue?”

“Because I’m right and he’s a douche!” JJ replied, obviously still heated over the whole ordeal.

“I know I asked you to tell me a story but I’m thinking that maybe this wasn’t the story I wanted you to tell me.” You laughed, getting up to hold the sheet in place as he clipped it to the chair. He had pushed the table against the couch and thrown the comforter over it like a roof. Now he had the chairs lined up with their backs to each other, forming the tunnel.

You moved onto the next part of the fort, grabbing for the sheet as thunder clapped outside and you jumped, suddenly aware again that the fort and the story were all just fancy distractions meant to draw your attention away from the outside. Before you could abandon the task to flock to the window JJ was there beside you, pressed against your back as his arms wrapped around you and he kissed your shoulder.

“We’re okay.”

“It sounds really bad out there.” You mentioned, looking to the closed up windows.

“We’re okay.” He repeated, “we’re safe.” He moved his hands to cover yours, stepping away enough that he was no longer embracing you. “I’ll do this, you make popcorn.”

“I thought I was supposed to be relaxing?”

“And you will after you make popcorn. You make it better than me!” He insisted, pushing you toward the kitchen.

“Okay but then relaxing. This storm is-“

“We’ll be fine, I’m here. There’s nothing to worry about.” JJ called after you as you walked into the kitchen and grabbed the sauce pan to start popcorn. You were certain you were in for a creature feature and you thought maybe seeing Shockma or CHUD or some other monster flick would help ease the worries you had about the outdoors. Maybe JJ was on to something after all.

“I didn’t tell you the end of the story!” He exclaimed suddenly, appearing in the doorway. “So-“

Taglist: @maplelattes22 @poguesrforlife @freckled-and-daydreaming @chasefreakinstokes @millie-753 @fangirlwithme @alex12948 @katherine097 @tangledinsparkles @tragicmisfits @carbonated-beverage @mariofgreengables @damonsalvawhore27 @dopedoodes @dolanfivsosxox @belledutchess @poguelifeeee @faded-blue @parkerpetertingle @thebookwormlife @summer-clouds-and-long-days @jellyfishbeansontoast @minigranger @hoewkeye @love-someone-special @tiredfeels @strangerthanfanfiction713 @the-only-nana @tomzfrog @mozz-are-lla @vindictive-hearts @poguestyleskye @ssprayberrythings @jenahbell @beautyandthebleh @lavenderxraindrops@gothackedalready @teenwaywardasgardian @sarahcxmeron @hvitost @haha-fuck-you-thot @stillbelieve398-5 @rewindlr @queenniccimicci @thedarkqueenofavalon @alytavzla @bqmblebee @linniep @nerdypartytrashpsychic @xxchxrryxx @spencer-reid-is-a-cutie@mirjanak @danielladreaming @obx-saltlife @youngestxhearts @spnobsessedmemes @celestialmaybank @mybnkjj @pineappleandcherries @mysterious-adventurer @justawilddreamerchild @rhyetaylor62 @calm-rejects @99sxuxii @oh-annaa @katiaw2 @aiifandomsunite @x-lulu @ceruleanjj @wicked-laugh @obxwriterfan @justkeepdreamingswift @allie-mcginn @pcterparxer @literarycharleton @khiaraaa-in-spacee@crushe-s @teamnick @daydreamlilys @collectiveuniverses @activist-af @mdgrdians @buckys-sunflower @vindictive-hearts @copper-boom @talksoprettyjjx @jolomez @timotaychalabae

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moonlit-raven-haven · 4 years ago

Text

The Past III

Where the reader and Harry no longer speak.

This is unedited!

Word Count: 3.6k

Warning: angst, drinking, some language, mentions of blood

A/N: Here’s part three! Sorry it took so long to update! My personal life has been quite hectic and draining and I couldn’t find the energy to write again up until a few days ago. I hope you guys enjoy it! Information regarding tag lists at the end.

Y/N is discharged in the morning just like she had told Harry the previous day. Not having a ride home, she decides to dial Gemma who picks up after only a few rings.

“Hey Gem, think you could pick me up and bring me some clothes please? Mark is at work right now.” Y/N asks and explains as she flips through the random TV channels on the small flat-screen television in her hospital room.

“Hey Y/N, I actually can’t right now…” She trails off, almost as if trying to come up with an excuse not to pick her up, but she doesn’t. “I’m sure Harry can pick you up.” She adds in to her trailing sentence. Y/N stays quiet on the other end of the line. She’s going to see Harry tonight anyways, but would she be able to spend a whole day with him without it being painfully awkward?

“It’s okay...I’ll ask Anne.” Y/N replies as she huffs slightly, going through all of the television channels for the second time, but nonetheless she starts the process all over again.

“Mum is busy with grocery shopping and whatnot.” Gemma says with an urgency to her voice, and Y/N finally concludes that Gemma, or Anne and Gemma want her to spend more time with Harry. Y/N pinches the bridge of her nose slightly before sighing.

“I’ll ring Harry.” She finally gives up, knowing it was no use trying to tell Gemma that she could see past her lies. Y/N ponders on taking the bus, but she knows she’ll get weird and concerned looks, having only the clothes from the previous night and dried blood on her hair.

“Alright, I’ll see you soon!” Gemma exclaims into the phone, the smile evident in her voice as she hangs up, leaving Y/N to hear the ringing of the dead line. She pulls her phone away from her ear and takes a deep breath as she scrolls through her contacts, finally stumbling upon Harry’s name. She hadn’t deleted the number, and she knew it was the same, receiving a text from Gemma with his number attached. Y/N clicks on his contact, an old picture of the two showing up in a small circle next to the call button. The picture is one that Anne had taken at Christmas before they stopped speaking. Y/N was curled up into Harry’s side, the Santa hat she had been wearing slowly beginning to fall off her head as Harry had an arm wrapped around her sleeping form. He was looking down at her, a soft smile on his face as his own Santa hat lit up with small Christmas lights. Y/N smiles at the picture, reminiscing back at how simple things once were.

After a few minutes of hearing the television but listening to her own thoughts, she decides to tap the green button on her screen that has been taunting her for several minutes. Y/N hears the line ring, her heart beating faster with each lengthy tone, and after only the third ring she hears a click on the other end of the phone.

“Hey Y/N.” Harry greets through the phone, his comforting voice making Y/N’s once fast beating heart slow down enough for her to feel calm once again. He knew it was her, he must have saved her number after all these years, but the thought makes her heart sting; why hadn’t he tried to reach her?

“I...Um...I was wondering if you could pick me up from the hospital?” Y/N questions through the small device in her hand as she fiddles with the rough material of the thin blanket that the hospital provided her with.

“Yeah sure...I’ll be there in 30.” Harry says, and Y/N can hear the jingling of his keys and the opening and closing of the door.

“Thank you...and be careful please...the roads are still pretty dangerous to drive on.” She mumbles, shivering slightly at the memory from the previous day.

“O’course...I’m always careful. See you soon.” Y/N hears the muffled sound of the car engine over the phone before hearing a soft click, only hearing the television quietly playing in the background. Over the next 20 minutes Y/N is discharged by the doctor and disconnected from the various monitors. She gathers her belongings, grimacing as she puts on her clothes from the previous day, some of it covered in dry blood still. She grabs her phone off the small hospital table and exits the fluorescent room, thanking the staff on her way out before waiting for Harry in front of the hospital. The floor is wet from the storm the previous day and the current light drizzle of water. She wraps her coat around her tightly, shivering slightly as a gust of wind passes by her.

“I should’ve waited inside.” Y/N thinks to herself as the cold wind bites at her skin, but she’s being courteous for Harry’s sake, or maybe she’s doing it for herself. What she knows is that a mob of fans wouldn’t be pleasant for either of them. So she waits for him outside, hoping that they could drive off as soon as he arrives at the hospital so they could leave.

Y/N is staring up at the gray clouds before she hears a soft calling of her name. She looks up, noticing the window of Harry’s black Range Rover is rolled down. He’s wearing a black hoodie with colorful letters that she can’t make out due to his distance, and some big sunglasses that make her let out a little laugh at their size. She gives him an awkward smile before walking towards the big car and getting in the passenger's seat, immediately engulfed by the warmth of the car and Harry’s scent. Y/N settles into the leather seat as she closes the door and secures the seat belt around her body as Harry begins to drive away from the hospital parking lot.

“Would you like me to drive you home?” Harry questions, his eyes focused on the slick road in front of him.

“No no…” Y/N quickly starts off. “We could go back to your place...we were meeting for dinner anyways.” She finishes her statement as Harry just hums in response. It’s silent between the two despite the words that need to be said; the words that would probably fix everything between them. The rain gently hits the windows as the heater hums in sync with the sound of the engine. The road is smooth beneath the tires as Harry drives through a series of small winding streets.

“Can I turn the radio on?” Harry is the first to speak, and now it’s Y/N’s turn to hum in response. His hand travels over to the radio, turning it on before browsing through different radio stations, but he can’t settle on anything and shuts the radio off once again, his hand settling back on the steering wheel. The car ride is filled with an almost unbearable silence, each raindrop sounding heavier than the last against the car, but finally, just as Y/N is thinking that jumping out of the car isn’t a horrible idea, they reach a small and gated house. Harry pulls up next to a small metal box, rolling down his window and quickly punching in a few numbers before rolling it up once again. The raindrops rolling off the leather interior, the sleeve of his hoodie now a darker shade of black.

The metal gates open up and Harry applies light pressure on the gas pedal of his car, causing it to move forward onto the long cement driveway, all the way to the end which connects to a house, his house. Harry presses a small clicker on the roof of his car, opening up the large garage connected to the house as he pulls into it and closes the garage door once again before turning the car off.

“Let’s get you inside so you could get showered and changed before dinner.” Harry says softly as he gets out of the car, not looking at Y/N once. He knows that it’s still early, early enough to barely eat lunch, but he figures he could try to avoid the dreaded, but much needed conversation for a few more hours. Plus, he doubts that she wants to be in the same clothes from the day of the accident, much less have her hair matted and tangled with dried blood.

“Oh yeah...thanks Harry.” Y/N says as she climbs out of the car, and takes a look at the garage. It’s like any other person’s garage, but emptier due to his constant moving around and barely being home. She gently closes the black car door and walks around to where Harry is standing, inserting a key to a door in the garage. He twists the key and handle, opening the door before pulling the key out. He walks in, holding the door open for Y/N as he motions for her to walk in. She complies and enters the house that’s lit up by the outdoor light. The place is a lot simpler than she had expected, since his career took off she expected him to change just like every other superstar, being taken by the fame and money, but he was not. He remained Harry Edward Styles, her friend of many years and who she always thought would be her first love.

His house is decorated in modern and minimalist furniture, but somehow still feels like a home. Y/N can’t tell if it’s Harry’s scent or small random things laying around that make it feel like home. Picture frames of his family and friends, a random jacket here, some shoes over there, and a few random cups scattered throughout the living room and kitchen. While she looks around, she believes that Harry has moved on from their friendship, and maybe even whatever nonexistent relationship there was between them. There wasn’t a picture of her in sight, or any clue of her ever being part of his life, but what was she hoping for? For him to dwell on her for five years? That would be selfish of her, but maybe for now she wanted to be selfish.

Harry watches Y/N intently as she looks around, noticing slight changes in her expressions, from a half smile to a small frown. Was she regretting her choice of coming with him? Would she turn around right now and ask for him to drive her home? He suddenly thinks that this is a horrible idea, and that maybe things should’ve just been left as is, but he still tries and hopes that she doesn’t want to run away like he has been wanting to do.

“Bathroom is over here.” His voice sounds a bit shaky, almost as if he is nervous. He begins walking through the house, reaching a short hallway with only two doors and some cabinets at the end. He opens the door to their left, revealing a bathroom, and then continues to take a few steps forward, opening the door to their right, revealing his room.

“There’s a bathroom in m’ room if you would like to use that one. You could change in my bedroom afterward if you would like, I’ll be in the kitchen making dinner so you don’t have to worry about me barging in...I mean not that I would barge in...just in case you were worried ‘bout that...not that you sh-” But before Harry can ramble on any further, Y/N cuts him off, a small laugh escaping her lips at his nervous behavior.

“I’ll use your bathroom, you go ahead and make dinner.” She says with a smile adorning her face, oh how much Harry missed that smile. He simply nods and exits the room, opening and closing the cabinets in the hallway before returning with a towel and handing it to Y/N.

“Thanks Harry.” She says softly as she begins walking to the bathroom door in the corner of his room.

“O’course. I’ll leave some clothes on my bed and then I’ll leave and close the door.” Harry explains to her as he walks over to his dresser and begins to open drawers. Y/N hums in appreciation as she walks through the bathroom door and shuts it behind her. She opens the sliding glass door, letting out a small sigh of relief when she sees the water knobs are the same as the ones in her own flat, thankful she wouldn’t have to ask Harry for help. Y/N turns the water on to her desired temperature and begins to strip off her clothing before getting into the shower, sliding the glass doors shut. As she showers, she can hear the muffled opening and closing of drawers outside in the room before she hears the shutting of what she assumes is the bedroom door.

Harry exits his bedroom, closing the door behind him as he makes his way to the kitchen. As he pulls out the necessary ingredients for spaghetti and garlic bread, his mind (once again), begins to occupy itself with unnecessary thoughts, because never in a million years did he think they would be having dinner together after five years of silence. Harry was aware of how she tried to contact him, and he saw all the missed calls and texts from her, but he was too hurt to ever pick up the phone or to even see her. Now he feels guilty, realizing that he probably caused her pain that she still hasn’t healed from. Had she moved on quickly? Did she see other people before meeting Mark? Or was Mark the person that finally allowed her to begin to move on? Harry shakes his head slightly, now beginning to serve the plates of food and pulling out a bottle of wine. Those thoughts shouldn’t make him feel jealousy, after all, he had tried to move on fast, sleeping and dating people over the past five years, and he was almost one-hundred percent sure that she saw every headline regarding his relationships, whether they were rumors or whether they were confirmed. And while Harry can’t be sure, he can only assume that it hurt to see the headlines, because when he heard of Mark’s existence in Y/N’s life, the pain he felt in his chest was too much to ignore.

Harry is closing the bottle of wine and sitting down when he hears light footsteps in front of him, and as he looks up he sees Y/N, her cheeks are slightly flushed and there is a sheepish smile on her face as she sits down across from him.

“It smells good…” She says softly as she pics up her fork and begins to eat. She’s wearing his hoodie, boxers, sweats, and even his socks, which makes her feel quite flustered, it feels too domestic, like if they are dating, and the thought makes her heart pick up slightly in speed.

What they both thought would be an awkward dinner was actually pleasant, their conversation flowed naturally, almost as if nothing between them had occurred, and as if they haven't spoken in five years. Once their plates are clean of food and their glasses are empty of wine, they clean up the kitchen and head to the living room, sitting down on opposite ends of Harry’s couch, their glasses of wine full again. Their conversation flows smoothly once again, eventually falling into a silence that was almost unbearable.

“Have you listened to any of my music?” Harry questions, as he sets down his wine glass on the coffee table. The question probably sounds narcissistic, but he needs to know, because there are songs that were written for her, messages that he hopes she received. Y/N sets down her glass of wine and tilts her head back before looking over at Harry.

“I only listened to your first album...I couldn’t really bring myself to listen to your second album.” She explains rather timidly, afraid that he would take offense to the statement, but he nods his head in understanding and gets up from the couch.

“We’ll start from the beginning then, so you could get the full experience.” He says jokingly as he walks over to his vinyls and record player. Harry pulls out his first album and sets it up before sitting back on the couch, this time a little closer to her. They fall into casual conversation again, but Y/N doesn’t really listen to the music, too invested in listening to Harry, that is until he puts a finger to his lips, his infamous rose ring glinting in the sunlight.

“One of my favorite songs that I’ve ever written.” Harry says softly as he looks at Y/N. She chuckles softly as “Woman” begins to play in the background. Y/N smiles at the opening line, Harry has always been one for romance, and she couldn’t help but wonder who he had asked to watch romantic comedies with on Netflix, and then the song begins.

I’m selfish, I know

But I don’t ever want to see you with him

Y/N then wonders who this man was, this man that made him selfish and want to keep someone to himself, and who is the person that he loves so much that he wrote a song about not wanting to see them with anyone else? But then these questions are answered when Harry begins to speak.

“Y’know...when mum told me ‘bout you and Mark, I wished desperately that it was me you were with instead of him. And I wanted to go find you, and say that I fucked up, that I’m an arrogant son of a bitch who can’t admit when he’s sorry, but I didn’t. I couldn’t bear the thought of him opening the door, and while I’m selfish for wishing that I was in his place, I also can’t ruin your happiness again…” Harry trails off and sighs, he turns away from Y/N and tilts his head back until it’s resting on the couch and he’s staring up at the ceiling.

Y/N looks at him blankly as he stares up at the ceiling. She had expected a conversation of apologies, then maybe a few words of “glad we’ve moved on,” and then things to be how they once were, but she wasn’t expecting a love confession. And as much as she wants to say that she understands, and that she forgives him, she can’t do that.

“Harry...you can’t do this to me. You can’t waltz back into my life and expect me to drop everything for you. You’re the one that left, I tried to make things right between us. I have a life of my own now, I’ve moved on from our past…” Y/N’s voice is assertive, refusing to let Harry come back into her life unannounced after everything that had occurred between them. But as assertive as she sounds, and as serious as she is about her words, she knows that her last statement isn’t true, and he knows that it isn’t true as well.

“You’re right, I left, and I know that you called...that you tried to reach me, and I blocked you out...I shouldn’t have. But I was afraid that I had ruined our friendship that night I tried to kiss you...now I reckon that I did more damage when I left unannounced.” Harry finally faces her, and while his words are directed at the girl in front of him, he knows these words are also his thoughts. When she doesn’t respond, he is fearful once again, maybe he should have left things alone. Y/N lets out a shaky breath and closes her eyes, not wanting to look at him in fear of breaking down.

“Look Harry, it’s in the past, and I want to forgive you, but I can’t...at least not right now. I spent so long getting over you, trying to forget our friendship and that spark that we once had…” She trails off and opens her eyes once again, staring directly at Harry. “But I need time, and I need space…” Her last words are quiet as she gets up from her spot on Harry’s couch and grabs her few belongings. “I would like to go home please.” Is all Y/N can muster past her lips as she walks over to the door, the very little energy she once had now leaves her body. Harry doesn’t protest, knowing that he has caused damage to the woman he loved, once again.

The drive back to her flat is silent, the hum of his car and the cars around him driving through the rain being the only sounds they can hear. And while the drive to her flat is short, it feels long and tense, making Y/N eager to get to the comfort of her own home and away from the current situation. Finally, the car is parked in front of her flat, and Y/N gives Harry a weak smile once she is out of his car.

“See ya around, thanks for lunch...maybe we can catch dinner another time.” She says as she closes his car door, and Harry’s heart flutters; he hadn’t fucked things up even more than before.

“I would like that.” Harry is quick with his response as he gives her a toothy grin before giving her a slight wave and driving off. Maybe things will be okay in time.

_._._._

A/N: There are two tag lists for Harry content! One for ALL future Harry Styles fics, and one for JUST this fic. Comment “All Harry fics” or “Just this Harry fic” if you would like to be added.

_._._._

All HS fanfic

@rachkon @tpwkhoney @girlboss99 @hilarydenise813 @eternalharry @tpwkxkiwis @wholesomestyles @indieslytherin @harryspirate @harrehiluvyeh

Just this fanfic

@darcysbxtch @makncheese1928 @urdadbtch

Usernames I can’t tag

@mybm1998 @marvelstudies2020 @90smessy @only1doodle

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amelialincoln · 4 years ago

Text

Notion

“Hey.” Link was breathless as he brought the final bits of outdoor furniture into the kitchen. It was supposed to rain tomorrow and Seattle had become covered in a thick layer of fog that seemed to cling to him as he closed the door to the backyard.

“Everyone headed out?” Amelia asked, scraping the last of the kid’s leftovers into the compost. Link nodded, placing a lingering, cold kiss on her forehead that made her shiver.

“Seemed kinda awkward between Jackson and Winston.”

“Well, it’s not Maggie’s fault that Jackson’s dated every person in a fifty mile radius,” she responded bitterly.

“This is true,” Link nodded.

“What’s going to make things worse is that she’s going to have to explain that all of us are mourning her other ex’s death,” she added grimly.

“No,” Link’s voice was soft. “I thought he pulled through.”

“Richard just called me to see if I wanted to join a meeting on zoom tonight, everything fell apart and Teddy and Owen couldn’t save him.” Tears were starting to fill her eyes. Deluca hadn’t spent much time on her service recently but he and Sam were pivotal when she was working on Kimmie’s tumor. When it came to her own tumor, she was surprised how much Deluca had shown his support.

“So, he’s just gone?” Unlike Amelia, Link hadn’t experienced a whole lot of death.

“Yeah.” He pulled her into his chest and rocked gently. It almost hurt how nice it was to see the few people that had come over today. Despite the house they were living in being chaos, the couple had never felt more isolated and alone. “I had to tell Zola that Mer might possibly not wake up.” Amelia whimpered. “She was so strong. She doesn’t want to worry Bailey and Ellis so she told Maggie and I not to tell them. If anything happens to Mer, Derek made Kathleen their godmother, I can’t watch these kids get shipped off to New York, they’ve had it hard enough.”

“I know, babe,” Link sighed, pulling her in closer.

“I have to go feed Scout, my boobs are gonna explode,” Amelia finally shed herself of Link’s arms after a couple of blissful moments. “Can you read to Zola and Bailey? I can handle Ellis because she’ll get like five stories out of you if I let you go in there.” Link chuckled.

“You’re probably right.”

[][][]

“Auntie Amelia.” Amelia was relieved to be greeted with a sleepy voice as she stepped into the pink monstrosity that was Ellis’ room.

“Hi Elle belle.” She smiled in response to the little girl’s arms reaching towards her. “Come on sweetheart, let's pick some pjs.”

“Can you make it a surprise?” Ellis asked in a way that made Amelia’s ovaries explode and she found herself wondering what Link would think about trying for a girl. Hormones, Amelia, focus. “What about these?” She suggested, holding up a pair of pastel blue Moana pajamas. Ellie nodded happily, squealing as Amelia tugged them over her pudgy arms.

“Can we read the cookie mouse story?”

“Of course,” Amelia grinned. “It’s not like we haven’t read it every day this week.” She lowered herself gently down onto Ellis’ bed. Recovery hadn’t been the easiest when chasing three children around the house and caring for a newborn. Link had pulled out Amelia’s stitches the night before, using his phone’s flashlight, since neither of them wanted to go to the hospital and then go through the trouble of getting tested. She had tried to hide the pain for Link’s sake, tired of him expecting her to be constantly resting, but she hadn’t expected the pain. Link was an incredible ortho surgeon but when it came to the little details, he was sometimes a bit careless.

Amelia closed the door to Ellis’ bedroom as quietly as possible, trying not to chuckle at the little figure sprawled out across her twin bed. For such a small girl Ellis was notoriously known as the most impossible person to sleep with, taking up spaces three times her size. She walked past Zola and Bailey’s room, hearing Link’s animated voice through fits of giggles. He definitely outdid her in the storytelling department, and really in every department, which she tried to not think too much about. Scout was babbling as Amelia entered the familiar room.

“You hungry, big guy?” To Amelia’s relief, Scout had progressed past his grumpy and problematic eating phase. She hugged him into her chest, breathing in his sweet and comforting soft lavender smell from the bubble bath they’d used this afternoon. “My beautiful boy.” She was still in disbelief, even staring down at him in her arms, that he truly existed. As he’d gotten bigger, he’d started to become a perfect combination of his parents. With Link’s strong features, like his nose, and what Amelia could tell would be his jaw, along with her dimple and piercing blue eyes.

“Hey mommy,” Link’s amused voice came from the doorway. “You feeling better?” Amelia wasn’t sure whether he was referring to the soreness in her lower half or the news about Deluca.

“He makes everything better,” she sighed, fumbling with one of the buttons on Scout’s onesie.

“You going to go to that meeting?” Link asked, she could tell he knew something was bothering her. “I already missed it.” She shrugged, glancing at their bedside alarm clock. “I’ll probably just feed him and then pass out.”

“Do you want me to grab the baby wrap, you were lifting lots today already with the furniture.”

“Sure,” she nodded, not feeling like having a conversation about how perfectly fine her arms were. Link nodded, placing a soft hand on her back before rummaging through their closet for the wrap. She was happy to find that Scout latched on easily and without protest, feeling a little guilty about the lack of attention that he’d received today. She knew that people were suffering way more during this time and she couldn’t help but feel guilty for wishing that she, Scout and Link could be spending quality time in their apartment for their maternity leave like planned.

“Lift your arm a bit.” Link ran a soft hand along the side of her forearm as he tied the piece of fabric around her shoulder and managed to wiggle Scout into it, without removing him from her chest.

“Thank you,” she smiled tiredly.

“No problem,” he yawned, practically collapsing into bed beside her. “Fuck, Amelia I’m exhasuted.”

“Me too.” She ran a gentle hand through his hair, tugging out some of the frequent knots that had begun to form since his hair had begun to grow out.

“Is your incision site healing okay,” he groaned into the pillow, melting a bit as she massaged the root of his neck.

“I haven’t checked,” she admitted with a yawn.

“Want me to grab some polysporin?”

“It’s okay, babe, it feels fine.” She sighed slightly, playing with the idea of bringing up a topic that has been bugging her but not wanting to cause an argument that neither of them were up for. “You started drinking pretty early today.”

“Amelia,” Link groaned tiredly. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It was just unnecessary, no one wanted...I’m just worried.” She shifted Scout to the other side uncomfortably.

“It’s not my fault you see addiction everywhere. I had like two beers.” Silence hung thickly in the air and after a couple of minutes Link turned to face her. “I’m sorry. I know it makes you uncomfortable.”

“You don’t really seem to care,” she answered honestly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He replied defensively, tiredness had seemed to leave his body momentarily. “I don’t--”

“The fridge is stocked, Link. It’s like a reminder every time I go to make food. There’s a cooler in the garage for a reason.”

“How am I supposed to know,” he sputtered. “Meredith downs tequila in front of you like this is a frat house. You hang out with our friends when they drink all the time.”

“It’s different when you're surrounded by people. When I’m alone and just staring at a fridge filled with booze it’s hard to not want to take one.”

“Amelia, you haven’t relapsed in years, why would you even--”

“Because I’m an addict, Link!” The increase in volume of her voice caused Scout to shriek in protest. “Don’t you understand that? It doesn’t get easier. It’s a fight every fucking day. And when my boyfriend starts drinking every day at three o’clock in the afternoon, it makes that fight ten times harder.”

“Well, I’m sorry you feel that way,” he grumbled.

“Are you serious right now?”

“About what,” he shot back.

“Well, I’m sorry you feel that way. I thought you’d be considerate enough to validate my feelings instead of acting like I’m being dramatic but instead you’re being a child.”

“Mia,” Link groaned, slamming his head back into the pillow, looking as childish as ever. “You’re--”

“What? Overreacting? The fact that you don’t see this as an issue is concerning.” Scout’s shrieking turned into a full on meltdown as their “perfect” son burst into tears. “Oh, baby, no. It’s okay.” Amelia sighed, finding tears of frustration begin to build at the sides of her own eyes and let out a tiny whimper as she held back any sobs that attempted to be heard. Of course Link noticed, as always, and rolled over to witness the upset state that both his girlfriend and baby were in.

“I am sorry,”

“Show me then,” Amelia hissed through a clenched jaw, wiping away some stubborn fallen tears. “Cause right now I don’t believe you.”

“I’ll put the packs in the cooler tomorrow,” he promised, with a hint of resentment. Amelia shrugged, finally giving up on feeding Scout and bringing him tightly into her chest.

“Hey, it’s okay, mommy and daddy fight sometimes, but everything’s going to be okay. Don’t cry Scout. We love you so much,” she murmured into the crown of his head, causing Link to melt a little inside.

“Are we going to be okay?” Link asked, receiving a teary glance from his girlfriend.

“Not if you can’t get this sorted because I cannot be his mother and also be passed out in a ditch somewhere on opioids.” Link nodded, moving to tug her shirt back into place and took Scout into his own hands, marvelling slightly at the little miracle they had created. “I don’t want to screw him up.”

“You won’t,” he promised her, pressing a kiss to her forehead before grazing her slightly chapped lips. “You’ve been a mother for a month and have already proved that. That’s the last thing we need to worry about right now.” He patted his chest. “Now come to sleep because if we stay up any longer I feel like I might end up on the couch,” he chuckled.

“Don’t give me any ideas,” she replied with a yawn.

“I love you,” he sighed.

“I love you too.”

what did u guys think of 17x07? i did find the beers at like 12 a bit weird and with the upcoming episode’s synopsis “Jo, Jackson and Link play a drinking game” I wonder if Amelia and him will have a conversation about her addiction bc I feel like they haven't really talked about it. lmk what u think!

#amelia shepherd #AmeliaShepherd #amelinkfanfiction #amelink #amelink fanfiction #link #Atticus Lincoln #atticus link #greysanatomy

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andguesswhat · 3 years ago

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The fool on the hill - Chapter 13

Sex, finally.

That very evening, as soon as they closed the door of Tom’s apartment behind them, they were all over each other, and in less than 60 seconds they had hastily undressed and in another 10 they were naked on the bed; this time stark naked and Owen loved it. For a second, he just had to enjoy the way Tom lay there so poured out in front of him. The slender figure with that narrow waist, those sexy legs, Tom's cock pressing heavily against his belly.

And that look Tom was giving him. Hungry and full of lust, but also almost a little shy. And happy. So goddamn happy.

Tom had been giddily excited all day and Owen hadn’t known how much he loved Tom being happy. And how much it made him happy, too.

He tried to prepare him gently but he was so damn horny he almost lost his mind. So he was more than glad when he saw Tom being impatient himself, already pushing towards his fingers. But then Owen hit that sensitive spot deep inside and Tom’s whole body jerked, he threw his head back and let out a loud and pleased “God, yes, Owen!”

Owen was so in awe about what he saw, it was so fucking hot and beautiful to see Tom like this that he wanted to rub that spot over and over again and just watch. But Tom reminded him otherwise.

“Owen, please… your… cock…”

Owen smiled gently. Because blushing Tom was just too adorable.

But yeah, he was right, they were both still so overdue, they really didn’t need any teasing, so he did what they both wanted. He pushed himself slowly inside of Tom, and when he bottomed out, he slowly started thrusting into him, again and again. And God, it felt so fucking good. He was sure he wouldn’t last long – again! - but to be honest, to finally be inside Tom… it was just so goddamn overwhelming.

Owen leaned down to kiss him, his one hand in Tom’s neck to get him closer, the other encircling Tom’s cock, rubbing it.

“God Owen…”

Tom’s chest was already rising and falling heavily from the panting, and yes, Tom was close, too, he could feel it.

“Owen…”

God, how he loved Tom saying his name.

He increased the pace, deepened the kisses and tightened his grip around Tom’s cock.

Tom's whole body was already trembling slightly, his face was consumed with lust, his moaning was getting faster and faster.

"God Owen, I can't.. hold it.. any-.."

And because Owen wanted Tom to know that this was more than okay, he said "I want to see you come."

And that was all it took, this put Tom over the edge, his body jerking, he came on Owen’s hand, and Owen was soon to follow, the contraction around his cock was too much, one last thrust and he came with a loud groan.

God, fuck yes.…

Why the hell didn’t they do this sooner?

When he straightened up again, it was him this time who was licking the cum of his hand.

And Tom’s laugh because of that was full of bliss.

After that they had all kinds of sex.

In the beginning they, of course, had horny “Can’t wait to fuck you/ Can’t wait until you fuck me” sex, where they would just fall all over each other after shooting and well, fucked.

But once the initial hunger was satisfied, they became more playful. Or at least Tom did.

Tom seemed to love to tease. And what a tease he was! This little smile around his lips, those bright eyes, this triumphant smirk when Owen was so horny he couldn’t wait to jump him. Tom knew exactly what he wanted and how to get it.

So they had “I make you horny all day with my words until you don’t know where to hide your boner anymore” sex, with Tom whispering naughty words and poems into his ear that sounded like they came from the last century, all elegantly worded but secretly just dirty. And yes, at some point Owen didn’t know where to hide his boner, and above all he didn’t want to hide it anymore, so he erratically pushed Tom into the trailer and fucked him.

They also had “I dance and I sway my hips very seductively but you can’t touch me” sex. Because one time, when Tom was in kitchen cooking his famous Spaghetti Bolognese, the music on the radio was so good Tom couldn’t stop swaying his hips and he decided to perform a first class lap dance on Owen’s lap but “No touching!”, and Owen got so fucking horny that he took Tom right there on the kitchen table.

Well, afterwards they had to air out the kitchen and order pizza but yeah, it was worth it.

Then they had “sexy legs” sex. Because it wasn’t like Owen didn’t know how to tease, too.

And what better way to tease when you could spend 100% of your time with Tom’s legs. God, how he loved those thighs... He would caress them, kiss them, lick them, bite into them. Soft skin with those strong muscles underneath. He could spend hours with those thighs, and when Tom got impatient because he wouldn’t touch his cock, it encouraged him even more to lick every inch of those beautiful thighs, even that hollow between leg and groin, sparing the waiting and throbbing cock. He let Tom beg and beg, until he would maybe give his balls a gentle lick, and when Tom was so frustrated that he started calling him names, Owen would maybe, maybe lick slowly over the thick vein on the bottom of the shaft, would lick brutally slowly around the tip of it, then one more in his slit and maybe then his mouth would swallowed this fine cock whole. Owen just loved the relieved cursing that followed.

Furthermore they had some nice “Look, I found a tie! I wonder what we can do with it?” sex, that was soon followed by hot “Oh, by the way, I borrowed the TVA collar, you don’t mind, do you?” sex and Owen was just a little embarrassed how badly Tom being submissive turned him on.

They were having “just beautiful” sex, too, because when Tom rode him, swaying his slender body back and forth on Owen’s cock in those slow and sensual undulations as he needed it, as he wanted it, pleasuring himself, throwing his head back and then hovering over him again to capture a kiss, tug on his lower lip, or just look at him with blurry eyes, it was so damn beautiful that Owen had only the one word for it: beautiful.

They had shower sex, of course. Owen had to make up for turning Tom down in the tennis club, Tom had still been mad at him for that, but judging by Tom’s groans when he fucked him wide-legged against the tiles, he had the impression that he was succeeding at making up for lost time.

He had even some more “make up sex” to go through. Once Tom had said that his lips were sore from all the kissing and Owen had replied that he wondered how that worked cause he literally had none and he made it even worse by saying how fascinating it was that Tom could suck cock so well anyway. Yeah well, he sucked Tom’s cock more than willingly as punishment until Tom gave him an A+ for it. By the way, mean Tom was kinda hot. Or cute. Or both. He couldn’t decide.

They also had “slutty porn” sex. It started out more or less as a joke. Owen had said something like “You want me to cum in your tight little ass?” and Tom had said something like “Would you like me to suck your big hard cock first” and somehow this turned them on so badly that they just went for it.

And they had “Sorry but I don’t think I can” sex. Because there were days where one of them just… couldn’t. But then the other one would tell the one that couldn’t how incredibly sad that was cause he wanted to do this and that with him. So while the other one was talking dirty, the one who couldn’t got so horny from listening, that he then could again.

They had thrilling “Come on, let’s do it here on the set” sex and equally thrilling outdoor sex. Like that one evening when they were jogging and it started raining hard. It was dark, it was raining, they wore their dark hoddies low over their foreheads and Tom pushed Owen into an even darker alley and after some hot and wet kisses, Tom just went down on him. Owen tried not to say “Wow” out loud to avoid getting recognized, but the way Tom looked up at him while sucking his cock, his angelic face wet from the rain, his eyelashes wet from the raindrops… It was just... Wow.

Well, he returned the favour afterwards in the hot shower.

And they of course had enduring trailer sex.

Because one might not think it but trailer sex was fucking perfect, with all the furniture close by and everywhere to hold onto to either increase the pace or to keep the balance.

And Owen always loved this moment when he would lift Tom onto the counter. It was corny but he just loved it.

Tom would wrap his legs around his waist and while they were kissing, Owen would unzip his pants and then Tom’s, and Tom would be shifting and lifting himself to get them down. And because Tom was so stupidly flexible, Owen could put one of his legs on his shoulder while the other was down, and it just looked fucking sexy. He had perfect access to position his cock at Tom’s entrance, could grab that fine waist and thrust into him. And Tom was meanwhile grabbing Owen’s ass with one hand and held onto some shelf with the other to steady himself and keep the balance, while Owen was fucking him.

And when Tom was close, Owen would look at him and be completely in awe cause Tom always looked so fucking beautiful during sex. He could see every little reaction on Tom’s face, everything he did was reflected in Tom’s gasps and moans and he just loved it. Trailer sex was perfect.

And then they had this sex that was a little… different.

Owen was sure that some would call it kinky, but he wouldn’t.

Because when he saw that blue off-the-shoulder cashmere sweater dress in the shop window, his first thought wasn’t that he wanted to see Tom in a dress. The colour just reminded him of the blue shirts Tom loved to wear, and he imagined how something so soft would feel on Tom.

And as Owen was a sucker for soft things, he just bought the dress without thinking any further about it.

Back at Tom’s apartment, though, he felt a bit silly for buying it, so he just put it in a corner and left it there. But as luck would have it, Tom apparently found it the next day. Owen was standing in the bookstore when he got Tom's messages with a picture of that dress next to the shopping bag.

Bought this for me?

Do you want me to wear it?

He wasn’t quite prepared to answer that, especially not while standing in the bookstore. But because he didn’t reply, Tom was already sending another message:

Is that a yes?

Of course Owen drove home immediately and when he entered Tom’s apartment and saw Tom lying on the sofa reading a book, he was deeply moved. Because Tom was wearing that dress. For him. Because Tom thought he would like it.

“Hey…” he greeted him gently.

“Hey…” Tom put the book aside and stood up.

And… Wow!

To see Tom in that sweater dress completely was really something else.

Owen hadn’t thought much about how it would look on Tom, his intention had been rather to feel it. But now that he saw Tom standing there… this tall man, with this slim figure, wrapped in that soft fabric, the hem just covering his groin, those endless legs…

Just wow.

And if you would think Tom would be shy or insecure about it, you were sorely mistaken.

Yes, he tugged at the seam and said “It’s a bit short..” and yes, he shrugged and said “And I didn’t know if I should wear shoes with it.. or socks…” but this was all because he just wanted it to make it right for him, wanted to make it right for Owen. And Owen was so deeply moved by it, he couldn’t tell.

He stepped up to him, gave him a gentle kiss on the lips and said “You look perfect.”

Because he just did.

Tom smiled in relief. “God, I’m so glad you’re finally here, I have hard nipples from the moment I put it on.”

Owen laughed softly. “Do you want me to have a look at them?”

“Yes, please…”

So Owen pulled the dress down to reveal one breast, let his finger glide gently over it and already Tom was gasping.

“Wow, didn’t know you had such sensitive nipples.”

“Neither did I”, Tom smiled sheepishly “Well, I’ve never had such a soft dress on before.”

“What a shame…” Owen whispered bending down to lick over the hard nipple. Immediately Tom’s hands were in Owen’s hair and Tom murmured a soft and approving “Yes…”

“Yes?” Owen asked teasingly.

“Yes…” Tom repeated softly, smiling happily at him.

And Owen had to smile, too, because it wasn’t just the dress that was soft, the whole atmosphere was soft. Soft and gentle and loving.

Well, except Tom’s nipples and their boners, which were rock-hard.

He continued to lick over the nipple, occasionally tugging gently at it with his teeth, as his hands slid all over the dress. Feeling it, feeling the softness and feeling Tom’s body under it.

He let his one hand slide over the fabric right over the other hard nipple, making Tom moan softly, then down to his waist, down to his ass, meeting his other hand there, so they could both cup Tom’s ass, pulling him close so that they hard-ons pressed together, as Tom continued to moan softly against him, gently running his fingers through Owen’s hair.

God this was perfect, Owen wanted to bury himself completely inside Tom’s body.

“You’re so sexy…” he whispered, and because he wanted to do something else, he said “Lie down.. ”

So Tom lay down on the couch --- his shoulders bare, his one breast exposed, the dress just covering his hard-on which formed a huge bulge and of course his fine legs, he looked so damn sexy lying there. But most of all, Owen was in awe with the way Tom was looking at him, so soft and loving and wanting and… yeah, sexy.

He took a moment to savour that and just looked at him.

He remembered their first time, when Tom was lying in front of him like this, and he couldn’t believe how much had changed since then. It was amazing how their relationship had deepened so much in those few weeks.

Their feelings for each other had grown so much deeper.

This trust.

This comfort.

This intensity.

This …

He laid a hand on Tom’s hard-on, felt it through the soft fabric, rubbed it, watched as Tom let out one of these little gasps Owen adored so much and leaned in to kiss him.

This… love.

Maybe it was all worth the wait.

#the fool on the hill #chapter 13 #tom hiddleston/owen wilson #hiddlewow #widdlewow fanfiction #widdlewow #rpf

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archived-brokentoys · 4 years ago

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CHARACTER STUDY

— basics.

▸ is your muse tall / short / average ? Ed is tall, standing at 6′1″.

▸ are they okay with their height ? He’s never had any issues with it! He feels that he’s at the perfect height!

▸ what’s their hair like ? Short, dark brown and very messy. Doesn’t exactly at a style other than being messy.

▸ do they spend a lot of time on their hair / grooming ? Sometimes! Often, Ed doesn’t bother with his hair with grooming his hair because he knows it’s helpless with his habit. So, he usually just throws on a bowler hat and says that’s good enough. But when he does groom it, usually depending on a special occasion -- it DOES take a while. Because he has to untangle it, brush it thoroughly, and then slick it back.

▸ does your muse care about their appearance / what others think ? Absolutely! Even though Edward will claim he doesn’t care. He REALLY wants people to notice his appearance and compliment him on it. While he loves the color green, he also wears it because he knows it’ll be far more noticeable than a basic black suit.

— preferences.

▸ indoors or outdoors ? Indoors. It’s not that Ed hates the outdoors... he just has a bad habit of staying in for too long.

▸ rain or sunshine ? Sunshine. Ed sees the rain far too often and is genuinely just bored of it. It’s nothing special to him at this point.

▸ forest or beach ? On one hand, Ed rarely goes to the beach, doesn’t like the texture of sand, and also finds forests to be quite soothing. But at the beach, he can show off his body... eh, probably forest.

▸ precious metals or gems ? While Ed does love gems, colorful and shiny! Probably metals. He really, REALLY loves gold.

▸ flowers or perfumes ? Perfumes! Ed DROWNS himself in that shit!

▸ personality or appearance ? BOTH. Ed wants both because he has very high expectations.

▸ being alone or being in a crowd ? Being in a crowd? He wants to be in FRONT of the crowd! He wants ALL eyes on him! So it depends. If the crowd’s not paying attention to him, Edward would rather be alone. If the crowd IS paying attention to him, Edward would much rather be in a crowd.

▸ order or anarchy ? lmao. anarchy.

▸ painful truths or white lies ? White lies. As much as Ed claims to hate lies and liars, there’s a lot of reality which he cannot handle.

▸ science or magic ? Science. Edward HATES magic.

▸ peace or conflict ? Edward CLAIMS he likes peace... but really? He craves conflict. It gives him meaning in life, it gives him something to do and talk about.

▸ night or day ? Night? Probably? Although Edward’s concept of time is... very terrible. So either way doesn’t matter much to him.

▸ dusk or dawn ? Dawn.

▸ warmth or cold ? Probably warmth?? But he’s very tolerant to the cold.

▸ many acquaintances or a few close friends ? Many acquaintances means more attention... soooooo...

▸ reading or playing a game ? DO NOT ASK HIM QUESTIONS LIKE THIS!!! He’ll NEVER be able to answer it! He LOVES reading and gaining more knowledge, but he also loves playing games! Especially if they’re puzzle games!

— questionnaire.

▸ what are some of your muse’s bad habits ? Looking over his glasses, scratching/pulling at his hair, staying up for days at a time, not eating for days at a time, drugs/alcohol abuse, being unnecessarily cruel to people even when it’s unintentional, talking about himself too much/changing any given topic about himself. I feel there’s a lot more than just this, too.

▸ has your muse lost anyone close to them ? how has it affected them ? Ed’s never lost anyone close to him, but he has lost family members. It didn’t affect him much at all though, given that his family’s quite distant from him.

▸ what are some fond memories your muse has ? Fuck... most of Ed’s fond memories are like... instantly ruined by what happens to him shortly afterwards. His fond memories probably include; any chance he got to bond with his parents as a child, winning school contests, first Christmas at the Cyber Crime Division... that’s probably mostly it.

▸ is it easy for your muse to kill ? Absolutely! As long as it’s someone Edward doesn’t like, it’s VERY easy to kill for him. In fact, he’ll often kill without second thought. Now trying to kill someone Edward believes to be an innocent person? That would be too hard for him.

▸ what’s it like when your muse breaks down ? Loud. VERY loud. Edward’s breakdowns are similar to tantrums. He starts screaming, pulling out his hair, and kicks or throws nearby objects/furniture. Once he tires himself out, he collapses and starts crying until he can’t anymore.

▸ is your muse capable of trusting someone with their life ? As of right now? No.

▸ what’s your muse like when they’re in love ? Edward has a very complicated relationship with love. But once he realizes he’s REALLY in love, he’ll start behaving overly flirtatious with the person he’s in love with. He’ll do anything to get their attention, being over the top and presenting extravagant gifts. He also may, unfortunately, become a bit obsessive.

Tagged by: @the-arkham-librarian (thanks!) Tagging: @liminalstctic @elisethetraveller @akasupergirl @splatterlewis @dearaliceliddel @fclsusrex @gothamdad @lil-miss-romano @cryomistrss @corvidamned @ladyofthespade

#RIDDLED: ABOUT

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bewaretheundead91 · 5 years ago

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Devenford Prep Part 37

Listen to: Human by Aquilo

Parts 1-36

A/N: I’m sorry that it’s been a while since I’ve updated and I’m sorry if the beginning is a mess because I’ve been all over the place recently. I’ve rewritten and rewritten this update so many times because I want it to go the way I want it to go and I want it to feel genuine. The tences are a mess in this and there may be errors I’ve missed, but I hope you enjoy it and I hope it is going the way you want it to go. So I also might have gotten Brett’s sister’s name wrong this whole time and I am also sorry about that.

This is a pretty long update...you’ve been warned.

Also please send any reviews/thoguhts to my inbox if you have any.

Lori runs ahead and Brett runs after her. He runs in-between school buses, dodging arrows being shot at them. Hands grab him and shove him against a bus. He falls to the ground with a splash. Lifting his head up his eyes reveal their glow. He jumps up and punches a figure in the face then makes a run for it. He pauses when he see his sister in the center of the lacrosse field.

“Lorie!” He shouts and quickly steps in front of her. “Close your eyes”

“What is it Brett?”

“Don’t look!” Arrows whistle in the air and shoot toward them. Quickly you run out into the field with Scott shouting not to. You jump up and land on top of both Brett and Lorie leaving the arrows to flying over them. Brett and Lorie harshly hit the wet grass. You look up to see more arrows.

“Stay down!” You order and Brett lifts his head up to see a new cloud of arrows heading their way. “There are more!”

The arrows come to a halt when a sword slices them in the air. Kira.

“Run!” Kira shouts. “Get to the car!”

Brett shoots his head toward your direction and shoves his sister in front of him. They set off running toward your direction leaving Kira in the field swinging at arrows.

“Come on!” Scott shouts. “Get in!”

Kira starts off running toward the car. Everyone gets in and Scott pulls out of the school.

“What happened out there?!” You shout at Brett who’s sister was clinging to him. Her eyes look at you wildly. “Why were you still at the school?”

“I was getting ready to leave to take Lorie, my sister, home after the game. She wanted to stop by somewhere to grab something to eat first, but as I was about to leave the locker room when someone ambushed me.”

“An assassin?” Kira asks. “A whole group of assassins.”

You go silent for the rest of the car ride. You were shaking and feeling nauseous from Brett and his sister almost being killed not to mention his scent was everywhere in the car. You wanted to claw at your skin or stand beneath a scolding hot shower to wash it off of you. Scott parks the car in the driveway of his house and you practically kicked the door open and hop out. Without even speaking to anyone you head around to back of the house.

“Y/N!” Scott shouts stepping away from his car. “Where are you going we have a lot to discuss. I’ve got to contact Argent! And Satomi.”

“Let me go after her.” Brett looks over towards the darkness you had just walked into. He turns back to Scott with a warm smile across his face and places a hand on your alpha’s shoulder.

“Maybe that’s a good idea,” Scott says. “I don’t know what you two have as far as a friendship or relationship, but it’s clearly something deep. When she came here earlier she was on edge about something. She also felt like something was off when you hadn’t arrived soon after her.”

“Oh yeah?” Brett asks.

“It was like she just knew you were in danger.”

You make your way to the backyard and step beneath the back deck taking cover from the rain. You had never seen Scott’s backyard, but the surrounding outdoor lights lit it up pretty well enough to see a patio with simple outdoor furniture that probably didn’t get much use. The rain was refreshing against your nose and a desperate break from Brett’s strong scent. It especially felt nice against your feverish skin. It was a fine mist now, swirling around in clouds in the light.

A headache had started in your head from the close contact with the tall boy and after the scare on the lacrosse field you felt like collapsing and even sleeping it off. You shake your head trying to guess how much you cared for the Devenford Prep lacrosse player. Did you love him? You certainly cared enough to jump on top of him and his sister before they were pelted with arrows. Cared enough for him to save him multiple times in the past two months alone.

A series of footsteps against the leave covered ground breaks you from you thoughts. You could smell him and you roll your eyes in annoyance. Brett.

“What’s up with you?” Brett asks sounding defensive. His eyes illuminate yellow and you jump in reaction. You turn around leaving your back to him then take a step forward to create more distance. “You seemed weird earlier tonight and then just now. You even scared Lorie. I’m sure you scared Scott and Kira. That wasn’t cool. I know you’re still new to this, but you’ve got to work on it. And I want to help you.”

“I’m fine, the last thing you need to worry about is me. We need to contact Satomi and your parents about what happened. Let them know that you and Lori are safe,” You say taking another step forward away from him. You squeeze your hands into fists and feel your claw slice into your skin. You hiss. The pain calmed your nerves and inner feelings for a second. You look up towards the sky. “I just came out here to breath. I’ll be in soon. Promise.”

“Yeah?” He asks making his way over to you. He extends a hand out to touch your arm. “Is that really it?”

“Yeah Brett, that is really it.” You snap and move from his touch.

“Then why do you keep walking away from me?” He asks taking another step forward to catch up to you. “Are you trying to avoid me now?”

“I think that’s sort of impossible for me at this point.” You glare at him with glowing eyes.

“Then what is it?” Brett asks. “It’s just me Y/N.”

“Honestly it’s nothing important.” You nod.

“Okay, but can you tell me why you smell like Scott? Why are you wearing his clothes?” Even in the dark you could see him looking you up and down. “What happened to my jersey?”

“It’s in my car don’t worry about that.” You answer and take in a deep breath hoping the rain would cloud your nose. It didn’t. You took in Brett’s scent you feel your you teeth getting sharper. You place your hand over your mouth.

“Why aren’t you wearing it right now?”

“Don’t worry about it Brett, damn it!” You yell and run a hand through your tangled, wet, messy hair. You walk to the other side of the patio creating a larger distance between the two of you. He turns around and watches you. “I didn’t want to get it gross. It was raining out.”

“It’s a jersey, it’s meant to get muddy and wet. Why are you acting like this?” He asks crossing his arms. You were starting to feel anxious and your skin irritated. You wanted the feeling to go away. “And why do you keep walking away from me? What has made you change? We were joking around at school just earlier today. And you even talked to my parents.”

You take another step away and take in a deep breath hoping it would calm you and make your claw disappear. You could hear the conversation going on inside of the house. Scott was really sounding concerned and Liam was pacing. You should have just gone inside to avoid this conversation.

“Let’s just go inside now,” You suggest taking a couple of steps toward the house. “Scott needs us to head out to some warehouse owned by some guy named Chris Argent.”

“Oh no you don’t,” Brett jogs after you. “We aren’t going anywhere until you talk to me. You owe me that after everything I’ve done for you. Who knows what can happen tonight and I can’t have our friendship ruined over something that isn’t making any sense to me.”

“It’s you, damn it!” You blurt out throwing your hands on the top of your head. You turn around to fully face him. You knew your face was blood red. “Brett It’s you, you are what’s wrong with me.”

“Me?” Brett asks pointing at himself.

“Everything about you is driving me crazy,” You say as you walk up to him. You stop a foot away from of him. “Ever since you gave me that damn jersey and asked me to wear it to the game in the hallway today.”

“What was wrong with my jersey?” He asked concerned.

“It smells like you!” You hiss through your teeth and fling up your hands sporting your claws. “And when you hugged me tonight I started shifting and I can’t control it anymore. I was so confused because it was never like this before. You usually calm me down not rile me up as much as you used to. The jersey was making me feel…a lot…your sweat was…I could have ripped my hair out if I hadn’t left school after your game. You want to talk about scaring people. I scared Erika in the parking lot.”

Brett laughs and looks up towards the sky shaking his head. He lowers his gaze back down to you biting his bottom lip. You turn around and start to stomp away from him angry and humiliated. It was like your face was on fire.

“I knew this was stupid. I shouldn’t have said anything!” You shout. “Forget about what I said Brett. It has to be the full moon coming up soon. We have more important things to worry about. We should go check on your sister.”

“No don’t go! Wait!” Brett grabs your hand and pulls your body towards him. His arms snake around your back to gently hold you place. He lean in toward your shoulder and presses his face to the crook of your neck and shoulder. You freeze. His nose trails up your neck until he reaches your ear, your body goes hot again. He talks against your skin and you feel his lips moving. “You don’t even have to tell me, I can smell it on you. I could smell it at the game. Babe you’re really turned on right now. This is apart of what we needed to talk about.”

“What? I’m what?” You force out, with the feeling you could throw up. It was like there were birds flapping around in your stomach. Could his parents smell it? You press your hands against his chest and release yourself out of his grasps. You start to fall forward feeling a rush of adrenaline flow through your body. “This is just…I…oh my god. You could tell? You knew? I think I’m going to pass out.”

“Hey look at me,” Brett reaches out to you before you fall to the ground. You scramble to get away from him, but he quickly turns your body towards him. “Y/N, look at me please. It’s okay. You shouldn’t be embarrassed. It’s normal. Trust me when I say it’s normal.”

You cover your eyes and slowly peak through your fingers to see his eyes were still bright yellow, but his brows were furrowed now. You remove your hands completely to see him roll his eyes and smirk. That very smirk makes your stomach flip.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this, but breath in,” He says with a sigh. “What do you smell?”

“I uh…” You say looking to the side and then down at the ground.

“Do it, before I regret this.” His voice softens.

He drops his arms from around your back and you stand up straight. Awkwardly, you take a deep breath in and smell the rain and then a particular scent hit your nose. Your mouth starts to salivate in reaction and chill bumps start to speckle across your skin. You swallow hard. He smelled so good, so enticing that you whole body was reacting.

“Do you not smell how much I want you?” He asks scratching the back of his neck. He was embarrassed and you could feel the heat radiating off of his body even through his cold wet clothes. “I figured you would have known by now, but you’re still new to all of this. Yes you’ve been smelling me because I can’t control it around you anymore. When my mom told you that she could smell my scent on you she thought it was out of protection. It wasn’t just out of that, it was because…I’ve always felt like we were more than just friends…I mean I never tried anything with you..and I understand how this can make you well all frenzied.”

“Frenzied?” Nervously you start to laugh. “That’s what we are calling it? How can you understand?”

Brett Talbot claiming he likes you was a joke, a punch line. You could see his eyes on your mouth much like the night he had been infected by an aggressive form of wolfs bane. You shake your head and start to walk away, but Brett latches an arm around your waist and pulls you close to him again. You close your eyes tremble at how close you were to him again, you could feel the outline of his chest and muscular stomach against your body. He places a hand on your cheek and guides your face toward his coming towards yours, gently.

“Open your eyes Y/N, you’re not the only one who has been struggling,” Brett says as he leans down and presses his forehead to yours. He breaths in your scent and sighs again. You feel the tense muscles in your back slowly loosen and the nerves in your stomach flutter off. He makes eye contact with and cautiously presses his lips to yours. Your heart stops for a split second then goes into over drive beating loudly in your ears. Or was it Brett’s own heart? He looks back up at you and smiles, there was so much warmth in it. “Now do you know? Can you feel it? Please know.”

You were feeling something, you wanted to kiss him again and to get as close to him as possible. There were tears forming in the corner of your eyes and memories of all the situations you two had been through, all the gentle touches and embraces and all of the strange protective behavior he showed you.

He breaths in deeply and his eyes lose their gentle expression only to be replaced with one of longing and desire. Brett goes in for another kiss, opening his mouth to take you in. You boldly match his movement and move your lips against his deepening the kiss, tasting him. Taking him in. You hear a growl escape his mouth and you shiver. Giving in you push him towards siding of Scotts house, harshly.

Your mouth starts to move more aggressively against his and his hands snake up rake through your wet hair. His tongue daringly, runs across your lower lip and your find your hands meeting his sides and slip beneath his wet shirt. Even with the chill of the night and the wet clothes he was wearing, his skin was on fire and almost burnt your finger tips. You want more of that heat. Brett grabs your thighs and hoists your body up easily and naturally you wrap your legs around his waist. Quickly latch your arms around his neck to steady yourself. Brett cautiously licks at your bottom lip and you accept his tongue into your mouth. The very same feeling of wanting to eat him alive prickles all over your body and you remove your lips from his. You peer down at him.

Brett’s body was almost limp against the house with closed eyes. His lips were swelling and parted with quick breaths. It was like a dream. A fever dream. This lit a fire that rushed through out your body. You open your mouth and had to taste his skin that smelled so delectable. Breathing him wasn't enough and kissing his mouth wasn’t helping you either. You bring your face to the side of his neck and press your lips to it gentle and his body jolts. You trail your closed mouth up to his pulse point and open your lips to suck on his pulse point. His breathing became short and loud. You rake your teeth across his skin. Wolf fangs. Quickly you close your mouth and start to feel more clear headed and haze lift. Luckily you hadn’t broken the skin.

“Y/N,” He breaths and lifts his head up to expose his neck more. “I didn’t know it was this bad.”

You move your head up from his neck and he parts his lips. He leans out towards your face and kisses you again and you feel the wave of desire rush over you again. He moves positions and slams your back to side of the house and you let out a yelp.

“Oh my god,” You say breaking away from his lips. “I’m so sorry Brett. We can’t do this…right…now. Is this real?”

“Y/N, it’s okay we both wanted this!”

Your legs unwrap from around his waist and you hop down and land on the ground softly. You wipe your mouth on the back of your hand and start to hurt all over, wanting to be close to him again. Brett looks at your confused. You set off towards the front of the house and practically rip the front door open meeting the bright lights of the living room.

“Is everything okay?” Erika asks sitting on the couch.

Brett walks into the house after you, wiping his mouth and adjusting his shirt that had somehow road. You see Erika look you up and down and the look Brett up and down.

“Oh okay.” Erika says, shaking her head.

“What happened? Is there an assassin outside?” Liam asks. “Why do you look like that Y/N? Brett?”

Liam looks at you and squints his eyes and then back over towards Brett. He opens his mouth to start and say something, but doesn’t. He crosses his arms instead.

“It’s okay Liam, don’t.” Erika says.

Both you and Brett shoot Erika a glare and then Liam. You make your way to the bathroom and Erika bursts in after you. She shuts the door and you look at your appearance in the mirror. Your hair was in nots and the shirt Scott had given you to wear was stretched out a bit. Your lips were swollen and skin red. You adjust the shirt and try to fix your hair.

“What happened between you and Brett?” Erika asks.

“It got heated,” You say sitting down on the closed toilet. “Like really heated. Like surprisingly heated.”

“What do you mean? Did you guys like do it?” She asks cocking her head.

“No!” You shout with large eyes. “But if I hadn’t stopped us I’m sure something would have happened tonight.”

“Excuse me?”

“I stopped him. This isn’t us, we don’t do this,” You say resting your elbows on your knees and then rest your head on your hands. “Brett and I we don’t kiss. Brett is popular and captain of the lacrosse team. He’s got muscles and girls and I’m pretty sure guys going crazy after him. He could have anyone. But being so close to him, it just-”

“Felt good?”

“It felt natural and relieving. Like it was supposed to happen,” You raise your head back up and make eye contact with her. “But it doesn’t erase all the stuff we went through, it doesn’t erase all the terrible things he has done to me and even Liam. This can’t make amends.”

“Babe, he already has,” Erika leans against the bathroom counter. “And you already know that. He’s helped you and Liam. You’re just making excuses for yourself not being enough or him being enough.”

“He is too enough for me,” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “He’s done so much without me asking or really saying thank you.”

“That sounds a lot like love.” Erika whispers.

“Love?” You choke. “We’re too young, too new to this. He should be with someone who knows what they are doing with this sort of thing, being a werewolf. I could hurt him…I could…I don’t know.”

“Y/N,” Erika places a hand on your shoulder. “Listen to me, he was there when you were the most out of control, you can’t hurt him.”

“Y/N,” Scott calls through the bathroom. “We’ve got to go.”

#Brett Talbot #Teen wolf #Brett talbot fic #brett talbot imagine #teen wolf fic

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 5 years ago

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Kissing Dead Pearls (Part 3)

So yeah, this is gonna be my first time writing for zutara, so I have no idea how well that will be received. I know that this fandom doesn’t seem to like zutara so wish me luck lol.

Sokka always liked fish, particularly boop boops because of their silly name. He also liked blue marlin.

She likes stingrays--especially bluespotted ribbon tail--the most but they call her starfish.

She has come to associate her friends with marine life, a habit that formed at childhood. One that she and Zuko have never outgrown. At one point they had addressed each other by the names of sea animals.

Zuko got the name stingray after an incident where he’d jammed a fork into an outlet when Ozai wasn’t watching. It scarred his face and their father was under fire, for the first time, for child neglect.

Sokka was a clownfish because he was the comedian in the group and he had been until his departure. Sailfish has been bestowed upon Katara after dolphin had been taken from her and given to Ursa. Mother was gentle and docile like a dolphin. Katara is too but she is also a fast swimmer. She can swim further out into the ocean than any of them and sailfish are known for their speed. TyLee is also loving and sweet but as kids they had run out of gentle animals to compare her to so they chose the pretty betta fish because TyLee has always been pretty. Eventually they learned about cuttlefish and that became her nickname; it sounds close enough to cuddle for them.

Aang is an obvious angelfish.

Where Katara, Ursa, Tylee, and Aang are kind and caring, Toph is a shark. She’s fun and dangerous and with a razor sharp tongue. She is among Chan, Jet and Roun-Jian who have been nicknamed Hammerhead, Sand, and Thresher respectively. The name Mackerel was afforded to Toph despite her being the smallest of them.

Mai is the piranha mostly because she had been afraid of them at one point and they like to joke that Tom-Tom is a barancel because he clings to Mai like one. Iroh is a serene turtle and Suki is lucky koi.

Ozai is and will always be a crab because is general outlook on life is grumpy. Zhao, the weathered fisherman is a slick and shady eel and their old history teacher Long-Feng is an angler fish; it looks welcoming on the surface but is ugly within. And the bartender is a prickly urchin. They steer clear of he and his wife June, who they have called the Kraken.

It was a fun game and to this day she has a tendency, even if it is out of habit, to try to decide which sea animal a newcomer is.

.oOo.

Azula wakes up on the sofa. It is still raining, fat droplets plop upon the lighthouse. There are less of them but it is still a steady stream. She senses that the worst of it has come to pass and it is probably safe to go outside if she doesn’t mind getting wet. In fact, most people do go out. They emerge skeptically from their homes, reluctant to assess the damage, but eager to just get it over with. It is routine in their little harbor town.

The people of Port Tui-La are slowly awakening, Azula watches them trickle outside of their homes to inspect them. Many of them, the ones who live more inland, skip this and prioritize checking on their shops or their boats. Though boats are almost always a lost cause, hence why Ozai keeps theirs in a boat house. The news of three summers ago was when recreational fisher, Pathik boldly declared that he had found his janky wooden ship fully intact in a rocky alcove while the Cod Man bellowed, “my fishing ship!” to the fleeing grey clouds.

She watches the Cod seller’s car whip down the road, he is always the first to arrive at the docks. Azula rolls her eyes, she can already hear him crying out.

“He must have great insurance.” Zuko grumbles as he groggily wipes his eyes. “I hope he does.”

“Maybe he won’t need it this time?” Azula stretches her arms.

“Ha!” Zuko bursts. “I bet he’ll be La-bsters, crying about it within the hour.”

“If La-bsters is still standing.” Azula says dismally. “This storm was pretty bad.” Her heart sinks for Hakoda and Katara. They have already lost Sokka, if they’ve lost their restaurant too… “We’ll walk over there.”

“Shouldn’t we check on the lighthouse first?”

Azula shakes her head. “It was built to withstand storms.”

“I can get the car started.”

She shakes her head. “Too many debris in the road, it’ll be quicker on foot.”

“We’re going to have to clean this first.” He gestures to the blockage at the door.

Azula rubs the back of her head and grumbles to herself as she begins heaving the furniture back into its place. To the best of their memory, everything is back in order about twenty minutes later. By now the rain is beginning to taper off, but she speculates that it will come back in furious bursts and random intervals.

She shuffles around for two umbrellas and shoves one into Zuko’s arms.

She pops her umbrella as she steps beneath a grey washed sky. Small rays of light break through the clouds, but do little to lift the gloom. The destruction is abundantly apparent as the siblings make their way down the path that leads from the lighthouse to the boardwalk. It isn’t a very long walk but they can see the damage inflicted upon the houses of their nearest neighbors.

The worst of them has a collapsed roof and another has flood damage to the ocean facing wall. Even from this distance she can tell that the boardwalk has been hit hard. After many decades of standing proud and secure, a particularly powerful wave, or mayhaps, a bolt of lightning has collapsed one of the corner pillars. It is splintered down the middle and juts from the lapping water like a broken tree trunk. All around it float planks of wood, chairs, stools, and other buoyant knick knacks. Several of the tourist shops, the ones nearest to the collapsed scaffolding are gone.

Gone in the sense that they are unusable and irreparable. She can see their dilapidated corpses, laying helplessly in the ocean, waiting for the ocean to finish the job. Their rubble will pollute the beaches for days. Likely, the beaches will be closed to the public until the damage can be cleared.

Azula’s favorite jewelry shop, Mai’s family’s jewelry shop, is amid the wreckage and she silently curses to herself, wishing that it could have been that damned pub instead, maybe then her father would be rushing down the street to make sure that she and Zuzu are alright.

It very nearly brings tears of frustration to her eyes. She clenches her fist in her pocket and steps over a broken palm tree, its coconuts roll down the incline of the street.

From what she can see, the La-bster still stands. Though she can’t foresee it opening any time soon. Much like the beaches, it will remain closed until the boardwalk can be repaired and safety secured. Even if the boardwalk were deemed safe enough, the rubble is an eyesore.

The restaurant may stand but they are still going to take a financial hit, losing that much business at the height of tourist season.

Hakoda and Katara are already there when she and Zuko arrive.

“Zuko, Azula!” She throws her arms around both of them at once. When she pulls back, Azula can tell that she has been crying. Her eyes are red and there are tear tracks on her cheeks. Azula doesn’t need to ask her what is wrong but Zuko does anyhow.

“We can’t reopen like this.” She confirms what Azula has speculated. “Waitressing at La-bsters is the only thing that’s kept my mind off of…” She trails off. “Even when the restaurant is super busy I’ll think of him. About how he’d always take the difficult customers from me. Or that one time he threatened to throw a man into the harbor for me.” She wipes at her eyes.

Azula laughs, that sounds like Sokka for sure.

“Need help with cleanup?” Zuko offers.

“That would be wonderful, thanks.”

Azula frowns, she must admit that she hadn’t planned on spending her morning moving heavy planks of wood and fixing outdoor decor. She looks around, there is plenty of that to be cleaned; strings of patio lights are either gone, have cracked bulbs, or are tangled and knotted around palm fronts and rafters in unflattering ways. Outdoor chairs and tables are overturned. Some of them are in neighboring properties and the La-bsters have a few chairs from the Cod Merchant’s Cod Shack. The floor is a mess of glass and broken plastic and Azula has no idea where to begin this task. She has no will power to do it either. Evidently she had just come by to make sure that the place was still standing and that her childhood friend is okay.

Task done.

She retracts that statement. “I’m going to see if I can reach Mai, I don’t think that she knows about…” she jerks a thumb in the direction of the destruction.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Zuko says, “I’ll help Katara, you’re better at breaking bad news anyhow.”

She squints at the wreckage once more, a little ways down the beach, TyLee’s family’s boat rental place still stands. It only does because they have learned from the last time; instead of a small wooden shack on the beach they have built it into the side of a nearby cliff. Their most expensive rentals are tucked away into a garage, also built into the cliffside. But there is some damage to their cheaper rental boats and many of their canoes and inflatables are scattered upon the beach.

Azula picks up her phone and dials Mai’s number, hoping to get a signal.

.oOo.

Katara fixes her eyes on the ocean. She hates it more than anything as it keeps stealing the things that make her feel loved and secure. She loves it more than anything because it makes her feel free and empowered. Such is the duality of the ocean.

Currently she hates it more than anything in the world.

Currently it has reminded her of the last thing it took.

Mai’s jewelry shop is like Sokka, dismantled and being pulled further and further into the water.

She shakes herself, she doesn’t know that he is dismantled.

Yet the hole in her heart is the same it has been several months and it still stings. There is such a vacancy in Sokka’s absence. Anything and everything is at risk of triggering a pang of sorrow; a specific dock post that he used to sit on regularly (she can still see the marks where he’d tagged it), a cluster of shells on a table, certain movies and books. Song are especially provocative; he had always loved reggae. They listened to it together all the time and he had a reggae song for everything, rendering the genre impossible to listen to without crying. There are so, so many songs that she can’t listen to and it is hard to explain why she gets teary eyed when they play on the radio.

Every now and again a customer will walk in who has his hair styled like Sokka had or wearing the same shirt that he had. On one instance, a girl walked in wearing Sokka’s favorite shirt, the one that he’d worn when he went out to sea before he’d disappeared.

She no longer enjoys recreational sailing, and gets tense when anyone mentions that they are going to take a solo recreational trip.

Azula insists that Sokka is still alive but Katara knows in her heart that he isn’t. She senses it in the same way she’d sensed that he’d had an accident while jet skiing with Jet and Chan. The same way he sensed that she’d gotten hurt while surfing.

She knows that he is gone because she can no longer feel him but she lets Azula talk about how she is sure that he is alive. Azula is rarely an optimist and Katara doesn’t have the heart to crush that.

Azula is the only other person who still seems truly impacted by his disappearance. She also tends to turn the radio off when certain songs play, though not as many as Katara. It isn’t for lack of memories with the songs either, it is more that she only turns the music off for songs that have particularly fond memories. Katara noticed that the other girl will grow randomly distant or somber. And Azula still thinks that he is alive. She can’t imagine how Azula will take it when that denial is shattered.

All the same, Katara tries to think of the absolute joy she would feel at being proven wrong.

Not that she thinks this will be the case. Azula has lost her mother already, her father might as well be dead...losing Sokka had done her psyche so much damage.

Damage that her father didn’t bother to tend to.

Damage that Zuko could only do his best to mend.

Damage that had almost killed her too.

And it is no wonder, they had been so close. Of course they were, Katara had caught him kissing her on more than one occasion. It always left her feeling flustered. Especially the night that she’d come across Sokka heavily and deeply lip locked with Azula. She still gags and the sucking sound. And yet, she’d give anything to overhear it again if it meant that Sokka was back.

They had softer moments. Moments where Katara had found them curled up beneath a palm tree, Azula cuddled in Sokka’s arms. They half-sat, half-laid in the glow of the fairy lights that curled around the tree. They nestled in a burrow of a brightly colored bean bag chair. They’d invited Katara to join them as they watched a movie being played on a projector screen across the beach.

Katara can no longer attend those movies.

She feels a hand on her shoulder, “you good?” Zuko asks.

“Yeah.” She nods. “I’m just thinking again.” She looks towards the horizon. She can’t see the sunrise, not that it will bring her any comfort today. In fact, a pretty sunrise would only be mockery.

Just like it had been on the day Sokka was declared dead.

The sky had been so vivid that day, all manners of orange and gold and the clouds seemed to be tinged a deep purple. Really it was the most beautiful sunset that she had ever seen.

And when night finally fell, the animals had been more lively than ever. Under a starlit sky, she’d never seen so many turtles migrating from sand to sea. Never seen so many crabs scuttling across the rocks. So many fish in the waves and starfish in the tide pools.

Tide pools that reflected a sky that looked as though it were painted with pearl powder.

“Sokka laid those out for us.” Kya had remarked, dabbing at her wet eyes. “My baby boy, made this for us to see.”

The sky had been all sorts of mystifying that night.

And yet she could not enjoy it.

Not at all.

The sky...the world had no right to be so beautiful when her brother was dead.

She recalls at once, their old fish game. She wonders if that’s what the afterlife is like; one big ocean where loved ones go. Spectral fish in a perpetually fluorescent sea. She likes to think that Sokka is a clownfish in this phantasmal sea. That one day she will be a sailfish swimming next to him, finally the big sister and not the little one.

Zuko puts an arm over her shoulder.

She gestures to an overturned table. “Can you help me pick this up?”

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Sokka #Sokkla #Zutara #Zuko #Katara #Fanfiction

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an-unusual-ac-adventure · 5 years ago

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I have now updated my list of villagers that are currently living on my island. I still love each and every one of them. I also would like to describe them based on what they are like on my island.

Likes to Naruto run all over the island

Loves to walk in the rain

Gives gardening advice even though she has never done any gardening once since she’s been here

Is constantly buying fish from me

Good friends with Flip, Anchovy, and Eunice

Gives me the strangest gifts

Gives very good life advice

Has somehow fit a big item in my mailbox once

First villager to ever give me a nickname

Likes to hunt for bugs a lot

Does not like to sing at all

Really wants me to take her clothes shopping one day

Loves to sing and dance every day

Has given every single muscle on his body a name

Only exercises at night

Likes to visit the museum just to mock at the fossils

Sometimes does questionable things

Has a friendly rivalry with Twiggy and Rolf

Good friends with Anchovy, Deirdre, Claudia, and Eunice

Has given me some cool outfits and medicine for the wasp stings

Will always alert me if Redd is there on the island specifically and he doesn’t do this with other guests for some reason

Will patrol the island at times

He will sometimes follow me around if I am doing work on the island

First best friend that I have ever made

Has called me his favorite snack buddy

Is super chill about everything

Loves to play treasure hunt with me

Will occasionally sing

First villager to ever give me medicine for the wasp stings

Good friends with Twiggy, Deirdre, Flip, Papi, and Eunice

Likes to give random gifts a lot

Is constantly having wrong packages delivered to his house

Likes to chill outside of his house quite often

He once, somehow, went to a part of the island that was out of bounds

Likes to Naruto run on the beach

Loves to talk about comic books and video games

Occasionally will play treasure hunt with me

Yoga time in the afternoon at the plaza

Likes to give me new clothing

Has a friendly rivalry with Flip

Best friends with Anabelle and is good friends with Eunice, Anchovy, Lopez, and Rolf

Likes to shop at the Able Sisters

Has explored the higher levels of my island the most

She has been adopted by Rolf apparently

Does diy a bunch

Is good friends with everyone on the island

Visits with everyone

Will always alert me if someone is sick

Almost got stung by a scorpion once

Loves to watch me garden

Has given me some neat furniture

Loves to walk around the plaza

Exercises the most out of all of the villagers

Yoga time in the mornings and in her front yard

Likes to give me random gifts a lot

Complements me everyday

Likes to shop at the Able Sisters

One of the sweetest villagers ever

Likes to eaves drop in conversations

He is constantly losing his stuff

Just like Deirdre, he is constantly buying fish from me

Loves to read indoors and outdoors

Likes to inspect the flowers and trees

Likes to give me gifts through the mail

Has somehow managed to stick a huge item in my mailbox

The rocking chair in his house is his pride and joy

Is good friends with Anabelle, Twiggy, Rolf, and Claudia

Likes to do yoga and exercise at night

Does not like to sing surprisingly

He waters the flowers around the plaza every day

Might be a member of the island watch patrol crew

Hangs out behind the shops quite often

Likes to give life advice a lot

Likes to wear his sunglasses while exercising, even at night

Likes to lift weights a lot

He does not like to sing at all

Likes to hang around the plaza and in my front yard

Stops to look at flowers on his walks

The founder of the island watch patrol

Has adopted Twiggy and Papi

Has a friendly rivalry with Flip

Is constantly buying stuff from me

Is good friends with Twiggy, Anabelle, Lopez, Eunice, Papi, and Claudia

Fishes a lot

Really likes wharf roachs for some reason

The first gift he ever gave me was a pear, I’m not joking

Sitting buddy, she invites me to sit with her all the time

Also my museum buddy

Gets extremely jealous if I talk to anyone more than her

LOVES to sing every day and she sings a lot

Her favorite outfit is the berry red satin dress that I gave her and I see her wear that dress at least once a day

Good friends with Deirdre, Flip, Lopez, Anabelle, Eunice, and Rolf

Will occasionally do yoga at the plaza

Likes to hang around the plaza and her yard a lot

She once gave me a maid outfit and all I did was give her an umbrella (this still confuses me to this day)

Will always alert me if a vendor or special guest is here

Believes in aliens

Loves to talk about video games and tv shows

Is a member of the island watch patrol crew

She is a bit out of control, but that’s okay

Best friends with Twiggy

Is good friends with Papi, Lopez, Rolf, Eunice, and Claudia

Loves to shop at Nook’s Cranny

Likes to clean around to plaza

Yoga time in the afternoon

Will never come outside of her house if its raining

Likes to give me gifts through the mail and by randomly running up to me

He wants me to refer to him as Prince Papi

Is literally the sweetest villager next to Eunice

He has been adopted by Rolf apparently

Just like Flip, he will sometimes follow me around if I am working on the island

He LOVES flowers

He will water a small group of flowers for a LONG period of time, I’m talking about 20-35 minutes straight, bless him

Likes to read books about flowers

Invites me to sit with him quite a bit

Likes to shop at Nook’s Cranny

Likes to hang around the airport and the front of the museum

Good friends with Anchovy, Eunice, Anabelle, and Rolf

Also likes to hang around other villagers’ yards for some reason

18 notes · View notes

wolfpawn · 5 years ago

Text

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 119

Chapter Summary - Tom and Danielle go house hunting.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long. This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

All image rights belong to their owners

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @jessibelle-nerdy-mum @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller @fairlightswiftly @salempoe @wolfsmom1

If you wish to be tagged, please let me know.

‘What do you think?’ Tom asked as they pulled up to the house.

‘It’s a bit….big. What are we planning, a hundred and one dogs?’ Danielle looked at it. ‘It’s a bit fancy.’

‘Why not get something fancy if we are planning a home at all?’ Tom challenged.

‘Because I don’t want to have mortgage repayments of ten thousand pounds a month I suppose.’ Danielle commented in a bedpan tone. ‘I cannot afford to look at houses like this, Tom.’ She indicated to the house, how much is this even going for?’

‘Just shy of two.’

‘Two what?’ Tom did not look at her. ‘Million? Two million? Tom, what the hell are you thinking?’ She looked at him in shock.

‘That overall, this is a good house, it is big.’

‘I can see that.’ She looked at it again.

‘The front of it is like your parents.’ He pointed out. Danielle had to agree with him, it did. ‘Just look at it, please.’

‘Tom, I think it goes without saying, I cannot afford this.’ She stated. ‘I can’t.’

‘Please Elle, just take a look, we’ll talk more about that in a while.’

Danielle chewed her lip. ‘This is madness.’ she shook her head. ‘What made you even look at this?’

‘I want us to have a nice home.’

‘Nice does not have to equate to two fucking million.’ Danielle pointed out.

‘No, it doesn’t. It doesn’t mean it can’t either.’

‘Madness.’ Danielle shook her head as she got out of the car as the estate agent walked towards them.

Tom got out too and smiled. ‘Good afternoon, sorry for the delay.’

‘Not at all, was the drive out okay?’ He shook Tom’s hand. ‘Arthur Shrewsbury, by the way.’

‘Tom, and this is Danielle.’ He indicated to Danielle who had come up beside him, the estate agent shaking her hand too as she politely smiled at him. ‘The drive out was fine, bar the obvious delay we contacted you about.’ He smiled.

‘Well, let’s not delay any longer, I am sure you have a few places you wish to look at in the area, and we have a bit to go through here. It is a considerable 6,500 square foot property, and includes a car garage, several converted outhouses, a tennis court and a swimming pool.’ Tom refused to look at Danielle as she stared at him in disbelief. ‘It boasts six bedrooms, two studies, a living room, a dining room and a kitchen which of course, comes with all modern conveniences, but maintains a more classic look. It is, I should mention, a building that holds a Grade II restriction and cannot be altered externally in a manner that removes from the original design. That said, the roof does have solar panelling, though it is in accordance with the rules regarding its status.’

‘Wonderful.’ Tom smiled as he placed his hand on Danielle’s lower back, urging her inside.

Danielle, though slightly bothered, had to admit that the house was utterly divine. The house was beautifully done, beams exposed and airy. She could not believe the space it possessed as well as soon beautiful furniture.

‘What do you think?’ Tom asked, his eyes bright when the estate agent had left them to look around.

‘Six bedrooms? What would we ever need six bedrooms for?’

‘Mum, Sarah and Yakov, you and me, Emma and Jack, the Duchess, that is five rooms, Emma and Jack will probably have kids, not to mention, we might….’ He looked at her somewhat coyly, not wanting to make her feel like he was pressurizing her.

‘Planning for every eventuality?’ She smiled. ‘It’s huge, and so far from the city.’

‘I consider it a healthy distance from it.’ Danielle made a head gesture in agreement. ‘We don’t have to say yes, but I want us to look at homes like this.’

‘It is ridiculously expensive.’ Danielle commented. ‘I cannot afford half of this.’

‘Elle,’ Tom placed his arms around her. ‘Please, I know you are a very independent and proud woman, it is part of the reason I love you so much, you are strong, but if the reason we cannot get the perfect home for us, and I am not saying this is it, but in general, is because of your current income, I am going to insist on stepping in, because I can afford it, and I want us to be able to have exactly what we want, I think that if we are talking about making a home, it needs to be right.’

‘I would argue more, but considering the Ben and Sophie Hampstead debacle.’

‘Don’t even mention it. Honestly, it is over two years and they are still not in, he is withdrawing the application.’ Tom informed her.

Danielle looked out the window at the multitude of other buildings on the property. ‘That would not be an issue here.’

‘Definitely not.’

‘It’s too much, Tom. How would we ever even keep it clean?’

‘We’d need a cleaner.’ Tom agreed.

‘And a gardener.’ Danielle looked at the sheer amount of green area. ‘It’s a bit mad.’

The pair walked around the house more. When they came to the bedrooms, they stood in awe at the master bedroom. ‘Wow.’ Tom looked around the spacious room and en-suite. ‘This is bigger than I was expecting.’

‘That’s a bit of an understatement.’ Danielle agreed, looking around her. ‘It’s not very “farmhouse” here, is it?’

‘No.’ Tom opened a door. ‘I found a closet.’

‘I found another….wait this is….what is this?’

‘The nursery.’ Tom informed her, looking at the booklet in his hand. ‘It is smaller and off the main bedroom to ensure peace and tranquillity for any infants.’

‘Or a good room for people with weird sexual fetishes.’ Danielle stated calmly before looking at Tom and the pair laughed.

‘That too, I suppose.’ He grinned.

‘I love the name, by the way. Compton Bassett. This is not very Compton. Not the one N.W.A.rapped about anyway.’

Tom laughed again. ‘This is possibly the furthest thing from that Compton you could imagine.’

They looked around some more and assessed the house. ‘It is lovely.’

‘So you would consider it?’ Danielle made a non-committal noise. ‘What is bothering you, other than the price?’

‘The location from London, it is two hours each way, that is a serious amount of driving, I could go Dublin to Galway in two hours.’ She pointed out. ‘Also, I need to ask, but what is with a tennis court for one, we won’t be holding Wimbleton here next summer, and why, for the love of the divine Jesus, is there an outdoor pool, it is East England, it pisses rain three hundred and sixty days a year, the other five is a light mist. That is just madness to me.’

Tom laughed at her Irish turn of phrase and blatant exasperation at the idea of an outdoor swimming pool. ‘Think of the fun we could have in it?’ He winked at her.

‘What fun, your balls would ascend into your torso as a new pair of ovaries, the average temperature around here in summer is mid teens for fucks sake.’

He kissed her. ‘But is it along the lines of what you would like?’

‘I am a country mouse, I would be happy here, there is so much space, it is how I would want it if we have kids. Bobby and Mac would love it too, though I would insist on having some method of stopping them being able to get off the property, farmers tend to have a “shoot to kill” policy on wandering dogs near livestock.’

Tom paled as he looked at her in shock. ‘What?’

‘Farmers shoot straying dogs. You didn’t know this?’ Tom shook his head in horror. ‘Straying dogs chase livestock and can kill several ewes and lambs in a matter of minutes. It is legal for a farmer to shoot on sight, and rightly so. Honestly, people who don’t take control of their dogs need to stop this bullshit of “my dog is a sweetheart” I have seen the result of a “sweet” labrador left to its own devices, fourteen dead pregnant ewes, and several more wounded or with aborted lambs, two and a half thousand pounds old Irish money, that is about the same as here, maybe a little less, it was not pretty. The farmer was forced to sell a field as a result.’ She shook her head. ‘Dog was dead too, and it wasn’t a nice one, dad got him in, two rounds, but he was bleeding too badly, he suffered for about an hour after the shooting, so there were no winners. I don’t want that for our boys, they will be penned off outside or with us and no way to get into the farmland.’ She stated factually.

‘Yes, definitely.’ Tom agreed, shaken by what she had told him.

Seeing that he was still bothered, she put her hand in his and kissed him. ‘Did I upset you?’

‘No...I….I am not as strong stomached as you are.’

‘You never saw an animal give birth, did you?’ He grimaced and shook his head. ‘Oh boy, you need to toughen up. If they make a film adaptation of “All Creatures Great and Small” consider giving it a miss as a character. You shoving your hand up a mare to help pull out a foal would not do you any favours.’

‘Have you….?’

‘Shoved my hand up a cows or horses vagina, yes, several times. It’s all well and good until she shits on you.’

‘Jesus Christ.’ Tom felt nauseous.

‘Town mouse.’ Danielle laughed in return.

#I Hate You I Love You #chapter 119 #wolfpawn #tom hiddleston #Tom hiddleston fic

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vkelleyart · 6 years ago

Photo

Happy Valentine’s Day, loves! My candy heart comes to you in the form of this fluffy illustrated one-shot (a.k.a. fic-with-a-pic). I hope you enjoy it!

TITLE: “Merlin, May I?” (7466 words)

Rating: Teen and up

Summary: When Simon Snow gets roped into a game of ‘Merlin May I’ against Baz Pitch, what starts off as a competition between mages for the most dangerous request ends up precipitating an unexpected collision of hearts.

READ ON AO3 | Fic + art close-ups are under the cut

Special thanks to @carryonsimoncarryonbaz��, @penpanoply, and especially Mr. VKelleyArt (Merlin May I kiss you?) for beta reading this fic. ❤️

SIMON

Ah, Spring!

With the sun on my face, the promise of a warm roast beef sandwich in my pocket, and an outdoor luncheon with Penny to look forward to, I’m living in the present moment for a while. The rains have finally given way to clear skies and a crisp breeze. Green has returned to the Great Lawn. And, in a pleasant turn of events, Agatha’s started talking to me again since we broke up last winter. (Okay, maybe not actually talking, but she’s not scurrying off in the opposite direction when she sees me approaching in the hallway anymore. Progress.)

My faith in humanity momentarily restored, and death-by-dark-creature and other variations of my imminent doom seemingly far away, few things on earth could spoil a day like today.

“Oi, Snow!”

Except maybe that.

I turn my gaze downhill to see the voice hailing me belongs to Dev Grimm. Beside him, sneering at me from below a perfect wave of black hair is Baz Pitch.

They are both standing on the inner edge of a circle chockablock with eighth-years. It looks like some sort of spectator event is happening, because standing in the center of the circle are Gareth and Niall, the expression on Gareth’s face bleak and dazed, like he’s just misplaced his dignity and doesn’t know where to look for it.

Dev calls me again. “Fancy joining in, Simon?”

“Not likely,” I say, watching Gareth drag his feet up toward the drawbridge like a man condemned. “What happened to him?”

Baz turns toward me and runs a hand through his hair, moving it out of his eyes. “Gareth was just defeated in Merlin May I,” he answers, prompting the spread of a pompous grin across Niall’s face. “And now Niall here will reap the benefits of Gareth’s… concessions.” A rumble of laughter moves through the crowd.

I frown.

“‘Merlin May I’? What in the name of magic is that?”

“You don’t want to know, Simon. It’s a rotten game,” says Penny, traipsing down behind me. “And shame on all of you for enabling this ridiculousness!” she scolds the crowd, instigating a sea of eye-rolls.

“Come now, Bunce,” says Baz, stepping through an opening in the crowd toward us. “You don’t mean to say you’ve never played Merlin May I. I figured you a braver magician than that.”

Penny’s eyes turn into slits behind her glasses. “Refusing to play that nightmare of a game has no bearing on my bravery. It just means I’m not a glutton for punishment. Or a thundering idiot.”

Baz’s eyes move away from Penny and fix on me. I feel my cheeks flush, and suddenly the sun’s warmth overhead is bordering on oppressively hot.

“That’s perfect. Snow is both. I bet he’d love to play.”

BAZ

Aleister Crowley, I can’t believe my luck. Fate has delivered Simon Snow to my Merlin May I tournament, and though his plucky sidekick is trying to tug him away, he’s still rooted to the spot, which tells me he’s a few carefully timed insults away from playing a round of it himself.

“Simon, don’t you dare,” warns Bunce.

“Don’t worry, Penny. I don’t even know what Merlin May I is.”

“I’d be delighted to bring you up to speed,” I say. “Merlin May I is the mage’s hawk-dove game. We take turns making requests—to do things, take things, and generally force our opponent’s hand—until someone makes a request the other person can’t comply with. Dev, care to brief Snow on the rules?”

“Gladly,” he replies. “The rules are simple…”

You must say “Merlin May I” at the start of every request.

You may not repeat any requests already made.

No requests that will result in shagging, death, or other potentially fatal calamities are allowed either.

To accept a request, you must say “Yes, you may.” Otherwise, say: “You may not.”

The first person to say “You may not” loses the game, and the game is over.

When the game ends, every request the loser agrees to during the game, the winner gets to carry out.

“In other words, say ‘yes, you may’ at your peril,” I finish.

“So it’s ‘chicken’?” Simon sums up. “You just ask questions to see how much the other person will tolerate before they decide they don’t want you to completely fuck them over?”

“No. Chicken is prosaic and dull. Merlin May I is a game of risk and trust. A test of free will,” I reply grandly. “Your opponent may or may not throw you to the merewolves depending on what you request, so you’ll need to weigh just how much harm you want to inflict against how much you’re willing to take. Which is also to say that you should only ask questions you already know the answer to if you want to stay in the game, and that is the last tip I’m giving you.”

“It sounds terrible. I’ll pass.”

“What’s the matter?” I say. “Worried I’ll ask to move your bed to the bottom of the moat?”

“You probably would,” Simon mutters. “Why would anyone play this game? Seems like an easy way to lose friends and make enemies.”

He isn’t wrong. Watford played host to one of the most epic Merlin May I games of all time, and it brought a dramatic end to the school’s then-power couple, Gemma Harrington and Claus Beuchner. They were eight hours into the game when Gemma asked to fly Beuchner’s parents’ Lamborghini into a maelstrom and Claus agreed. He was out of his depth, of course, lost spectacularly, and got into so much trouble for agreeing to Gemma’s requests that his parents made him volunteer to scoop dragon dung at the Swedish Speartail Sanctuary for the rest of term. When he returned, the aroma of smoke and putrescence followed him around the halls for several months.

“Precisely,” I say. “I’m already your enemy. You have nothing to lose.”

“No, thanks. Come on, Penny.” Snow takes a bite from his sandwich, adjusts his rucksack over his shoulder, and turns like he’s about to leave.

I never want him to leave.

“Come, Snow. I’ll make sure your defeat is quick and painless.”

At this, Simon fixes me with an icy glare. “Who says you’d defeat me?”

“I do.”

“You won’t be feeling so jammy in a minute,” he snaps.

I smirk. “Then you’re in?”

Simon drops his rucksack, takes another bite of sandwich, and straightens his jacket. “I’m in.”

“Splendid,” I say.

“Simon!” exclaims Bunce.

“It’ll be fine, Pen,” Simon mutters. “There’s hardly anything terrible this prat can do to me that he hasn’t already done.”

“Apart from kill you!”

I roll my eyes. “As much as it’s in everyone’s best interest for Snow to die, Bunce, requesting his death is against the rules.”

Bunce glares at me, then at Simon. “I’m not playing witness to this. Go ahead and have at it. I’m going to lunch.”

“Oh, come on, it’ll just be a moment,” Simon calls after her, but she’s already storming away. He turns back to face me and sighs. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Yes. Let’s.”

Dev steps forward. “Hands up,” he says and pulls his wand out of his pocket. I extend my right hand toward Simon.

Snow is instantly suspicious. “What’s this about?”

“Insurance,” I answer, “to ward against cheating and ensure we carry out what we agree to. Go on.”

Hesitantly, he takes it. Dev lays the tip of his wand against our joined hands and says, “Do or do not. There is no try.” Dev’s magic sinks blue and cold into our skin.

The game has begun.

“You can start,” I say.

“Fine,” Simon huffs, then takes a massive bite of sandwich as he thinks of something to ask for. After a solid minute of chewing, which I can only assume takes so long because it is directly fueling his capacity for thought, Snow finally says, “Merlin May I pass your essay for Magical Words class off as my own?”

“Yes, you may,” I snigger. “Though I should warn you that Miss Possibelf isn’t a complete moron and will know who really wrote it by the time she gets three words in.”

“I didn’t ask for commentary. Your turn.”

“Merlin May I keep our window closed at night for the rest of term?”

Simon rolls his eyes. “Is this why you wanted me to play? So you could magically strongarm me into complying with your petty wishes?”

“I’m just taking advantage of a rare opportunity to get what I want without throwing curses at you,” I reply. “Your answer?”

“Yes, you may,” he grumbles. “But then… Merlin May I practice my swordplay on your side of the room?”

I frown at him. “I’m assuming you can resist shredding my bedsheets. And clothes. And all my bloody furniture. Yes, you may.”

Simon smiles, satisfied at having sufficiently lowered my upper hand and disturbed my good mood.

We go on for several rounds, and Snow impresses me with his creativity. He manages to rope me into trading soap with him (which pained me deeply to accept, but I suppose even Simon would prefer not to smell like a hospital once in a while) and confiscating my stash of salt and vinegar crisps because apparently the crumbs get stuck to his bare feet. I told him he wouldn’t have to fuss about it if he’d stop being a Neanderthal and get a set of slippers. (At which point, he Merlin-May-I’ed mine away from me.)

But it’s all relatively harmless. Nothing he’s asked for has legitimately threatened me, and as a result, I’ve had a decently challenging time trying to match Snow’s list of requests. I’ve obstructed Bunce’s secret visits to Mummer’s House, and I’ve forced him to let me Clean As a Whistle his side of the room whenever it starts to look like a numpty nest, but I don’t know how much further to go.

Our spectators look bored. Snow has so little to his name, there’s barely anything worth taking from him without leaving him naked and joyless, the latter of which doesn’t suit my interests at all. I just want to needle him, not destroy his will to live.

“All right,” I pick back up, deciding to raise the stakes. “Merlin May I eat all your scones at tea tomorrow?”

Simon blanches. (Adorably.) “All of them? I’ve never seen you eat one, let alone as many as I can put away.”

“What does that matter so long as it means you don’t get to eat them?” I retort.

He folds his arms across his chest. “Fine. I hope you choke on them.”

I tip an ear toward him. “Sorry, what was that?”

“Yes. You. May,” says Simon through clenched teeth. He looks justifiably forlorn until something wicked occurs to him and his smile returns.

“Merlin May I… play your violin?”

The crowd around us “Ohs” like this is a football game and Snow’s just fouled me.

Because he has. My violin is nearly 300 years old. It’s practically a museum piece. If my parents ever found out Simon so much as touched it, they’d cancel my classes and confiscate the instrument along with my entire sheet music collection.

It’s also my most treasured possession next to my wand. Crowley knows what this hamfisted idiot might do to it.

Well, fuck all, it’s a risk I’ll have to take.

“Yes. You may,” I hiss. “You’ll pay for that one, Snow.”

“Yeah? Let’s hear it then.”

His whole body is tilted in my direction. His jaw is pushed out, his eyes flinty. This is my favourite of Simon’s expressions (he only has about three), which is why I provoke it as often as I do. It often precedes him roughing me up, which is the only physical contact with Snow I’m allowed to have, but I’ll take it.

No one would know it by looking at me—least of all Snow—but my heart is practically beating its way out of my rib cage with anticipation.

I know the answer to my next request. It’s the one I ask him in my mind all the time. But I’ll finally get to say it out loud.

I make sure everyone can hear me.

“Merlin May I kiss you?”

Simon drops his sandwich.

SIMON

“Kiss me?” I repeat. “What are you playing at?”

Baz cackles at me. “Well, it’s a classic trap, isn’t it? If you say ‘yes,’ you’ll finally be called out for spreading lies because no one in their right mind would let a vampire’s mouth anywhere near them. Back down, and you’ll not only lose the game, you’ll be branded a coward,” he explains. His head is tilted slightly upward so he can look down on me.

“So which is it, Snow?” he asks, his eyes bright, triumphant. “Are you a liar, or are you a weakling? Either way, I win.”

“I’m neither. You are a manipulative arsehole,” I growl.

He shrugs. “In the present circumstances, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

I clench my jaw and shove my elbows against my sides to keep from reaching up and creating a more dramatic bend in his nose with my fist.

“Well?” he drawls, his voice saccharine sweet. “May I?”

Fuck it all, there’s nothing else I can say, is there?

“You may… not.”

Baz’s lips curl into a vicious smile. Applause for his cunning victory permeates the crowd of students around us, and I can feel my magic, red and burning, prickle up my spine like the mercury in a thermometer.

No.

I’ll be damned if this actual bloodsucking wanker walks off thinking he’s won.

He’s turning away from me when I seize him by the sleeve. I yank him back and shove my face into his, catching his mouth in a kiss that nearly cuts my lip on my own teeth. Everyone around us gasps in unison, then goes instantly silent.

There. I’m not a coward or a liar if kissing a vampire in the presence of at least three dozen witnesses ensures I won’t get bitten.

I didn’t plan this out very well, though.

My mouth is pinched shut and crammed uncomfortably against Baz’s, and he’s completely frozen on the spot. (Literally, I think. His lips feel like ice.) I’m tempted to open my eyes just to see if his are closed. He doesn’t even pull his sleeve out of my fingers.

I also think I’ve bruised my lip. I don’t know if I’m motivated by discomfort or habit, but I soften against him the way I would if he were Agatha. And for the briefest moment—less than a few seconds—I kiss him properly. I suppose I don’t know any other way to kiss.

Astonishingly, Baz’s breath smells like cinnamon tea. I don’t know what I was expecting (blood, maybe?) and I also don’t know why this observation feels so important, but it instantly wedges itself in my long-term memory.

Because… he’s kissing me back.

I flinch and pull away.

When I open my eyes, Baz looks like he’s been visited by Merlin‘s ghost. His lips are still parted. His eyes are wide and glittering at me.

I clear my throat.

“Reckon it’s lunchtime,” I say above a chorus of hoots and howls of laughter. I feel lightheaded and embarrassed, so I try to channel Baz’s arrogance, smirking as I reach down for my rucksack and sandwich (the latter of which thankfully fell onto the former when I dropped it).

When I stand back upright, he’s striding down toward the Wavering Wood away from me, his coal-black hair dancing in the wind behind him.

BAZ

I’m sitting on a large rock—fuming—when I hear Snow’s footsteps crunching loudly behind me. His foot must slip on some wet leaves because I hear him yelp so loudly, it sends the dryads back into their huts. He has the grace of a hippopotamus.

“Hunting, are we?” he calls after me.

“Fuck off,” I say.

“Funny. That’s usually my line.”

I ignore him.

“I don’t know why you’re sulking,” he grumbles. “You’re the one who made me play.”

“A decision I wholeheartedly regret. Come to gloat now that you’ve humiliated me?”

“Humiliated you? You were trying to humiliate me!” Snow bothers his curls with one hand and makes a gnarled mess of them. “I actually came here to apologize, but seeing as you’re still intent on being a git, I’ll just head back to lunch with Penny and be satisfied that you’ll have all my scones tomorrow as a consolation prize.”

“Consolation prize indeed. You cheated,” I snap, and I hate how petulant I sound.

“I didn’t cheat.”

“Yes, you did. The game was over. And then you decided to make up your own rules.”

“What else was I supposed to do? You cornered me!”

I spring to my feet and spin around to face him. “Of course I cornered you! Entrapment is how you win! I’d demand a rematch if I didn’t think you’d just find a new way to cock it up!”

Snow flings down his rucksack. “Come on, then. A rematch.”

“Here? In the Wavering Wood, where no one can witness your defeat? That’s convenient.”

“Yes, here. Where no one can wipe you off the floor if you call a chimera on me and it goes after you instead,” he snarls. “Which, by the way: you’re welcome.”

“I’m not thanking you for that. If not for me, it would have obliterated us both. You don’t even know how to trigger your own nuclear meltdowns without my help.”

“Get on with it, arsehole.”

“On one condition,” I hiss. “This time, we play the sudden death version of the game. That means every request gets fulfilled on the spot—no hesitation, no excuses.” I fold my arms. “Then we’ll see who is the hawk and who is the dove.”

Simon nods.

“You’re on.”

SIMON

“You start this time,” I say, squaring my shoulders.

Baz is leering at me through narrowed eyes. “Merlin May I have your sandwich?”

It takes everything in me not to throw it at him.

“Yes, you may,” I reply. He reaches me in two steps, stopping less than an arm-length away. (Trying to intimidate me already, the prick.) Then, he grabs my sandwich and flings it into the brush.

One does not simply take away my sandwich and my scones without a fight.

I go straight for the jugular.

“Merlin May I have your wand,” I say in as even a voice as I can muster.

Baz’s nostrils flare. “That depends. Do you plan to use it to blow yourself up?”

“Answer the question.”

He pauses, then he reaches into his sleeve and draws out his wand. “Yes. You may,” he says, like the words are being dragged out of him against his will, his eyes locked on mine as he drops it into my palm.

Shit. I never thought in a million years he’d ever let me take his wand. It seems impossible—counterintuitive even—but he must trust me at least a little if he’d relinquish it. I set it down on the rock.

“Merlin May I have your sword?” he asks.

I feel myself pale. “Shouldn’t you be asking for my wand?”

“No repeats. And what would be the point? You’re practically useless with one.”

“Fuck you, Baz.”

This isn’t going well at all. I can’t bloody think with Baz this close to me. After a brief pause in which I struggle to come up with ways this could backfire, I come up dry and finally say, “Yes, you may.”

He extends both hands. I call the Sword of Mages and hold it up between us by the hilt. Baz doesn’t so much as flinch, but I can see his brain working behind his eyes.

He didn’t expect me to give up my sword anymore than I expected him to give up his wand.

I lay the blade gently across his palms, but he doesn’t put it down. “Why are you still holding it?” I ask.

“There’s nothing in the rules that say I have to put it down. Consider it a deterrent—in case you’re thinking of asking for permission to hit me.”

“Is that right? Well then: Merlin May I take your hands?” I ask.

“You… may.”

Baz looks irritated and bends to put my sword on the ground behind him. Where I can’t reach it.

When he stands again, I hold out my hands. For a moment he just stares at them, and my mind races for a way he might twist my request to harm me. He’s a vampire; I wonder if he would use super strength to crush my fingers in his grip.

But then he slides both his palms over mine. Gently. His hands are rougher than I expected (from a lifetime lighting flames in his palms, no doubt) and cold.

So cold.

The shock of it makes me involuntarily close my fingers around his, like it’s my own hands that are freezing and I need to warm them.

Unnerved, I look up at Baz’s face.

He’s staring right at my throat.

BAZ

Fucking Snow.

He’s better at this than I thought he’d be. I need a way to get his hands off my own and end this before I forget we’re playing “Merlin May I” altogether and trap him with a kiss instead of a question.

I see something glitter near the button of his collar. “Merlin May I take your cross necklace?” I say.

His eyes widen. “It’ll burn you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do. You’re a vampire.”

“Yeah? Prove it. Give me the necklace.”

Snow lets go of my hands, and I let out the breath I had no idea I was holding. I watch as he reaches behind his neck, unclasps the chain, and dangles the cross between us.

I don’t let him drop it in my hand. I simply close my fingers around the chain, making sure not to make contact with the cross itself, and cup my other hand around the pendant as I would protecting a flame from the wind. He can’t see that it’s not touching my skin. Quickly, I drop it onto the rock beside my discarded wand.

Snow frowns. “Let me see your palm,” he demands.

I shake my head. “Not if that’s how you’re asking.”

He growls. “Merlin May I see your palm?”

I hold my hand up, but he snatches it out of the air and squints so he can get a better look. With his other hand, he runs a finger down the centerline of my palm to see if I’m burned, and it’s everything I can do to keep my breath from hitching at the sensation of it. His touch is so soft, it feels like dragonflies lighting in my hand.

It’s as if he doesn’t want to inflict more pain, in case the cross had burned me after all.

Snow looks up at me, disappointed. Hurt. Because he knows I’ve tricked him and he can’t prove it. I ought to be used to that expression. I lie to him daily. This shouldn’t be any different than any other trick, but here, alone in the Wavering Wood together with my hand in his, standing on the receiving end of that glare feels like he’s slapped me.

Surely, he knows. He must know; when I cornered him on the great lawn and threatened to out him as a dishonest weakling, I wasn’t talking about him. How could I be? Simon Snow is the most powerful mage ever to walk the earth (and trample my heart in the process).

I am the liar. I am the coward.

I am… losing my nerve.

My constitution won’t let me concede defeat yet—I am a Pitch, after all—but I also can’t help entertaining an outcome where I just cave, hand him his victory, and come clean. Crowley, what would that feel like? What disasters might occur if I confessed it all right here, with the Chosen One burning lines into my palms with his fingertips?

Maybe then, I’d be freed from the other game we play. The one where I pretend I’m not a love-sick vampire with a brass neck and too many secrets. I could just let it all go—my better judgment, my family’s wishes, my hardwired instinct for self-preservation—and say it…

I asked to kiss you, Simon Snow, because I knew you’d never let me. Because I punish myself for loving you by conjuring scenarios where I can come close enough to your fire without being burned.

Of course, he went and kissed me anyway, and now I’m incinerating.

If only.

I wish I could believe that, if he trusts me enough to hand over the only two things in the world that could protect him from someone like me, perhaps I could trust him, too.

I’d tell him no one asked for my permission to make me what I am. There was no “Merlin May I?” when the vampires bit me. There wasn’t one when the Crucible shackled me to Snow, either, and I sure as fuck didn’t ask to fall in love. The whole concept of free will as it applies to my life is a sick joke.

Simon was right. This game is terrible.

I don’t want to play anymore.

SIMON

When I look up at Baz’s face, I see him staring straight at me, his grey eyes boring holes into my pupils. They’re like mirrors in this light, casting back the greens and browns of the forest around us. I catch myself looking for my reflection in them before I clear my throat and say, “It’s your turn.”

I have no idea what he could possibly ask for now. We’ve disarmed each other, except for my wand, but he’s right. Ever since he asked to kiss me, my magic has been volatile and flaring just under my skin. I’d avoid using it against him. (Too risky.) And, rules or no rules, he’s still close enough to bite me if he wanted. No one else is here. Looking at his face now, tense and concentrating, I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing.

Would being bitten feel different than kissing him felt?

I think, in either case, my heart stops.

He’s got a strange look on his face. When Baz finally speaks, it’s unlike any sound I’ve ever heard come from his mouth. His voice is soft and low, all its sharp edges gone. Like music.

“Merlin May I touch you,” he says, “here.”

His fingers hover over my neck, just below my jaw.

My heart is racing now. Maybe he’s putting me in a thrall (vampires can do that, can’t they?), or else it’s a challenge. Maybe he wants me to think he’s actually going to bite me so I’ll concede defeat. But neither of these theories seems compatible with the sound of Baz’s voice, and the next moment, the breeze sends a whiff of cinnamon in my direction, turning all my thoughts to mud.

I say, “Yes, you may,” and Baz’s face is unreadable. I feel his fingers first, then his palm. His thumb trails against my cheek. I expect it to feel uncomfortable, but it doesn’t. My skin is always too warm and his feels like cool water against it.

I can’t help it. I think of Baz’s lips parting against mine.

The breeze picks up then, sending his raven hair flying. He turns his face into the wind, but his hand is on my neck, and I don’t want him to let go.

“Merlin May I touch your hair?” I ask.

He looks confused. It’s an expression Baz doesn’t usually wear unless I’ve done something uncharacteristically civil, like thanking him for leaving the bathroom door open, or waiting for him to finish his homework to turn off the light. It usually precedes a sneer or an eyeroll, but instead, I see Baz’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.

Is Baz… nervous?

“Why?” he asks.

“It’s getting in my eyes,” I say. Maybe he was right about me being a liar.

Nevertheless, Baz nods slowly. “Yes,” he says. “You may.”

Hesitantly, I reach up and move several wayward strands of his hair off his forehead, tucking them behind his ear.

My arm stays raised of its own volition. Instead of pulling away, I thread my hand further into Baz’s hair until my fingers are full of it. I’ve always wondered what this would feel like, so I run my hand through it again, and it slips softly through my fingers. I don’t encounter a single knot.

I can’t believe he’s letting me do this.

As I do, Baz tips his head into my touch and closes his eyes. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was enjoying it. But then he sighs, and I revise my assessment. He’s definitely enjoying it.

What the hell am I doing?

What the hell are we doing?

“Merlin May I…” Baz whispers, his eyes still closed.

Cross that, I’m definitely in his thrall. I must be. Gravity or some other kind of magic is pulling me closer to him, and I’m staring at his mouth when I feel his hand—the one that isn’t on my neck—slip gently over my waist.

I’m unarmed. No one is here to save me. But I’m not afraid of him.

I wonder if his lips are always so cold…

“Yes?” I whisper back.

His eyes open just then. He’s so close to my face, and where once he looked serene, he now looks stricken.

“Baz?”

He yanks his hands back and shakes his head, like he’s stirring from a bad dream.

“I forfeit.”

I must not have heard him correctly. “What?”

“You win. I’m out.”

“You’re out? You can’t just quit the game,” I say, but he ignores me, scoops up his jacket and wand and heads hurriedly back up the hill toward Mummer’s House. Grabbing my things, I rush after him, but his head start and long legs mean I’m utterly outpaced.

I’m halfway up the hill running at full speed after Baz before I realise I have to turn back around.

I’ve left my sword and cross behind.

BAZ

I’m back in our room, pacing.

More accurately, I’m trapped in the torture chamber between my ears.

I keep reliving the moment on the Great Lawn when Simon’s mouth softened against mine, and when I’m not doing that, I’m obsessing over all the moments that followed. Snow’s fingers in my hair. My hand on his waist. The sticky, smoky smell of his magic pouring off of him as he leaned in… It’s all cycling over and over in my mind like I’m looping through television channels and every network is broadcasting the same slow motion instant replay.

I’m not nearly as devastated over Simon calling my bluff and embarrassing me in front of everyone in our year as I am that he kissed me and didn’t mean it. But then… why did he linger? Why did he run his hand through my hair? Did I imagine him moving in to kiss me again or was that… real?

Nothing makes any bleeding sense.

I should leave. Head to the catacombs. He’ll be here any moment, and I need to get out of this godforsaken room. I would torch it to a cinder if it meant not having to share it with Simon Snow anymore.

My hand is on the doorknob when Snow pushes it open and nearly knocks me down.

“Baz,” he says, panting. We stand there for an endless moment gaping at each other like a pair of idiots before Simon finally notices my rucksack. “Where are you going?”

“Library. I have homework,” I mutter, and I try to push past him, but he blocks my path.

“Why did you forfeit?”

“I couldn’t come up with anything else to ask, obviously.”

“That wasn’t in the rules.”

“It’s implied.”

Simon sets his jaw and pushes me further into the room. “Well, I don’t accept your forfeiture.”

“It doesn’t matter if you accept. It’s my choice,” I retort. “And honestly, what’s wrong with you? No one in their right mind passes up the opportunity to win Merlin May I.”

“That’s not how I want to win!”

I wish there was a rule prohibiting the victor of Merlin May I from talking about it ever again.

“Please, Simon,” I say, lowering my voice, and he starts at the sound of his first name. “I don’t want to play anymore. You won, fair and square. Crowley, even when you lose, you fucking win…”

I shove past him and make it through the doorway when I hear him call out behind me. “Why did you ask to kiss me?”

I spin around to the sound of neighboring doors clicking and creaking open. “Aleister almighty, are you a bloody air raid siren? Keep your voice down!” With a huff, I rush back to our room, push him back inside by the shoulders and close the door behind me. “Haven’t you wrecked my reputation enough for one day?”

“Why did you ask to kiss me?” he repeats, ignoring me. He looks pained.

“Like I said. You should only ask questions you know the answer to. I asked because I knew you wouldn’t allow it,” I whisper loudly. I almost stop myself before curiosity commandeers my voice and I say, “Why did you touch my hair?”

“You touched me first.”

“Because I was trying to intimidate you!”

He shakes his head, furious. “I know what it looks like when you’re trying to intimidate me, Baz. You do it every fucking day,” he growls. “Tell me the truth.”

“I have nothing more to say to you,” I snap. “You’re the one withholding infor-”

“Because I wanted to!” he shouts over me. And then, silence.

I’ve lost the ability to speak.

Or think.

Simon’s face is dragon red.

I think actual sudden death would be preferable to standing awkwardly across from Simon with no feeling in my extremities and no hope of escape. The Humdrum could materialize right here in this room to vanquish us, and it would be a mercy.

Snow looks fit to go off right now.

“I thought maybe you’d put me in a thrall,” he murmurs finally and laughs bitterly at himself. “I thought kissing you was about winning that stupid fucking game. But you kissed me back, and now it’s all I can bloody think about and… Baz, why did you kiss me back?”

My mind is reeling, scouring for excuses, but for once, I’m unprepared. Everything I could say right now would only hurt me on its way out of my mouth.

He steps toward me. “Don’t tell me I imagined it.”

Entrapment is how you win.

I don’t have to lie to him, do I? He just said he wanted his hand in my hair. I’m getting dizzy thinking about what else might he want from me. Aleister Crowley, I want him to have it, whatever it is. Simon has opened a door. I just need to walk through it.

Out with it, Basilton…

Instead—out of habit, sheer stupidity, cowardice, or all of the above—every muscle in me clenches like locks in a fortified wall, bracing me for my usual self-immolation. I hate myself with every word as I monotone, “You imagined it.”

Snow’s eyes darken, and he nods.

“Right,” he says quietly. “Don’t bother going to the library if you’d rather stay. I’m leaving.”

He picks up his belongings.

Oh, Simon.

I never want you to leave.

SIMON

“Snow, wait.”

I pause with my hand on the doorknob. Not a second later, I feel Baz’s hand on my shoulder.

“Merlin May I… tell you a secret?” he whispers, making the hair on the back of my neck stand up. He feels close.

Glancing over my shoulder, I answer: “Yes, you may.”

“Crowley, don’t turn around,” he says. “You’ll just make this worse.”

I’m at a loss for words, so I just nod.

“You’re right about me. About what I am,” he says, his voice low from behind. “I don’t want to be a vampire anymore than you probably want to share a room with one, but I didn’t really get a say in the matter.” Dropping his hand from my shoulder, he adds, “I’ve never bitten a person. And I never will—unless you tell anyone what I’m saying to you, in which case I’ll have no choice but to tear out your larynx with my teeth.”

I can’t help myself. I turn to face him. Baz’s face is ashen, his eyes fixed to the floor. He’s holding himself by the arms, like he might come apart if he lets go.

“I was a child when the vampires attacked Watford,” he continues softly. “They bit me. And they killed my mother.”

It takes all my mental faculties, but I finally find my voice—only I don’t know what to do with it except whisper, “Jesus Christ,” which is both an inadequate and utterly useless thing to say. Though I can’t see Baz’s eyes behind the veil of his dark lashes, at least my reaction doesn’t seem to offend him because he keeps talking.

“I didn’t lie when I said that I asked to kiss you because I knew you wouldn’t allow it. But then you kissed me , and…,” he says, his voice so quiet, I can barely hear it. “You didn’t imagine it. I kissed you back.”

He finally lifts his eyes to look at me.

“Because I wanted to,” he whispers.

My heart is thundering in my chest. I don’t know what to say. This is too much to process and I’m clearly shit with words anyway. I have so many questions, but none of them are appropriate, and Baz is just standing there with his hair in his eyes, waiting for my cue—to fight, flee, or die on the spot, probably.

But I don’t want him to do any of those things. He told me the truth for once, and it was the biggest, most terrible truth I could have imagined.

And he trusted me with it.

I step around him and toss my jacket and rucksack on my bed. “My turn.”

“What?” Baz looks properly surprised.

“Merlin May I sit beside you?”

He closes his eyes and sighs. “Snow, I didn’t mean to imply that I still want to play this infernal game.”

“I know,” I say, moving toward him. “Consider this the world’s first single-player game of Merlin May I. Your answer?”

He furrows his brow and says warily, “Yes, you may. Aren’t you at all concerned that I’m—“

“Still my turn,” I cut him off, pulling him by the wrist toward his bed and taking a seat next to him. With one hand, I smooth his hair away from his eyes and fix him with a soft gaze. “Merlin May I hold your face?” I say.

Baz is looking at me like I’ve sprouted an extra head. He doesn’t say “yes, you may.” He simply nods. As both my hands reach up and rest against his cheeks, I decide to let the infraction go.

Because he’s trembling.

I’m weightless with shock. This Baz isn’t a threat or a villain or a monster. He’s just… a boy.

He leans into my palm and closes his eyes. His eyelashes look wet.

“Merlin May I tell you something?” I say.

“Yes,” he breathes, “you may.”

I stroke his cheek with my thumb. “I want to kiss you again,” I whisper.

His eyes spring open. “No repeats,” he replies, breathless.

“That was a different game.”

“Same opponents. Same day. Same game. It’s illegal.”

“I don’t think you mind.”

I weave my fingers through Baz’s hair without asking, my hand coming to rest on the back of his neck. He lets me.

“You’re not worried I’ll bite you?” he asks.

Smiling, I touch my forehead to his. “‘Merlin May I is a game of risk and trust.’ Isn’t that what you said?”

“You don’t trust me.”

I shrug. “I trust you not to make supper out of me.”

He shakes his head against mine, and laughs. “I don’t understand your strategy.”

“I don’t have one,” I say, and I’m so close to his mouth that I’m breathing in the scent of cinnamon and cedar. “What’s your answer?”

His answer doesn’t come in words. He just shuts up and closes his eyes. His hand finds my wrist, like he’s afraid of me, but I won’t hurt him. As I close the gap between us, a thought enters my mind.

This is so much better than fighting.

BAZ

I’m certain I don’t know what I’m doing. My first kiss only happened an hour ago in front of God and everyone, lasted mere seconds, and precipitated the most senseless and backwards game of Merlin May I in the history of Magic.

I’m not sure if we’re still playing.

I don’t care. Fuck this ridiculous game.

Simon Snow is kissing me.

On. My. Bed.

Thank Crowley he’s done this before. His hands are still on my face and in my hair, and whatever blood is in me is singing in my ears. He’s blessedly warm which is helping my trembling, and his lips are so strong with intention—to devour me whole, it seems—that mine move in his rhythm, like we’re dancing and he’s leading.

And he’s humming. Like I’m something to savor. I can hear the whisper of his breath, its warmth skimming gently over my face. As his lips move against mine, it sounds like the tail end of a rainstorm. I would give up all my possessions to Merlin May I if he asked for them, just to keep him attached to my mouth.

I feel light. Like I’ve been exorcised of something toxic and terrible.

When he pulls away, we both look stunned.

“So…” he rasps, “this is not how I envisioned finishing out my day.”

“Someone should make sure hell hasn’t frozen over,” I murmur, grinning in spite of myself.

Snow’s eyes brighten. “Merlin’s tooth, I’ve never seen you smile like this before.” He sounds awed. “I mean, you’re fit whether or not you’re smiling at me, but you’re gorgeous when you do.”

“You think I’m fit?” I ask incredulously. “Are you possessed?”

“Don’t let it go to your head. You’re still a git,” he laughs.

“A git, it appears, you’re willing to kiss,” I say, and I can’t help the disbelief that sneaks into my voice. “I didn’t think kissing blokes fell into the realm of things you do for fun.”

He shrugs. “I’m not sure it does,” he murmurs. “You’re the only bloke I’ve ever wanted to kiss.”

I smile. “Crowley, Snow, you have no idea how strange it is to hear those words come out of your mouth.”

“Can’t be much stranger than hearing you admit you’re a vampire,” he says. “I promise to properly shut up about that from now on, by the way.”

“What happens now?” I ask, staring at his lips.

“I haven’t thought much farther ahead than snogging you until Penny has to send a search party here to find us.”

He barely finishes his sentence before something courageous comes over me and I take him by the shoulders. I don’t need to say “Merlin May I” for permission to kiss him this time, so I just do it. I just want to dwell a little longer in this impossible reality where I’ve confessed all my secrets to Simon Snow and he somehow still wants me—in spite of what I am, what I’ve done to him, and what we were to each other before I conned him into playing a game designed to drive mages apart.

Leave it to Snow to completely subvert the point of Merlin May I by sheer accident.

A long moment later, Simon pulls away from me, frowning. “Are you still eating my scones tomorrow?”

I raise an eyebrow. “If all this is just an elaborate scheme to salvage your scones—”

Snow knocks my arm in retaliation. “No, I mean, is Dev’s spell still active?”

“I’m not sure,” I admit. “Are we still playing?”

He shrugs and reaches for my hand. “Dunno. We sort of got sidetracked…”

And now he’s lacing his fingers in mine.

Simon Snow wants to kiss me and hold my hand, and any moment now I’m going to wake up.

“I suppose we both lose, then,” I say. “And that way you can keep your precious scones.”

“We’ll share them,” he whispers, bringing our joined hands to his heart. “I’d say we both won.”

❤️❤️ HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY, LOVELIES! ❤️❤️

#fic with a pic #fanart #fanfic #carry on #simon snow #baz pitch #penelope bunce #and they were roommates #alternate first kiss #vkelleyart gallery

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