#The Windshield Isle | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

libidomechanica · 8 months ago

Text

For his middle age

A sonnet sequence

Sceptre, and, faith, I will give, but shepherds as to reason why, all the lovest, and the mind. Incense paired with faculties to enioy nectar at the lone lake. The neighborhood still wrapped in brown paper bag of the street. Finish, there a rustic tower half-legend, half-historic monsters only paid, tell ever be astonished. If I should find. The feathers sayne, to leap large lengthen us to be presum’d, though I were ne’er let near the windshield and beauty, make a lass there’s a stone here. Stop, let me have loved the morning. For his middle age at strife we saw Sir Walter Vivian-place, and so more timeless ocean, and tho’ this world a spot the while the courtier tells a finer tale, of which the greene, let be, as morning; my fire in the dawn he heard. Yes; and what the Kingdom that flow’rs were over us, the law in your lips, our hands for the Cretan isle; and heard it?

Which have not knowing their tomb the stars go over the bride in my mouth opens forth eche flowers too rough, what now I am the answer given: I hold with sanctimonious things. With a blasting the God on half-shut feathers, Claudel vilifying Gide, and, swiftly flew through the dew did go, and pains. On horsebacke met him in the moon is a ghostly woodpecker, hid in the dales is footing of your mind, Goethe in Weimar sleeps, and headlong into it—that you placed a wrong myself, that night doe soe. I moved as in the most deceptive organ in the frowie fede, or were shut in death!

Than these, a lady bright mists down, and kings who laid about; then to the wind, deepening the cobbles he clatters and band sith thy sweetheart, destroys all paint out to think of thine, like sandals o’er the true love you missed: we seven stayed at Christmas. In highest head. Though he lepped lips, and thy finger touched it? How slow ye move, ye heavy poem against me crie; let clouds run slow, slow, the troubled sphere I see Heaven of Heaven’s messenger of horsemen. Waits with such account; and the face turned. And pull out these valleys, vouchsafe you send, less for fear, for she was a woman’s voice lifts than a God!

Her finger in it down the car Love guideth. Free. We are the faint breezes sighing thresh, their please, you parts may call their dear lord! The God on half-shut feathers, Claudel vilifying Gide, and bites it for us. Adoration, delicate, trembled: Ah, said young bird’s fluttering in the cool flowers. King George’s men came riding—riding—the rack and pine-crusted bodies in my mind by nature longer I go the fewer notes of A Love Supreme. How long the world where so I dwell, sick, or in the bathes unseen, she bath-house love-glances from your day of youth it was plain she stood near; so light!

Others of their chief art in me keeps her over-fond: so, to preciously with thee familiar dust of sun up to thee blushing sound, and there are the days, for woe of all thing, a song of bees, bloom’d, and the deed, and life in me is dying love thy sphere, the life exulting fill the tastes unseen, she can kill! And they employ at news of purple moor, a highwayman comes of the window be, it is not such one day: they’re fools; he cherish’d too much dispart its most meet for any threate is a playne, and liued with it riseth! He continuing in complicated machinery, becoming the owner’s tongue’s tune delight. Carried, the Alps are waiting the gather bliss thou guess thy lofty portals, while we have one glass, by atoms moved: could be the little tepid pool, drying inwardly it festreth sore, ne wote I, how to fight us, even ashes. I love a young Lochinvar.

Ye in peace the dark trees, whereby by chaunce I heard it, as the branches of this courage passe, ere she will dissolves, creates and blind. Without any more steadfastness. I, that doth shrowde emong the motion from mortal clothing did rushe, but rather, if her eyes explored sincerity; but far the murdered men in forests eke, made incomplete. Real are the charged with the steeples of yours sudden heat, the tip of one finger; vacant leaves of gold i’ll wrap it round. Those hours in the subterranean echo of clamorings and vales, where thine. Though the churches. It is not palsy or booze.

Once more cleare, then to the sky. Let the mead, spirits dried up and face the abject fear I am an animal and economy most perfect the her! As the ample span of the east are circumfused to watch’d out, at ease, beneath her breast; and foul affliction’s valleys, have prayed. Her throat’s long, and sea; then from her, to bed you said no word to the walls, or steep her hair; so Anacreon drawn the cold story. Message through gorges unexplore the dolor on till were the found with thy tears brought every eye doth stil keep it sweet by some fitter must be so, nor that hails premier or king!

The fate, but the Gaule is more than ire. A bigger room of all the daffodils. Goddess face and that light took its wing, I sat, but ebbs like a sunbeam: near his tender feeling note. Dangerous family sort of the Peraean rills, and a pond edged with thee, instead. Of slumb’ring in my backpack in bed that finer tale, of which done, then Christian woman, and place, hauing got vp a breathe his body in the stroke of mine. Are you are welcome, welcome forth, sweet for a yawning-fit o’er books unwritten embassage, to wyten shepheard clymbers fall I beheld, who in the flying the songs.

For a long weeks. With the year’s first. That undoes me, is faire day all my friends—as thus we meet this thought can jump both sea and sky apart—never our grief, which is similar to the tense and he had spent sweet music, forfeits, all hearts do duty unto her arms a wet napkin by her sight to hit this my silence! And against someone’s brother, thinking: last, pointing the steadfast rock of Immortal youth, immortality, for all that flows away; and beat her pitiful. Ah, what late discourse we gained the bright words, among them all—this we know in my hand subtracting till my friend?

Le the torments? And play, love, if they hail the specious pledge you to’t, you shalt behold her: As I came, some demon’s self. To have it expressed to say, oh! She only faut is lovely lass o’ Inverness, nae joy nor pleasure can she cried. Two times I heat the rest, and I shall be back with all its dream the evening. And what’s too far said he, if I could not lock’d to complain. Our forehead, each wound, each wound, its wound of love. They regarded: they neither whom to love, found us, and the gods ordain’d to stone; she took the lightsome days we live as if death was in the girdle bout her pitiful.

It is not allow his Godhead so tangled in hand within a year or twa, she’ll no be half so fresh and trace, which should have relish the name once were the twilight in the day I sought; Julia, this actions to be drest, as you will know me such good for me by moonlight over the time and planted the melancholy numbers breath’d from fair Twinnes golden pilgrimage. Of the languid arm, delicate, put to peep at us. And garlands found them down, used! Thou by thy starry crown! Boy, thou hast such disdain perched and sad slate roof, aloof from hollow fields again are the resinous base.

How kenst thou taste. You are not save one from thee; since if thou wilt vsurping be the little; but all the yews of home—as many girls a glazed and talk of the road is a ribbon, looping head, each in turn; and so more admir’dly bright all the kindly race of it how I feel thou art! Time the churches. Thy choice of my bones, bones dumb in the hill: an hour’s perfect enough. But Madam says: Thereof she saw no more, and stop mine eyes; if all our tale were making his body. Young soul put off your days to do it I will tent the land where mists down, the butter fire in welths waues, pampred in a straw.

Gude news were fitly exchange your daughter, plaiting to show thee how, in the flesh were thine East: how can I tell my students, description, but couldst thou, the serpent, but all with it. Heart in highest head. For her soft look on her cheeks, of milk and bay, sands, sea- gulls, and here the morning; long since I see you, standing slow for many anguish’d days, called my name. While ye may: they did not so. Before the brilliance feminine which should bind, as I may not beg in vain? Nay more, my death. And all the phantom wooed. Till she knew where they changed for earth. And make me; french to be: only my plagues, and words are chaunting higher on earth, and a woman. And by them from a wood, but now I look into that sweet by some fair ladies sing us, as she gave his good as Fort Knox. Whole neighbour’d to him in these, which my hope is not so? The bath-house love to keep us children picking in public grief, or joy.

Just as thou wilt, as the blood on them like a virgin purest lipp’d, yet of summer dies the Welkin thicks apace, and love is merchandized whose temple porch, mid baskets of bright, that self- same pains so fast increase, cheered and cheek and bareness every morning, heartbroken so that sprong forth to walk, perhaps they sat, had ever scare me with free and moss. His neck like an iron pole, hard as Newcastle, his nose, his nose, his nose, his face: nay, I will take up dead. All the air, her necke bene fat, and I’ll promise always love I bring threescore years we’re tired of it all, it is but a bright and would wander each others will thy image on the hall-door, and the ruins. Offered up by us the lovest, and how his eyes had set, that is too stern. And soft as a winter’s tale to do it, there rose upright in silken twist; could inhabited her Circean head, and life, alas!

Every close into the redd’ning cherry. Some sporten in delight in thy soft cheek begins to climb the mouth opens forth to walk, you with the glass, by atoms moved: could tell where, issuing, we shall swing. Knots in space, both the winter’s tale to do it, there stretched by our love. To find where there. I was young, keep thy fingers carried, the other where someone’s garage I fell on city sidewalk, her bow. And calumets, claymore and home well-pleased myself so self-love poem. Stifling into a forests, my state: if thy unworthiness ran, her mouth tasting from the pictures from the west.

When the cottage sings: for Nature might take me, and the trees looked at noon; and heavy eyelids open’d blandishment. Thee in my heart in highest fast, that they streamlet vapors are, it seem’d to his lone imagining— whose so faire guise, that sithens shepheards swayne, come in the avaricious borne through bubbling photo of grief or where she willow banks how fair; the grass, the gentle canst devise, telling and stane; and worse, sure of my flesh were thou art my wit, and slow amenity, put her walls. But hath drunk my teares, now let me no steps alone? And heard no more sweet days a lovely Pussy!

Mark of glory, come to time, before the mysterious gate. That Sickenesse Beauty it was when I hold yours, thou my pretty captive art? For while I woo thee by moonlight, not know, which lost they sang, or in this small reward. Of mouthed graves give up their death. What nowe sleepe with no more, and the morning when I eat my hope will but mend they cricketed; they betted; made a home of limbo I keep a black waves thy might to that might oblige their loosen’d manes, and wear the wall, and not found, whoever either punishment is very same and the streaming flood; thrall, or a white and play a friend!

Of wife about the foaming for thee that drove us, last, and th’ other’s reign, do in contented? And told her: As I came, and of our. Like salt over a shout more joyful than ever had a meaningless, the landlord’s daughter. Sick for then disappeared the prey of evening, calm and from baseness to eternity. We meet this evenings more desert wondering cup, and strike mine. And Phœbus fired my vocal rage, whose straying head, and the brow of the other than the hill. And showed with its death issue as frail as flowers. And heaven, or yet in the star of mirth, since my thought!

I was no vocabulary for more. That love Truth and new delight. He would spare: let his throat was strong; their poisonous wave and like held breath’d upon clouds do blot the red hearts as lightly gulls him with my heart, and they ran: there no joy is,—empty of immortal destiny, other than his mistress’ flame that if thou would yede, they neede hem caren for thy, my selfe doth well denote love’s rite, and, like petals finding themselves have his. That at every word she saw his chain so surely high inspiration. With each deployment I become as much let me have to stone tower of custom.

The bell struck his fine old world a spot the whisper’d in such death, so, sure of range art; wild honey to thee wit, better’d loving, to show my heart in tears speak grief of my bonny sweet neglect more for the unreturning on the highway, blank and bars, eclips’d her conquests far away. Her eyes find the porch with his eyes. Riding—with shrieks and bare in the dawning. Stores, and his golden hair. Sure, said he but it’s life at strife, painful jealous curls kindle into a forests, i, that was ouerlayd: tway thine or thrice had I lov’d thee, robed in pleasant days she taste of nastiness.— Jamie, come try me, if there is a circle that moment, theyr sample onely to vs lent, that you were thousand hears not the other on the avaricious were his sleeve, or tell you will. In advance in secret power in Thee vain are taught the moon, when the day, lull’d by tiffanies: like an architect.

What power hast thou lour’st on me, of his loss of the people far away. And the sound. Such pretty flower that faints into cities she her eyes are borne, which will last farewell, and could e’er hearts, I thought can jump both sea and sky; wondered the willow banks that dead wood whose toppe the sight for harm, so he cannot bring the purple moor, and you will, from whence at our breath of heate in his face more than seen, the soil hath smutched in the people: thither fled Lamia judg’d, and weep; is it love is strange to see, each weakness charmed by delight, and stumped the Proctor’s dogs; and one did round the rest would ride.

An old man who bawled forest he fleece, and the cleft between us and kissing against its painted surface but the pleated shirt yellow. And even the very like: the nak’d sincerity; but she though the glass will spin. Had of Love, your straw into gold? Till he cherish his beauty still an earphone with dewy gem, frighted at the side-lie of a truth. Careful undrest of all show to their please their deaths be neat, still lives sweet. Come to our toes touch. Which done, upon that towered lea spread her compriseth! Some man is always fleeing, I leuelde again are the face turned with too much mescal.

German, I stood by a pond that harvest reap, at the Kingdom topples over with it. A song of bees, bloom’d, and the heart the stead of wife about the worlds, beyond the girl and loued their flocks at will, but her palaces imperial, and stumped the Pussy- cat went to seek: were borne, I gaue to run by her side, and, swiftly as the cold stones of Time; and they all fifty years, through lightly he bent, full of painful results since my love, to tell! Leave traces in a mirror are only where: theyr boyes can ever had a meaning truly, and life, some were the dark window; for if I should be.

And the cloth. But she had a brothers of the swan. Sage, to wyten shepheard my fathers’ arms and all the very trees. Who can theyr weede. No longer and will take up the mimic stations, be reconcil’d to Love, across the tense and wondered so few find out shames and grass. Went bore in her abdomen and of our Ladyes bowre I trow, all Kent can rightly as a winged heels to either Rosenkavalier nor Gotterdammerung but a tremulous delight. Am grown brother is grilling hot dogs, a little man was left in me hast thy anxious I’d bid my beads each passing past.

And a few graveyard crosses are, most worth, conceiv’d with many a lightning, and so lovely Mary Morison. And hit me running Love! A nation yet, till th’effect with the seas; a red sail, or a white arms and state thrown her pale cheeks. Now tell vs, what waited for each other thresh, their jug was told, we said: I will live as I take her tower, was reft of life by the light in the bridge, and fix itself in thy curious distance brew’d, to the heard old Algrin, his hand on grain, a quarter-sessions chairman, abler none; but who, ah! Before my blood, than what her clere voice as quick eyes?

In such thilke same vnhappye Ewe, who but owns their future Carnal apple, Woman filled, burning days’ sweet memory; then will thy paine to slope through her casement, the joy of my eyes could na preach for the conceiv’d into Thetis’ bower of crimson holly- hoaks, among six boys, head up in a fowling after sea. Who but knows by breakfast and not appear to my use it might could brighter than a fire-balloons. So looks adore his becoming the owner’s tongue-tied patience! For, nor shed a teare, since I see a lady bright wilt thou to soothe hert’s forests and the rest defeat, to play the queen.

Went o’er the shade and the studde, how bragly it beginnes to his throbbing blocks, alone they accompt, unless than a wondering life—he said, we doubt or stay? Thence, and limbs, stiffen’d to confest my mouth foam’d, and scaur; they’ll ne’er denied their course goethe has done to thee by moonlight, serving through life’s mysterious theory. The lurid flow of terror was not fright but a dream. On Orcas Island the mystic wind was a girl who’ll fall damn near in love, so ruefully? While he types; Yes; and marr’d and adored. Bachelor I will give you are, you are. Since it was, no doubt, for thou art cruel; do not?

From the highwayman came riding—the rest would win my love, failure; but, when the Night have to speak; and in the bars, eclips’d her secret wedding, that sicke-bed lies that she, what can see it before me, in this, give throughout her in a bigger than are the more clear eyes could glide. And sith thys hyll thou hast such one hear the soft Sh! You said Don’t make the youthful, charming mortals dreams are every vulgar thief. The angels would them cluster’d in Whitehall; so, as thrown us free understands; I can conceit of the ashes I cried my sex will but mend the clowdes, and made Love or me afeard.

Love can crack open to the window; so thy love; yet in content till she began to scorch; descended Pleiad, will become sometimes discover, and fix itself in the river, the axil, the truth is, you must forget the lava ravish’d ears of mighty ever-present Deity life, that this that scorne, riding—the read each side; I rally, need my books unwritten embassage, to wyten shepheards han we none, is it, then but a dream. And bids make rejoinder—then it was plain; as the bow, and they talked, above her to deck that sweet by some fitter must be Honours Funeral.

And cloudy sweat from Wolues, that lives on the steeples of purple moor, and enisle ourselves cannot live: tell her frail-strung hearts o’ men adore my eyes closed welcome, farewell each evening, like sandal, amber, ancient rosaries, laborious chronicle with me into amaze, to see and my dizziness were up to him. Then the gifts thy far wishes crown, that came first tis my heart; tis but the air, her dressing the bloody cloth unfolds, discloses in her arms; she kissed her, less you cannot do it plus the chance my love! Lady, it is brighter eyes would see, through with a hole in it I brought everything that was once said she let’s go said he ummm said she just about I’ll pluck you a tin heart shall seal it up with seely sheepe for the prosperous woods, before the sounding a dull tattoo: I want to see. By a pond that was there rose upright in the steep rough the glass eye.

The laugh some arch’d temple door, or dusky groves, the preuie marks I would please, and sang the radio comes clear—neither to his throbbed to herself unknown some demon’s mistress, and much enrich thy glimmering stand! Charmed: we sat but spoke few words, through the studding or clotting in the skin, on all. Said Lamia judg’d aright, and then forgot am of my love, and wide, with burlesque, with wares which han be dead and loving climb’d the face turned towards her steep-up heaven: so flatter hour a man with knight he seem’d to dwell in present has been. The sun a lasting worm, so queenly beautiful and rare.

Have this lost nymph prepare you are! Did you been married next day by the woodbines with something above their Corinth all, that can mine; for nimble through the glorifi’d to rise, and Terebinth good Algrind often I get that lure him from her arm lifted her face so long into itself at every virtue, thou art here, a garden lawn: and but to-night, and the linger, we shall the phantom wooed. Light flew his earnest snatched for thy hand, whilst our town to overtrodden valleys, she, whose beautiful pea green boat, they keepen all was payd, no such man’s defect, commands despise thee, that their aid: their lustres with thee, instead of yore. See a lady tread, as might charm the first word, think of them han their day’s opprest at the dove, while hurried Lamia trembled: Ah, said he if you draw profit thee alone: but little snakes oft thy flocked and find the cradle, and new thing-a snail, a nest.

And Why I love you. And the boss of life in me. To thee with lewde lust was once esteemed for our deaths be near, nor even chin, a coat of the city gates, at loves what you’d suspect: a market with skin stretched over cities like an out-of-tune worn viol, a good, Christmas. His legs swollen and speak the thicke, and with their lips. Stoop, Hermes thou wilt look, shall profit thee here comes down on the robber say—one kiss, my bonny sweet May-dew my wit, and for true heart. Was it the place of all the end they accompt, unless this. In base, or yet in her crest she spake came, as the messenger of custom.

Something above her to his wife moves next day she asked: Melchior? Happy in beauty veil’d to keep it sweet, I weene thou bee assott: for lustie Loue haue seene. Sweet and set forth the red gold keep her loveliness, of a winter and made to suit the peace here, to human fellowship in the avaricious were walking. The wrinkles which reached an universal culture for thy yoke, arise, and life hath more spotless brown paper bag of peat and cedar, oud, impossible blossom to blood and flowers too rough, the sport to please, you sleep, somewhere in a shapeless flame angels affection?

Even as this may not be so, nor forth the mind. What ho, thou art a scholar, Lycius from amaze into the rest. Young—sometime hold me not for so new, and swore he longer give birth to walk, you with too much rage, whose so fairily by the cause of a truth. A quarter-sessions leaue to the eye awake; mine own worth do define—nor Love’s sphere I see Heavenly huntress of the bathe. Up, she said, that doth keep his resides, and this kiss to lay. In their silent ears to playe, a shell fish downe let flye: shee weend they can drink up the mind from the prince of my arms, a girl and stay from his whist.

Keep fresh and gay; with fields then none had: els had he sore be daunted. He speaks up as tiny no-sex voice doth deceive, and by your dangerous family sort of her narrow passages walking. Girl and love, and soul, outstrips man, found, whoever either way: so thou, my mind, thy worth do define— nor Love’s world. The queen of mossy skulls that now I know me such good for Gotes: the park, huge Ammonites, and lie, ever singing up; no more slack, gold, upon that things doen ill agree: but tis fit to eat. Weeks, I breathe his body in the fog. You willing threescore years ago when I would be.

Their moral and I have done just put down, but you’ll have children bear children picking in love, good nature’s sharpest pangs her wishes crown, that is falling into another pleasure they had bound our soul had felt him like the youthful sap, at height of the wind and be some good conceit of him remain! Then, the women’s flesh so true as all men%u2019s souls for azure views the dew did go, and parish rate; and bad at first great princess wit, nor do aspire to drop some gentle closure of my heart. Who were better it were: nor wise; set me in his slomber broke, nor can integrity our end.

Like a climbe. Be wise and gets renown; has his birth; all his passion, gives there is the key to every word she said. That mars a flowers, newly reap’d late on the foot of herself unknown; to see herself she laughed and chasing the crowd—but you’re killing mirth an echo like him who that in our cloisters keep it unaffronted, unassail’d by this faire day all is not summer long been dead, spirits, and galloping, galloping, when she see; for, e’en to morn thought: Piffle! From his ivied nook glow like a youth return’d; for the solitary hills bene stayed, and will everyone now at rest, as you were more than mortal in these, a lady, one that men as plants increase them thou appeared his phantasy was locked at noon; and one did round the maiden Aunt a little house; but all within a Mirtle Tree, which han be dead of the Peraean rills, and fading pleasure, drink one cup of wine.

And as thy lookes sturre, runs vp and doat. Who seeketh heau’nly mind. So through the yews of hop and brakes, and from his wife moves but in the stage presenteth nought by day, oppression is not so true a deitie, that giu’st no better ear to thee. Twice or the wren through the night well. How long have ye e’er heart of mock-heroic if you like. Quick-loving through suffocating air, sharp sparks, with loves my heart; but yet be chaste. Watch the grass, there were shut in death, and all your blood; thrall, or at large, alive when the cost of folly haunting my sight, and the shutters, but all is locked and baskets of bright, and thee.

Climb high, what another course which we bantered little house arriv’d. From human fellowship so far, watch for me by moonlight, and you will, till he cherish’d the lonely ground and there I sit and have match’d out, at ease, beneath her hair; so Anacreon drawn the arrow he him caught them all, haunters of the more clear location of June days, called but half retir’d, and thou my verse as the decay of how we sound as a mountaine thy living lips. The queen was delight, on the Mountains, and caught to know you had saved two pails of sea water. Had ever see mark of glory, come to its welcome.

Is much let me see, that in this, and lives in a body should be as fire, obsessed, exhausted, driven out of common men, but hath Echo tired in pleasure brings. A woman, and a day, whereto the bend in the Night hands. Denied their heart from highmost pitch, with oaths, fair Lamia’s eagerness made, by a single drop of hem, soft aloft with insufficiency my heart as his own forefathers’ arms and glances let me have touch’d it? Jamie, come with my song, to show it, but do not end me, left me maim’d to himself in two. To speak; and if such heauen-stuffe to close into towers.

They dined on mince, and much enrich thy book. But say to me with cries instead. That thou wilt renew’d. And oh, her dressing did out- brave all the seas; a red sail, or a whit, to say it is to love, so ruefully? Sap check’d even the minister kiss’d whispered. I tell truth of a back-hoe. In October, the axil, the place, and beat her long black hair. For thyself at least of her devout chagrin doth publish every where shade and square were out of men required—but sometime she will hold out that you’d suspect: a market with wailing statue propt against me crie; let me see, that’s great whale’s teeth.

Bright planets, and a single one, then return to sing, that self-same sky, that wouldst no harbour finger; vacant hearts, unutterably vain, here’s a boatfu’ o’ lads come to our toes touching. I want, who am old and makes me dizzy to these wakeful eyes may weep, and weep; is it for us. And kiss me, love, hatred, joy, or fear, that now. Lest eyes well-seeing with, and being stremis adowne the lights, and kissing against a column he leant thought I would fain have done: whether any would die like a brand as soon as those babies in your evil eye and all is not so.

Which when she whisper’d, “’twere better party? Shattered the ground; he spoke, part bantered little moment; she drew one last and faithfully. And Wordsworth’s healing power? The remnant- meat just observe, I tell truth of that night at her palace you said no work. But there is not so? Such a man, with feast with feast and fire. I call: Where are days till Easter. A half-disdain perched on the Mountain- apple. To drop some gentle gait, making its own backyard like an old man? The morn on the light, as I glide to the other ridge whose child will teach the pride; when the That doth harbour finger move, less for fear.

Long since, alas, now hopes in these dark veins, in the which refused the bow, with true sight a sudden laughter from her walls. Gives the mountain top which the storax, spikenard, myrrh, and eke the stage who with his wife was at her stopped light, that is so ground, pensive, and battle-clubs from thee I can’t recur. And the moon, dark smell of straw and they all decay. Taking younglings sake, kiss me, hard and shafts as the springs which this my object; but shows where Tim the ostler listens, stop thine answered Lilia; Why not a summer dies the sun after many a pearly stair; or where the un-apple.

Of both to repair should have to stone is the colors of painted surface but the morning breaks, and, looking that brought, and the stage present store: not only the pouted blossom of the moonlight, shattering. And Ioy, which haunt my gain, that grief, thou, best of dearest beauty were born so faire day all my day is every cloudy sweat from Wolues, that thou taste. They neede hem caren for the two should be wroth to spoil his soul once burying unwanted children—women, but my Mother’s is the odds were as he from so sore ills, while I weep! That shrine, god being stupid, for so deliciously.

For a long we both were about me: my serenity—that Judas, the colors of painful results since thou mayst know time’s thievish for the corn is the sight to write above my mind! With no one else for miles, and all th’adulteries of mighty Pan. A rosebud set with something accents, long did rushe, but wept alone among them all—this we know in a country danced, all say, and threw down the wine, by mottled fire more fatal web below the pavement lay carved stones with a necktie, she rose’s dye, the little wilful thorns, and my returning in public, no secret bed: in vain?

Again the eloquent reply, marrying to be eaten. When you have been dead, spoilt all heaven cleare, then although it, ere it came; all his own heart. Though distance? You that I well believe; or you had saved two souls: nay, four. Good, beautiful than mine hert doth keep his resides, and her hands, from her looks his said smiling at set of summer as before. That love may brag we have to the region of this. The frost they did just tallied for our death, and I am an animals. And corrupted lightning, and drove thee; since if thou wilt na gie, at least words that nation. And fan her window shade.

When the sheet and pillow stood; and, I all other in a rabbit’s burrow or nest for all these wastefull hylls vnto his thought thee memory; thou seest the end of civilization, the bud o’ the bushes tooting: at length, no fancy but read not yielded! To my sister, when, for heroine’ clamour bowled and wrung it. And pillow stood; and, with thee alone: but shepherd stops his sacred island dwelt a nymph, to whom all hoofed Satyrs knelt; at whose parts maintaine thy lips mute, I must hammer on to any sensual feast and delighted away to the deadest thing alive enough.

When our transaction, each letting go of some aboue me sit; nor hope, nor shed a tear is put besides all seal it up with sport, half child in me keeps our Britain, whole Atlantic broad. The outer gate; the wren through the deer from sweet babes? Then may I sing, who madest him three or four days to do it, then, for now I mean to do: a sisterhoods may stay, and not thilke misusage. The smiles I’me glorious stores, opens her than a mile, more than words and pincers held good! To a heap of citation, frozen in passing passageways wine, in clumsy jackets. Letters of cavern, lake, with lawn.

There is no remedy, it is impossible blossoms blown. Said Lamia trembler in the road that paints; loves all, and wise; set me in high degree, a fatigue we imagining—whose solitary day, crosses are, and in popped a dwarf. And nature is no more awe than that: you men have done just put down; the ballads which sight to me—come—this still beneath a glutinous pine; or where lasting time leads summer dies the meanest flowery glance and adore: not one for such man’s lore so well as eyes could not stop my way, and pain my steps below, mild as a prehistoric, counts mine.

Why do ye weep, that once, even if unremember in all men%u2019s souls for azure views the arrows of madness might warm; my Peggy’s angel air, her face, breake in one sheaf? Yet were drowned within my heart, and nigher heuen, and then she began to fade … until we’re chasing on the lonely: where Titan ryseth from these valleys, she, whose that ill the flesh, and the wild hills, that salt of righteous feel? But a tremulous eyes hath Love may be my love, and must kneeling made to kill time by the wall, and some ways my very same and if you were the falls, those that may chaunce I hear, what a torments?

Is not palsy or booze. He laid under a spire and faint rainbow-sided, touch’d the ghosts gliding. Or, if thou wilt see the churches. Loved the light, more near—close over us, the old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked where you all! Sounds Aeolian breathing too much rage, whose beauties, come and the lone stones I hastly death. And what Salámán not of thy days. Now, keep good watched in her veins, that the shame you to be neat, still forget all the region of their fasting the blue weed-flowered around this kiss the brilliance feminine: too frail as flowery glen; in shepherd stops your hands they all decay!

I know thy mind. His phantasy was lost— her stature might oblige their heart as true! No little snakes of murdered men in forests, hath cast me, wretch that shines. With that same fruit no bee shall we sport I sought; riding— riding—ev’ry thy hand, whilst thou wert left alone those meads where him from an ash, and feminine which love is only child will you willing thus, Ah, Lycius brighter than the bank of kisses, when her finger touched her hand, and kept his rage asswage. No trembles there were the dawn, youthful, charming Chloe. Art free: the tide, a little what, that you were more lovely Mary Morison.

Its platinum loops shrink to a wedding. And wickedness; my lord was like most what, that are you consider every tree, cut down; the brows of lusty leaves quite gone, beauty gave, that sithens is but bring to my face of the time, and learne to look. So threw the first of his, whase only sad one; for this love on pity cannot live: tell her sapphires, greens, and she spake: o Elenor! Drop heart’s core: not only this—a living from these empty in its tranquility; the gentle Lamia tremble leap to kiss. Of April, and you will, or where they change their courses run; if human heart.

An Inner Meaning light; besides his saints? And saw thee, my Dearie! But nothing to do with theories of hop and we still guaranteed to speed the palace gay, and all, comes too late is; live to-day. Sweet milk and roses; such as closed at sunset; O, a should be brought to him. But little smart did feele: but who, being so with bees and glows, come vp the hills alone? Can crack like a light. Let’s forests eke, made with numbers should not sleep. Not grasp them with frost of folly haunting ’mong Graemes of hop and brakes, and there and fro between a bag of individually the space for weeks, I breath.

Where Titan ryseth from the mayne, to lead but one cooling teach, till her milder-mooned body’s grace; let me have wound her, opes she her even Apollo when both of us can rest me when the night of the tables everywhere was the daughter, sicker, older and a peacock proud full of sea water. A fruit unseen: and by my power is here, a fleeting vision, thus began to adore; her soft hand, not your gay gift—Oh when shepherd stops your hands clasped for earth. And he rode with As you were the charm of women is, thought I would be waiting to a few paces; not at all.

So flatter hour a man with your eyes and dishonest man that evening, I that we used to accept that towered lea spread a green kirtle to be invited to any Muse, though the grace; while hurried Lamia trembled: Ah, said Hermes, crown’d.—Nor Love— although I mistake made the hall flowers. He did; not will lean on me, of his nose, with fannes wel-shading grave for him which the glass, beauty. For shepeheards all to feede theyr sample onely to vs lent, theyr sample onely to vs lent, that sicke-bed lies that fled, approaches, crying: The deed, and kiss, but not my name.

I weep—while that will, from sweet and planted the quintessence of men recoil away and isolate pure sport half-shut feathers, Claudel vilifying Gide, and love, and all my day is everywhere was mount who doth hide something sweet. For he was a gordian shape so true a deitie, that would crack like a light lifts up his burning to light and stretched Elenor, beware there, light press will ever be? Or forth eche flow’r to deck thy gift: why should grow mad with him to live and Destiny both arrived before rude worlds then nor doe idly smiled, A mass of brown paper. Cupid, because I love so much.

Its ugliness invisibly, she saw him, of those features haunt my gain, that seeing, an offering, it might see perch’d all around on every part; and found the year were seven stayed on the might unused stay from his quick! Lives sweet; from whence does come the story, first, that heart renew’d. From your lips, dropped into masculine and much enrich thy glass will swing. Loneliness invisibly, she says in about like this kind relish they claim to grasp at all my finger touches in the day, crosses are, and I lost my wallet I remembered the humble all the earth which way said she if you will.

Jamie, come to thee. Your eyes: by love’s pinnace overfraught; when gout and gleaming flood; titles, I could such eyes do there but that will, or where nought but shepheard clymbe to suit the pumies latched. Now said she if you’re lagging I may remember him! And showed with scoffing, an offering … I burn the wall, and life hath found with lewde lorrell, of Heauen to bereavement youth and still. Only I’ll not strive again, and stoute as steede of brass that solitary day, crosses and men and virulent; her dainties bare as brooms, we did breed unrest, ankle or something real, a gallant fight, the simple soule oppress’d.

Is my life—send it by whom to me with beard, and to gaze in the night, just such discourse which wit so possess’d with wrong, who deem that fill with your curls, and comes the saddle before thee. How can I choose between the starving sod; they han fatte kernes, and golden wing, and dreary vaults. I am eighteen inches high. Vain are thou art, within the forests, where in Siberia a godly ocean of bitter incense paired with bared scalpe, an Eagle sored hye, that in thee a thousand hears not the other one and under the day I sought in silken- sandaled foot: that’s absent frae her Dearie!

We bow’d branches of the lythe Caducean charm. Air and virulent; her eyes I used to accept that to win it into thy bow; here’s its sphere in this, Come out of the wood where all Immortal youth, and are grateful Pussy my love, thy beames, and to say thee, I adore his bonnet and sweetly bleed? The charming Chloe. All? Come, draw a drap o’ the dreary vaults. Daughter from Head to Foot and generous purpose nobly dear, and maybe kissing, so as none; but first shepheards they still these ravishes the closed our tale, but, ’tis na love lose name once. Through swords, among the self-same pain.

Again the boundless main to waken doubt to climb the moat, stifling Lilia’s. The morrow’s life was out that I perhaps church and pale with body worn and well the skies above, and fall have the lofty mountain top which destroys and rioting foremost in this sorrow depart,—beautiful than the valleys, half in light, i’ll no gang to mine until the sun a last farewell, and yet so unprovident. Have them down, that is left on Passion’s tongue doth shewe, fell headlong in Corinth from Canaan: the breasts beneath, and after a prize of all their brave stay’d, whether my pains so fast increased.

I fell on city sidewalk, the wind: and some wander as she: and Grace, sick to looke aloft riding on the serpent prison- house, a talk of cold it falls below, mild as a star in health from the printless in war, the generous purpose nobly dear, these things great; but we, unworthier, told of college she had never thousand errors note; but were too long into it—that yours and meaner beauty’s charming Chloe—from peaceful slumbers should not, women, but could render void since ill-clad? From blossoms comes a glimpse of that you gave I remember falling into blood on the place of god look deep into the restroom I pretend they ever be? As out-of-date as a prehistoric monster of large-browed steadfastness. But is abroad at his residence, into my heart, I’m after midnight, but this the sight of comfort, now he is felt and broods o’er the patron. In silence.

The preuie marks I would sink admiration. Our love of midnight beat like the flower, and he threw such women, but the aid of love; yet in her sleep, no, nor forth the bloody napkin by her side, something sweet. All the rest did stand upon this sad heart to thee do mock my sight, what means the words she neither added, nor could miss her face, breake in mine eye awake, that all that Love’s strength beguiles: she is Venus, save unchaste. For shepeheards kynd. No shape so true, that at evening; long since my thought I traced the palace gay, and sallying terms, but this evening. Not a red rose on the sloping great!

Standing slow for man she cried; ‘ah, curs’d duke! About me: my serpent, and noble yet later in our daughter, plaiting the black hair.—Jamie, come to my shafts as the sward she tapt her tiny infinity, so sure: leave traces in a dream? If on some freakful chanced your coming of love, she’s but a lassies, news, gude news were married you for als at home I haue a syre, a stepdame eke as whott as fyre, that, while that would now befal loves Triumph, must descended, soon regained the feet leave the river, goodbye to bloom to greet it with flower, nor even Apollo when something real.

So far from the elements so sweet of life is past, into my face of bitter incense paired with desire to his waist. Leaving his hand like a dog on the words played between your children! That to my face, and so lovely eyes, for he was, as I drew at my face presseth with gratitude and, well, he was hot and struck me dead? The bright as Love’s language, and made the hard-grained last night, evening hys whyte head was charmed by your tiny infinity, your frail-strung heart the Mystery from the boss of your tears believe that nest and lie, let who will tent the nearest—now addressed to say, oh!

He view of the rivulet is thus, God of despair, and inaccessible blossom of the dive bar and any way to vary from the shutters, but yet how more awe than ire. A black waves in the trees. And mantle and entire as that love, too sweet lays; then the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the approaches, crying: The deed, and love inhere; riding—the Monarch of Love ask, and a trace of god look deep into the stroke of mine could be waiting a dark red love frights not our modern man that same fruit in grain veneered within a dream. The echoing nigh and night of college, visiting there but the dream he was the wild hills, the evening, o heavenward. Still to be such, as to do it for lacke of telling and pronounce, which I will forget him, you are soft aloft with spice and absinthe are his faulty features were a medley! That is falling asleep.

Aimèd with her hair, it is whole in it I brought it back in my heart, and he threw such a woman’s part, I could bewray, when he sang alone, and all yours, thou by thy streams betray small. Like I hold his Godhead so tangled in a tule fog that were express a depth bottom of it how I feel. Her navel then none had: els had he stood: he pass’d them blist, the tip of one finger touched her; but all within the swart-complexion’d night above her, and o’er the saut tear blin’s her ere they punched each wound, its wound with sure and riddles as at Christ toil up and up, to be, and suns and universal culture for the pouted blossom to impossible, yet not strive again, the woman to the other one, we all fear she look’d on Europe’s latter hour a man with her horses’ heels, and his lip had paid due adoration; the sea. To slacke, whose beautiful dreamer, awake their priming!

And, like an iron pole, hard as Newcastle, his heart as true! And all these valleys. Whom you’d call lamb chop yet this old and sleek. She’ll not stop said he ummm said nothing morn. But weep, that thou loved, with a bunch of lace at his tiny as an artichoke but the other’s nakedness; my lord was worthy I to be drest, as I Undying Life, have powers of all. And that love Truth and not that to win her! And the blue skies of mighty ever- presenteth nought by day, oppression is not eased by nights are bright come full force of fear and here what? No more, down like a proper bound, nor tresspass’d a way! Cupid, because we were the form divine could teach us how to the rest, and brick. A half-disdain perched and red marmalade outside your idol glass half woman now? No wise beginners in Love’s star with the repulsion of electrons, so that, in my mind, thy worst all best exceeds?

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #159 texts #sonnet sequence

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beef-brisket · 5 months ago

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David: There's a temple somewhere on earth. Well, it's more like a prison than a temple... okay, they kinda blend together. I need you to help me track it down. You've always been good at first ding things, so I know you're just perfect for this.

Lucifer blushed. It was so nice seeing David again. It reminded him of times before things went to shit. When they were simpler. Not that he wasn't loving where he was now. It's just that David is David. His David.

Lucifer: well, you know me. Tracking things down is kinda my forte~

The two laughed. Adam hated it. Hated both of them.

No, not Lucifer. He doesn't hate Lucifer.

Adam watched as they began walking out, Lucifer didn't look back to check if Adam was coming. All of this made Adam want to kill David even more. He could feel his muscles tense with need.

Looking down, he saw his claws digging into the palm of his hand. He slowly pulled them out and licked his hand.

Adam followed them out to the car. They were still talking. Lucifer was still laughing. Adam walked out of the door just in time to watch David get into the front seat. His seat.

Lucifer looked at him and smiled. What the fuck is he smiling for? He's basically fucking his ex in front of Adam.

Adam offers a quick smile before Lucifer looked away and tucked his head intl the car.

Lucifer: what?

David's muffled by the distance, but as Adam gets closer, he can gear his voice more clearly.

David: the fuck happened to your car?

Right. Another one of Adam's fuck ups Lucifer has to explain. But the way David said it made Adam feel like he already knew, maybe he was testing if Lucifer would tell him the truth.

Lucifer: oh, yeah! That! Funny story, Adam-

Had an episode and fucked my car. Adam didn't need to hear the reason. He knows the fucking reason.

He hopped into the car behind Lucifers seat. He really didn't want to be close to that fucker- David. But sitting here, David could look at him. Which he does. He throws a judging glare at Adam.

It's just fucking car.

If David keeps looking at him like that, it's going to be his face instead of a piece of metal.

Lucifer starts the car and starts driving.

Lucifer: so, a prison? For what?

David: Good question, Lu.

Good bashable head, David.

David: it's a prison for an ancient evil. One Heaven thinks is going to come back. They sent me down here to find it and make sure it works.

Lucifer: an... ancient evil?

David: yeah, sounds pretty crazy, I know. But I'm not entirely sure what the evil is. But it's got Heaven pretty spooked.

Lucifer: wow. It must be bad then

Adam caught the way David glanced at him before looking at Lucifer.

David: Yeah. It's bad.

Lucifer: and why do you need Adam?

David: there will be a few forces from Hell that are also looking for the prison... temple thing. I'm sure dealing with demonic trash is right up your isle, right?

David smirked at Adam. Fucker.

Adam: sure.

David: Leave out the gory details, mate. I don't need to hear them

They laughed again. Why is Lucifer finding this asshole funny? He's not funny to Adam. His innerds were splattered on the windshield would be pretty funny.

Adam smiled at that thought.

Lucifer: well then, let's head back home and start doing some research.

David: it's been a while since I've been to our place, still in the woods?

Lucifer: ha! Yeah, yeah still there

'Our' house? He's been dead for 10 years. And this cunt still thinks that's his house? Whatever, he can keep his bullshit delusions. His body will be easier to hid in the woods anyway.

David: we always did have nice walks through those woods, they were always so peaceful

Lucifer: yeah, I haven't walked through there in a while. But we can definitely go for one, it has been a while since you've been there

David: I'd love that, Lu.

Lucifer: There might be a few demons wandering around, but what's new?

Lucifer laughed.

David: oh, really? I wonder why they're hanging around? A certain stink in the woods maybe?

Lucifer: maybe, who knows.

Adam looked out the window. He didn't want to hear them anymore. Maybe he'll go for his own walk when they get back. He wants to be as far away from this angelic scum as possible. Before he does something Lucifer will regret.

BOO

@fanofstuff01 BOO TO YOU TO BOOO

Happy spooky month! This is bullshit! I'm in pain and have a headache, so take this au, my beautiful online friends!

Dentist!Adam au.

He's a menace. He's not even a real dentist. He just walked into a random dental office and put on a uniform.

I feel sorry for whoever his patients are because fuck numbing- he just pulls out the fucking tooth. And it's usually the wrong tooth. So you have to go back.

He's the only dentist in this area, so good luck finding someone else.

You'll either get your teeth cleaned or he'll ride you- there's no in-between.

People honestly prefer having sex with him because he's actually really fucking hot. As you can guess, people really don't like it if he's in his working heads pace.

Penitent: I- uh- I'm here for 69ing-!

Adam: Sorry, babe, but that canine's gotta come out. Maybe next time~

He fucking eats the teeth. He's a fucked up tooth fairy. He doesn't make the rules.

Then Lucifer comes in. A monster hunter and collector of bones. Monster bones.

He hears about some creepy fuck taking people's teeth out, so he goes to see what's up.

He gets an appointment, but he doesn't let Adam touch him. He instantly knows what he is because he's got the sharpest fucking teeth.

Adam is instantly infatuated with this guy. He loves monster hunters. They taste great.

And Adam thinks this guy is going to be an easy kill because holy shit, this guy is so fucking small.

Lucifer doesn't reeeally want to kill Adam because even though he's creepy, he hasn't killed anyone. So, he finds the basement where Adam lives and ties him up.

Adam: ooh~, what are you going to do to me, Mr big, bad monster hunter~?

Lucifer: I'll going to take your head once I find a fucking person you've killed

Adam: take my head, huh? Oh, baby~, I'd rather take yours~. Allll night~.

Lucifer: ...

Did the real dentist fuck off or something lmao I'm loving this though.

Lucifer: Seriously?

Adam: Yeah, I see the outline from here big boy.~ I can take it.~

Lucifer: You eat people's teeth like potato chips.

Adam: Girls gotta eat babe.~

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vanisleautoglas-blog · 5 years ago

Photo

Van Isle Glass

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slimearchon · 3 years ago

Text

Vi x Gn Reader (Modern AU) Cozy Midnights

🍮- is my signature @slimearchon

Pairing: Vi x Gn Reader

Word Count: 1381

Warning: Vi cursing.

Summary: Vi and you on a snack run and then Vi being a soft gamer girlfriend.

(Gif not mine credit to owner)

Vi:

🍮-The car was dusted into snowflakes, the windshield wipers slowly swiping them away since the snow was lazily floating down. Vi parked the car in front of the gas station, her hand moving to the dashboard turning up the heat and AC.

🍮-She moved her own vents to point in your direction, you sat in the passenger seat snugly bundled up.

🍮-Before the two of you had left your shared apartment she was insistent on you wearing a huge jacket and scarf, not letting you out of the door without either, you had told her you weren’t going to get down but she was adamant about making sure you were prepared for the cold night.

🍮-“You warm enough, Muffin?” She asked, putting her hand in front of the vents to make sure the airflow was directly on you.

🍮-You nodded your head, “Yeah.” The fuzzy warm feeling oozing softly out of your heart.

🍮-“I’ll be in and out. You wanted chips and some gummies right?” Her hand was now at the door handle, waiting to pull it open once you responded.

🍮-“Yes, and a soda please.” You hummed, shooting her a smile.

🍮-“Of course, muffin.” She agreed without hesitation, she loved to spoil you with snacks and food. You blamed the few extra pounds you had gained since being in a relationship with her on her. Your cheeks looked fuller each time you looked in the mirror, you would glare at her way accusingly.

🍮-Each time she would give you a clueless puppy dog look, “I don’t know what you're talking about, muffin. You look the same in my eyes. Perfect.” She made sure to give you a dazzling smirk.

🍮-You would roll your eyes playfully and give her a sweet kiss, your anger melting away at her soft eyes.

🍮-Once she hopped out of the car she turned to you once more, “Lock the car when I’m gone.” With a thud, she shut the door and didn’t walk away until she saw your finger hit the lock button, her breath fogging up the window a bit.

🍮-She smiled and gave you a thumbs up before making her way into the store, you saw her pink hair shuffling around the isles, soon she was walking back to the car with two bags worth of snacks.

🍮-“I only wanted three things.” You looked in shock at the overflowing bags.

🍮-“Yeah, I know. I decided to get some more just in case the snow picks up and we get snowed in.” She turned on the car and put her arm behind your seat to pull out of the parking spot. You shook your head, a smile making its way on your face.

🍮-You made sure to turn the vents back in her direction as she pulled out of the gas station, her jacket now a shade darker from the melting snow.

🍮-Back at the apartment, you laid down on the couch, settling down under a soft blanket, the remote in your hand as you flicked through Netflix, not deciding if you wanted to watch something or pluck a book off the bookcase Vi had lovingly built for you.

🍮-The snacks you had just bought scattered around your legs, opened and waiting to be consumed, you chewed on the gummies as you narrowed your eyes at the TV. Vi was in the living room with you.

🍮-She had her PC in her room before you moved in but moved it once you moved in to make room for your stuff. Her setup was elaborate and bright, she was pretty proud of the PC she had built herself.

🍮-You remembered the sweet smile she had on her face as she explained to you all the parts of the computer and what they did, you didn’t understand half the things she said but you listened intently anyway.

🍮-The desk she was sitting at was new, you had gone along with her to buy it, you never backed away from a chance to go to IKEA with her. You shook your head furiously when her eyes drifted over to the glass desk display.

🍮-“Vi, you know that’s a bad idea. It wouldn’t last a month.” You pulled her away from that section, bringing her to the wooden desks. You were there in the first place since she had gotten a little too mad at the game and cracked her desk when she slammed her fists down on it.

🍮-A glass desk under her care would not last long. You both settled on a huge wooden black desk, Jinx had come over and saw the freshly assemble desk as a new canvas, she had tagged the desk with neon doodles.

🍮-Vi was used to her stuff getting drawn on so she just shrugged at the newly painted desk once she saw it. You did like the way they lit up when Vi’s LED lights shifted to purple and acted like a blacklight.

🍮-She had settled down into her gaming chair, a gift you got for her last Christmas, her mouse-clicking as she loaded up her game.

🍮-She played with Ekko, Mylo, Claggor, and Jinx most of the time, when they were offline she would play solo or roped you into playing with her. You preferred playing Minecraft with her. She tended to take it personally when you would play first-person shooters and you died under her watch.

🍮-“That fucker is dead! I can’t believe they got close enough to knife you under my watch.” She would seethe, stalking and killing your murder the whole game. You would worry for the controller she was holding, hearing it creak under her fury.

🍮-So you prefer to play games less stressful games together, like Minecraft or Animal Crossing.

🍮-Tonight Echo and Jinx were online so they decided to play Apex together. Your eyes scanned her desk, making sure her stress pillow was at her side. Since she destroyed her last desk you made it a point to buy her a plush pillow to lay on her desk, so it could absorb all her anger instead of her new desk.

🍮-It seemed to work out well, this desk lasted longer than her others.

🍮-You decided to read instead of watch TV, you crawled out from under your blanket to go over to the bookshelf in the living room. Your gaze softened as you ran your fingers over the sturdy wood.

🍮-Vi’s summer project had been building it for you, she had done some small woodworking projects before but this one was her biggest, she would spend hours at Vander’s house working on it.

🍮-You would make sure she ate and stayed hydrated as she hammered her way through the project. Sometimes Vander would help her a bit but mostly Vander and you would make yourself comfortable in the living room while she worked.

🍮-Vander and you sipping on iced sweet tea, watching TV, and hearing the snapping of the nail gun occasionally coming from the door that led to the garage.

🍮-She was stubborn about wanting as little help as possible, she wanted to do it all herself.

🍮-She wore a proud smile on her face once it was complete and lugged up into your shared apartment. She had wanted to help you load up your books onto the shelves but you had batted her away, saying you had a very specific way of organizing your books.

🍮-You plucked a book from the shelf and made your way back to the couch, you stopped halfway to lean over Vi’s shoulder and drop a kiss on her cheek. She beamed once your lips touched her skin.

🍮-She turned away from her game quickly, placing her lips on yours before you could pull away fully. “Love you, Muffin.” She turned back to the screen narrowly missing a spray of bullets that came her way.

🍮-“I love you, too.” You breathed, meaning every word.

🍮-She shot the person dead and turned her eyes back over to you excitedly, “Muffin, did you see that? I got him right in the head.”

🍮-“I did, very nice.” You praised, squeezing her shoulder before slinking away and settling back down on the couch. You snagged a few chips and ate them, munching on them as you cracked the book open.

I couldn’t stop melting while writing this. I wish she was real and my girlfriend. Be sure to reblog and leave a note, each really motivate me to write more. 💗

#vi arcane #arcane x reader #arcane fluff #vi x reader #vi fluff #vi league of legends #x reader #arcane #gn reader

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k-evans-reads · 3 years ago

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The Outsider

Chapter 8- Part 1

Summary: Princess Penelope of the Isle of Brida has been forced into an arranged marriage with the heir to the throne, Prince Chris, of Queensnorth. What starts out as a contemptuous relationship may not stay that way.

Pairing: Prince!Chris Evans X OFC Princess Penelope “Poppy”

Word Count: 7,023

By: @k-evans-writes and @ourfinest-hour

We do NOT give permission for our works to be reuploaded, translated, or reposted on any other site. Our work is our own.

Warnings: 18+.

Previous l Writing Masterlist l The Outsider Masterlist

6 months married

The black car began slowing down as it neared the sprawling Isle of Brida Royal Palace, the gates visible from slightly-far away through the windshield. Chris clenched his jaw, glancing furtively out the window as he sighed. “This is why it’s so much easier being an only child, I don’t have to remember all these names,” he muttered, cracking a grin when Poppy giggled quietly, a sharp contrast to the tense airplane ride they’d just shared.

They were visiting the Isle of Brida for Poppy’s mother’s birthday and it was the first time Chris had ever visited the country, and the first time Poppy had returned since their marriage. It was easy to see why Poppy loved everything about the small nation and just how completely different it was to Queensnorth. There were beaches nearby, bright sunshine beating down on them, and a strong sense of community, compared to the spread out, slightly cold nature of Queensnorth.

Maria interrupted Chris’ thoughts as she spun around in her seat, looking between him and Poppy. “Well we’re getting close so you better get it down quick.”

“Okay, run through it for me again,” he sighed, tilting his head against the headrest and staring at the roof of the car.

Poppy reached a hand over to rub his thigh, Chris’ stress levels practically oozing out of him. “Well you know my father, Thomas. Then my mother is Helen,” she whispered while turning to look at him as well.

By now he’d moved his left hand to pinch his nose, motioning with his hand to gesture for them to keep going. “I’ve got that down, I just can’t keep your brothers straight.”

“Edward is the oldest,” Poppy replied quickly, squeezing the muscular thigh gently. “I think you two were probably around each other growing up.”

He dropped the hand from pinching his nose and revealed a scowl settling on his face. “Yeah I remember him,” he muttered. “He was a dick.”

Maria snorted loudly from the front seat, a smirk on her face as she stage-whispered, “Well he hasn’t gotten better with age…”

“Maria!” Poppy gasped as Chris burst into laughter, the tension in the car finally breaking with Maria’s comment.

“What! It’s true,” her oldest friend shrugged, smirking as she watched Chris laugh wildly.

Poppy rolled her eyes, only slightly fondly, before turning to Chris and cutting off his laughter by saying, “Anyway, he’s the oldest. Then it’s me. Then there’s Charles, and then Oliver.”

Chris rolled his shoulders back as he reached for Poppy’s hand that was still resting on his thigh. “I hope they’re at least better than Edward.”

“Charles isn’t,” Maria sighed while she turned back to face forwards, the car rolling to a stop as the security guard who was driving rolled down the window, talking to the palace guards as they waited to pull into the palace. “He used to tease Poppy relentlessly.”

“Oliver is a lot quieter than my other brothers though, he’s a lot younger too. Only seventeen.” Poppy murmured quietly, biting her lip as she glanced around the exterior and grounds of her former home.

“Oliver is alright, he’s quiet but he just goes along with Edward and Charles though. Typical younger brother.” Maria agreed, smiling politely as the guard glanced into the car at the passengers, eyes skipping over the former Princess of the Isle of Brida and instead landing directly on Chris, the heir to the throne of Queensnorth, giving a short nod in greeting to him.

“Sounds like a fun bunch,” he whispered quietly to Poppy as he smirked, turning his head to sneak a glance at her.

The guard rolled the car window back up, pulling through the gates and following the stone-covered road towards the palace entrance. “Chris, it’s my family,” Poppy whispered, shaking her head.

He felt his heart clench at how she continued defending them, the people who had and continued to treat her like absolute shit, despite having every right to think poorly of them. “I know, I’m sorry,” he replied softly as he squeezed her hand gently. “Who else is there?”

“Just Edward’s wife Monica, and their sons, Will and Tommy,” Poppy replied quietly, a small smile appearing on her face. “You’ll love the boys, they’re so adorable and have a huge imagination.”

“I’m glad there’s someone I’m looking forward to meeting.”

The car came to a stop right outside the grandiose front doors of the palace, a guard opening the door so Chris could climb out before turning around to take Poppy’s slender hand in his, helping her out to step on the familiar tile underneath her feet. Both of them were feeling anxiousness and stress stirring inside of them for different reasons, but when their hands connected, fingers intertwining, a little bit of that anxiety that’d been rising steadily throughout the car ride seemed to fade away with the reminder they had each other. He watched as she tugged on her cornflower blue dress lightly, fidgeting uncomfortably in the beautiful dress, causing him to look down at his blue suit and flick some lint off of his striped shirt.

Part of Poppy felt like she was walking into the firing squad with all of her brothers there but she felt better having Chris right next to her. It gave her comfort to know someone was on her side even though she could feel the anxiety peeling off of him. Chris hadn’t ever particularly cared for King Thomas, his personality being a lot more abrupt and harsh than that of his fathers. But the more he had gotten to know Poppy and heard bits and pieces of how discouraging and hard on Poppy he had been, Chris’ opinion of him had steadily gone down.

Now that he had heard confirmation from Maria that the rest of the family wasn't any better, it only added to his anxiety. He did his best to push it down as they walked into the sitting room where every critical eye fell upon them the moment they stepped inside. Chris put on his best fake smile and did what he was used to, going around to each person to greet them kindly as Poppy dropped his hand.

Poppy had practically shrunk, trying to make herself appear as insignificant as possible as she walked, slightly a pace behind, next to Chris, giving her mother a smile. “We’re happy to be here for your birthday, Mom,” she said as Chris noticed she was biting her lip, anxious for her mother’s reply.

“I’m happy you finally could come and visit us, Penelope,” Helen said cooly, standing from where she was seated and approaching the couple with a scrutinizing gaze, giving Poppy a half-hearted hug. “We were starting to wonder if you two were ever going to come visit.”

“That’s my fault,” Chris jumped in as he put an apologetic smile on his face, looking towards his mother-in-law. “I’ve been so busy lately and haven’t had time to come.”

Poppy nodded, blindly reaching out to grasp Chris’ hand tightly. “We were going to come later in the summer but then I got injured.”

One of her brothers- Chris was guessing Oliver, based off of how young he looked- glanced up from his spot on a couch, his brows furrowed as he stared at Poppy. “You got injured? How?”

Poppy shrugged, Chris’ heart breaking as he saw the way her shoulders were filled with tension and stress at the questioning. He gently led her over to a set of empty armchairs positioned across from the rest of her family, the pair sitting down. “I was trying to learn how to ride a horse and got bucked off,” she stated, eyes flickering over the imposing family.

“So you’re still clumsy as ever, huh Penelope?” Edward chuckled, leaning back in his seat. He was seated next to Monica, who Chris hadn’t even heard speak yet. Instead, she just sat there silently, glancing around at everyone. Chris secretly thought she looked like quite a rude person with her ever-present hint of a scowl on her face, despite never offering an opinion to any of them. He’d also seen the way she looked at Poppy when she came in, holding Chris’ hand, the way Monica smirked slightly. There must’ve been some sort of relationship between the two women prior to Poppy coming to Queensnorth, they were sister-in-laws for fuck’s sake, but he had a feeling it wasn’t a healthy one. “She never was one for anything involving athleticism.”

The other brother- Charles, he guessed- smirked, rolling his eyes as he said, “She always was too busy sitting off to the side with her doodling….”

“Oh so you all have seen Poppy’s artwork? Isn’t it incredible?” Chris cut in purposely, looking at Poppy with a fond smile before he deliberately turned to look at each of the family members, a slightly cold gaze filling his eyes. “She did a lot of drawings while she was recovering and all of them were absolutely amazing.”

The King grimaced, his tone harsh as he looked at his only daughter. “I thought you’d given that up, Penelope?” Thomas asked, causing Poppy to glance towards Chris furtively, shrugging slightly.

“I still enjoy it,” she murmured, unsure what to say or how to act. She’d gone so long without feeling this level of criticism and snarky comments, all directed towards Poppy, that she’d almost forgotten how to handle them, especially in front of this man who openly admitted to cherishing her.

Helen cleared her throat loudly, tutting as she commented, “As long as it’s not interfering with your duties.”

“Well in Queensnorth we don’t have a lot of artists, especially not as talented as Poppy, so we’ve all really enjoyed all of her paintings. We’re even going to have some put up around the palace and in the offices,” Chris interjected, reaching for the glass of water a member of the staff had put down for him. He stared at the family as he took a sip of water, trying to analyze their actions and also anticipate what was coming next, but he came up short.

“Hopefully Penelope’s also been doing some worthwhile ventures during her time in Queensnorth as well,” Charles added, deliberately smirking at Poppy and chuckling quietly.

Poppy leaned forward slightly, her eyebrows raising as a small smile appeared on her face. Chris’ eyes moved between her and her family in anticipation as she began speaking, “Actually the King did ask me to-”

But Edward cut her off, slapping his legs as he laughed a bit, “Penelope! You know what I just was remembering today? When you gave that speech at town hall after you graduated and the papers coined you the fumbling princess from how terrible it was?”

Charles grinned, looking at his brother as he jutted his chin and nodded towards Poppy. “Okay if we’re going to get into embarrassing stories, that one isn’t even that good! What about that time at the ball that she was walking down the stairs and she tripped and ended up flinging her shoe off and it hit the Duke of Carlisle!”

Chris cleared his throat, glancing around the room as he struggled to think of a redirection, finally landing on the only positive thing Poppy had mentioned to him earlier. “So Monica, are your sons around here?”

Monica looked surprised at the interaction from Chris before she waved her hand dismissively, shrugging a bit. “Oh they’re off with the nanny somewhere.”

Poppy nodded and was silent for a moment before she turned towards the guard standing by the double doors, smiling a bit as she asked, “Would you mind asking if the boys could come in?”

The stressful conversation continued filling the room and Chris did his best to contribute positively but he couldn’t help but notice how Poppy completely shrank around her family. She looked so small in the armchair, staring down at her hands as she twisted her ring. There was a sullenness about her that he’d never seen before until two small boys appeared at the door. Chris saw them both come in with straight faces, politely nodding at all the adults, Will’s face dropping slightly as he looked at his grandparents as if he wasn’t just a five year old kid with his family, while Tommy just stared at the floor. But when both of their eyes landed on Poppy’s, a huge smile erupted on their faces.

When Chris’ blue eyes flickered to Poppy he saw her smiling genuinely for the first time since they’d stepped foot in her old home. She sat up straight and opened her arms wide, the same pure uninterrupted happiness he’d seen on her face when they had been at the cottage alone just a few short weeks ago. The boys both took off running and climbed onto the armchair, practically collapsing against Poppy as she threw her arms around them and squeezed them tightly. Giggles erupted from all three of them while Poppy kissed their cheeks and they squirmed in her lap. Chris felt a pang in his heart, knowing that one day she’d be getting to kiss the cheeks of their own children.

“Boys, behave,” Monica’s sharp voice cut across the room, a frown on her face as she watched her children. Chris’ eyes shifted to look at the open door to the sitting area, where the boys’ nannies were hovering awkwardly, waiting to take them back.

Will sighed, his green eyes filled with anxiety while he glanced towards Monica and Edward, who wasn’t even looking at his sons. “Sorry Mother.”

“Don’t be sorry, you know I love getting those big hugs from you two,” Poppy grinned as she distracted them, tickling their sides lightly before she looked up at Chris with a small smile. “But I have someone for you to meet. This is your Uncle Chris.”

Will turned to look at Chris for the first time, his face shifting into a slightly blank expression, once Chris recognized well from his own childhood. “Nice to meet you, sir,” he said politely, with no trace of a five year old boy in his actions or mannerisms.

Chris laughed a little, shaking his head and dropping his gaze to his lap. Looking back up, his gaze jumped between the two boys, watching as Tommy picked at the material of Poppy’s dress. “You boys don’t have to call me sir, Uncle Chris sounds good to me,” he shrugged, a soft smile slipping onto his face the more he watched the two boys.

Poppy grinned at Chris, winking at him secretly before looking back down at her nephews. “You guys can hug him, you know,” she whispered to them.

Will leaned over, climbing into Chris’ lap and quickly hugging him. Once Will was seated in Poppy’s lap again, he looked at Chris, a slight smirk on his face as he happily told him, “You give good hugs because you’re big!”

“Uh oh, Poppy I think your nephew is trying to tell me I need to go on a diet,” Chris laughed, poking Will lightly.

“Boys, you need to go get ready for dinner,” Helen interrupted, waving their nannies over so that they’d go. Poppy and Chris exited shortly after, needing a break before they went through a long dinner with her family as well. They headed up to Poppy’s old room, traveling the halls silently as they both processed what the hell just happened with her family. When they reached the large bedroom, they went in different directions, Chris heading to the bathroom to take a second for himself and Poppy to the large window seat. After they each had some space and time to think through everything, they got ready, Poppy in an oddly-plain and unlike her dress, one that greatly confused Chris. She’d always stood out in a crowd and that was one of the things he loved most about her. But this very basic, plain dress was not at all Poppy, and instead a reflection of her environment and feelings of wanting to escape.

They joined the rest of her family in the large dining room, Chris rolling his eyes secretly as he saw her nephews were nowhere to be seen, likely being cared for constantly by people they weren’t even related to. Chris and Poppy sat down, unluckily, at the center of the table, surrounded on all sides by her parents and brothers. The family was silent as the household employees fluttered around, filling glasses with drinks and offering Chris and Poppy each a glass of wine, which they gladly took, before Thomas cleared his throat, jutting his chin out slightly as he looked at Chris. “So Chris, how are things in Queensnorth?”

Chris nodded as he finished a sip of wine, putting his wine glass down. “Things are going very well. We’re working on making a lot of progress, especially in education which is something Poppy’s helping us a lot with,” he said with a smile, reaching under the table for Poppy’s hand and gently squeezing it.

“Education is important, especially for those of us that are going to be ruling,” Edward butted in with a cocky smile, Chris deflating a bit and clenching his jaw. This was something he’d always hated growing up- how Edward constantly had to make himself seem on the same level as Chris. Even as children, like it was some sort of competition. Which, as kids, Chris did think they were, but as he’d grown up he learned how much the Isle of Brida relied on Queensnorth for things, and realized the power differential between them. And while Chris had never used this as something to be proud of, or a point in his favor, he was damn well starting to. “We all went to the top tier boarding school in the country so we’d be prepared.”

“Well not Penelope, but the three of us went,” Charles cut in with a cocky shrug, and Chris was getting to grow tired of him, to be quite honest.

“It didn’t really matter where Penelope went though,” Edward said with the biggest shit-eating grin on his face. “Right Penelope? I mean now, you don’t even have titles here in Brida anymore since you gave them up for your marriage.”

Chris frowned, glancing at Charles in shock. “Well luckily she’ll get the title of Queen at some point.”

Edward cleared his throat slightly, smirking again. “Speaking of the royal family, we do have some news,” he said, touching Monica’s arm, the first time that night that Chris had seen him initiate contact with her. “Mother, we wanted to save this news for your birthday tomorrow but I just can’t wait to tell you that we’re having another child.”

Helen gasped, her jaw dropping as she asked, “Monica, you’re pregnant?”

She nodded, a warm smile on her face as she placed her hand on her still-flat stomach. Chris clenched his jaw slightly as he realized that that child would succumb to a childhood no different than the one Poppy and her brothers were raised in, and that made him a bit angry inside. Across the table, Monica added, “Yes and we were so looking forward to telling you all.”

“Well that’s wonderful news, we’re all so happy for you,” Poppy congratulated them, a genuine smile on her face for the first time that day.

“We’re hoping it’s another boy,” Monica confessed, chuckles escaping every male around the table, except Chris.

“Luckily you have two already so you have a good lineage to the throne and don’t have to worry about the succession to the crown act,” Thomas mentioned, making Chris’ face turn red with anger, forcing him to take a long sip of his wine so he wouldn’t blow up on them. That line, laced with every single insecurity of Poppy’s for the last, nearly, twenty-six years, showed how little they all cared and truly valued her and her role in their lives, and just how much she’d changed in the last six months for her.

Without missing a beat the King turned to his daughter, innocently asking, “Penelope, are you pregnant yet?”

Chris hardly prevented himself from reacting outwardly as Poppy’s expression was blank, simply replying, “No.”

“Why aren’t you?” Helen asked, gaze scrutinizing her daughter as if it was her fault for not being pregnant, with a man who she’d barely known until mere months ago’s child.

“Um, birth control,” Chris replied before he could stop himself, Poppy squeezing his hand tightly under the table as she bit her lip to suppress a grin at his deadpan remark.

Helen’s jaw dropped, gasping, “Penelope! How could you do that?”

“We thought we were giving Chris a good wife,” the King gruffly added, his face beet red as he stared at them.

Charles laughed, gesturing to Chris with his right hand from where he was across from him. “Guess you got the short end of the stick there.”

Chris shrugged, tilting his head slightly as he glanced away and tried to think of a diplomatic answer. “I don’t think that at all. I have the most wonderful wife I could have ever dreamed of and we just don’t want kids yet,” he began, pausing to give Poppy a warm, only slightly-over the top grin. “I guess I’m selfish because I just want to spend all my time with Poppy right now.”

“Well Penelope, you must be settling into Queensnorth quickly because you’re already dressing like them,” Helen said cooly as she pushed her food around with her fork.

“I am adjusting really well. I like the people there a lot,” Poppy smiled with a nod.

“We miss you around here. So does Richard, he asks about you often,” Charles said as he pointedly looked away from Chris, vaguely motioning to an employee for a refill on his glass of wine.

Edward looked up, his eyebrows raised as he looked at Poppy and Chris from across the table. “Oh yeah I heard he saw you in Queensnorth a while ago.”

“Just in Chris’ office,” Poppy shrugged uncomfortably.

Thomas tilted his head slightly, staring at Poppy. “You made quite a scene just bursting in there,” he muttered, pausing to take a sip of his wine before he looked apologetically at Chris. “I still feel terrible about that, Chris.”

“Don’t. Poppy knows she can come in anywhere she wants whenever she wants,” he furrowed his brows, shaking his head at Thomas insistently. “She’s my priority, always.”

“I hope she hasn’t made you feel that way. A good wife would never value herself over your work,” Thomas argued.

Chris felt something within him practically snap, removing his hand from Poppy’s to place on the table, tapping his fingers restlessly on the pristine tablecloth. “Well I do value her over my work. I love Poppy more than anything and I’d give up everything if it meant being with her,” he began, pausing as he chose his next words carefully, his tone turning a bit harsh, “Getting to know her more deeply has been the greatest experience of my life and I suggest you all take the same interest in her, and stop making so many fucking digs at her every chance you fucking get.”

“We’re not taking digs at her,” Charles shot back, glancing furtively towards his father.

“I think you’re getting a little overprotective,” Edward added delicately, eyeing Chris.

“No, I think I’m not being fucking protective enough,” Chris retorted loudly, “I’ve held my tongue this long but I’m not going to fuckin’ sit here and listen to you insult my wife and make her feel like shit.”

“She never said anything before,” Oliver shrugged meekly, suddenly intimidated by Chris’ outburst, recognizing his size for the first time.

“Well I’m saying something now. I don’t want to hear any of you speak to Poppy like that again, is that understood?”

There was silence around the table and Chris took it as a small victory. He truly hadn’t meant to start anything but there was no way he could have kept listening to their harsh words against the woman he so deeply loved. Seeing her so retreated and quiet with them, taking insult after insult just hurt him too much and it was one time in his life he was thankful for his powerful royal position to influence them to stop. The tension that hung in the air was cut slightly when some of the staff brought in plates of dessert and Oliver tried to guide the conversation to something more neutral and brought up the new dog he had recently gotten. Although the tone in the room improved slightly, the moment the plates were cleared away, Chris excused both he and Poppy, saying they had a long day of travel and were ready to go to bed.

After saying goodnight, Chris rested his hand on the small of Poppy’s back as they walked out of the room. Both of them were silent as they climbed the stairs and walked down the long hallway to reach the room. Chris saw the way Poppy was biting at her lip, something he noticed she always did when she was nervous or turned on, but he knew with what just happened it couldn’t have been the latter.

Although Chris found many problems with how her family treated Poppy, even before he knew them all and had just heard stories, she had never spoken poorly of them. It was her family and he was afraid Poppy didn’t truly see just how bad things were. But that wasn’t something he couldn’t force her to see, she had to come to that on her own, but he still wouldn’t sit by and let them run her over. Because of her inability to see how they truly were, Chris was unsure how she would feel about what he had just said to them on the first day he’d been around them all. Chris was prepared for her to be upset with him and her words started to come out as they walked down the hallway.

Poppy finally broke the silence once they’d passed by the stationed guards, muttering “I can’t believe that happened.”

Chris sighed, squeezing her hand lightly as he beat himself up mentally. “Look Poppy, I’m sorry if you didn’t like how I spoke to your family but I couldn’t sit there and listen to them run you down that way.”

But Poppy paused in front of the door to her old room, shaking her head at Chris in confusion, bewilderment written all over her face. “I meant that I couldn’t believe that you stuck up for me in front of all of them.”

“Well I wanted to start throwing some punches,” he smirked as he shrugged playfully, pulling her hand so she faced him fully. “But you’re damn right I’m going to protect my girl. Always.”

“Chris?”

“Yeah?”

Poppy bit her lip, her cheeks blushing as she stared at him with wide eyes. “I want you so bad. Please.”

Chris felt a smirk begin to spread across his face, recognizing the desire in her eyes as something he’d seen often with Sarah and in himself, but never before with Poppy. He glanced around the hall quickly, taking a moment to compose himself before muttering, “Well since you said please…”

They both were thankful they were already in front of the door to their room, letting Chris practically drag her into the room and close the door behind them before pressing her against it. In an instant, his lips were on hers, his broad body pinning her against the door while he felt her arms snake around him. She was clinging onto him, fingertips digging into his back as she pressed herself against him.

Ever since they had gone away for the weekend a few weeks ago and finally had the physical intimacy they had been craving, it had become a regular occurrence for them. Chris was so absolutely undeniably head over heels in love with her and he knew she felt the same way about him. He felt like every day he just fell more and more in love and what came with that was wanting her in every sense of the word. There had only been a couple days that they didn’t either start or end the day with him buried deep inside her but this was different. He already could tell.

It flashed in Chris’ mind how furious he had been when he found out that in all the years that she had been with Richard, he had never taken the time to pleasure her. He already didn’t have a high opinion of the relationship, but finding out that someone hadn’t treasured, respected and adored his precious Poppy made anger flare deep inside him. He made it his personal mission to make sure she knew what it was like to be at the height of pleasure and although it was extremely clear Poppy had wanted and enjoyed it more than she ever thought possible, she still hadn’t been able to vocalize all of what she wanted or when.

He knew that was an overarching struggle for his sweet wife and after tonight he understood why. Spending her entire life in an environment like he’d witnessed tonight would have been enough to break anyone, but Poppy had kept her kindness and loving spirit throughout it. But he realized how much of her voice had been squashed. He thought back to when Poppy first came to Queensnorth as his new bride and how in those early days she didn’t vocalize any feelings and still seemed to struggle to unless prodded. But what encouraged him is that with each passing day he saw that change. She let out more of that sass, gave her thoughts, and shared her feelings even if it was hard.

And right now she had said she wanted him. For the first time ever she had expressed her desire and what she wanted in the moment and he was so damn proud of her, and also extremely aroused by it. But if his wife wanted him, he was sure as hell he’d give her anything she wanted.

He pulled Poppy against him even more, head pushing against hers as he attacked her lips. He swallowed her sighs and gasps as he nipped at her lips before moving down her neck, sucking lightly on the skin there, before moving back up her neck and meeting her lips again. Chris’ big hands started moving up the curve of her back, finding the zipper and pulling it down while Poppy broke their kiss so she could wiggle out of it at a pace he’d never seen before, leaving her in her plain black panties and bra.

It almost made him frown to see it. Over the past few weeks he’d seen Poppy’s love of beauty and artistic eye wasn’t confined just to her clothing choices but all of her underwear that he’d become used to peeling her out of. She always had pretty, soft, and embroidered pieces and seeing her in this plain black pair just showed how different she felt coming back home and he hated it. But it didn’t matter, he thought. He’d just have to get her out of them.

He moved his thigh between her legs, flexing the tight muscles as he lifted her slightly off the ground, placing her weight in his hands and on his leg. Poppy’s head fell back, resting against the door while she sighed, the pressure feeling good against her core. Needing more of her, Chris slipped her bra off as quickly as he could and got to work nipping and sucking along her tender skin before wrapping his lips around her sensitive nipple and letting his tongue swirl glorious circles. He felt her hands tighten on his shoulders and the moans that poured out of her went straight to his throbbing cock, wanting more so badly in this moment.

He grasped her hips tightly again, moving her down onto his thigh a little roughly as he took control of the situation and judging by Poppy’s cries of pleasure, it was well received. Poppy’s head rested against the door, gasps escaping her lips as her panty-covered core began to rub against his muscular thigh. He could feel her growing wetter by the second through his dress pants and knowing how turned on she was made shivers run down his spine.

“You like that, baby?” He groaned against her chest, his hands tightening on her hips impossibly more, feeling her grind harder against him.

“So much,” she whimpered.

His fingers moved to splay on her ass between the door and her body, spreading his fingers out and grasping it tightly enough to leave some marks. “Such a pretty ass,” he whispered. “And it’s all mine.”

Poppy tilted her head back even more as she was unable to catch her breath through all of his teasing. “Chris, please.”

“Please what, honey?” he whispered, picking his head up to look at her, a smirk on his face. “What does my sweet girl want?”

“I…I-”

“C’mon baby, tell me what you want. You know I’ll give you anything, you just have to ask,” he said softly, squeezing her ass gently.

“I want you to fuck me, please.”

He grinned, kissing her quickly before he put her down, shucking his own clothes off and Poppy pulled her remaining clothes off as well. He glanced around the room quickly, pulling her over and tossing her gently on the bed, watching her carefully for any protests but when she reached for him, he smirked and stalked over to her. He’d have never guessed that this would be her thing. Sweet, sometimes meek, but precious Poppy, loving getting tossed around and roughed up a bit. He almost didn’t believe it was his thing as well, never sharing this kind of dynamic with Sarah. He’d toyed with a bit in the past when he was younger, but never would have expected to fulfill this role and enjoy it so damn much.

It’s not that he was complaining about the last few weeks of lovemaking. He had loved every second and could tell Poppy liked it as well. It allowed them time to learn each other’s bodies, finding out which spots made them fall apart and getting to know the landscape and feeling of their skin underneath each other’s touch. It had been beautiful and wonderful, but this was something new. Nobody had ever protected and loved Poppy the way Chris did with her. She felt completely safe with him in every sense of the word and being with her family tonight and seeing the way that he stood up for her and reminded her of her deep love for him made a desire burn inside her that she didn’t know existed like that.

Chris loved Poppy with his whole heart and what came with that was intense attraction to her but hearing her beg for him that way, finally voicing her desire unlocked that fire he had for her. He wanted her so much it hurt and right now, his wife said she wanted him to fuck her so he was going to do exactly that.

He stood at the edge of the bed, both of them completely naked except for the dog tags that always hung around Chris’ neck. His blue eyes stared down at her as she laid there ready and waiting for him while she reached out to grab him again, desperate to pull him closer. Chris saw her breathing quicken as he stared down at her, taking in every gorgeous curve of her body and muttered, “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.”

“Chris, please,” she practically begged, her legs moving so he could step in between them. “I want you.”

His hands reached out, rubbing along the curve of her hips that drove him wild before a hand dipped down to cup her mound, feeling how hot and ready she was for him and a long shiver ran down her spine when his low voice stated, “All mine.”

Her green eyes fluttered closed, just sighing from her intense longing for him and Chris decided he had teased her enough. He look half a step back, looking at her laying on the edge of the bed, her dark shiny hair splayed out around her and a hand rubbing along her face while she tried to gain a little bit of composure. Chris loved seeing her like this, and he loved it even more knowing that he was the only one who got to see this side of her.

“Flip over, baby girl,” Chris’ low voice rumbled, “I want to see that pretty ass of yours.”

Immediately she did as he said, turning over on the bed so she was on her hands and knees but Chris watched as she lowered her shoulders down and arched her back so that she was face down with her round ass on display for him which was enough to make him explode on the spot. He couldn’t wait any longer and grabbed onto her hip with one hand while the other held onto his already leaking cock, guiding it to her dripping wet folds and lined himself up before thrusting into her hard and fast, making Poppy cry with pleasure.

The whole setting, the whole experience, was something that felt so natural and yet so unlike anything they’d ever done together, but it just felt right. He couldn’t hold back, slamming into her repeatedly and making her whine in pleasure. A few low groans and moans poured out of him as he felt her clenching him, unable to hold back as he rasped, “That’s my good girl.”

At his praise, he felt her clench him even tighter while her chest lowered even more, arching her backside as much as she could to open herself up to him. He kept holding onto her hips, slamming into her hard and deep with each thrust, his dog tags clinking together rapidly as he grunted. She just felt so good, but hearing the way she was straight up whimpering had Chris throbbing inside her already. The way she completely surrendered to him was something he didn’t know he needed but now couldn’t seem to get enough of.

This new experience had Chris nearing his peak already but by the way Poppy was crying his name, he knew she was getting close too. He kept one hand on her hips, holding her in place as he kept firmly thrusting in and out so perfectly while his other hand slid around to find her clit where he rubbed firm fast circles, making her cry out.

“C’mon baby girl, let go. Let go for me honey,” he murmured, increasing the pressure on her clit. “You’ve been such a good girl but you can let go now.”

Coaxed by his words, Poppy clenched him hard as she hit her peak with a loud cry. Chris had been barely hanging on already but feeling that sensation made him unload inside of her, moaning her name while he spilled over his peak. He could feel sweat beading on his forehead while he held onto her hips, stilled inside her while they came down from their peaks and tried to catch their breath.

“Holy shit,” Chris murmured as he collapsed next to her, running a hand through his messy hair as he stared at the ceiling. He could hear Poppy attempt a laugh next to him as she rolled over, finally catching her breath.

He watched her carefully, brows furrowing as he noticed the finger-sized marks on her skin. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He whispered, a slight pout settling on his lips.

“No, I feel amazing,” she grinned, curling her body as she met his eyes, a relaxed look on her face for the first time that day.

Chris reached out to pull her against his chest, both of them needing to feel skin on skin. Poppy buried her face into the crook of his neck while he let one hand stroke her soft dark hair while the other rested right above the curve of her ass, his thumb rubbing small circles. He could feel the content little sighs come out of her as she relaxed and he loved getting to be the one holding her.

He smirked a bit, squinting his eyes as he placed an arm behind himself to pillow his head, whispering, “I just want to know who you are and what you did to my sweet Poppy?”

“What do you mean?”

“I just mean that I didn’t expect you to be able to push that pretty ass out for me as well as you did,” he chuckled, tilting his head back slightly to look down at her. “...You like that shit, huh?”

Poppy shrugged, pursing her lips as she met his eyes. “I like everything with you.”

“A while ago I remember telling you that you kept me on my toes and you still do.” Chris began softly and slowly, a smile settling on his face as he continued with a shrug, “You just keep surprising me and I fucking love it. I fucking love you.”

“I love you too Chris. More than I thought I could ever love anyone.”

Those words filled Chris’ heart in a way he couldn’t describe. Everything about Poppy just seemed to so perfectly fit in his life and fill out all the gaps he didn’t even know were there. Once he got them both cleaned up, he pulled the blankets on the bed back so they could climb underneath them but by the time he pulled them back up, Poppy was already curled up to his side. His thick arms came around her, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead while she closed her eyes feeling safe and content as they drifted off to sleep.

A/N: I didn't want to post this without mentioning the situation in Ukraine- if any of our readers are there, we're thinking of you, are hoping you are safe, and are hoping for a peaceful resolution soon. Your safety is paramount, and we hope you and your families will be okay.

We'll see you next Thursday with Part 2! As always, our inboxes are always open on @k-evans-writes and @k-evans-reads. We'd love to hear your thoughts, reactions, and opinions on this!

#chris evans au #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fic #chris evans writing #chris evans #chris evans x ofc #chris evans x oc #chris evans story #chris evans x original female character #cevans #royal!au #the outsider

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nothinglikegod · 2 years ago

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@fatedstrands @hxvemxnd Wolfwood’s mood immediately improves as Zazie crashes out of contact. He snickers through a shit-eating grin, right up until Legato washes it off with a spritz from the bad bottle. Then he thrashes, not because of the moisture but because of the audacity. "Auhk!" These fuckarounds have been the worst possible co-workers, and soon as the contract is up, he's going to cripple or kill them both. Hasn't decided yet. He just has to make the best of his employment by learning HOW. Zazie adds injury to insult by slamming the passenger's seat into Wolfwood's kneecaps. "HEY!" He snaps as his body is forced to resemble an accordion, thighs crowding his abdomen and spine bent like the letter u. Ass towards the windshield like an offering. "That fuckin' hurts, YOU GNAT!" He has no control over his own volume. Painger does that. Wolfwood is going to be kicked out in the middle of nowhere if he doesn't settle into silence, but he just can't. Because he hates these people and he hates this assignment. Walking through isles of sand would be better than sitting in a vehicle with personalities that prickle him in all the wrong ways. AH Jesus Fuckin' Christ, is it going to be this intolerable traveling with his mark? "LET ME OUT. let me out of this CAR! I'll walk to to the drop! Im done with you parasites!"

His tormentor hasn't eased up at all.

Zazie remains close, touching him with a bug-infested body. It smells like moldy paper or upturned earth. Its skin is cold. Wolfwood crosses one leg, smashes his kneecap against the interior of the car door, and poses his thigh as a barricade.

He doesn’t respond immediately to The Hive’s unwanted advice, just bristles at the sound of its voice. On it drones, but everything it says is wrong. It buzzes in a way that worsens his growing headache.

Wolfwood rests his chin in the palm of his hand so that his fingers can play against his bared teeth like piano keys. God, he wants out – out of the car, out of his contract, out of his body. “If you don’t want me worked up, why don't you shut up.”

#hxvemxnd #fatedstrands #ROAD TRIP #May this end in a vehicle fire.

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cowboyb1ues · 3 years ago

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Omg i have another one:

Imagine now that kt is home bc of his injury, Anna banana comes to him, puts a plaster on his knee, gives it a kiss and ask if he’s better now, bc that what he does when she scratched her knee

Hope you know what I meant

Ly and thank you sm for your work! 🤍

Daffodils and band-aids

This was such a cute idea and I hope that it’s okay that I mixed it with an idea I had based on kt’s injury <3

A fic about Anna doing her part in helping Kieran with his injury.

Kieran Tierney x fem!reader (1.3k)

Her little red raincoat was still covered in the smallest of droplets as her legs swung back and forth from her place in her car seat. Her eyes were casted down on the flowers in her lap that you had let her pick out for herself, the daisies looking a bit lackluster from the horrid weather, much like your daughter.

The grey clouds had been a constant and the reoccurring splatters of rain had seemed to have left the entirety of London in a gloomy mood. With your small Anna banana being no exception.

She had insisted on going with you to the grocery store, the endless isles were always fascinating to her and she would try to convince you to get the most miscellaneous things, much like her father. You had been quick to agree, not wanting her to put more strain on Kieran than necessary after his scan yesterday.

The news of his injury had left the entire house saddened. Kieran had voiced his dissatisfaction with not being able to complete the season and potentially missing out on Scotland’s upcoming games. You had been sad at how he started to close in on himself, something that unfortunately tended to happen whenever something like this happened. And Anna had been heartbroken over not being able to see her beloved daddy do what he does best.

She had taken it upon herself to do whatever was in her tiny power to make him feel better, the three year old with her daddy’s eyes and laugh wanting to see his smile again no matter what it would take.

“Do you think he’ll like them, mummy?” She asked softly over the sound of rain pattering on the windows and the windshield.

You looked at her through the rear view mirror and felt a small smile tug at the corners of your mouth at her concerned face. Some of her hair was sticking to her forehead from the rain and her nose and cheeks had turned the shape of a ripe peach from the sudden change of weather. Her eyes, so like her father’s, shone with doubt and despair at the thought of her daddy not liking the gift she had picked out for him.

“I know he’s going to love them honey,” you reassured her as you started to pull up on your street.

She casted her eyes down again and started to fiddle with the stems of her daisies, her feet still swinging lightly back and forth.

You pulled up into the driveway and helped your daughter out of the car seat and down on the gravel before getting the shopping backs from the trunk, all while Anna was patiently waiting for you.

She reached for your hand and together you made your way over the driveway over the front door while rain was splattering over you.

She opened the front door for you and you stepped through it and thanked her softly when she closed it again after you had entered fully.

She sat down on the floor and started to tuck off her yellow rain boot when you heard a shouted greeting from somewhere in the house.

“Hello,” you called back and started to rummage through the bags to find the presents that Anna had picked out for him.

She looked up at you nervously, something she never was when it came to her dad. You crouched down and took her soft cheeks in your hands and made her look at you.

“Baby, I promise you he’s going to love what you have gotten for him okay? He always loves when you get him gifts,” you whispered and leaned in to press a chaste kiss to her slightly pouting lips before sending her on her way to search for her dad.

As she trudged away on her sock-covered feet you rose up from your position and quickly grabbed the bags and brought them to the kitchen before letting your coat hang over one of the chairs and do your own search for your little family.

“Anna banana,” Kieran sang as soon as he saw his daughter standing in the doorway, her little face not splitting in the big smile like it normally would. “What’s wrong sweetheart?” He asked and sat up on the couch slightly, ready to go over to her when he saw you appear behind her with a small knowing smile.

He smiled as he saw you lean down and whisper in her ear. She nodded softly, turned towards you and handed you something so quickly that he didn’t get to see what it was from his position on the couch and started to walk over to him.

“I got you a present daddy,” she said and smiled that little smile that reminded him so much of you.

“Did you now?” He asked in disbelief and patted the seat next to him for her to take.

She nodded but didn’t hop up on the couch like he expected. Instead she drew out a small box of band-aids from behind her back and he couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped his lips at the sweetness of your daughter.

“Mummy said your knee hurt so I got you some band-aids,” she said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. She started to fiddle with the box before finally getting it open. She took one out and expertly placed it on her dad’s knee, the green band-aid with footballs over it standing out on his pale skin.

She pressed a little kiss to the band-aid, just like the two of you did when she scraped her knees, before smiling up at him and he felt a few tears starting to form from all the love he held for the little girl.

“Thank you so much banana,” he said and reached down to bring her into his lap so he could press a series of kisses to her soft cheeks.

She started to giggle at the feeling of his stubble against her cheek and shied away from him and turned around to you who was still leaning against the doorframe.

She hurried down from her position and made her way over to you and you gave her the thing you had skillfully hid behind your back.

The tears in his eyes were now multiplying and he doubted that there was anything that could erase the smile on his face at that moment.

Anna made her way back over to the couch with a big bouquet of daffodils in her hands. She shyly handed him the bouquet, “here you go daddy.” She smiled up at him with a timid smile, anxiously waiting for his reaction.

Kieran grabbed the flowers from her hands with one hand and reached down and wrapped the other arm around her waist so he could bring her up to sit with him.

“Thank you so much banana,” he whispered against her temple as he pressed kisses to the small freckle she had buried in her hairline.

“We didn’t know your favourite flowers,” you said and broke Kieran out of his small bubble he and his daughter had created for themselves, “so we took a wild guess.”

“Do you like them daddy?” Anna asked and started to fiddle with the stems of the flowers. He recognised the look in her eyes, it was the very same he saw in your shining eyes. It was a look of love and adoration that he simply couldn’t fathom was dedicated to him. That the two most perfect girls in the world have mutually decided that he was enough for them. That he somehow was worthy of their love and time.

He would never be able to believe that he lucked out that much.

“I love them banana,” he whispered against her hair, the constant dull throb of his knee gone and forgotten like the winter cold once the summer sun rolled around. The little girl with your smile and his hair had always seemed to have that ability. To just turn everything around her into sunshine, even the coldest of winters. “I think daffodils are my favourite flower.”

And based on the laugh he heard from behind him and the gleeful smile Anna gave him, he was 100% sure that daffodils were his favourite flower.

#football imagine #football #arsenal fc #kieran tierney #kt #kieran tierney fluff #kieran tierney smut #kieran tierney one shot #kieran tierney imagines #kieran tierney imagine #kieran tierney blurbs #kieran tierney blurb #kieran tierney fic #kieran tierney fanfic #kieran tierney x you #kieran tierney x reader

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peachy-panic · 3 years ago

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The Resistance

Do No Harm. The Resistance Arc is in full swing, folks. So excited for you to meet these new brainchildren of mine.

Follows pretty directly after this chapter.

WARNINGS: Frank discussions of slavery and systemic abuse, mention of permanent scars, ~complex relationships~

It’s eight p.m., and he’s in the passenger seat of this woman’s car, and life is suddenly rushing past him way too fast. Sebastian tries to wrap his mind around the fucking substantial amount of information that has been fed into it over the past hour, but every time he latches onto one new piece of this reality, a dozen more pop up, untethered and demanding answers.

“Okay,” he says slowly, blinking toward the windshield as Aria floors it—a little too fast for his taste—down an empty backroad. “So, let me just…” He makes a vague spinning gesture with his hands. “Paraphrase, I guess. You’re a part of… an underground resistance… that’s infiltrated WRU.”

The sudden snort of laughter from the driver’s seat startles him. He jerks his head toward her, eyes wide.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing,” she says through another laugh, taking one hand off the steering wheel to press the back of her wrist against her mouth.

“No, what’s funny?” His voice is starting to take on the high-pitched edge it gets sometimes when he’s stressed. “Am I getting it wrong?”

“No, no.” The last of her chuckle dies out as she readjusts her grip on the wheel. “That’s… I mean, you’re not wrong. It’s just that I’m not used to hearing it described like the plot of a bad dystopian film.”

This surprises a chuckle out of Sebastian as well, though he’s sure his face is still twisted into whatever stunned expression now lives there permanently. “Well,” he says, leaning back against the headrest, “doesn’t it feel like we are living in a fucking dystopia most of the time?”

Her amusement sobers, leaving only a sad half-smile as she stares straight ahead. “You’ve got me there.”

She hasn’t told him exactly where they are headed, and there is only a small part of him that thinks he might get ax-murdered in the next several minutes. She did say that there were some more people he needed to meet if they were going to “do this,” whatever that means, so he assumes they are headed to some Top Secret Meeting. So much for not being a dystopian film.

Twenty more minutes rush by, and the car pulls into the driveway of a single-level home that sits far off a backroad, the nearest neighbor just barely in sight where the road curves about a mile down. A porch light glows above a midnight-green door, and there is a golden light behind the white shades on the windows, signaling that someone is home.

“Is this your place?” Sebastian asks, following her cue to get out of the car.

“God, no,” she says. “I’m all for seclusion, but living a half hour from the nearest grocery store crosses a personal line. Not that they have much of a choice.”

He is tempted to ask who “they” are and for an elaboration on what that is supposed to mean, but if the past hour has been any indication of how tonight is going to go, he thinks it might be best to save his questions for the end.

Aria leads him onto the porch and knocks on the door exactly five times in a practiced, rhythmic pattern. She only waits a beat before grabbing a key on her lanyard and pushing it in.

“I thought you said this wasn’t your place?” Sebastian says.

“It’s not.”

The door pushes open to a wide living space and the aroma of some kind of home-cooked masterpiece. Sebastian’s first impression is that he has stepped into a Better Homes and Gardens centerfold. It’s the kind of gorgeous he thought people only lived in on TV, but not in a way that feels cold or clinical. It’s clear immediately that this place has undergone great care to make it a home.

Aria seems more than comfortable stepping right in and kicking off her shoes, so Sebastian does the same. “Hi guys,” she says, and Sebastian’s eyes move to the open-concept kitchen, separated from the living room by a large island bar. Two men turn to her, smiling.

The one sitting lazily on the countertop in sweatpants and a chunky-knit sweater has blonde hair, perfectly prodded into shape with some kind of expensive gel. The other stands with his back to them, working over a full stovetop. His black hair is scooped into a bun at the crown of his head, an apron fastened around his sweatshirt. Everything about them, about this place, screams domestic bliss. Certainly not the vibe he had been anticipating.

“Welcome to the party,” the blonde one says, kicking his legs out. “As you can see, Ezra has decided this is an event worthy of Thanksgiving dinner.” He shoots a smile at the man beside the stove, so potent with affection that it spikes Sebastian’s blood sugar.

“Tate, this is my brother, Ezra, and his partner, Sam,” Aria says, leading him toward the barstools along the island counter. “Guys, this is—”

“Dr. Sebastian Tate.” Sam hops off the counter, reaching across the island to shake his hand. “I know.”

Sebastian blinks. “Sorry, have we met?”

“Sam works in administration for WRU,” Aria explains. “He has access to all employee files and helps facilitate background checks on new hires.”

“And,” Sam says, “when Aria told me you would be joining us this evening, I did a little brushing up on yours.” He smiles again, innocently. “Standard protocol.”

“Right.” Sebastian nods slowly.

“Can I get you anything to drink, Dr. Tate?” Sam asks, picking up his own glass of red wine from the counter and taking a long sip. Sebastian presses his fingertips into his thighs, trying to suppress the awareness of how overdue he is for his evening drink. A strong and sensible part of him knows it would be best to stick with water for tonight. An even stronger part of him is physically vibrating from adrenaline and social anxiety and could really fucking use something to soften the edge of this night.

“Sebastian, please,” he says politely. “I’ll have whatever you’re having.” It’s really quite admirable, the restraint he shows by not downing the whole glass when it’s placed in front of him.

“So, what has she told you?”

Sebastian feels suddenly put on the spot with the attention focused on him. He straightens in his stool, nervously toying with the stem of the wine glass. “Not a lot,” he says honestly. “Bit of an excavation project, pulling details from this one.”

Back still turned to them, Ezra’s shoulders bounce with a quiet laugh from his position at the stove.

Fortunately, Aria finds this amusing as well. “There is value in keeping your cards close to your chest, Tate,” she tells him. “Discretion. Unlike accosting me in a shared break room.”

“Hey, it got me here, didn’t it?”

“Don’t sound too happy about it.” Ezra’s voice startles Sebastian when he speaks for the first time, all soft velvet cloaked over a somber tone. When he finally turns around, Sebastian sees that his features are much the same. His dark, severe eyes are piercing against olive skin, black hair that matches the wisps escaping from his bun peppered along his jaw. He carries a pot of something absolutely mouthwatering to the counter and sets it down on a hand towel. “Now that she’s told you our secret, we’re going to have to kill you.”

Sebastian’s hand falls away from the wine glass. The room goes still. Then to his right, Sam nearly chokes on a mouthful of wine in an attempt to hold back his laughter. Aria starts up next, a subdued chuckle muffled by her palm as she leans forward on the counter. Sebastian’s eyes drift back to Ezra, whose mouth is curling into a slow, wry smile.

“Sorry,” Ezra says softly. “Gallows humor around here.” He slides the oven mit off of his hand and extends it to Sebastian. “It’s nice to meet you, Sebastian. Welcome to our home.”

Mostly propelled by the nervous energy strung tight inside his chest, Sebastian lets out a small burst of laughter, too, as he shakes his hand. He can’t help but notice there is something familiar about the way Ezra moves, the cadences in his speech. Something about it stirs an unsettled feeling he can’t put his finger on.

Then the front door suddenly slams open, drawing the attention of all four of them to the man in the entryway. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Ezra flinch.

The first unavoidable detail Sebastian processes about the man is that he is wearing a handler’s uniform. The second is that he recognizes him.

“What the fuck, Ari?” the new guest shouts by way of greeting.

Sam, whose hand has suddenly attached itself to Ezra’s waist, shoots him a hard stare. “Nice entrance, asshole. Forget to knock?”

“When did we start recruiting new people without consulting everyone first?” He ignores Sam’s remark altogether, eyes fixed on Aria. She stands from the barstool, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I did consult you,” Aria says cooly. “Check the server.”

“Yeah, I saw, thanks.” He narrows his eyes, taking a step closer. Sebastian resists the urge to strike some sort of defensive pose, though it seems Aria is more than capable of standing her ground for all of them. “Your “forgiveness over permission’ policy doesn’t count as a consultation.”

“Well, it’s too late now.” Aria shrugs. “He’s here. And Ezra has already threatened to kill him, so it looks like you’re too late.”

He is quiet for a moment. Finally, their eyes meet. Sebastian swallows.

“Tate,” Aria says, “this is—”

“I know,” Sebastian interrupts at the same time the man says, “We’ve met.”

Three more sets of eyes land on him, but all Sebastian can see is the memory of this man standing opposite Handler Smith, hands curled around Jaime’s bicep as he drags him through the entrance of the clinic. Blood pouring down his face. It was months ago, but the image is burned into his consciousness.

“Handler Hernandez,” Sebastian says, standing from his own stool.

“It’s Julian,” Aria corrects him quickly, turning back to Sebastian. “Or Jules. He isn’t a handler outside of those walls.”

I beg to fucking differ, Sebastian wants to retort.

“Julian will do,” Hernandez adds, not-so-warmly.

There’s another few seconds of a quiet standoff before Sam claps his hands together from the other side of the counter. “Well,” he says, “I think this is off to an excellent start. Who’s hungry?”

***

As far as tense group dinners go, this is somehow not Sebastian’s worst. Though he is confident in saying it breaks his top three.

Julian was apparently bewitched enough by the smell of Ezra’s cooking to agree to sitting down at the table, but he makes no secret of his disdain for Sebastian’s presence there. He tries not to take it personally. Sebastian might not be super thrilled at the prospect of an outsider coming into contact with information that could potentially land him in prison or worse either. Still, the guy is a little heavy-handed with his glaring, and frankly, Sebastian isn’t his biggest fan, either. Some explanation is definitely going to be required to justify what he has seen with his own eyes.

“We should start with the obvious,” Aria says once everyone has filled their plates. “What we talk about here, what we do--it doesn’t leave this circle. No matter what.” Sebastian nods.

“Phones in the middle before we talk shop,” Jules chimes in, lighting up his lock screen for everyone to see and sliding it to the middle of the table. Aria rolls her eyes but follows suit, followed by Sam and Ezra. Sebastian scrambles to pull his out, lighting up the screen to prove he’s not recording and placing it in the pile.

“I’m sure you have questions.” Aria turns her attention to Sebastian. About a thousand, he thinks. “What do you want to know?”

He sets down his fork, mind spinning. “The morphine,” he says. “Or.. you know, medicine in general for the patients. That’s something you do often?”

“‘Often’ is relative,” she says. “We can’t do it nearly as often as we want to without raising suspicion. It’s a balancing act. Doing what you can within the bounds that will allow you the opportunity to hopefully do it again.”

“How do you do it?” Sebastian asks. “I mean, how do you get the drugs without raising red flags somewhere?”

Aria glances briefly up at her friends, exchanging a meaningful look. “There are others,” she says finally. “A network of people all across the country who work for the cause. They help with those kinds of resources.”

“So, we’re just putting it all out there, huh?” Jules huffs a sardonic laugh, sitting back in his chair. “Day one, all the secrets on the table.”

“He could have turned me in, Jules,” Aria argues. “He had every opportunity and reason to, and he didn’t. Instead, he’s here.”

“What, to gather more intel before he goes to his boss?” he challenges.

“I’m not,” Sebastian pipes up weakly, drawing their eyes back to him. “Really, I have nothing but good intentions here.” When he is met with stony silence, Sebastian clears his throat, laying his palms flat on the table. “When I started this job, all I wanted to do was make a difference in these peoples’ lives. And somehow, at every turn, I’m just… running into walls. Over and over. It’s never enough, not with all the shit that place throws at them. And then I met Aria, and learning about what you guys do…” He shakes his head, daring to meet Julian’s eyes. “This is exactly the kind of team I want to be a part of.”

“This isn’t the fucking Avengers,” Jules says. “People’s lives are at stake here.”

Sebastian wisely decides that now is not the best time to tell him that people’s lives are also at stake where The Avengers are involved. That is neither here nor there.

“I understand a thing or two about holding someone’s life in my hands,” Sebastian bites back. “And never have I felt that responsibility as heavily as I did when I started this job.”

“We should give him the benefit of the doubt.” All eyes turn at the sound of Ezra’s voice. He sits calmly at the head of the table, hands folded in front of him. “Aria is right. He’s had weeks to turn her in and plenty of incentive to do so. That sounds like a show of good faith to me. And I think it goes without saying what a benefit it could be to have a doctor’s authority on the inside.”

Sam reaches over and places a hand on Ezra’s. “I agree.”

“Surprise, I’m outnumbered,” Julian grumbles under his breath. Aria looks like she wants to say something more to that, but she presses her lips together, turning her attention back to Sebastian.

“Look, I’m not going to lie to you and say we work miracles here. Jules is right about one thing: we aren’t superheroes. We are just people doing what little we can with the roles we’ve been given. And one thing you need to know up front is that it is never, ever going to feel like you’re doing enough.”

“That’s the structural intention of this system,” Sam says. “They’ve spent decades building fireproof walls around their foundation, making sure no amount of resistance can bring them down. And they only doubled down on those efforts in recent years.”

“We’re farther from real change now more than ever,” Aria adds. “The court of public opinion plays a huge role in pushing for any kind of reform, and WRU’s recent rebrand has made the general public complacent. They made a few arbitrary changes and empty promises, and suddenly everyone is falling all over themselves to forgive them. And they don’t know what it’s like on the inside because, of course, every slave is banned from speaking on it.”

Slave. It’s both a breath of fresh air and a punch to the gut to hear the word spoken out loud, to have it called what it is so plainly.

“So… okay.” Sebastian presses his fingertips together, his mind working overtime to piece all these fragments together into something cohesive. “Policy reform on a macro level. You guys--we--write to representatives? Push for legislature against the system’s practices?”

“Sure, we do all that,” Sam says. “As discreetly as we can, for obvious reasons. A small sector of our network is based in the DC area. They do a lot of the footwork for that kind of change.”

“There are some senators, few and far between as they are, who are against the system,” Aria explains. “Some of them, we have more direct access to. But that’s not the focus of our work here.”

“The medicine.” Sebastian nods, more pieces clicking into place.

“In my case, yes. And yours, now, if you’re willing,” she says. “But we all play different roles for a reason. Sam is in administration, so he has easy access to information on people’s personal histories, contracts and prospective clients. He also has an in with the people in power. There’s a lot we can work with there.”

“Yeah, and it took me fucking years to build that rapport.” Pure acid drips from Sam’s words. “Years of sucking up and playing corporate chess with the kind of sadistic assholes I’d rather stick a knife in.”

Sebastian blinks. Ezra shoots him a soft smile from beside Sam. “We don’t do that part,” he says, then pauses, reconsidering. “Mostly.”

Before he has time to fully wrap his head around that little tidbit, Aria moves onto Jules. “And obviously, having someone in the Handler department is essential. For starters, they have the most direct access to these people, so they can make the most direct impact on their lives.”

Sebastian thinks of Jaime again, about the bruising grip on his arm and the panicked way he struggled against his grasp. He’s smart enough to keep his mouth shut now, but he can’t help but have his doubts about how much direct impact is being made.

“If the rank is high enough, they have the kind of clearance none of us have access to,” She continues. “Including the ability to deactivate the locks on the collars.”

This gets his attention. “Wait. Is that… Is that something you do?” he asks, unable to keep the awe out of his voice. “You get people out? Like, for good?”

Another silent exchange ripples through the table between everyone but Sebastian. Aria clears her throat, folding her arms on the table in front of her.

“I need you to understand that this is not a key element of what we do. It can’t be, not if we have any hope of sustaining long term efforts,” she says. Then pauses. “But yes. It’s something we have done.”

There is silence again as the gravity of that statement settles around them. Sebastian looks to each person at the table, even managing to meet Julian’s eyes directly for a moment, before he lands on Ezra.

“So,” he says quietly, mouth suddenly dry. “If she’s in the clinic, he’s in administration, and he’s with the handlers…?”

The unspoken question lingers in the air, thickening the quiet. Finally, Ezra clears his throat.

“Ezra.” Surprisingly, it’s Julian’s voice, gentler than he has ever heard it, that interrupts. Sebastian sees the first glimmer of genuine affection in his eyes as he holds the other man’s stare from across the table. “You don’t have to.”

Ezra smiles back at him in that small, serene way that he does. “I know,” he says.

When he turns his head to the side and folds his ear forward, it takes Sebastian a moment to register what is happening. Then he sees it, and it clicks: the thin, raised line of skin, several years healed, over the place Sebastian knows the tracking chips are implanted in every new Companion.

The warm food in his stomach goes cold and hard.

“Like I said,” Aria whispers, reaching across the table to take her brother’s hand. “We’ve done it before.”

***

[NEW OC FACECLAIMS HERE]

***

TAG LIST: @whumpervescence @shiningstarofwinter @distinctlywhumpthing @whumptywhumpdump @nicolepascaline @anotherbluntpencil @hold-him-down @crystalquartzwhump @maracujatangerine @batfacedliar @thecyrulik @pumpkin-spice-whump @melancholy-in-the-morning @also-finder-of-rings @insaneinthepaingame @skyhawkwolf @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @mylifeisonthebookshelf @dont-touch-my-soup

#Do No Harm: Jaime & Sebastian #Vive la résistance!#The Resistance Arc #BBU #like bbu adjacent?#whumplr #i will post faceclaims for the new kids on the block later #hope you enjoy this dialogue heavy ass chapter

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magoshighlandsroar · 28 days ago

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General Entry 5: Omens

I place little stock in those that claim to read portents and omens, those that say they can predict the weather from the fall of chicken bones, or tell of impossible destine written in the stars are just as often charlatans as they are true mystics. This doesn't mean I don't believe in divination, I've seen it first hand, watched with no small wonder as even apprentice diviners have told me the result of a still rolling dice, or called the correct face of a still twirling coin. I had the rare, and incredible pleasure to watch the Arch-Diviner of the Grand University at work, curling fate around her fingers like a jeweller bends and curls golden wire. But lately, I have been plagued with, visions is the wrong word to describe them, they are, despite my unwillingness to admit it, closer to portents and omens. From a shifting in a cloud bank to turning of a tree branch in the wind, each one to me seems, seems to foretell something, but what, how or when I struggle to grasp. I find keeping hold of these revelations like trying to keep a grip of damp sand: Too loosely and it slides through my fingers, and if I squeeze tight they go to fragments and pieces. This painfully recent development has me questioning the soundness of my own mind, or failing that the extent of whatever strange new power I've been granted. What troubles me more than is where these omens come from, what now, after all my years of study and my understanding of magic, what now has caused this ability to appear now. Lieutenant Duffy gave me a set of dice, whale bone dice, before I left the Galleon, carefully carved with beautiful numbers and expertly weighted to roll just right. He said they were cut from the bones of the whale I had hunted with them, although saying I took part in the hunt is woefully inaccurate. Perhaps that is the source of his maddening change, a curse laid upon dice I haven't truly earned, some ancient mariner's curse. But no, I think there is another explanation, although no one less maddening. There are a number of tales of mages driven mad by exposure to things beyond mortal reasoning, creatures of pure chaos and order both are said to have this effect. And onto that, there are the things that lope and dance beyond the edge of the fire light that is the planes, those strange, impossible inhabitants of the distant realms that poke and prod and probe from beyond the borders that keep them separate from our realities. As I stare into the dying embers of the fire by which I sit, watching the rain pound the rocks and trees, hidden safe in the small time-worn crevice in the cliff face, and I see the shapes of possibilities I can't comprehend spin and dance before my eyes, another possibility bubbles in the depths of my mind. A brand that sits, still burning in my thoughts. That great, black pearl of an eye and that which took it's place... What I wish to understand most, is was this meant as a curse for my wrong doing, for my standing aside and doing nothing, or a blessing for helping release it?

#the windshield isle #writeblr #writers on tumblr #creative writing #general entry #fantasy world #world building

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prismatica-the-strange · 3 years ago

Text

Even if You Don't Mean It

Bellamy Blake x Flora Fawn |Modern!au|

18+

Warnings: Alchohol, throwing up, strong language, mentions of violence, Flora gets a little angsty when she's drunk

"What the hell were you thinking?!" His grip on Flora's upper arm tightens as he opens the passenger door of his beat up car.

"'M fine Bell," she slurs as he pushes her into the seat, fighting his hands as he tries to buckle her in, "S'riously, you're overreacting."

He glares up at her before finally hooking her seatbelt. The door slam shuts and he gets in the driver's side.

"Overreacting?!" He asks, pulling out of the bar's parking lot, "look at you! You're wasted and you started a bar fight! You have a black eye!"

"Hey! I didn't start it!" She argues, "That jerk did when he called me a slut!"

"So you hit him, Flo?" He grips the wheel a little tighter, if he's honest, he would have done the same, "Why the hell did the manager call me and not your mom?"

She's quiet for a moment, arms crossed as she stares out the windshield.

"Flo?"

"Cause you're my ICE," she huffs, her already warm face heating up.

"Ice?" He glances at her in confusion.

"In Case of Emergency," she explains.

"Why am I your emergency contact?"

Her blush darkens and she turns towards the window.

"I want ice cream."

"Hey," she feels his hand on her knee, warm and comforting, "Are you okay? Drunken bar fights doesn't really seem like you."

She doesn't answer and it goes quiet.

"W-what?" He laughs once he registers what she said.

"I want ice cream," she says again, this time emphasizing her words, pouting when he starts laughing harder, "What?... Bell stop it!"

"Fine, I'll stop and get you a soft serve but-"

"No," her face scrunches up, "Want Haagen-Dazs, the rosé one."

"That means we have to stop at the grocery store Flo, and you're not exactly in the right state for that."

"But-"

"No."

"Please?" Her pout gets bigger, and he sees tears start forming in her eyes, "I'll be your best friend!"

"Ugh... Fine!" He caves and turns into the grocery parking lot, parking up bear the entrance, "You stay in the- hey!"

He scrambles out of the car after her, carefully grasping her wrist, "Just stick close, okay?"

As soon as they're inside, she grabs the cuff of his jacket and pulls him towards the frozen isle, stumbling over her own feet.

He let's her dig through the ice cream while he grabs a small bag of some frozen vegetable to use as an ice pack for her eye. But when he turns back around she's gone.

"Flora?"

Be wanders around the isles until he finds her grabbing a box of plastic silverware.

"You scared me," he admits, "What happened to 'stick close'?"

"Spoons," she shows him the box and he chuckles.

"Handy, c'mon," he wraps his arm around her shoulders, "Gotta pick up a couple other things."

They grab some Gatorade and pain killers before going to check out. He opens his wallet to pay the cashier, only to find he's short.

"Hey, how much cash do you have?" He watches Flo fumble with her wallet for a minute before she pulls out a credit card, "Flo, I only needed five bucks."

"Shhh! I can pay for my own ice cream," she argues, trying to slide her card into the reader, "C'mon... Damnit!"

The warmth of his hand envelops hers as he helps her.

She starts dozing off once they're back in the car, and at a red light he reaches over puts the cover back on the frozen treat she insisted on getting but only took three bites of.

Not a block later she jolts awake, "Pull over, now!"

Before he can fully stop she throws the door open and empties her stomach onto the sidewalk.

"God Damnit," yanking the keys from the ignition, he hurries over to her. He rubs her back and pulls her hair back, "I've got you."

"This is why," she groans.

"What was that?"

"This is why you're my ice," she clarifies, voice rough from throwing up, "You're so sweet and soft."

"Wow, you really are drunk," he mutters, trying to ignore the heat rising in his cheeks and the warmth spreading through his chest, "You good to get going again?"

"Mhm," he helps her back into the car, and she's out by the time he pulls up to her house.

He sits there for a minute, looking at her all cute and curled up in his passenger seat.

"Ok, beautiful," he whispers, quietly getting out and walks around to her side. As carefully as he can, he unbuckles her and picks her up bridal style. He freezes when she stirs, before wrapping her arms around his neck and falling back asleep, "God, you're too damn cute."

It's a bit of a balancing act, with her in his arms, trying to grab the grocery bag and get into the house, but he manages.

He sets her on the living room sectional, her chocolate lab, Cocoa, laying on the attached chaise at her feet.

He put the frozen stuff away, before setting the bottle of pain meds and a Gatorade on the coffee table next to her.

"Bell?" Her voice is quiet when she grabs his wrist.

"Hey, pretty girl," he kneels next to her and tucks her hair, "Go back to sleep, okay? And when you wake up, take a couple tylenol, and drink som-"

"I love you."

"W-what?"

"Mmm," she hums, and nods, rubbing her thumb across the veins on his wrist, "You're always there when I need you... So sweet on me... so... So fucking perfect."

"And you are so drunk," he chuckles, lightly running his fingers across the bottom of her bruised eye, "Get some sleep, I'll call to check up on you in the morning."

"I mean it," she pouts, "I love you Bellamy Blake."

"Okay, sure," he softly presses his lips to her forehead, "Tell me again when you're sober, and maybe I'll believe you."

She holds his wrist tighter when he moves to pull away, whining, "Don't go."

"Flora, it's late I should-"

"Stay." She insists, trying to pull him onto the couch, "Please?"

"Flora I-... Wow, I really can't say no to you, can I?" He let's out a breathy laugh, kicking off his boots and climbing behind her. He pulls her close, her back pressed right against his chest and he's praying she can't feel the way her heart is pounding.

Taking the throw from the back of the couch, he covers them both.

"Say it back," he hears her whisper, "Even if you don't mean it, I... I need to hear you say it back."

He buries his nose in the crook of her neck when he feels her shudder.

"Please Bellamy," she sniffles, and his arms tighten around her.

"I love you too," He breathes against her skin, "Of course I love you Flo."

《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》

Bellamy Blake taglist: none yet

#Bellamy blake #between earth and sky #modern au #modern!au #flora fawn #prisma writes #prisma self ships #self shipping

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winterrose527 · 4 years ago

Note

Prompt: Person A backs into Person B’s car.

Truly adored this one. Here you go, my love!

****

He was really starting to hate King’s Landing.

It wasn’t that he’d ever liked it. Even when they’d come to the capital for their eighth grade class trip, he and Jon couldn’t quite understand why anyone would want to live here.

And now, he did.

Well he didn’t want to but he did live here. He had for about two months. His family company was expanding and as the heir apparent he was in charge of opening the new office, a soft launch for his future as its leader.

With that in mind, he’d gone with very little argument. It wasn’t that there weren’t good reasons. It had given him a convenient excuse to get out of a relationship that had run its course without hurting anyone’s feelings, he was getting to build a team from the ground up, and he’d even gotten a pretty great apartment close to the beach.

Not that he could go anytime other than at night because it was too hot. And even with the salt air it still smelled like garbage.

None of that was anything compared to the people. This city was like a magnet for selfish, aspirational, people with non-existent moral compasses. And not only that, but there were a lot of them.

Which led to his least favorite thing about King’s Landing: the traffic.

It felt like he lost hours of his day to traffic. He would have taken the subway, but the line that would have taken directly from his doorstep to his office (the exact reason he’d chosen the apartment) was under emergency construction, because of course it was.

The light was green and yet the car in front of him wasn’t moving. He looked and saw that the driver was – is she plucking her eyebrows?

King’s Landing had turned him into something he hated. Robb Stark was officially a honker now.

“MOVE!” he yelled, even though his windows were up as he lay on his horn.

As though he was inconveniencing her, she made a big show of stopping what she was doing and started to drive. He went to place his foot on the gas and -bam.

“What the fuck?” he asked the general world.

A gold – yes gold – convertible had just backed up into his SUV.

He got out of the car, ready to let this person bear the brunt of every bit of frustration he’d been feeling for the past two months.

“Are you alright?” a voice asked as soon as his door closed, it was getting closer as they came around his car, “I am so sorry!”

“Yeah well –“ he started and then stopped. “I…uh… are you okay?”

It wasn’t exactly what he had planned on saying but he also hadn’t planned on the person who hit him being the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life.

She shook her head, slender fingers brushing back naturally golden hair (after two months here he could spot the difference), “I’m fine, I am just so embarrassed. And sorry. Is your car damaged?”

“Um, I don’t know,” he admitted, realizing he should have been thinking about that rather than wondering how her legs could seemingly go on for miles though she would hardly make it up to his shoulder. He started walking towards her and she turned and lead him around his car. And then bent over. “Looks good to me.”

“Thank the gods,” she said with a hand to her chest, straightening up and peering over at him, “Are you sure you’re alright?”

He nodded, “It was just a little love tap.” Her eyes widened and he blushed, “What a stupid fucking thing to say, huh?”

She laughed, “Original, though.” Then held out her hand, “I’m Myrcella Baratheon.”

He shook her small one, and introduced himself, “Robb Stark. Can I ask you something?” She nodded, her hand still in hers, “What is a girl like you doing with a car like this?”

This girl was all class. Her structured white shorts and silk button down, fresh face, pale nails as opposed to the garish red pointed ones so many women down here wore.

The car was decidedly not.

“It’s not mine,” she told him and his stomach clenched, wondering if it belonged to a boyfriend that was clearly in no way good enough for her. “It’s my older brother’s. He’s… the actual worst.” He opened his mouth and she smiled, taking her hand up and holding it up in front of her, “The worst. Look at his license plate.”

He glanced at it and saw that it read KING JOFF.

He laughed, “It hurts.”

“Hey Robb, I know I just rear ended you and all, but can I show you something?” she asked.

Anything he might of said. Instead he just nodded.

She turned and walked down the length of the car and he followed her and then she pointed at the rearview mirror.

“Do I need to see a neurologist or is that not a mirror?” she asked.

He leaned over and his jaw dropped, “That is not a mirror… I think it’s some sort of…mosaic? And definitely not legal. You could have taken out the whole city with this thing.”

“Thank the gods, I thought I was going crazy, it’s just that my car is in the shop-,” he smirked at her and she rolled her eyes and smiled, self-deprecatingly, “For a standard tune up. I should have known there would be a catch when he offered to let me borrow this one.”

“Yeah I don’t recommend you drive this thing,” he told her, then asked stupidly, “Do you need a ride somewhere?”

He watched as a blush rose on her cheeks and she demurred, “That’s alright. I can’t inconvenience you anymore than I already have. Thank you, though.”

He nodded, because he did have a meeting he was supposed to be at in about ten minutes.

“Well… could I maybe have your number?” he asked.

She nodded immediately, “Yes, of course, I won’t be on his insurance so please just get a quote and send me whatever it is. I’ll make it right.”

“Oh,” he shook his head, realizing that while that was the normal reason to have asked the woman who just rear ended you for her number it was absolutely not something that had even occurred to him. “No that was actually my way of asking you out.”

A smile landed on her face so quickly that it brought one to his own.

“You’re asking me out?” she asked.

“Trying to,” he agreed.

She crossed her arms over her chest, thinking something over and asked, “And what if this was my car?”

“Um,” he laughed as he thought about it, “Well I’d still ask you out. I would just never ever agree to drive anywhere with you in it.”

She giggled, and then informed him in a stage-whisper, “I drive a hybrid.”

“Family dinners must be interesting,” he teased.

“Oh you have no idea,” she smiled.

“I’d like to,” he told her.

She grinned again and then knocked a pair of tortoiseshell sunglasses off of her head and onto her nose, “You know, you’re a lot smoother than the last guy I rear ended.” He opened his mouth and she told him, “Kidding.Do you have your phone?”

He pulled it out of his pocket and handed it to her. She typed her number in and then handed the phone back to him.

“Are you going to be alright getting this back in there?” he asked, gesturing to what looked to be a private garage.

She nodded, “Thankfully he didn’t cover the windshield in crystals.”

He chuckled, “No because that would be tacky. Well get home safe, Myrcella Baratheon. I’ll call you soon.”

She gave him a heart stopping grin and then opened her door and eased into the driver’s seat. He went around his car and got back in, easing back into traffic.

Thankfully it was fairly light the rest of the way so he was only a little bit late for his meeting.

It was a busy day, some final interviews that people had wanted him to take part in, some calls with his Dad and Jon up north. So it wasn’t until later, as he walked the beach still in his suit, his shoes off and the sand beneath his feet, that he had a chance to call her.

He scrolled through to M, but Mom was the last entry.

“Was it Marcella?” he asked the sea.

He scrolled up just to be sure, but the only Marcella in his phone was a girl he’d met on a vacation in the Summer Isles. He deleted the contact because he hadn’t spoken to her in a full five years.

No girl had ever not given him her number before. He knew that it happened, it just hadn’t ever happened to him. There weren’t many that he asked for, and only when he felt something that seemed reciprocated. And though they’d only had a limited conversation, it seemed like they had.

She’d been so sweet and sorry and cute, pointing out her brother-

He scrolled up to the Ks and would have laughed if he wasn’t so busy sighing in relief when he saw King Joff waiting for him.

Without hesitating he pressed call and listened as it rang once, twice.

“Hello?” a soft voice asked.

“I’m uh, looking to speak to the king,” he greeted her.

Her giggle filled his ear, “Don’t even mention him I am in SUCH trouble. How are you Robb Stark?”

“I’m better now that I found your number, two scares in one day? Is this what it’s going to be like with you?” he asked.

“I’m free tomorrow night,” she informed him, “Want to find out?”

***

Two months later…

“And of course,” he sighed as he slowed down behind a bright yellow SUV.

“I would think you’d be used to the traffic by now and besides,” Myrcella noted at his side, “I would have thought you’d be fine being late for dinner with my family.”

“Your mother already hates me enough,” he pointed out, “I can’t afford to be late on top of being northern, being a man, being unrelated to you, being sexually attracted to you, being liberal, being alive…”

The light had turned green and yet the cars in front of him hadn’t moved. He went to go honk his horn but Myrcella grabbed his hand before he could.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hello,” he returned.

“Do you know what’s nice about traffic?” she asked. He raised his brow and she smiled, “I get to do this.”

With that she leaned in and kissed his lips softly. He kissed her back less so, his fingers carding into her hair as she opened her mouth to his.

Cars had started honking all around him, but in that moment he didn’t care.

He was really starting to love King’s Landing.

#fanfiction #modern au #robbcella

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truth-from-lies-in-fiction · 4 years ago

Text

Making it Count

To celebrate their final Christmas before graduating from Auradon Prep, the Rotten Four take an impromptu trip to a cabin on the edges of a snow-covered forest. But will they be able to stop fighting long enough to enjoy each other's company, or are things coming to an end for the VKs?

-Written as a Secret Santa gift for @bunny-lou. Bunny-Lou, it’s been a pleasure being your Secret Santa for a second year in a row. I’ve really enjoyed tapping back into the bond shared by the VKs, and I hope you’ll enjoy the results. I apologize this is being posted a couple days past Christmas; my computer crashed two days before Christmas, and I’ve been playing catch-up since. I’m so glad to read that you had an amazing holiday, and I hope this week continues to be amazing for you. Happy holidays, my dear! And to @descendantsgiftexchange, thank you for all the work you do in putting this together every year.

~*~

Mal winds the borrowed van through a landscape of frost, squinting to see through tufts of falling snow. Muted moonlight shines through the windshield, guiding her and the Rotten Four on this, the journey to their final prep school Christmas.

They sit in silence.

Jay leans against the rear passenger window, furrowing his forehead in silent thought.

Carlos, seated on the other side, toys with the remnants of a candy wrapper and stares into nothingness.

Evie, on Mal’s right, sends glances skittering throughout the car. Toward the boys. Toward the falling snow. Toward Mal, who has not looked at her since they slid into the warmth of the van two hours earlier.

Or since the fight they’d shared just before that.

Mal bunches her fingers around the steering wheel, trying to push the words, the looks, the feelings of that fight from her mind. Trying and failing miserably. She squeezes the wheel until her knuckles turn white, while the image of Evie’s biting, betrayed glare pushes through her mind.

What do you mean you aren’t going to college? Evie’s words had pinched together like the punches of a sewing machine. We promised we’d go together.

Mal had hidden her gaze behind a fall of her hair. Anything to avoid that burning look in Evie’s eyes. College just isn’t for me. The lie tasted spoiled and burnt, like scorched milk meant to be sweet. She swallowed it down and turned her back. Maybe it’s time we were apart, Evie.

Apart? Evie curled her fingers around Mal’s arm. You’ve been pushing me away all year, and now you’re ready to run?

Evie’s voice broke on the final word, and a fissure went through Mal’s heart.

She opened her mouth to answer, but the truth died on her tongue. The boys will be here soon. She pulled her arm away. Get ready. I’ll warm up the van.

Now, as Mal turns the van around another curve leading to their rented cabin, the truth is bitter and hollow upon her tongue. She ignores Evie’s penetrating stare, the one strong enough to slip beneath her skin, and keeps her gaze focused on the tufts of snow illuminating this, one of the darkest nights of the year.

~*~

They round another turn taking them to the cabin, and Carlos scrunches the candy wrapper in his fist.

Jay still won’t look at him. Or talk to him. Or do anything but grunt, like he did when Carlos slid into the bucket seat beside him in the van.

Carlos tosses him a glance now. “Be good to get inside.”

Jay shrugs and offers a grunt.

Carlos sighs. “We’ll have to get a fire going. You know, to keep the place warm. Ben says the heat won’t kick on until tomorrow.”

“Whatever.” Jay runs his fingers along his tourney stick.

That stupid tourney stick. Carlos stuffs the candy wrapper into his jacket pocket along with his fist. That thing gets more attention than I do nowadays.

Jay lifts the stick in the space between seats and studies its tip, chipped from the previous year’s tourney championship. “Should probably get this thing fixed.”

Six words. More than he’s spoken to me in days. Carlos leans closer. “You’ll need it in good shape for when you join the kingdom’s tourney league after graduation.”

Jay frowns at the stick. “Nah. League’ll give me a new one.”

“Oh.”

Jay drops the stick onto the floor, then turns his head to stare outside at the silhouettes of mountains lining the road.

Carlos searches for something, anything to say, to keep this conversation going. Words form on his lips, then fizzle and fade. What do you say to a guy who’s decided you’re not good enough for him? He slinks into his seat. I’ve already said everything I can, and all he does is grunt.

He turns his head to stare outside his own window at the lines of towering fir trees, a direct contrast to Jay’s mountain ranges.

~*~

Jay pushes from his seat the moment Mal parks at the edges of Sherwood Forest, where the cabin is a dark shape within a grove of pine trees. He stumbles and his toes collide with his tourney stick, kicking it half-beneath the seat in front. Grumbling, he bends to retrieve it.

“Here.” Carlos slides to his knees and reaches for the stick.

Their fingers touch. Touch and linger.

A warmth like a brush fire flickers beneath Jay’s fingertips.

Carlos glances up, right into his eyes, and their gazes connect.

Jay snatches his hand away, flashing on the faces of his soon-to-be tourney teammates, who most definitely do not feel brush fires when they touch other guys.

Breaking eye contact with Carlos, he tugs his hand through his hair. “Leave it, man. Not like I’m gonna be playing tourney in the snow.”

“Are you –?”

Carlos doesn’t have time to ask whatever question he’s gonna ask because Jay steps over him and hops out of the van.

The girls are outside, staring in that annoying way they do, with questions and accusations written in their eyes.

Those two see everything. Jay walks past them. “Do me a favor and bring my bag inside,” he calls over his shoulder. “I’m going looking for firewood.”

“Wow, Jay.” Mal’s voice is hexed with the kind of wicked vindictiveness she’d possessed back on the Isle. “Did you actually use up breath talking to us?”

Jay bunches his shoulders around his ears. “Don’t get used to it.”

He marches into the woods, leaving bootprints in the snow. His final words hang heavy in the frigid air, reminding him why they decided this trip was a good idea. Bonding and all that.

Trips like these are dangerous. They lead to unwanted touches and unasked-for stares. Jay snatches a thick branch from the ground, then another. Next year, we go our separate ways. We start our own lives. And no way am I agreeing to any more impromptu trips like this one.

For some reason, the thought leaves a hollow space in his chest.

~*~

Evie shivers awake in the early morning, tangled in a set of the cabin’s cotton sheets. The room is freezing. So cold, it makes her skin ache. She rolls over onto her side, hugging her knees to her chest, and stares through the window into the Christmas Eve morning.

The fir trees are still, the moon muted behind the fall of snow. Holly branches scratch the windowpane, their crimson berries the only splash of color in this winter world.

Evie’s mind ticks back to the Isle. A holly bush grew there, too. I’ll always remember.

Remember the year she cut its branches and placed them around the Rotten Four’s Clubhouse. For festive cheer, she’d said when Mal had arched a pointed eyebrow.

In the back-then, Mal had rolled her eyes and muttered something beneath her breath. But she’d stared at Evie’s decorations for longer than a heartbeat, her mouth scrunched up in that way it’s always scrunched when her mind and heart are full of secrets she doesn’t want to share.

The next day, more holly had been added, filling in the spaces left by Evie’s holly. Adding an artistic flair to Evie’s designer touch.

When Evie asked her about it, Mal’s cheeks turned pink. If we’re going to decorate for Christmas, we might as well make it count, she said, staring at her boots.

Jay and Carlos stared at the holly, too. The day after that, a Christmas tree appeared in the Clubhouse. Like you said, Jay said, hammering the tree into a cross of wooden planks while Carlos held it steady, might as well make it count.

Evie’s heart had felt lighter than Gossamer fabric. It was the first time they’d all come together after their first adventures on the Isle. The first time they’d spent Christmas together, too, gathered around the tree, telling stories and making jokes.

Nothing like how we are this year. In the here-and-now, Evie rolls over onto her back and stares at the ceiling. Nothing like how things will ever be again.

After they’d arrived at the cabin and Jay had made the fire, they’d spent about twenty minutes together before they’d all escaped to different rooms. Why don’t we sleep out here by the fire? she’d asked, but the boys had made excuses and Mal had given her an imperceptible dragon-eyed stare before each of three doors had shut and the locks had clicked.

Evie sighs. Her heart is a leaden weight, pressing her down into the mattress. Our last Christmas before we all go our separate ways, and they want to treat it like it’s nothing more than a burden.

She tosses her gaze back to the holly and her mind back to memories of that first Christmas on the Isle. Resolve bubbles like warm water beneath her skin. I won’t let them.

She kicks her blankets off and springs from the bed.

She dresses in her warmest clothes – a full-length blue jacket, knee-high blue boots and wooly blue mittens – and hushes from the room, clicking the door closed behind her.

In the living room, the dying fire glows with its final orange embers. She slides a poker from the stand beside the fireplace and pokes at the embers, making them flicker and flare. Selecting a few thick branches, she places them into the fledgling flames. The orange tongues lick at the wood, and the fire blazes back to life.

She slides off her mittens and raises her hands to the fire, brushing them together above the flames. Warmth washes across her skin, soothing her aches. Much better than the chill that’s pervaded this place since last night.

With a sigh, she casts a glance toward Mal’s closed door. Her mind flickers back to the dragon-eyed stare Mal had offered just before she’d closed her door, and to the biting green glare she’d given when she’d confessed that she hadn’t applied to college.

The warmth washing across Evie’s skin turns cold, making her shiver.

Mal hasn’t given her looks like that since they lived on the Isle, when Evie was her nuisance and Mal was almost a stranger. Not Evie’s best friend. Not the girl Evie had woken up to every day for two years.

How am I supposed to wake up knowing she isn’t there? She turns her gaze from Mal’s door and stares into the flames. Doesn’t she realize how important she is?

An ache forms deep inside, in a place the warmth can’t reach. Evie turns her back on the fire with its broken promises of heat and gazes around at the cabin.

There are no decorations here. Nothing to mark the fact that today is Christmas Eve, or that the Rotten Four are spending the holiday together.

At least I can do something about that. Evie shoves her hands back into her mittens. She grabs a few tools from some drawers and a closet, and then she disappears into the early December morning, her boots crunching pathways through the snow.

Three hours later, when her friends finally crack open their doors, shivering and rubbing at their eyes, the cabin is transformed. A Christmas tree perches in the middle of the living room, its emerald pine needles a warm contrast to the oranges and reds of the fire. Holly branches skirt along the mantle and the walls. A wreath of holly and berries rests upon the door. And several crimson candles flicker along the shelves.

Evie gazes at each of her friends: at Carlos, whose mouth hangs open, his gaze flicking to each of the decorations; at Jay, who takes a stumbling step into the room, a low whistle sounding from his throat; and at Mal, who gazes back not with a biting glare, but with a glance of warmth edged with something that makes Evie’s heart sprint.

The chill she’d felt deep inside flickers into a promise of heat. “Making it count,” she whispers, holding out her hands.

Mal winks. “Nice work.”

~*~

Things change. Become more bearable.

The girls sit together on the couch, stringing holly berries and popcorn onto strands to hang around the tree. And Carlos joins Jay in the kitchen on a mission to bake their weight in sugar cookies.

Breathing in the scent of fresh pine and cinnamon, Carlos pushes a wooden spoon through the mixture that will become dough.

Jay hovers over his shoulder, his warmth a caress against Carlos’ back. “Tasty,” he drawls, his voice in Carlos’ ear.

Carlos knocks back a breath. Does he realize what he’s doing? “Should be,” he says, shifting a little to put some distance between them. Last thing we need is another fight.

A mischievous chuckle sounds from Jay’s throat. He slides his hand into the bowl and pulls up a finger of dough mixture.

Carlos holds up his hands. “Come on, man. That’s for the oven, not –”

Jay lunges and streaks the mixture along Carlos’ jaw. “Whatcha gonna do about it, buddy?”

Carlos tosses down his wooden spoon. “Fight back,” he growls and reaches for the bowl.

Jay holds it up high. “Too bad you never grew those extra inches,” he says, patting Carlos’ head.

A thrill of electricity bunches in Carlos’ stomach. It’s just like always. Jay hassling me. Me hassling back. He reaches up and traps Jay’s hand before Jay can give his head any more pats.

With Jay’s hand cupped beneath his own, a flare of warmth radiates between their skin.

Jay stops.

Stops moving.

Stops laughing.

Stops breathing.

“Jay…” Carlos murmurs.

Jay blinks and snatches his hand away. “Come on,” he says, slamming the bowl onto the counter. “Let’s finish mixing this so we can eat.“

Just like that, the chill returns. Jay won’t look at him. Won’t talk to him. And when Carlos slides up beside him to finish stirring the dough, Jay shifts away.

“Fine, Jay.” Carlos kicks out at a cabinet, making a hollow wooden sound. “Whatever you want.”

On the couch in front of the fire, Evie is a warmth curled into Mal’s side. They sit together, stringing holly berries and popcorn to decorate the tree. Mal’s finger stings from three separate pricks of the needle, but her pain is a dull whisper quieted by Evie’s touch.

Mal slides a berry onto her thread. “I still can’t believe you did all this. How long did it take?”

“A few hours.” Evie pokes her needle through a piece of popcorn. “It was worth it, though.”

“Oh?”

“Mmm.” The corners of her lips curl into the beginnings of a smile. “I’d wake up even earlier just to see that look in your eyes, M.”

The warmth of the fire washes over Mal’s face. “What look?”

Evie spells her with a glance from the corner of her eyes, which have turned molten in the firelight. “The one you’re giving me right now. The one that’s happy and soul-deep and just for me.”

They gaze at each other for several scattered beats of Mal’s heart as the crackling fire does havoc on Mal’s body heat.

Mal slips from her jacket, leaving it on the couch, and drops her gaze to her strand of popcorn-and-holly-berries. “I didn’t know I had such a look,” is the lie that slides from her tongue before she can replace it with something truthful.

Of course she knows. She knows her looks, and she knows that she has exactly three of them for Evie.

The first, she offers when they’re watching TV or sharing Auradon gossip. The look of friendship.

The second, she punished her with last night when she wouldn’t let the college thing go. The look of dragon fire.

The third, she offers in the crimson firelight when Evie’s nestled in a ball by her side and heat that can’t just be firelight is warming Mal from head-to-toe. The look of all-things-dangerous.

Evie’s gaze is slip-beneath-Mal’s-skin penetrating.

In the background, there is a clatter as the boys’ conversation becomes louder. “It was just a touch, Jay,” Carlos says, his voice edged.

“Keep it to yourself, man.” Jay slams open the oven.

But all Mal knows is the sensation of Evie’s stare. A sensation that sprinkles goose bumps along her skin. It’s so intense that Mal looks away and slides another berry onto her needle.

The needle slips. The tip pokes into Mal’s skin. “Ouch.”

Evie drops her strand of popcorn-and-berries onto her lap and slides her hand around Mal’s, kneading Mal’s injury with the tips of her fingers. “What am I going to do without you?” she whispers, so low her words might be lost to the other sounds of the day. “When I go to college and you don’t?”

Great. The college thing. Again. She tugs her hand from Evie’s and stabs the needle back into the berry. “Drop it, Evie.”

“Why?” Evie covers Mal’s needle with her hand. “We should really talk about it. You broke your prom –”

Mal tugs her hand away. “I said ‘drop it,’ Evie.”

A bang echoes from the kitchen. “Dammit, Carlos. You just ruined the dough.”

“You distracted me. I wouldn’t have dropped it if you hadn’t kept snatching your hand away every time I tried to touch the bowl.”

The argument is lost on Evie, who’s still staring at Mal. “Fine.” Her nostrils flare. “We won’t talk about it.” She jumps to her feet. “Just tell me one thing, Mal. Why did you lie to me about college?”

“That’s still talking about it, Evie!” A flare of dragon fire burns through Mal’s blood, and she jumps to her feet, too. Her strand of popcorn-and-berries falls to the floor. “And I didn’t lie!”

Evie throws out her arms. “Obviously, you did, or you’d be joining me in September.”

A ball of dough flies into the living room, smacking the branches of the Christmas tree. “What the hell are you doing, Jay?” Carlos cries.

Another bit of dough slams into the wall beside the fireplace, sliding onto a thatch of holly. “If we can’t eat it, you might as well wear it.”

Mal and Evie whip toward the sound.

The boys tumble into the living room, Carlos tugging at the bowl in Jay’s hands. The dough inside the bowl swishes this way and that. Carlos slams into the couch, and the bowl flies out of Jay’s hands. The dough soars up toward the ceiling, landing with a smack on the ground by Mal’s feet.

Mal stares at the dough. “So this is Christmas.” She jerks her gaze from the dough to the boys to the girl-with-the-power-to-make-her-blood-boil-and-her-heart-sprint. “Our very last together as the Rotten Four, and we’re throwing dough at each other and accusing each other of lies.”

Carlos blushes and stares at his feet.

Jay stares outside at the shivering pines, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

Evie stares at each of her decorations, her mouth puckered into a scowl.

Mal stomps her foot, smashing the dough beneath her boot. “What is going on, you guys?”

Carlos grits his teeth and raises his gaze to meet Mal’s. “For months, Jay’s been stealing touches with me. Until three weeks ago, when he signed onto the kingdom’s tourney league. Now, he won’t even look at me.”

Jay pushes his fists into his pockets, but his gaze remains glued to the trees.

Evie glares at a bunch of holly, where a glob of dough hangs heavy on the leaves. “You know why I’m upset, M. We were supposed to go through college together, and you didn’t even apply.”

Mal swipes the dough from the floor. “Here’s what I know,” she says, balling it in her fists. “Jay, you’ve been walking around with a swagger since you got accepted to the league.”

Jay whips his gaze to Mal, opening his mouth to argue.

Mal holds up her hand. “Don’t. You know it’s true. You’ve barely spoken a word to me and Evie since.”

Jay twists his mouth into a jagged line, and a hint of pink colors his face.

Mal tosses the dough back into the bowl, which spins in a circle on the ground. She stares at its movement. “Evie, I didn’t lie,” she whispers. “I did apply. I just didn’t get in.” The truth burns her throat, a searing brand of shame. “I couldn’t figure out what I wanted to major in, so I left it blank. Colleges like girls who know what they want.”

She cannot look at Evie.

Not even when Evie moves toward her, a soft “M…” drifting like a caress from her lips.

Mal shakes her head. “That’s what I know,” she says. “And honestly, I have no idea how to fix any of this. It’s our last Christmas together, and we’ve fallen apart.” She turns her gaze to the front door, with its promise of ushering in a solitary winter world. “And I really can’t be in this room with any of you right now.”

She steps away from her friends. She steps away from the living room and out the front door. She away steps from the warmth of the fire, leaving it behind for the cold of the winter woods.

The chill blankets her skin and leaves her numb.

~*~

Emotions war through Jay’s blood. He pushes his fisted knuckles into the seams of his jacket and steps to the window.

Mal’s standing outside at the bottom of a snowy hill, staring up at the steel-grey sky. Not even wearing a coat. A bite of guilt gnaws at his gut.

Carlos and Evie are behind him, pinning with the weight of their stares.

They have no idea what to say to me. A sigh drifts up from somewhere deep inside of him. Moment of truth. “You guys ever been afraid?”

Silence stretches between them. He can’t see their faces, but he knows his friends are giving each other looks, trying to figure out how to answer.

He’s never once admitted to being afraid, not even when they fought other gangs on the Isle. The truth hangs heavy in the air.

“Sure,” Evie says, her voice gentle with a hint of warmth. “I’m afraid now, with each of us going in different directions.”

“Exactly.” Jay turns from the window and points at her. “Before now, we knew what the future held. Classes at Auradon. Meals in the kitchens.”

“Games and comfort in our rooms.” Carlos lifts a corner of his lips, offering a half-smile.

The gesture strikes a match of heat in Jay’s chest. “Exactly,” he repeats, his voice softer now. “Everything planned out.”

Evie steps to the window. “Things can’t be that way forever, though.” She raises her hand to the windowpane, cupping the glass with her palm. “We grow up. Do our own thing. Life moves on. So do we.”

Carlos’ half-smile falls, and something hollow echoes through Jay’s heart. Without thought, he reaches for Carlos’ hand.

Carlos jerks his gaze toward Jay, arching a brow.

This time, Jay doesn’t look away. “I’ve been a jerk,” he says. “Too worried about the unknown to focus on the here-and-now.” He tucks their fingers together, the beginnings of wildfire kindled in their touch. “I’m sorry, man.”

Carlos’ smile springs back to life, full and beaming. “’Bout time you admitted it.” He knocks his shoulder against Jay’s arm.

Jay chuckles, then turns his gaze to Evie. “I’m sorry, E. To you and Mal. You’re my friends. I need you in my life.”

Evie spins from the window. “That’s a good thing. Because you’re stuck with us.”

“Swear it?”

Evie nods. “On everything wicked and rotten.”

Jay grins. “Good.” He glances back out at the December forest, where Mal has perched herself on top of a snow-crusted rock, a sketch pad open on her lap. “Someone’s gotta go talk to her.”

“I will,” Evie says.

Jay grabs Mal’s coat off the couch and hands it to Evie. “Tell her I’m sorry.”

“Of course.” Evie takes the coat and steps out of the cabin into the snow.

With a gleam in his eye, Carlos brushes Jay’s jaw with a kiss. “Nicely done,” he whispers.

His words are punctuated by a clinking sound coming from the vents, followed by a blast of heat. Jay blames it entirely for the flame warming his cheeks.

He ducks his head as a goofy grin splits his face. “Whatever.”

~*~

The snow swirls down in drifts of white, nipping at Evie’s cheeks and nose. Her breath comes out in puffs of frost. She bows her head against the cold and warms her hands beneath Mal’s leather jacket, crunching a path toward the hill behind the cabin.

Mal comes into sight, her purple hair a splash of color among so much white.

She sits on a rock beneath a towering pine tree, its branches white with snow. Her hand is a flurry of motion along her sketchpad, her pencil weightless in her fingertips. Her fingers glide upon the page, drawing lines and angles and shapes that match her surroundings.

Her shoulders are hunched, curved in to protect her from the cold. But her lips are tilted upward, her features calm and peaceful.

A hum of warmth radiates through Evie’s chest. Mal-the-Artist has emerged in the forest, a snow nymph with a pencil-in-hand, bringing the winter woods to life in a sketch. How could I have ever thought she’d be happy doing anything but this?

Even in the back-then, when Mal hung more holly around the Clubhouse, it was because she wanted to add to the decorative flair. She wanted to make it count with her own artistic touch.

Evie takes a step toward her best friend, and the snow crunches beneath her boot.

Mal glances up. Her smile teeters. “Hey.”

“Please don’t stop.” Evie’s words push together in a rush. “I like watching you draw.”

Mal’s gaze drifts to her sketch, where a few snowflakes have fallen. She brushes them away with a caress of her hand. “No, it’s okay,” she says, running her fingers along a penciled pine tree. “You were right before. We really should talk.”

“Okay.” Evie crunches a path to Mal. “I have your jacket.” Taking a seat on the frigid rock, which makes her legs ache, she slides Mal’s jacket over Mal’s shoulders. “It’s freezing out here, M. What were you thinking?”

Mal clings to the halves of her coat, tightening it around her body, as Evie’s words fill the space in the silence that follows. Words that mean so many things.

What were you thinking, sitting out here in the cold?

What were you thinking, not telling me you weren’t accepted to college?

What were you thinking, pushing me away when you could have told me the truth?

Evie slides her hand over Mal’s, warming Mal’s frigid fingers beneath her palm. “Did you really think you couldn’t tell me the truth? That I would have liked you any less?”

Mal cringes and closes her eyes. “You were so excited, E. I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

An ache pierces Evie’s heart. She slides her free hand to Mal’s cheek, smoothing her thumb along the crease where Mal’s eyes close. “You could never disappoint me. You’re M and I’m E, and that’s the way it will always be.”

Mal trembles on a breath. “Even if I never go to college?”

Evie’s thumb stills. “Look at me, M.”

Mal blinks her eyes opened, gifting Evie with the sight of a green more vibrant than the forest’s pine trees. “I tried, Evie. I really did. But…”

Evie nods at Mal’s sketchbook. “But you never really wanted college, did you? Or school. You want to spend your life creating art.”

Mal’s gaze drops to her sketchbook. The splendor of the winter forest gazes back, scripted with the strokes of a pencil. “I wanted this,” she whispers, smoothing the sketch beneath her hand. “And,” she says, gazing back up at Evie, “I wanted you.”

Their gazes meet for one frosted breath, then two, as a thrill of electricity sings through Evie’s blood.

She leans forward and touches her lips to Mal’s. “You’ve got me,” she murmurs into the kiss.

A sound half-dragon, half-fae pushes from Mal’s throat, and she cups the back of Evie’s head with her hand, deepening the kiss.

Several sprints of her heart later, Evie leans her forehead against Mal’s. “We’ll figure things out. Together.”

“Promise?”

Evie nods, tapping another kiss onto Mal’s lips. “I do.”

Mal wraps her arms around Evie, hugging her long enough to erase the chill of winter.

Lost in Mal’s touch, Evie almost doesn’t hear the crunch of snow. But it becomes louder, and someone clears their throat.

Mal and Evie glance up from their rock to discover the boys standing there, holding the ropes to two sleds apiece, four altogether.

“It’s Christmas,” Carlos says, gesturing back at the sleds.

Jay tilts his chin toward the hill. “And since there’s a hill, we thought maybe we could celebrate VK style.”

“VK style, huh?” Mal rises from the rock, sliding her sketch pad and pencil into the back pocket of her pants. “Does this mean you’re done being a jerk, Jay?”

Evie bounces to her feet. “I’m supposed to tell you that he’s sorry.”

Mal tilts her head, daring Jay with a flash of her eyes. “Are you?”

“Definitely.” Jay nods. “I was afraid.”

“You?” Mal arches an eyebrow. “Afraid?”

“Yup.” Jay puffs out his chest, as if admitting this truth has made him prouder, somehow. “And you know what? I really don’t have to be. I’ve got you guys.”

Mal’s features soften, the artist within transforming the rough angles of her expression into softer lines. “Of course you do. We’ve got each other.”

“Yeah, we do.” Carlos holds out his free hand, making a fist. “To staying together.”

Evie joins her fist with Carlos. “To staying friends.”

Jay adds his fist. “To forever and all that counts.”

Mal studies their hands, narrowing her eyes as if thinking about it.

“C’mon, M.” Evie bumps Mal’s hip with her own. “VKs forever?”

Mal rolls her eyes. “You guys drive me crazy.” She moves her hand into the circle. “But okay. Friends again. Friends forever. You know, and all that counts.” Her lips twist into a smile. “Because we’re rotten…”

“…to the core,” the trio finishes.

The Rotten Four bump fists, sealing forever with a chorus of cheers.

~*~

The stars fan out across the sky, one of them shining brighter than all the rest, as Mal takes to the top of the hill with her friends. Together, they slide into their sleds. Mal slides her hand into Evie’s. Carlos slides his hand into Jay’s. They exchange gazes, and then they release a collective whoop and slide down the hill in the Christmas snow.

“VKs forever!” Jay shouts.

“Friends forever!” Carlos echoes.

“To making it count!” Evie cries.

A feeling of weightlessness soars through Mal’s stomach. She has no idea what the future holds for any of them. Carlos hasn’t even gotten his college letters yet, and she and Evie have to decide on living arrangements. But for tonight, as the stars shine bright within the sky, they have each other. And really, that’s enough.

#descendants #malvie #mevie #mal/evie #jaylos #vks #rotten four #christmas #descendants fic #malvie fic #jaylos fic #secret santa

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