#also praying they let us use the hair and finger tip colors in the main game

[splatoon-edits]

the weapons look so cool

[kiribaku-queen]

The Blood King and his Queen [1]

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

Romance, Angst, Drama

Word count: 2.4K

Summary:  From being a mere servant girl to marrying the scariest prince in existence, your world changed right before your eyes. Exchanging places with the princess, you knew, wasn’t going to be easy. But could you have found love on the way? Or was it never meant to be?

A/N: Hello my loves! And welcome back to another, rather long, series! I had so many inspirations for this piece that I couldn’t wait to share with you all! Be warned, this might be a 20 part series, maybe more maybe less but we’ll see what happens! I hope you fall in love with this story as much as I do!

And shout out to this amazing artist for the art! I am literally BLOWN AWAY by this art! I can’t stop looking at it! It’s so amazingly well drawn. Just... yes, yes, yes! Please support this artist if you ever want art done! Pricey but just look at this art. So worth it! Check out the end of the chapter for the full image without text!

Also!!!! Check out my side blog if you’re curious about what fics I’m reading! You’ll find alot of j u i c y stuff and please support my friends by reading and commenting on their stories as well! Love <3

                                                                                                         [next]

Nothing started your morning off better than the princess screaming her head off first thing in the morning. You, along with other servants, rushed to aid the princess in her time of distress. Although, it was never something to worry about with her. It was always something minor, like her hair was styled incorrectly or she didn’t like the color of clothes her servant picked out. Of course, this time, she was making a fuss that her perfume didn’t smell right.

“Your highness, I promise you, it’s the same one,” one of the servants who aided her in the morning pleaded for her life.

“No! You must have switched it out because it smells nothing like mine!” the princess screeched. The princess was so outraged that she started throwing everything and anything that was around her. Clothes, jewelry, candles, mirrors, anything she could get her hands on, she threw it. You and the other girls that just arrived could only watch in horror as her whole room becomes a mess with her belongings, some broken some completely shattered.

You wanted to say something. But you knew you couldn’t. If you stepped out of line or even talked back to any of the royals, you were surely to be punished severely later. Yet, you wanted to say something so bad. It was on the tip of your tongue. Because you knew the reason why it may smell different to the princess. To help your fellow friend in desperate need, you were going to say it. You pray to the gods that what you were about to say was right.

“Princess, if I may,” you started. The princess stopped what she was doing, midair, to give you the coldest stare you have ever received from her. You gulped. Well, too late to back out now. You bowed down your head respectfully while extending your hand to take the perfume. You don’t know why the princess decided to trust you at that moment, but she did. She nodded her head, allowing one of the servants to retrieve the bottle and place it in the palm of your hands.

“I believe it’s because your clothes already have a different perfume on it.” you explain. You pick up a different piece of clothing, one you knew was clean and free from previous scents, and spritzed the perfume onto it. “Here, does this smell like normal?” you offer the piece of clothing to the princess. For a moment, she stares at it, not believing your words. But she forcibly takes it anyway and smells it. The look of realization hit her harder than when she smashed her mirror against the floor. She spares you a second glance before handing off her perfume to someone and faces away.

“I would like to be left alone,” the princess states. After a synchronized bow from all her servants, you left the princess’s quarters and back to your own. When you were far enough, you let out a big sigh of relief. Man, that was scary. You probably shouldn’t be doing that again any time soon. Your friend hooked arms with you, the unexpected force made you loose your balance.

“Your intuition was spot on, once again,” she stated. You could only roll your eyes.

“I was just trying to help the situation,” you explained.

“Yeah, well if only the princess could use her brain once in a while, then she would have figured it out herself,” your friend puffed out her cheeks in annoyance.

“Well maybe her highness wasn’t feeling herself this morning,” you tried to defend her. But really, there was only so much you could defend her on.

“Oh, please, (y/n). You know that’s how she acts all the time. You act more like a princess than the princess herself,” your friend finally let the cat out of the bag. You quickly slapped her hand and checked your surroundings. Phew, no one of importance was in sight.

“Oh hush now. Don’t say things like that,” you scold her, giving her a stern look.

“What? You know all us girls think that. It doesn’t help that you look almost exactly like her. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought you were the princess instead.”

“Good gracious! Really? How could you say that so loud? What if someone overhears you? Then both you and me could get in trouble,” you warned. You knew your friend couldn’t care less. It was always gossip coming out of these girl’s mouths. That’s how news spreads fast around here. And you didn’t mind the gossip. Actually, you participated in the gossip too. There was a lot of downtime when you weren’t attending to the princess. So what do you do instead? Gossip. But you couldn’t have this type of gossip going around. This was dangerous.

The main girl who caused the princess to get upset, finally left the room. She was visibly traumatized by the whole event. Who wouldn’t be? Dealing with the princess is something else.

You noticed that the girl was bleeding from her finger. She must have gotten it when the princess was throwing glass around the room and it some pieces cut her.

“Come with me,” you gently grabbed her by the arm and led her to a room that was filled with different plants and bottles. The aroma immediately felt welcoming to anyone who stepped in. You went to a part of the room that you knew well and pulled out a bandage.

“This should do the trick,” you say as you finish wrapping her finger up.

“Thank you. How did you…”

“Oh, I learned a few things from the royal doctor. Sort of like an apprentice?” you explained. Being a servant isn’t the only task you knew how to do. On your spare time, you would come to the royal doctor and assist him whenever needed. In return for your volunteer, he taught you everything he knew about medicine. It was still a lot to process, but at least you knew how to do basic first aid.

“Are you even allowed to do that?” the girl asked. You thought for a minute. Was it? It wasn’t stopping you now.

“Well I guess it’s our little secret,” you put your finger to your mouth and gave a small wink.

After properly getting ready, you and the girls rushed to the princess’s side for it was your job to get her ready to be sent of and wedded. And she was not getting wedded off to just any prince. It was the rumored Blood Prince. Ah, yes. You heard much about this Blood Prince. He was the most vicious out of all the princes in the kingdom. Even more so than his eldest brothers. He was rumored to have sharp teeth and eyes that could kill with a single look. He was told to have scars marked all over his body from the battlefield. An ugly being, you imagined. Big, scary, intimidating, ruthless. God, you felt sorry for the princess for marrying such a man. You couldn’t imagine yourself marrying that type of person. Hearing stories about him made your blood run cold and chills down your spine.

You entered the princess’s room where a beautiful, white wedding dress, flowy, magnificent and perfect in all the right ways, was being fitted on the princess. You watched in awe because she looked absolutely fantastical in the dress. What a dream it would to be wear that dress only once in your life. At the same time her dress was being fitted, some servants were doing her hair and putting decorative pins and head pieces on. It was very chaotic in the room, with servants running everywhere, but it was all worth it for the princess to look this way.

You were preparing water for her hands and feet to soak while some of the girls that came with you were deciding which robe that best fits with her wardrobe.

“Your highness looks so lovely,” you commented, gently soaking her hands into warm bowls of water.

“Of course! I have to look my best for a special guest this afternoon,” the princess said in a cheery voice. You tilted your head slightly in confusion. You weren’t aware that the Blood Prince was coming to the palace. You thought the princess was being sent to him instead. You looked up and came into contact with a friend and she was speaking with her eyes.

She doesn’t know. She signaled to you. You frowned.

She doesn’t know?

She does not know.

Your mouth was left slightly ajar. The princess does not know that she is off to be engaged any moment now? This was a dilemma. She thinks a guest is coming. That’s why she’s dressed so much fancier than usual. But when she finds out that she is to be engaged, she’s going to wreck havoc in the palace. Now you really didn’t dare say anything now.

After finding out that very important piece of information, you could see that all the girls in the room knew, besides the princess. The tension in the room was growing increasingly more uncomfortable as time went on. But the princess was so air headed that she couldn’t read the room.

The princess was over the moon with happiness. And it was only because she could wear her fancy and expensive gowns that she can’t wear on the daily. She was skipping down the long corridors, humming a tune to only she knows as you and other servants follow behind her.

“Isn’t this dress beautiful? I feel like I’m in a wedding dress!” the princess exclaimed. You couldn’t help but raise a brow. Well, it’s because the princess is really in a wedding dress. But the princess did look beautiful beyond compare. She almost looked ethereal dancing in front of you like that. As the princess was dancing down the corridor, she passed by one of many large windows that gave a view of the front of the palace. A carriage was waiting to take her away to her fiancé, but she didn’t know that. Or did she?

She stopped in her tracks to take a better look at the carriage outside. A frown laid upon her lips and her eyebrows rightfully furrowed.

“Is that my carriage down there?” she questions. The ladies around you looked at each other, not knowing what to say. But even if they did know what to say, who was going to say it? One of your friends cleared their throat and bowed down to respond to the princess.

“It is, your highness,” she said.

“Whatever for?” a round of gulps could be heard from everyone there.

“For…your trip to your betrothed,” the girl’s voice shook from fear that the princess was going to blow up.

“My betrothed?” the princess repeated.

“Yes, your highness.”

“As in, to marry?”

“Yes, your highness.”

It was quiet. Nothing more came out of the princess’s mouth. And that scared all of you. This was not the normal reaction you were expecting. You expected her highness to rage, cry, scream, yell, destroy everything around her. But no. She was silent, like her tongue was ripped out of her throat.

In one quick movement, the princess turns around and dashes back to her bedroom. And who does she bring along? You! Before you could comprehend anything, the princess had taken you by the hand and now you were running down the corridor with the princess. The other ladies were running after you. When you turned back to look, you even saw a couple of guards running as well. But it was too late for them. The princess got to her room first, slammed the door closed, and barricaded the door with chairs to prevent anyone from coming inside.

“Your highness,” you call, out of breath from the sudden running. The princess didn’t answer you. She started taking off her dress, sending you into complete shock.

“Your highness! What are you doing?” you panicked. She only glared at you while not stopping what she was doing.

“Enough talking. Just take off your clothes,” she ordered you. You bit your lip. You had no idea what was going on but if she demanded it, then you had no choice but to obey. So, you stripped yourself of your filthy clothes and laid them on the floor. While you stood in front of the princess naked, she was getting the remaining of her clothes off. Then, she passed you her dress.

“Quick, put it on,” she said. You hesitated at first. You? Wear something only a princess could wear? But you couldn’t stall any longer. As quickly as you could, you put on the flowy wedding dress while the princess put on your peasant clothes. Banging was coming from the other side of the door, which only made both of you panic even more. If they came in while all this was happening, you would get into so much trouble. As soon as you both got situated in your new outfits, the princess gripped your shoulders so that you were looking her right in the eyes.

“Listen to me closely. You are going to take my place. I’ll be you and you’ll be me until you come back,” she shouted at you in a whisper.

“Your highness?” you began but she shut you up because she wasn’t finished.

“Your mission is to make this prince hate you so much that he calls off this marriage. Then you’ll return and everything will go back to normal,” she continued. It looked like she wanted to say more, but your time together was cut short. The guards had already pushed their way through the door and charging their way towards you. The princess, who was now dressed as you, quickly covered your face with the veil. The veil was thick enough that no one could see your eyes or face.

“Take the princess,” one of the guards ordered. The real princess bowed her head down, faking it until the end. The guards went straight up to you, grabbing you by both of your arms and forcibly escorted you out to the carriage.

And so there you were, on your way to some unknown kingdom, about to marry some man you didn’t even know. All because the princess ordered you to. No matter how much you hated the idea, you couldn’t even voice your opinions to her. You were in no position to do so. Before you left the palace grounds, you looked back, hoping that this was all some sort of sick joke. But the princess was looking down at you from the window, giving you a nod of trust. She trusted you. You had to fulfil her request.

This is how you found yourself in the presence of the most vicious Blood Prince, Bakugou Katsuki.

A/N: Let me know if you want to be put on a tag list! And leave your thoughts below about the first chapter! What did you think so far? How do you think the story is going to go? What did you think about the art? Speaking of art, here is the full image unedited! Are you in love with it just as much as I am?

[riddlecrux]

Why rejection leads to the endgame: Rowaelin and Elriel comparison.

This meta is based solely on textual pieces of evidence that can be found through the whole ACTOAR and TOG series written by SJM. My observations come from the text and what was given to us, the audience, by the author of the book. This post is going to be about two very prominent scenes that occur to the main characters and how they are played in the books, setting-wise but also plot-wise. Of course, a small warning: this is strictly pro-Elriel meta, so if it isn't your cup of tea you are in the wrong place. Also: SPOILERS FOR TOG!

I would like to start this meta with a short preface about how I am going to approach the subject. The things I will be looking into are setting, wording, and emotional attachments. (With a sprinkle of speculations).

We will begin with Rowaelin and how the rejection scene developed. The plotline setting is after a very tense situation, which was confronting Arobynn.

Queen of Shadows, pg. 321

Rowan was done waiting. (...) The lamplight glinted off the combs in her hair and along the golden dragon on the dress.

Emphasis on: - hair - light, and how it glides across combs of Aelin hair - "glinted"

Also worth mentioning is how Rowan finally overcame his inner battle. He became impatient.

Azriel POV, pg. 1

Azriel couldn't stop it. (...) he found himself leaving the room. Entering the foyer. (...) and there she was. The faelights gilded Elain's unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn.

Emphasis on: - hair - light, and how it lightens Elain hair - "gilded"

Again, we have a male who is questioning his inner feelings and after an imminent mind battle, he decides to move and goes towards a place when he meets up with a female.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 321-322

She half turned toward him. (...) The look in her eyes—guilt, anger, agony—hit him like a blow to the gut.

(...) and though she tried to hide it, he could see the fear in her gaze, and the guilt.

Rowan can read Aelin without words. Just one look and he knows exactly what she feels or what hides behind her words - which often are laced with lies. Yet, he, Rowan was able to always see beneath the false facade - even before they were told about them being true mates.

Azriel POV, pg. 2

Lie. Well, the second part was a lie. He didn't need his shadows to read her tone, the slight tightening of her face.

Elain's large brown eyes flickered, well aware of all that. Just as he knew she was well aware of why Azriel so rarely came to family dinners these days.

Azriel, just as Rowan can easily deduct lies underneath Elain's words. Him being a shadowsinger and spymaster could help him in knowing the truth, yet we have an emphasis on the fact that he didn't need his powers to realize and catch Elain's lie based on her tone and facial expressions.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 322

He watched her throat bob as she swallowed.

Azriel POV, pg. 2

He watched her swallow.

The same imagery, similar wording. Both males are focused on the females' emotions and their nervousness/trepidation.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 322

She rested her head against his chest, the tips of the bat-wing combs digging into him enough that he eased them one at a time from her hair. The gold was slick and cold in his hands (...)

Emphasis on: - Aelin initiating physical contact - piece of jewelry - golden color - Aelin's hair

Azriel POV, pg. 2-3

"Put it on me?" His head went quiet. But he took the necklace, opening the clasp as she exposed her back, sweeping her hair up in one hand to bare her long, creamy neck.

The golden necklace seemed ordinary -- its chain unremarkable.

Emphasis on: - Elain initiating physical contact - piece of jewelry - golden color - Elain's hair

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 323

She huffed a laugh that might have been a sob and wrapped her arms around his waist as if trying to steal his warmth.

He flattened his hand against her waist, his fingers contracting once as if debating letting her go.

We have Aelin seeking Rowan's touch, she is the one who pushes on the physical line between them. It's important to note that it's her constantly assessing Rowan, trying to close the distance between them. She's acting on her feelings and a need for closure.

Emphasis on the wording used by SJM: - "flattened his hand (...)"

Azriel POV pg. 3

Elain shivered, and he took a damn long time fastening the clasp.

Slowly, Elain pivoted into his touch. Until his palm lay flat against her neck.

Emphasis on: - "until his palm lay flat (...)"

In this setting, we have Elain who, once again, closes on the distance between her and Azriel. Just like Aelin she chooses to move along her feelings - which are obstructed from the reader's point of view due to the text being singular POV. It is her who slowly builds up the courage and makes Azriel touch her. Settle on her skin.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 323

She waited for him to pull back, but he just stared at her—stared into her in that way he always did. Friends, but more. So much more, and she’d known it longer than she wanted to admit.

Carefully, she stroked her thumb across his cheekbone, his face slick with the rain.

Aelin realizes her feelings. She comes with the terms of their friendship and its possible development - both she and Rowan started out on the wrong foot, yet they formed an amazing friendship. They built their relation slowly, surely with many heartful moments that bordered on the line of friendship and something more.

Emphasis on: - Aelin "stroking" Rowan's face

Azriel POV pg. 3

It had never gone this far. They'd exchanged looks, the occasional brush of their fingers, but never this. Never blatant, unrestricted touching.

Azriel's fingers lingered at her nape, atop the first knob of her spine.

Letting them brush the side of her throat, savoring the velvet-soft texture.

As in the Rowaelin case, Elain and Azriel also built their relationship from a friendship. It was formed during the very dark period of time on Elain's behalf - just like it was for Aelin's. Both Azriel and Elain found comfort with each other, they both started to enjoy the company of the other - sitting in comfortable silence. Yet, we have an idea that this friendship slowly started to bloom into something riskier, more emotional. Both, Azriel and Elain already had their first love ripped away, never fulfilled, and ending in a painful manner. And for the first time when we are inside Azriel POV, it confirms that they balanced on this thin line for a while.

Emphasis on: - Azriel "brushing" Elain's throat and nape

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 323

It hit her like a stone���the wanting. She was a fool to have dodged it, denied it, even when a part of her had screamed it every morning that she’d blindly reached for the empty half of the bed.

Emphasis on: - realization of desire - mornings in the bed - desperate search for Rowan in the sheets

Azriel POV, pg. 2-3

Prayed she didn't understand the shift in his scent. He had only allowed himself these thoughts in the dead of night.

(...) a headache powder he kept on his nightstand at the House of Wind. Not to use, but just to look at. Which he'd done every night he’d slept there. Or attempted to sleep there.

Emphasis on: - desire - night and bed - looking at the gift from Elain on his nightstand

Both scenes and paragraphs signalize that both Aelin and Azriel fought with their newfound feelings. They were realizing that the friendship was slowly turning into something more - a feeling of desire to not only be close to the other person but also a desire to close the distance between friends and lovers.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

She lifted her other hand to his face and his eyes locked onto hers, his breathing ragged as she traced the lines of the tattoo along his temple.

His hands tightened slightly on her waist, his thumbs grazing the bottom of her ribcage. It was an effort not to arch into his touch.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

(...) his thumb sweeping in long strokes along the side of her throat.

But Azriel just stroked her neck again. Elain shuddered, drifting closer.

Emphasis on: - constant engaging in physical contact - touching vulnerable parts of the other person - answering to the touch

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

“Rowan,” she breathed, his name a plea and a prayer. She slid her fingers down the side of his tattooed cheek, and—

Azriel POV pg. 4

“Yes" Elain breathed, like she read the decision. Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year, where only the Mother might witness them.

Emphasis on: - how the last word before the almost kiss is breathed - "religious" themes such as comparison to Rowan's name to the prayer - Mother (a "religious" figure) being present during this intimate scene between Elain and Azriel

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

Faster than she could see, he grabbed one wrist and then the other, yanking them away from his face and snarling softly. The world yawned open around her, cold and still.

He dropped her hands as if they were on fire, stepping away, those green eyes flat and dull in a way she hadn’t seen for some time now. Her throat closed up even before he said, “Don’t do that. Don’t—touch me like that.”

Rowan rejected Aelin in a brusque manner - and it wasn't necessarily because he didn't want to engage in expanding their relationship past the friendship. Rowan at this moment still lacks self-reassurance about how he should feel after Lyria. He is scared. It is something different than the feelings that restrained him from the kiss.

Azriel POV, pg. 4

Rhys's voice thundered through him, halting him mere inches from Elain's sweet mouth.

His stomach twisted as he pulled his hand from her hair and stepped back. Forced himself to say, "This was a mistake.”

We have Azriel who rejects the kiss because of Rhysand. It was not on his own terms. It was an order of his High Lord that involuntarily stopped him from kissing Elain.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

There was a roaring in her ears, a burning in her face, and she swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t mean—” She backed away a step, toward the door on the other side of the roof. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “It was nothing.”

Azriel POV pg. 4

She opened her eyes, hurt and confusion warring there before she whispered, "I’m sorry."

He shook his head, unable to stand the bleakness he'd brought to her expression.

In both scenes, it's the female that apologizes. The one who initiated physical contact. Aelin apologizes twice, meanwhile, Elain is rendered speechless and hurt - and it's Azriel who assures her that it is she doesn't need to apologize. However, Elain is left alone without an explanation and Azriel can't stand seeing her like that.

Both scenes are built in a similar manner - we have friendships border lining on a thin line of something more. Both Elain and Aelin are the ones who initiate physical contact and are the ones who are "rejected", left hurt, and confused. Rowan and Azriel are battling their self-hatred and feeling of unworthiness that is very sound in both of their POVS. There is a lot of things that contribute to the rejection - especially their feelings. Rowan and Azriel feel the romantic pull towards their loved ones - they know that desire and their feelings are reciprocated. Yet, their inner struggles are in the way of fully accepting the fact that the female they yearn for is able to accept them.

More parallels:

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 322

He’d almost fallen to his knees when he’d first seen her earlier tonight.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

He'd beg on his knees for a chance to taste it.

Both males are on the verge of falling to their knees in front of Aelin/Elain. They are ready to submit to their loved ones.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

(...) understood that though she’d seen his eyes shine with hunger—hunger for her—it didn’t mean he wanted to act on it. Didn’t mean he might not hate himself for it.

In this chapter in Queen Of Shadows, we are presented with dual POV, both from Rowan and Aelin so it's easier to see what Aelin had felt when she was rejected. She tells the audience that she was aware of the fact that Rowan exhibited a desire for her. Furthermore, we have another instance of Aelin being able to understand Rowan without words. She knows that Rowan feeling lust for her might have resulted in him hating himself for that because of what had happened with Lyria.

Azriel POV, pg. 2

Just as he knew she was well aware of why Azriel so rarely came to family dinners these days.

We are obstructed from Elain's point of view and her understanding is explained by Azriel. He knows that Elain understands him. It's an important thing to remember since their friendship was built on the comfortable silence in which both of them bask. Elain and Azriel, just like Aelin and Rowan understand each other without words.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 337

He hated it. Hated that he couldn’t reach her when she was that person. Hated that he’d snapped at her last night, had panicked at the touch of her hands. Now she’d shut him out entirely. This person she’d become today had no kindness, no joy.

Azriel POV, pg. 2-4

(...) Azriel had needed to stay by the door the whole time because he couldn't stand the sight of it, the scent of their mating bond, and needed to have the option of leaving if it became too much.

He shook his head, unable to stand the bleakness he'd brought to her expression.

Both Rowan and Azriel don't want to hurt their significant other. They battle their inner demons, their inner self-worth problems while trying not to put the weight of it on Aelin and Elain. Rowan has his mind troubled because he, at this moment in the books, is still burdened with what had happened to his "mate". On the other hand, we have Azriel who can't bring himself to be in the same room as Elain and Lucien due to their bond. A mate that Elain doesn't want. Azriel's reaction to the mating bond is also very strange - he can see it and scent it. Which I believe should be very telling if we're taking true mate/second mate theories into consideration. So, overall the problem of both males stems from the notion of "mate".

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 345

Even now, he honestly couldn’t decide if he was amused or enraged by Rowan’s words—Don’t touch me like that—when it was obvious the warrior-prince felt quite the opposite.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

He needed to know what the skin of her neck tasted like. What those perfect lips tasted like. Her breasts. Her sex. He needed her coming on his tongue --

Rowan and Azriel want to indulge in their desire for Aelin and Elain. Both of them weren't able to do so because of the "rejection", yet we are presented with the fact that even the rejection doesn't mean anything as long as both males feel completely opposite to what they had told during the refusal scenes.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 348

Her scent hit him as she unbound her hair and nestled into the pile of pillows. That scent had always struck him, had always been a call and a challenge. It had shaken him so thoroughly from centuries encased in ice that he’d hated her at first. And now … now that scent drove him out of his mind.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

Her arousal drifted up to him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sweet scent. He'd beg on his knees for a chance to taste it.

Emphasis on: - the scent - how it affects the male

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 348

They were both really damn lucky that she currently couldn’t shift into her Fae form and smell what was pounding through his blood. It had been hard enough to conceal it from her until now.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

Azriel's cock strained behind his pants, aching so fiercely he could hardly think. He prayed she didn't peer down. Prayed she didn't understand the shift in his scent.

Both males explain to the audience that their desire and lust were and are something they are battling as well. Rowan and Azriel are anxious because of their own problems with self-worth that they are struggling to keep as a secret.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 348

He’d seen her naked before—a few times. And gods, yes, there had been moments when he’d considered it, but he’d mastered himself. He’d learned to keep those useless thoughts on a short, short leash. Like that time she’d moaned at the breeze he sent her way on Beltane—the arch of her neck, the parting of that mouth of hers, the sound that came out of her—

Azriel POV, pg. 3

He had only allowed himself these thoughts in the dead of night. Had only allowed his hand to fist his cock and think about her then, when even his shadows had gone to sleep. How that beautiful face might appear as he entered her, what sounds she'd make.

Emphasis on: - keeping the desire to himself - imagery of the female body - the sounds/moans

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 348

She was now lying on her side, her back to him. “About last night,” he said through his teeth. “It’s fine. It was a mistake.”

Azriel POV, pg. 4

His stomach twisted as he pulled his hand from her hair and stepped back. Forced himself to say, "This was a mistake.”

I think this is self-explanatory. The same words, similar situation. Rejection followed by a declaration of it being a mistake when the truth is that both couples are yearning for each other and want to be with one another.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 349

The desire hadn’t been what shook him at all. It was just … Aelin had driven him insane these past few weeks, and yet he hadn’t considered what it would be like to have her look at him with interest.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

Her arousal drifted up to him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sweet scent.

So close one deep breath would brush her breasts against his chest. She looked up at him, her face so trusting and hopeful and open (...)

Rowan and Azriel didn't even think about the fact that their desire could be reciprocated- and more than lust they were shocked that Aelin/Elain would look at them with interest, longing, hope. They weren't ready to acknowledge the fact that they weren't alone in this spiral of emotions and feelings.

Moving forward we have the acceptance stage and romantic moments for Rowaelin in Queen Of Shadows. Of course in the case of Elriel we are limited to an extra chapter, however, there are still very prominent similarities in setting and wording.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 378

���Aelin,” he breathed. Not in reprimand or warning, but … a plea. It sounded like a plea. He lowered his head to her exposed neck and hovered a hair’s breadth away. She arched her neck farther, a silent invitation. Rowan let out a soft groan and grazed his teeth against her skin.

He let out another low groan, answer and confirmation and request, and the rumble echoed inside her

Azriel POV, pg. 4

“Yes" Elain breathed, like she read the decision.

Azriel's hand slid up her neck, burying in her thick hair. Tilting her face the way he wanted it. Elain's mouth parted slightly, her eyes scanning his before fluttering shut. Offer and permission. He nearly groaned with relief and need as he lowered his head toward hers.

Both couples operate without words. In the case of Rowaelin we have: - a plea - a silent invitation - an answer - a confirmation - a request

In the case of Elriel we have: - an offer - a permission - a decision - a relief - a need

The same setting, very similar description, and usage of words. As I was saying, in the case of Elain and Azriel relationship we are obstructed from Elain's point of view due to the content being a bonus chapter. Yet, we can draw a comparison between both couples. Why? Because SJM structured both rejections in the same way. Rowaeiln's rejection leads to a relationship, later to a discovery of being true mates. Is it a coincidence? From a writer's point of view and an avid reader - I don't believe so. She structured both rejections, in the same manner, using very similar vocabulary and even the familiar setting. In the case of Elriel - Azriel's "rejection" is what essentially builds a start for their relationship in the next book. We also have to remember that in Elain and Azriel situation we have:

- a mate - political background - forbidden romance - compatible powers - blood duel - connection to Koschei SJM gave us a setup for the premise of the next book which we know is Elain's. Azriel and Feyre's POV focus on her, but we know that it's one couple per book. Which perfectly aligns with Elriel and their rejection and pining. In SJM universe such rejections as the ones presented are used to further develop a couple, not to bring it down. The parallels are evident and if you are thinking that she doesn't use foreshadowing and she doesn't focus on details I would recommend rereading both series and see that SJM is an expert in foreshadowing - even the tiniest bits of it come out through the series.

That's why in the cases of her HEA couples rejection means endgame.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 379

“This changes things,” she said, hardly able to get the words out. “Things have been changing for a while already. We’ll deal with it.”

[ellitx]

Twig | Albedo x Reader

the final act of TWMA part 1 part 2 

can be stand-alone

disclaimer: this is written before v1.2 so my interpretation of albedo’s story and lore is not accurate. these are just my assumptions and understanding that i based on each characters’ voicelines about him

word count: 3.4k

            Something felt odd. What in the world happened…?

            The male awoke from an unfamiliar scent that drifted through his nose. Likewise, he has woken up from a restless sleep due to the rough waves, to glimpse at the glowing and radiant sun peaking above the horizon out of the window. It extended its vivid light across the deep blue sky. 

            Its dazzling and inviting rays flowed through the window providing warmth to his body. Slowly the fatigue of the endless dreams was seeped out of him as the warm light trickled into replacing his unrest— it eased his body.

            His mind meandered aimlessly into nothingness, continuously staring at the beige wall painted around the room.

            He is aware when he is forgetting when there is something close yet hidden, yet he cannot at that moment fathom what it could be. It’s as if he was following a bread crumb trail and it ends, so he stopped. 

            It gives him ideas as to what is missing from his brain because if one always got stopped when traveling, you would know that there are blocks in your way preventing you from continuing any further— even if he has no clue to as what they are. 

            A peal of melodic laughter that is mirthful and playful then reached his ears, stopping him from his dreaming. Albedo turned his head to the source of the voice and saw a girl— that was around his age— chuckling as she held a tray in her hands.

            “You’re finally awake.” She brought down the platter on the table next to him and poured a cup of tea. His visage frowned and tightly gripped the blanket that was tucked to him. 

            Why did he felt that she was mocking him? He doesn’t know why but for some reason it did irk him. He forgot about his memories. He doesn’t have the slightest clue as to where he was and why he was here.

            “Here.” She gave him the cup and patiently waited for him to take it. So this is where the foreign scent was coming from. He thought to himself.

             The smell was fragrant but had a tinge of spiciness in it. It made his nose crinkled but accepted it nonetheless— quite hesitant, as the girl observed. Taking a small sip of the tea, it surprised him that it tasted sweet. It was quite unexpected because of the tangy fragrance it gave off.

            “You look so lost.”

            The laugh came from her like a newly sprung leak— sheepish at first, stopping and starting. She wasn’t done yet though, he could tell from the way she turned her head and half-bit her lip. From deep inside her chest came a great shaking motion and her muscle face grew tight.

            His eyebrows arched as he put down the cup on the tray, waiting. In moments this female’s laugh was more like a burst water main arching into the brilliant summer sky, soaking everyone around her with unrestrained gales that deliberated her to nonstop giggles and picked face picture of glee.

            Albedo wanted to stay straight-faced and walk out the room— she was, after all, laughing “at him”, not “with him”. But before he could stop himself, his poker mouth twitched upwards, and was smiling despite himself.

             Nevertheless, he didn’t hate it.

—

             On the next day, she was already bombarding him with questions. 

            “Hey, hey, what was that thing you just did? That was my sister’s research she’s been working hard for and you’ve already solved it?!” [Eye color] optics sparkled in awe and admiration as [Name] gazed at him from her side.

            He peered into her eyes and nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders, continuing to read the texts of the book she gave him. “It was a minor mistake she had done. I’ve read some pieces of information about that topic and was not expecting I would stumble upon it.”

            She puckered her lips and pouted as she snatched the codex from his hands. His answer was so vague! It didn’t really satisfy her curiosity about this outlander. “Hey!” 

            The female raised her arms, preventing him from reaching it. “I won’t give this back to you until you tell me the whole story!” Albedo’s brows folded in confusion and struggled to grab it. “That is the whole story.”

            Her cheeks puffed and watched him yanked the book from her. It was disappointing, to say the least how he easily took it. 

            Sighing countless times already made him question himself why this girl still insists on staying by his side. It’s not like he didn’t like it nor does he like it, it just raised him so many questions about what happened yesterday.

            Why would the Knights took him in considering how [Name] just effortlessly helped him out of nowhere. Not to mention how he barely knows a single thing about Mondstadt. It made him indignant how he can’t remember even the slightest thing.

            He doesn’t blame anyone for it. It’s no one’s fault that he lost his memories.

            Just thinking about this bizarre occurrence that just magically appeared out of nowhere made his head ached. Though the tug on his arm caught his attention and looked at the young teen in puzzlement as they started to march off to archon knows where.

            “Maybe I should tell Grandmaster Varka about this…” She softly muttered to herself. He caught her words perfectly and so further press a question to pique his interest. “Tell about what?”

            Both of them slowed down and paused in their tracks, stopping midway near the fountain area. [Name] chuckled and winked at him playfully. 

            “You’ll see.”

            Albedo hummed and looked fixedly on the back of her head as they continued to walk silently. 

              There was a delicious moment where his face washed blank with confusion, like his brain cogs couldn’t turn fast enough to take in the information from his wide eyes. It made [Name] stifle a laugh at the expression he was currently showing to all the members of Ordo Favonius.

            Every muscle of the male’s body just froze before he looked away from them to the girl who stood beside him. A grin crept up onto her face, it soon stretched out from one side to the other showing every single tooth.

            Surprise isn’t an emotion he’d ever taken well. He could tell himself he was at loss for words. He guessed he found himself dumb, in a sense that made his lexeme stopped flowing. Stopped because she has shown him a new direction he never anticipated for a moment.

            Every member knows she had saved him— saved him from what though? That he did not know, he never asked her about it nor did she even tell him what happened to him. He just let it be.

            Receiving the news that he’ll be a member of the Knights, to have the position as the Chief Alchemist, really made him bewildered and surprised.

            “Isn’t this happening too fast?” He questioned whilst quirking a brow.

            “Hm? What do you mean?” [Name] tipped her head as her eyes stared at his own turquoise ones.

            “Why is everyone easily agreeing to it? I’ve only been here for a day and just assisted your sister in translating. I appreciate the thought that the Grandmaster here is giving me the position of Chief Alchemist but I can't help but question why.”

            She glanced at him, her mouth pursed but slightly open and loose. Her eyes are fixed as if she’s looking at something a yard behind his head. He called her name to garner her attention.

            She blinks, refocused. “Albedo, it’s actually been five days. Lisa talked to everyone about how genius you are.”

            Now it was his turn to owlishly blink. Five days? Does time really move that fast?

            Well, he did hear the saying that time flies fast when you’re having fun. He never noticed about it and now that the idea battered him, it continued to linger inside his head.

             What happened yesterday, what happened today, everything still feels the same. Even if the fragment of memories within him seemed to etiolate. His hands clawed his chest, feeling the unusual warmth from it and throughout his body.

            Everything has been important to him and will be important to him.

            He knows that these distant memories seem so far and vague but are significant to him.

            He doesn’t understand the reason why, but he shouldn’t forget.

             At least that’s how he thinks things should be.

  —

             The sound of the ticking grandfather clock echoed throughout the silent room. It sounded so monotonous and lifeless inside. The tall and antiquated object stood there as the gateway for old-man time, the golden pendulum making its steady way back and forth.

            The silence was so eerie, though none minded at all as two teenagers were fast asleep, still remaining inside their dreams. 

            An aroma Albedo has gotten used to woke him up. It’s the smell of the herbs and various flowers that have mixed together giving off a sweet and minty scent. He opened his eyes and stayed like that for a few minutes.

            The alchemist tiredly glanced down to see the papers are now messed and scattered all over the table. Heaving a sigh as he raked his fingers through his hair, his aqua optics went on to the female’s sleeping body that rested on his lab’s bed.

            She still hasn't woken up.

            He stood up from his seat and quietly approached her unconscious form to check on her condition. [Name]’s features were much softer in sleep, the lines that usually creased her brow replaced by youthful appearance giving off a child-like look. 

            She looked peaceful, he thought to himself.

            He pulled up the blanket over her shoulders and turned around to continue making remedies for her once she’s awake. 

            The Knights of Favonius were worried sick about her, especially her sister, Lisa. They were hoping and praying to the Seven she’ll wake up from her coma. They all miss her presence, days of not seeing her wandering around also worried the townsfolk of Mond.

            She has been cooped up inside his room while Sucrose and Noelle assisted him in taking care of her. 

            The morning dusk is about to arrive and Albedo has to continue doing his research nonstop. He does so wished to see her [eye color] orbs finally open after the incident. It hurt him to know [Name] has been like this that he did not even realize until the Acting Grandmaster and her sister told him about it.

            He stared at the small plant that was placed on the windowsill. Its leaves started to fall off from its branches as it slowly started to wilt in the darkness. He grabbed the small twig and observed the faintest of light it gives off.

            Would it hurt to say that it reminded him of her? 

            [Name] is someone that has to be taken care of carefully. After all, when she saw what he had written about her condition, she didn’t want to believe it. He wanted to say that her “friend” was just a fragment of her imagination without affecting her mental state.

            He hovered his hand over the small branch, watching it bloom before his eyes with ease. He placed it back in the vase and returned to the table. If only he could easily return her back just like how he did with the plant.

            Return her from his arms again instead of that bard.

            He let out a bitter laugh at that thought. This was his fault. Why would she come back running to him if he did not even once give her his time? When they’ve finally met again for so long, she was avoiding his eyes.

            It hurt him, he won’t lie about that. Her welcome to him was just a simple nod and that’s it. No hugs, no welcomes, not even a small smile was given to him.

            If he did stop his research and at least spend time with her, will everything change?

            Albedo shook his head as the answer to himself. Even if it is, why would he still continue hoping and thinking about these things? Sometimes his formulation of the rationale of real-life situations irked him. 

            This isn’t alchemy, genius.

            His self-feud stopped when he saw her fingers moved the slightest from his peripheral vision. His heart fluttered and gave him a bit of hope if the archons had finally heard their wishes. 

            When her eyelids flickered open, the sight was not what he was expecting. 

                      A lone tear trickled down her cheek. Her lips quivered and continued to look at the distance. Out of complete silence, her soft cries arose. He’d never seen [Name] sat like that, so deflated. Her loose shoulders shook, her hands hanging low, making no attempt to conceal or even wipe her own tears.

            All of these emotions coming to him at once hurt him.

             His head throbbed and let the feeling of guilt crush him.

  —

             The giggle rolled around the room like a child’s spinning top, vibrant and heartwarming as it moved around the people in its chaotic ways. It came in its fits and bursts— loud to soft to nothing at all and back to loud again. 

            It was as if there was an invisible feather at [Name]’s nape brushing softly; she squirmed and raised her shoulders to block Barbara from tickling her neck. The laughter built up inside her like so much water behind a dam, making her shoulders and her belly hurt.

            She cried when Klee jumped onto her body and joined in with the deaconess. Their carefree and playful tittering reached Albedo’s ears when he entered the room. Their eyes darted towards him as their laughs died down.

            The Spark Knight ran towards him and hugged his legs, overjoyed in seeing the alchemist here. He knelt down to her height and patted her head as a smile slowly crept up to his face.

            [Name]’s laugh caught his attention again, though he did not dare to look at the two females. As much as he tried to focus on listening to Klee’s words, he cannot help but listen to the former’s gentle hilarity. 

             For some reason, it made his chest wrenched every time he listens to it. He wondered why that is when it’s something he remembers all the time. 

  --

             He recalled the day he got his Vision. It appeared out of thin air on his desk and she was the first one to point it out. It surprised [Name] why he had gotten Geo instead of Dendro. She watched him fiddle the trinket in his hands as he continued to analyze it. 

            He didn’t really mind whichever Vision he got. As long as he can continue doing his research then it’s fine with him.

            He didn’t know why he found himself laughing so hard, but all of a sudden, he couldn’t stop. His breath came in quick gasps between his unstoppable tittering. Tears gathered in the corner of his eyes, threatening to spill over.

            She was confused about why he was laughing all of a sudden worrying her. He waved his hand dismissively and pointed out the expression that was currently painted on her face. Her face reddened and slapped his back jokingly.

            After their short playful bickering, the Chief Alchemist plucked a small branch from a plant and hand it over to her. 

            “Visions are gifts given to us by the Gods. Think of it like this sprig, there are many possibilities which among the elements they’ll receive yet no one knows what they’ll end up with until they’ve received it.”

            She furrowed her brows as her brain cogs continue to process what he meant. It finally dawned on her what he meant and hummed. “But not everyone can receive Visions, though.” She remarked.

            “Exactly. They may not bear fruits or maybe yet, one day it’ll come to them.”

            “That’s not what I meant.”

            “Then what is it?”

            [Name] sighed and rested her chin on her palm. “Not everyone is blessed by the Seven.” The male was still and quiet. 

            “Well, I’m no god. I may not know how they give out Visions but it sure is something remarkable, isn’t it?” Her eyes lightened up and nodded vigorously.

            “Right?! Wouldn’t it be better if they just give it to everyone?” Albedo laughed and admired her own exclamation. 

            “Perhaps.” 

            It surprised the female teen that he just suddenly grabbed her hand unnoticed. He observed how small her hands are compared to his. He placed the twig on her palm and with a simple motion of his wrist, the branches started to grow as small leaves then sprouted from it.

            It occurred to her just how amazing Albedo is. She raised the small branch in the air and examine the faintest glow of the leaves it emitted. She gasped and stared with wide eyes as isotoma flowers started to bloom from the ends.

            “W-was that suppose to happen?” She turned her head to him and pushed her arms forward to show the herb to him.

            He bobbed his head and took out a pot filled with soil. He used his elemental skill on it and a cecilia shaped flower appeared. Instead of the usual vibrant white, it almost looked too rigid and rocky.

            [Name] poked it and it really was sturdy. He asked her if she can use her own elemental skill, to which she responded with a yes. She twirled her hand and he can feel the air starting to get cold.

            Small snowflakes started to form and dropped down on the pot. Once the snow made contact with the rocky flower, it formed into a crystal and bloomed into a refreshing and spirited cecilia.

            It felt like a real flower instead of the stony one they just saw. The alchemist plucked it and carefully tucked it to her ear, adoring how well it donned her appearance and perfectly captured her delicacy.

             Cecilias really does suit her.

             That day, the day he only showed it to her. It’s the memoir he cherished the most. It’s the only special memory he couldn’t forget.

            He understood why. He keeps thinking of her.

            All these mnemonics with [Name] are important to him and are everything to him.

            And on that day, he believed she wouldn’t leave.

 —

             A smell of a nostalgic sweet breeze wafted in him. The winds kissed his skin making him wish to go back to sleep, yet the sound of familiar laughter was what made him want to open his eyes.

            He recognized those sweet mirths. It’s so close to him that he can feel the figure’s shakiness. The tree’s shadow helped him not to be blinded by the rays of the sun and the gales that caressed his skin were so calming, but his focus was purely glued to a smile.

            Her smile.

            He still waited for the day when he can show the small beauties of life to someone, but there are no fools like him in this vast world. Perhaps they exist, yet they must be distant, enjoying the same sky with other eyes yet the same thought. 

            The whistling of the birds that awaken their sleep in the trees, letting his perception be painted with white, yellow, and blue. It battered him that he was currently laying on her lap.

            So shall it stay put, a smile eternally stained upon her lips. Her joy, her love, her laughter, her cheer. All will reach the ears of those who have forgotten the warmth of such harmonies.

            Emotions came to his mind like the waves meeting the land. They come to him, soaking his entire being and helped him to understand his entire self better. He felt wet hot tears filled up his eyes.

            But this was no tears of grief. 

            It was tears of joy that he has finally heard her laugh once again. Much closer than before. The distance with them has now shortened. Is this the archons saying they’ll give him another chance?

            If it is, he’s very thankful to the Celestia and to the Seven. He was so happy that all he can do is cry and let the tears continuously fall down his cheeks. The tears stained his face but he didn’t care if it did.

            Albedo was just so ecstatic he finally got to reunite with her. He can finally hold her in his arms and apologize for the mistake he has done to her. He missed her so much that he can’t bear the pain anymore of how distant they are.

             And so he promised himself he won’t ever forget her.

 this oneshot is based on this song   

[vanillafrog]

Stress in the Headquarters

Pairing: Javier Peña/You (AFAB Reader)

Summary: Javier is nothing but a man who has his very specific forms of stress relief. When abstaining from one, his tension just seems to increase without stop. So you decide to help. After all, it might just be your fault slightly.

Word Count: 1796

Warnings: Smut!! M receiving Oral Sex; lowkey public but the blinds are closed

A/N: You may be wondering why I write so many Javi fics. The reason is because I like to ruin @barricade-gal :)

Javier Peña was a man built of stress and tobacco. More of one than the other on most days. There were very few moments in his life where there was an absence of stress and those moments were usually found under sheets with strangers that he paid for. But recently, he no longer found himself emptying his wallet on the Bogota streets.

Everyone knows the classic tale of the man whore who found chastity when he fell in love. Most of the time, those romcoms were nothing more than a romcom, something to make fun of at the end of the night. Javier never saw himself as the main love interest in such a thing but life was a funny way of turning things around.

The moment you began working under him, Javier had thought of a thousand different ways for you to work under him. A week after you came, he came in his hand more than a half dozen times. To say he was fixated was putting it lightly.

He knew his reputation better than anyone else ever could. After all, he was the one who made it like that in the first place. Javier also knew that if he did want a shot at you (though he shouldn’t try since you work together), he needed to clean up his act. After all, you deserved more than a man who couldn’t keep it in his pants.

So his main form of stress relief was tobacco and strangely enough, that didn’t work for everything he found himself frustrated with.

You wore a particularly tight skirt? He chain smoke a pack of cigarettes in less than two hours. You laughed at his joke and touched his arm? Well, he hoped he didn’t have to run that day. You leaned forward to show him something with the top two buttons of your blouse open? Javier would find himself in his office, head in his hands with a cigarette hanging from his lip as he tried to ignore the throbbing in his pants.

The moment you had turned twenty one, you applied to the FBI Training Academy and graduated with flying colors. You were put into the DEA without a second thought because everyone knew you were sharp. As eagle eyed as you are, you knew how Javier felt the moment his eyes first raked across your form when you met for the first time.

You could also tell that he was trying o find relief with cigarettes rather than whores to prove that he was more than just his reputation. So, you put it to the test.

You’re no evil mastermind, you would even argue that you were far from it. But you got a sadist pleasure of making him squirm from the smallest of things. And three months into your test of wills, he never broke once. Tension just built on top of already existed stress to the point of near seam bursting.

Javier was in his office smoking his fifteenth cigarette of the day when you walked in. His eyes subconsciously took in your form as you closed his office door behind you, locking it as you went. He watched as you shut the blinds as well but didn’t dare say something to you.

“How are you today, Agent Peña?” You asked once you were guaranteed some form of privacy in the office space. With your hands intertwined behind your back, your breasts were pushed out and it took everything for Javier to keep his eyes connected with yours.

“The same as always, hermosa.” He put out his cigarette as he leaned back in his seat. “Was there something you wanted?’

Javier was trying his best to stay calm but the moment you stepped into his office, his pants were ten times tighter than they were before and all the blood left his brain. Today you wore the tightest skirt you had to offer and your pink blouse (a noticeable favorite of his since it’s his favorite colors) had the top two buttons open. It was like you were the apple and he was Eve, more than willing to take a bite.

“It’s more of what you want,” you said with a sultry smirk. Your heels clanked against the hardwood as you started to walk behind his desk. “You’re been so stressed lately.”

He prayed you couldn’t see the way his cock strained against the denim of his jeans or how it twitched when you set your hands on his shoulders.

“We have a stressful job.” His voice was deeper now, thick with lust and there was no way he could hide how he felt with the warmth of your hands bleeding through the fabric of his shirt.

“Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be allowed to,” you brushed your lips against his ear making Javier bit his lip to hold back a moan. “Relax.” You nipped at his ear, lips trailing down to his neck. Javier gripped the armrests of his desk chair tightly, hoping it would ground him somehow. If this was a dream from falling asleep at his desk again, he didn’t want it to end.

Sucking and biting at his neck, you let one of your hands caress his chest. He was breathing hard and heavy, like his lungs couldn’t get enough oxygen to his head. They probably couldn't, considering the blood had left there minutes ago.

“Hermosa.” He moaned as your fingers brushed over his nipple. Javier shifted slightly in his seat, needing to relieve some of the pressure on his aching cock.

“I want to take care of you, sweet boy.” He whimpered at the nickname. “Won’t you let me?” Javier nodded, unable to speak with your lips pressed against him. Your hand found home in his head and you yanked back his head so he could look at you with hooded eyes. “You got to use your words, baby.”

“Fuck-“ he licked his lips. “Please take care of me.”

With a devilish grin, you dropped his head and spun the chair so he was facing you. He stared up at you with lust blown eyes and a deep flush spreading across his ears and coloring the tips of his ears. You knew that your time in his office was running out before it became suspicious so you fell to your knees and started to unbuckle his belt. Purposely rubbing against the bulge making Javier whimper.

“You’re going to need to stay quiet for me. Can you do that?” Javier nodded his head enthusiastically as his hand buried into your hair to hold you close to him. The sound of you unzipping his pants mixed his panting breaths as you nuzzled your face against his clothed cock. Javier bucked into you and softly apologized though you knew it was half hearted as he was too aroused to really notice his reactions.

He wasn’t wearing any underwear so his cock was instantly in front of your face and exposed to the cold air of the office. Javier was squirming, making it bob in front of you. He was big, like really big which made sense for the confidence he emitted whenever (which was always) he walked dick first.

You couldn’t help but lick your lips.

Leaning in, you licked a long stripe from base to tip that made Javier throw his head back against the seat with a drawn out moan. You wrapped your left hand around the base and swirled your tongue around the leaking tip, tasting his pre-cum. His hand tightened in your hair.

“Be quiet.” You mumbled before swallowing half of him causing Javier to let out a choked out groan.

He tasted of soap, hours old sweat, and something that was just Javier. You knew instantly you were going to be addicted to this. His taste, his sounds, the way he stretched your lips making you imagine how it would feel when he fucked your pussy. You wished now there was more time for that but you would have to settle for a few hours of burning arousal.

Bobbing your head, Javier softly bucked into your mouth, chasing his own pleasure. He quieted himself down but moans and whimpers still fell from his lips as he lost himself. Eventually he looked down at you on your knees in front of him. When did he get so lucky? How did he get so lucky?

You swallowed around him as your eyes met his. He let out a few curses and you felt him throb. There was no way he was going to last long, not after abstaining from anything like this for three months. Not when you are making him feel so good.

Your free hand cupped his balls and his mouth fell open as his brow furrowed. The throbbing intensified. You bobbed faster, rolling your tongue as best as you could on the pulsing vein. His breathing was even heavier as you pumped the parts you couldn’t fit in your mouth.

“Fuck, cariño, I’m going to-“ he didn’t finish before he pulled you farther down him making you choke slightly. He came in your mouth for a long time, forcing you to swallow as much as you could but still filling your mouth with his cum. His body shook as his felt his soul leave his body. Sweat ran down his flushed face as his back arched, hips stuttering against your hand.

Javier slowly calmed down, back meeting his chair again and hand dropping from your hair. You pulled off of him, he hissed. Instantly, he missed the warmth of your mouth. He wished there was a way he wouldn’t have to leave it ever even if that wish was impossible.

You stuck your tongue out at him, showing him the cum that you didn’t shallow. He watched transfixed as you made a show of shallowing. His now soft cock twitched at the sight. Gently, you put him back into his pants and adjusted his clothing before standing and placing a peck to his lips.

He looked confused and tired.

“I’ll see you after work, Agent Peña.” With that, you simply walked out of his office leaving the blinds closed.

Javier just stared at where you once were. He knew it from the beginning but now he had the proof he needed to know. He was fucked and he was now the main interest of a shitty romcom. Or a porn with too much story. He hoped that this time things would go well because he didn’t know if he could really handle any more stress.

He lit a cigarette and tried his best to read the files in front of him, ignoring the ticking of the clock with hours to go before he could return the favor.

[mrsalwayswrite]

This Night (40s!Bucky Barnes x Hispanic!OFC)

Summary: When she saved a scrawny blond in a back alley, she would never have anticipated the ripple effects it would have. Nor how meeting someone with a pair of baby blue eyes and cocky smirk would draw her in, encouraging her that for one night, to taste revelry like she never had before.

This is my submission for @allaboardthereadingrailroad​ Marvel Diversity Challenge! My prompt was “a little danger never hurt”. 

I am going to admit, I’m super nervous to post this. I’ve never written a person of color before and would be horrified to accidently offend someone. That being said, I also had so much fun writing this piece. I adore 40s Bucky and Steve, so I was excited to finally have the inspiration to write them. 

Few notes:

-All translations are via google and what I can remember from university (if any of my Spanish is wrong, please please please someone tell me and i’ll correct it!)

-I threw in some 40s slang for fun, so that will be in italics.

-In the little research I did (again, someone please correct me if I am wrong), in the 40s there were not many Hispanic or Latino people living in NYC yet. So for my OFC and her family, they would very much stand out. 

Warnings: a few swear words, some angst, sexual tension, topic of racial discrimination and inequality 

Words: 8k (the story kept growing, i’m so sorry)

<gif is from Pinterest>

She clutched the parcel to her chest, trying to avoid the muddy puddles on the sidewalk. Mr. Hendricks would be furious with her if she got any mud on the packaging of the parcel. He always said it reflected his reputation.  

 Weaving through those walking down the busy Brooklyn sidewalk, she could feel the few glares and inaudible comments following in her wake. She tried to ignore it, knowing was not the first nor last time others judged her for her different skin tone. Though she doubted she would ever get used to it. One of her older brothers would try and cheer her up saying the white folks were jealous since they burned when in the sun too long while Spaniards became more beautiful. Without fail, she would smack him but end up laughing along. 

 Peeking at the address scrawled in precise handwriting, she surveyed the street names around. A sinking feeling in her gut confirmed her fear- she had somehow gotten lost. 

“Mierda.” She hissed, turning around in a circle. Not just to try and relocate her whereabouts but on the off chance her mother happened to be behind her to whack her over the head for swearing. 

 Not wanting to be run over by a fellow pedestrian, she stepped off the sidewalk into an alley nearby while she tried to get her bearings. She brushed down the front of her workwear, dark blue, princess style dress with its Peter Pan collar, double pockets and pleated skirt. A glance at her tights showed a couple spots of mud she somehow managed to still get on her even though her kitten heels were still mostly clean. A miracle really. 

 It was only mid-afternoon but Mr. Hendricks hated when she returned late from delivering parcels. He was the best tailor in Brooklyn and practically thrived off that title. He employed her to help keep things organized, the shop looking nice and delivering parcels to their patrons. It was mindless work but that did not bother her. It was a job...and she was lucky to have one. Being from one of the few Hispanic families in the area was not a perk when trying to find work. She knew the only reason she even got this job was she willingly took half the pay he would have given to anyone else, she could sew well, and she was pretty. 

 A crash at the end of the alley drew her attention behind her. There was some hushed talking followed by another sound of something hitting the ground. Hard. 

 Logically, she knew she should walk away. She was already lost. Her mother frequently reminded her to not involve herself in other people's business, it would only get her in trouble. The problem was her curiosity was a near palpable thing, driving her forward, along with her independent streak the size of the Upper Bay. So when she heard what sounded like a smack and another crash, her feet started moving without a second thought. 

 She darted around a half brick wall to find herself at an "L" intersection. And at the end of both alleys, stood a tall man with a face like a bulldog and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows, fists at his side. Below him lay a much smaller, blond man who was sprawled out on the dirty ground. The smaller man groaned, rubbing a hand on his jaw. He rolled onto his side, then slowly and painfully rose back onto his feet, his own fists in front of him in a poor imitation of a boxer. 

 "You think you somethin' special, huh?" The larger man jeered, a nasty smirk on his face. He leaned on his back foot, preparing to throw another punch. 

 The smaller man raised his fists but made no other move, prepared to take the hit and most likely go back down. 

 So, she decided to do something stupid. 

 "BILL!!" She cried out, her voice echoing off the brick walls of the alleys. 

 Both men froze, turning to look at her. 

 Tucking the parcel under her arm, she jogged over to the smaller man, uncaring now of the muddy puddles. "There you are, Bill. I've been so worried. You promised to show me where Mrs. Wilcox lives. I tried to find her myself but I got so lost." Ignoring the quizzical look from the blond man, she stood between the two men, meeting the eyes of the larger one. She twirled a strand of her long, black hair around her finger, nerves getting to her but she pressed on. "I'm so sorry for whatever trouble he has caused you. He won't bother you again. We have to go now; our boss will dock our wages if we aren't back soon."

 The man trailed his eyes over her as if looking for a lie tattooed on her skin or dress. Finding nothing of interest, he stared hard at his victim for a long moment. She found herself holding her breath, silently praying her ruse worked. 

 Finally, he rolled his shoulders and unclenched his fists, his thick jowls still tense. "Keep ‘im away from me or next time his ass will end up in the hospital."

 Slowly, she released her breath as she watched the bulldog of a man turn on his heel and stomp away, back down the alley and onto the main sidewalk. 

 "Are you hurt?" She asked, looking over the smaller man. As he dusted off his brown trousers and tan jacket, she was surprised to realize he stood about her height, and probably about her age, in the young twenties. If her guessing was any good. 

 He rubbed his jaw again and winced where an impressive bruise was already growing. "I've had worse." 

 She could not help but smile at his nonchalance. His bright blue eyes met her own honey brown. A timid smile echoed hers, his face so open and expressive. Something about the man she found endearing already. Maybe defending him was not such a stupid action.  

 "All that stuff you said, about lookin' for me and gettin' lost…"

 She huffed a laugh. "I am actually lost. I'm trying to find this address here." She showed him the scrap of paper with the address scribbled on it.

 It took only a glance before he handed the paper back with a smile. "You're not too far. Only three streets away….I... I can take you there if you like."

 "Oh, I'd hate to impose on you."

 "No, it's really fine. Seems you saved me from...well…" He shrugged, sticking his hands in the pockets of his tan jacket. 

 "And... you...don't mind, you know, being seen with me?"

 "No, why?" Eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed slightly, he stared at her like that was the strangest question. 

 It was in that moment she knew, whoever this scrawny man was- he was a good man. The difference in their ethnicity made no difference to him. He was a rarity in her experience with most New Yorkers. 

 Even though it was 1940 and this was supposed to be a land of equal opportunity. 

 It was not. 

 With a shrug and momentarily, awkward silence as they both thought about their own answers to his question, they fell into step with one another as they headed back out of the alley.

 "So, what's your name? Or is it actually Bill?" She spoke up once they hit the sidewalk. 

 "Do I look like a Bill?"

 She squinted her eyes then shook her head giggling. "No, you don't."

 "It's Steve…. Steve Rogers."

 "It's nice to meet you, Steve."

 He directed them down another street. Their shoulders brushed occasionally as they walked, due more to their need to maneuver around puddles and other pedestrians than any sense of intimacy. "You gonna tell me your name or do I have to make one up for you?"

 "Oh! Sorry. It's Elana Morales-Díaz. So, what caused the fight?"

 The tips of his ears and cheeks turned pink as he ducked his head. "He, um, we...we had a disagreement."

 "Obviously. I would hate to know you're friends and beat each other up for fun."

 "My best friend is a boxer. He's tryin’ to teach me some moves…. does that count as beating each other up?"

 She pretended to think about it. "I may let that one slide but it sounds like you might need some new friends."

 "Yeah," he chuckled and peeked over at her. "Know of any openings?"

 "I just might."

 They stood at an intersection waiting to cross the street when they heard a shout from further down the road. Neither paid much attention initially until the shout repeated itself. 

 "STEVE!"

 The blond looked down the road, a smile on his lips. He waved and tugged on Elana to move away from the curb. She followed along, surprised since he told her they needed to cross. 

 A man glided through the pedestrians easily, a few lingering looks thrown his way by some of the women. When he noticed her standing next to Steve, his eyes widened for a brief moment before a lazy smirk appeared on his face and his strut became more pronounced. With boxing gloves dangling over his shoulder, his white shirt and black trousers, he looked like he just walked out of a gym. Especially with the way his dark brown hair ruffled in the breeze, a few strands sticking up like he had run his hands through it a few times. 

 "I leave you for one afternoon and I come back to find you with the prettiest gal in all of New York." 

 Steve rolled his eyes. "You're always at the gym now."

 The man put Steve in a teasing headlock. Only after a flirtatious wink at her, he released the smaller man. "So, you gonna introduce me to this wolfess, Steve?"

 "Ah, right. Elana, this is my best friend, Bucky Barnes. Buck, this is Elana."

 "Nice to meet you." She said, a small smile at their interactions. It reminded her of her brothers.

 The man -Bucky- reached over and took her hand but instead of shaking it, pressed a kiss to her knuckles, maintaining eye contact the whole time. "Pleasure is mine."

 Oh, he was a charmer. The kind her mother warned her about. Then again, her father had the same devilish charisma and Elana liked to remind her mother of that. To which her mother would laugh and say that's why she warned her daughter of those men, she knew from experience. With just a wink and kiss, she would fall madly in love, leave her home and give him five babies before she even knew it. It was always after this statement often said loudly and with feigned annoyance that Elana's father would wrap his arms around his wife, lovingly kiss her temple and remind her how long he had to chase her before she even agreed to go on a date with him. 

 "So how do you guys know each other?" Bucky asked, those blue eyes bouncing between the two of them. 

 Steve coughed, rubbing the back of his neck. It was then Bucky finally seemed to notice the slowly darkening bruise on Steve's jaw. 

 "Steve!" He grabbed his friend's face and glanced over him, concern etched in his movements and expression. "What happened this time, punk?"

 "Nothin'...just a disagreement. I had 'im on the ropes."

 He dropped his hand, running it through his brunet hair. "You gotta stop pickin’ fights, one of these days…" The implications hung heavily in the air. 

 "Ah, Steve…" When he looked over at her, she nodded toward the parcel still in her arms.

 "Oh right! Sorry. Buck, I gotta take her to drop somethin' off."

 Bucky shrugged. "Lead the way, punk."

 "Jerk."

 The three of them quickly crossed the street. Steve, and soon Bucky when he understood what was going on, pointed out markers for her in case she got lost again. In a short time, they arrived at the house, one of the nicer ones in Brooklyn. The boys waited on the sidewalk as Elana walked up to the front door and handed the parcel over with the man's tailored suit. 

 "Where you off to now, doll?" Bucky asked when she approached them. 

 "Oh, I need to get back to the shop. Mr. Hendricks will most likely be upset with how late I am anyway."

 "The tailorin’ shop near Prospect Park?"

 "Yeah." She played with a strand of her hair, trying to hide her nerves.

 "What a coincidence. We were headed that way ourselves, right, Steve?"

 "What?" Steve looked at Bucky, head tilted in confusion. Bucky cuffed him in the back of the head. "Oh, yeah. Yeah. Um, gonna take a nice walk in the park."

 Elana could not help but giggle at the two. With Bucky looking skyward like he was silently praying for patience to deal with his best friend; meanwhile Steve rubbed the back of his head and glared at his best friend. Although she just met them and hardly knew them, she found herself enjoying their presence. Friends were not something she had in great supply...or any supply really. 

 Plus, if she was being honest with herself, she found her gaze drifting to the tall, charming brunet more times than she cared to admit. The butterflies in her stomach did not help the situation. She knew it was foolish. He was attractive and knew it. But when he turned those baby blues on her and winked, she could not help but be drawn to him, like a moth to the flame. 

 "How come we ain't seen you round before? I know I'd remember a dame as beautiful as you round Brooklyn." Bucky said on her left side while Steve walked on her right. Neither one crowded her space. Sometimes one would touch a hand to her back to direct her steps or hold her elbow when she jumped a puddle. It was sweet instead of condescending. 

 She shrugged. "I recently got the job at the tailor shop and I live in Queens."

 They both winced making her laugh. She would never understand this animosity the boroughs had with each other. 

 "Well that explains a lot." Steve muttered. 

 "Hey!" She nudged the blond with her shoulder as she muttered. "Me gusta Queens. Ustedes dos están celosos."

 "What language is that?" Steve asked, curiosity evident. 

 "Spanish."

 "Is that why you have an accent?"

 She nodded, unable to meet their gazes as she answered. "My family moved here from Spain when I was six." Although she had grown up here in New York City, gone to school just like the other kids, she still maintained a slight accent to her words, different from the stereotypical New Yorker's accent. 

 "Say somethin’ else." Bucky smiled down at her. 

 She laughed. "Like what?"

 "I don't know. Anythin’."

 "El cielo es azul. Me duelen los pies con estos tacones. Me he reído más con ustedes dos que en semanas".

 Bucky had almost a dazed look on his face. "That's beautiful."

 "You have no idea what I said."

 "Doesn't matter." The brunet stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Steve can talk in Irish." 

 "Buck…"

 "What?" 

 "I mean, a little." He rubbed the back of his neck. "My ma came from Ireland." 

 Bucky snorted. "You wrote a poem for a girl in the second grade in Irish and read it to her on the playground. I'd say that's more than a little."

 Steve's face was red and jaw dropped as he stared at his friend. "How...how...how do you know that?" He sputtered. "We weren't even friends yet."

 Bucky winked at Elana as he answered. "Gotta be friends with the right people."

 The three of them walked back, talking and laughing. Well it was mostly the boys talking and teasing one another but she enjoyed just listening to their banter. Occasionally they would direct a question to her or she would throw out a remark that had them laughing. 

 She guided them to the back alley of the street front shops. Mr. Hendricks disliked her walking through the front unless she had her work apron on and clean shoes. 

 "Well thank you for helping me and walking me back."

 "It's not a big deal." Steve said. 

 "We'll see you round, yeah? I'd hate to just meet a gorgeous dame like you then never see her again." Bucky threw a wink at her, adjusting the boxing gloves still over his shoulder. 

 She opened her mouth to tease them then stopped. She truly hoped this was not the last time she saw these two. In a spur of the moment decision, she stepped closer to say goodbye. She pressed her cheeks to Steve's first, giving the traditional cheek kiss. She did the same to Bucky, though she had to rise on her toes to reach his face, and she suspected he bent over slightly. 

 "Hasta luego, mis amigos."

 "What was that, doll?"

 She looked from Bucky's smirk to Steve's red face and back. "A traditional goodbye."

 "Mmm…I could get used to that." The boxer teased, nudging his friend who refused to meet her eyes now. 

 She smiled and started to open the back door when Bucky's hand grabbed her forearm, stalling her movements. 

 "Hey, wait." Those baby blue eyes met her honey brown ones. "It's Friday night.  We usually go to the Stork Club for drinks and dancin’. Come with us."

 "Oh, I don't know…"

 "Come on. It'll be great. If it helps, we'll pick you up from your house."

 She could not help the laugh that slipped out at the thought.  "You'd come to Queens... to get me?"

 "It might break my heart to leave my beloved Brooklyn but I'd do it for you, doll."

 "Honestly it'd be dangerous for you to come to my house." 

 "A little danger never hurt." He brushed some of her hair behind her ear, sending shivers down her spine. 

 He was trouble, complete trouble for her...and she knew it. But the longer he stared at her with those pleading eyes and hand now at the nape of her neck, she could feel her resolve crumbling. "I have three brothers and a protective father."

 "They can't be that bad… Come on, please? Steve, help me out!"

 Steve just laughed, raising his hands in surrender. 

 She bit the inside of her cheek thinking about it. Her brother Mateo owed her for when she covered for him when he almost got caught smoking cigarettes behind the apartment building. Tonight, her parents were supposed to visit her eldest brother and his new wife in the Bronx. 

 "Ok…" She whispered. 

 "Yeah?" A beaming grin spread over his face.

 "Ok...I'll meet you there though."

 "Yes!" Bucky bent over and kissed her cheek loudly. "You won't regret it! Nine o'clock!"

 "Nueve. Estaré allí."

 "I still don't know what you said, doll, but I love it."

 She laughed, pushing him away from her. "Go! Before I'm even more late."

 Before they were three steps away, she ducked inside the back of the shop. Hopefully she was able to slip in unnoticed. The shop should be closing soon so Mr. Hendricks would be in his little office room. 

 She leaned against the back door, hands pressed against her cheeks to will away the warmth in them. Thankfully with her brown skin, the blush would be harder to notice. As she stood there, the realization of what she just agreed to finally hit her. An icy fist landed in her gut, drowning the blush away. She had never been to a club before. She had no idea what to wear...or how to act. How was she even going to get there? 

 Underneath the fear though was a determination to go. Why couldn't she have fun for one night, like other young women she regularly saw and envied. Both of those Brooklyn boys seemed nice. Thinking about them brought the flush back to her skin, especially when she thought of the kiss on the cheek from Bucky. He was trouble and fun and charming and devilish and… and she wanted to spend more time with him. And Steve, the sweet, kind, funny guy that he was. She liked them both. But when thinking about those baby blue eyes, insufferable smirk and broad shoulders...her heartbeat sped up and butterflies erupted in her belly. 

 "Oh Dios, ¿qué voy a hacer?" She whispered to herself. 

 *****

 Just after nine o'clock, Elana climbed out of the taxi. She stared up at the sign that brightly screamed ‘Stork Club’. So many people milled about, either walking into the club or chatting, waiting for others in their group. A couple people already looked like they had been hitting the bottles for some time, if the rambunctious yelling and obnoxious laughter said anything. The atmosphere was loud and vibrant with an air of debauchery...and she had not even stepped foot in the door. 

 "Oh Dios, ¿por qué estoy aquí? Estúpido. Tan estúpido. Debería irme. Ni siquiera se darán cuenta." She murmured to herself, her hands wringing the strap on her clutch. Actually, it was not even hers. She "borrowed" it from her mother's closet and prayed that she could return it before her mother noticed.

 "Elana!" 

 At the call of her name, she turned around to see Bucky and Steve crossing the street, dodging a car that decided they were taking too long. 

 "You made it!" Bucky exclaimed, bubbling with excitement. He scanned her over, giving a low whistle. "Damn, doll, you look beautiful."

 "Gracias." She smoothed down her floral-patterned tea dress that reached mid-calf, her kitten heels still on from earlier. Her raven hair hung loosely down her back, unstyled in the typical curls that most women wore. There had been no time to try one of those hair styles and not bring attention to herself before she snuck out. Just to make her even more self-conscious, the cherry red lipstick she wore felt heavy on her lips. Something she only wore on rare occasions. "You fellas clean up nicely."

 Checking over them, they each wore nice suits. Though Steve's looked a size or two too large and the prominent bruise on his cheek ruined the look a bit. Bucky was practically sinful in his suit, showing off his broad shoulders and strong legs, his hair slicked back. Improper thoughts flooded her mind and a heat warmed her cheeks. She had a feeling she would need to go to confession tomorrow. That was tomorrow’s worry though, tonight was about fun.

 "Ready to have the time of your life?" Bucky asked, excitement practically bubbled under his skin. 

 "That's a high standard."

 "Guess I better not disappoint. C'mon!" He grabbed her hand, pulling her towards the crowded, open door. In her sudden fear, she reached back and snagged Steve's hand, dragging him along. She would never admit it but having both of them on either side of her made her feel better. 

 There were several different calls for Bucky, vying for his attention. He just waved or yelled something back but kept her hand in his, pulling them through. She noticed more than one disappointed female face when Bucky passed them. It churned something in her stomach which she tried to ignore. 

 When they finally entered the dance hall, she froze. It was nothing like she imagined and so much better. At the far end was a stage with a large band playing an upbeat song that made her bounce on her toes without realizing it. A large bar area was set up, packed with people already looking for something to wet their throats. Booths and tables lined the walls. Already the hardwood, dance floor looked packed with couples jiving. Mirrors and photographs hung on the walls making the place feel bigger even when it was so crowded. The air smelled of alcohol, sweat and a youthful zeal she had never experienced. 

 It was intoxicating and nerve-wracking. She could not wait to join in. 

 The next thing she noticed when she glanced at all the people...she was the only non-white person there. 

 "Let's get a table." Bucky tugged them along towards an open booth on the right side of the dance floor. 

 She slid in on one side while Steve scooted in on the other. Bucky stood at the end, grinning ear to ear as he seemed to quickly survey the place. 

 "Right." He tossed his suit jacket on the seat next to her then clapped his hands, the sound muffled by the volume from the band nearby. "What kinda drink would you like?"

 "Ah, vino?"

 He nodded and waltzed towards the bar, throwing an arm around the shoulder of one of the men standing there waiting. 

 She turned back to the blond. "You're not drinking?"

 "Nah, too many health issues to make it worth it." 

 She hummed and took note of Steve's fidgeting. "Is this your first time too?"

 He chuckled. "No. I just don't...well, this isn't where I'd prefer to be on a Friday night...but don't tell Bucky... though he probably knows."

 "What would you rather be doing?"

 "Drawin’ or paintin’, maybe playin’ cards but I'm terrible at them."

 "You're an artist?" The realization warmed her heart. This scrawny man with a heart too big for his body and kindness an invisible cloak around him. It made sense somehow. He could look past the ugly and see beauty and somehow capture it. 

 "I don't know if I'd say that...I just enjoy it. It's usually what I end up doin’ when I come here. Doodlin’ on a napkin while Buck dances with every girl he can."

 Her stomach dropped while hearing that, which was stupid. So stupid. She swallowed thickly, hoping Steve did not notice, before she spoke again to distract herself. "Well if you doodle something tonight, can I see it after?"

 "If you like."

 Bucky appeared a minute later with a foamy glass of beer and a glass of red wine. Carefully, he placed them both on the table. "Ready to cut a rug?" He asked, looking at her expectedly. 

 "Um, I don't...I've never danced like this before." She hesitantly admitted. Steve gave her a sympathetic smile like he understood. 

 "Don't matter. I bet you're a swell dancer." He held out his hand for her. When she did not immediately accept his hand, he wiggled his fingers. "C'mon, ain't that hard. I'll teach you."

 With a sigh, she took his hand, his smile beaming as he tugged her out of the booth. She could not help but smile back at his sheer enthusiasm. It was contagious. 

 He led her off to the side of the dance floor. Putting one hand on her lower back and taking the other in his hand, he began demonstrating the steps. Her eyes stayed glued to his feet while he moved, willing her brain to understand and not make a fool of her. 

 "You got this, doll. Told you, you're a natural. Just follow my movement, let me lead."

 So she did and before she knew it, they were flying around the dance floor. 

 Bucky was an amazing dancer and it showed in how he effortlessly led her. A couple times she stumbled or stepped on his toes but he would just grin and encourage her to keep going. The faces of those around them blurred. The music seemed to sink into her blood and with every beat of the drum or clap of the hands from the band, her heartbeat echoed it. It was intoxicating and she had not even had a sip of alcohol. Now she understood why people flocked to these dance halls. There was something freeing in them, losing yourself to the music and movements. For a short time, you could ignore the outside world and all its trials. Here, you could be free. 

 Eventually she begged a break, practically panting from the several songs they danced through. The brightness in her eyes and smile though showed how much fun she was having. Still holding hands, they weaved through the crowd back to their booth where Steve sat with a napkin in front of him, pencil in hand and eyes focused downward. She slid into the booth first, Bucky right behind her. 

 "Have fun?" Steve asked, eyes bouncing between the two before him. 

 "I can't breathe." She giggled out, hand pressed to her chest. Her lungs struggled to fill up properly but instead of installing fear into her, it only made her laugh. 

 Bucky took a long sip of his beer and slung his arm behind Elana, on the back of the booth. "Told you, you'd have fun. You're a great dancer."

 "Only cause I had a great teacher." Taking a sip of her wine, she focused on the quiet artist.  "Did you draw something, Steve?"  

 "Yeah, just a little sketch."

 "Can I see it?"

 He slid the napkin over to her, nerves obvious. Giving him a small, reassuring smile, she flipped the napkin over and felt her heart stop and jaw drop. The pencil sketch was of Bucky and her dancing. His mouth was next to her ear, whispering instructions or flirtatious comments, his hand on her lower back. Her gaze was on his chest but the brilliant smile on her lips gave her away. The sketch was so realistic, it was astounding. It completely captured Bucky's confidence and her nervousness but somehow the opposite emotions only added to the image, bringing a sense of balance and trust between the two dancing partners. 

 "Steve, esto es…. hermoso…. increíble." She breathed out, never taking her eyes off the napkin. When she finally looked up to see him blushing and fiddling with the pencil, she smiled. 

 Bucky had been leaning against her so he could see the sketch also. "That might be your best one yet, pal."

 "Thanks, guys. S'nothing."

 "May I keep it?" She softly asked, eyes tracing the delicate lines and shading.

 The embarrassed blond flapped a hand at her. "Course. It was for you if you wanted it anyway."

 Silently, she reached across and squeezed Steve's hand, unable to convey all the emotions she was feeling. "There's one thing you got wrong."

 "What's that?"

 "I'm not that pretty."

 Both Steve and Bucky chuckled.  

 "Elana," Bucky started, gazing down at her. "He drew you like-"

 "Bucky!" A silky voice interrupted. A young woman stood at the end of their booth. Her blonde hair in perfect curls, bright red lipstick matched the equally bright red dress she wore. Her eyes zeroed in on the handsome brunet at the table, ignoring the other two patrons like they were just wallpaper. "Wanna dance?" 

 The sun-kissed woman could feel Bucky's hesitation. Nudging him gently in the ribs, she nodded towards the interloper. "Go. Have fun. I still need to catch my breath."

 With a nod, he slipped out of the booth and followed the beautiful woman onto the dance floor. The two easily fell into step like they had done this a million times, each movement flawless and smiles on both of their faces. 

 She turned back to Steve, ignoring the churning in her gut. "What's your favorite thing to draw?"

 They talked for a few minutes about art classes he had taken and the few commissioned pieces he had done for local businesses. The passion he spoke with about art, hands flapping and eyes alight, it was impossible not to join in his enthusiasm. 

 The presence of someone standing at the end of the table drew their attention away from the quick sketch of a monkey Steve had drawn on another napkin. This young woman had a haughty expression on her otherwise pretty face, glaring down her nose at Elana. 

 "You shouldn't be here." She stated, venom lacing every word. Hands on her curvy hips, the gold stitching in her emerald dress catching the light from above. 

 "Ruby, we-"

 "No one is talkin’ to you, Steve." She barked then continued glaring at Elana. "I bet you're a real floozy, comin’ in here lookin’ like that. Well news flash, no one wants you or your kind here."

 Tears stung in Elana’s eyes, threatening to fall. She knew this would happen. It always happened. There was always someone to remind her she was not one of them, even if her own eyes could see it. She had hoped tonight would be different. That for once, she could fit in. 

 "I want her here. She's my date."

 The lady -Ruby- spun on her heel so quick, her dress flared out. "Bucky," she crooned, her voice sugary-sweet, so different than a moment ago. "You're lookin' like a real Fred Astaire out there tonight. Let's go-"

 Bucky did not even look her way as he slid back onto the bench, eyes focused on Elana. "You alright there, doll?"

 She nodded numbly, staring at the table. Twirling a strand of hair absent-mindedly around her finger, she tried to force the tears from falling. It was not even the worst insult she had heard hurled at her, but it still cut her to the quick. Every time. 

 "Why don't we head out, yeah? Steve there looks like he's gettin' a little warm and the music ain't so good tonight." Bucky said gently. 

 She nodded again, not trusting herself to speak. 

 "Bucky, stay…" Ruby tried one last time but he leveled a glare at her that made her take a step back. 

 "Take a powder, Ruby, I ain't interested."

 Bucky wrapped his hand around Elana's, entwining their fingers as he slid out of the booth with her right behind him. Without even a backwards glance, he led the three of them out of the dance hall. Elana kept her head down the whole time, unable to meet anyone's eyes for fear of what she would see. 

 The night air was blissfully cool after the heat of the dance hall. It kissed her skin as if trying to help calm her down. At this point, the street was not as busy, everyone mostly inside now. Only a few pedestrians and cars interrupted the quiet scene. 

 "Elana, I'm so sorry."

 "Debería irme. No debería haber venido. Soy tan estúpida." She muttered to herself, not even hearing Bucky's statement. It was a foolish idea to come out. For so long she had tried to fit in, especially as a child. Her mother always told her to be herself and embrace her difference. That was easier said than done. Tonight felt like a taste of it when she was on the dance floor. What things could have been like if everyone was accepted. If where she was from did not matter. She had been so happy dancing with Bucky, this handsome devil who treated her like she was special, holding her hand in front of everyone. Sure, Steve said he danced with a lot of girls but for tonight, she was someone while on his arm. She was someone special. 

 And oh, did she love the feeling of his hand wrapped around hers. Him holding her close as they danced, his warm breath hitting her neck just right. He was trouble, through and through. Her mother would call him a Casanova and tell her to run the other way. Yet she did not want to. He drew something out of her. An almost recklessness. A desire for more. More in life. To experience life with a passion. Both this new feeling and Bucky’s presence were addicting...and she found herself unable to turn away. At least not for tonight. She wanted to revel in it tonight. 

 It was not until a hand cupped her cheek and tilted her head up to meet a pair of worried baby blue eyes that she was jolted from her internal spiral. 

 "Hey, hey. I have no idea what you're sayin' but it don't sound good. Why don't we walk for a bit, mmm? The night's still young."

 Wordlessly, she followed. It was then she noticed Bucky was still holding her hand, palms flat against one another's. That realization drew a small smile on her lips. On her other side walked Steve, hands in his pockets but a genuine smile on his face when he caught her eye. Even after all this, these two Brooklyn boys wanted to be with her. With that in mind, she shoved her despair and pain away. Let tomorrow bring what worries that came with it. Tonight she wanted to be reckless without fear of the consequences. Tonight was supposed to be fun.  

 "Can't believe Ruby would say that. Always thought she was a nice dame." The brunet mused, slipping his suit jacket back on before taking Elana's hand once again.

 "She only showed what she wanted you to see, Buck."

 "Dance with a girl a couple times and she thinks you owe her or somethin'."

 The blond quirked an eyebrow at his friend.  "Was it only dancin'?"

 "What you gettin' at, Rogers?"

 "You ditched some other girl for her once before."

 His head swiveled to stare at the smaller man in shock. "I did?"

 Elana spoke up. "Sounds like you have quite the selection of dance partners to choose from."

 Steve snorted. "Guy has been doll-dizzy since he was twelve."

 "What can I say? I appreciate fine art." Bucky said with a self-satisfied grin.

 "Don't usually lock lips with paintings or statues…"

 "You know what, Rogers!"

 Elana laughed as Bucky let go of her hand to race around her and put Steve in a headlock. The two pretended to box for a couple minutes, grins on both their faces. When finished, the champion boxer slid up to her, a rakish smile teasing his lips as he claimed her hand back.

 "Well if those gals are fine art, you sweetheart, are a masterpiece." He twirled her around once, making her dress flare out around her legs. "Have I told you yet how beautiful you look tonight?"

 "Yes, Bucky."

 "Good, I'd hate for you to forget." He winked and the trio started walking again. 

 "Oh, here." Steve suddenly said, fishing something out of his pocket. He held out his hand almost shyly.  

 She took the offered item to see it was the napkin with the sketch on it. "Oh, Steve. Muchas gracias." She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek, leaving a red stain behind. "Oops."

 "Here." Bucky tossed over a handkerchief to Steve. 

 She glanced at the napkin one more time before reverently placing it in her clutch. She already knew where she was going to put this in her room so she would always remember this night.

 "Oh drat." Steve said after glancing at his watch. "It's almost eleven. I have class early tomorrow."

 "Go on, punk. I'll look after her."

 Elana hugged Steve and was thrilled when he squeezed her back just as tightly. "I'm so happy to have met you."

 "This isn't goodbye, right?"

 "I hope not. You have more artwork to show me."

 He blushed yet nodded before giving Bucky a quick hug. 

 "Night, Steve."

 "Night, jerk."

 Together, they watched Steve walk down the sidewalk, wave back at them then disappear down the next street. 

 "Wanna keep walkin'?"

 She nodded. She knew she should go home. It was getting late and she still had to get back to Queens. Yet walking side by side with this man whom she had only met several hours ago, she found the idea abhorrent. Glancing up at the night sky, only a couple of the stars were visible through the smoke, clouds and street lamps. They were lovely though, a reminder that there were greater things out there, one just had to look for them. At least, that is what her father always said. 

 "Hey," Bucky's voice pulled her attention back, "I never got to say it earlier but thanks...for havin’ Steve's back earlier today. Punk doesn't know when to quit."

 "I'm glad he got in that fight...is that odd? If he didn't, I wouldn’t have met either one of you."

 "Alright, this ONE time I'm glad he got in a fight. Though, we probably would have ran into each other eventually."

 They walked in comfortable silence for a couple minutes. Two cars passed them separately and only a handful of people walked their way. Otherwise it almost felt like they were alone. It was peaceful, still holding hands and wandering the streets of Brooklyn.  

 "Y'know, I was kinda hopin' we'd get at least one slow song at the dance hall."

 "Me too." She confessed. 

 "Well, we should!" An idea sparked in his eyes. "Wait here." He moved over to one of the parked cars near them. He tried to open it but it was locked so he moved to the next one. This one opened without hesitation and he slid in. The whole time Elana switched between watching Bucky and scanning the streets for someone to yell at them. What was he thinking? Suddenly music came on, drifting from the radio through the open passenger door. 

 Bucky stood there, leaning against the car with the biggest grin on his smug face. "Who needs a dance hall?"

 She laughed, understanding what he had done. "We’re going to get in trouble."

 "No, we ain't. C'mon."

 "Oh, Dios mío, yes we are!" 

 "Dance with me." He cooed, standing before her looking like an Adonis. 

 With that lazy smirk and enthralling blue eyes staring down at her, refusal was not an option. The words died on her tongue as she stared up at him. The music was slow, a singer crooning about his love. The moment felt like something from a fairytale story her mother would tell her as a little girl. She knew she should go home. Stop this heat that seared through her when she found herself caught in his eyes. Stop the butterflies in her stomach when around him. Stop the way she melted under his touch, his hands always so gentle. 

 But she wanted this. Right now. To pretend this was her reality. To dance with her prince under the stars. That love did not care about the differences in their skin tones. For when the sun rose and this dream faded, reality would seep back in. Plus, he was a charmer. Doll-dizzy. She would not keep his attention past this night. 

 For now though, she could pretend. Enjoy the night in a way she never had before. 

 He placed her hands behind his neck and his on her hips. Standing there under the streetlight and distant starlight, they danced, swaying back and forth. Her head landed on his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath it. So steady and soothing. The world faded away around them, the only things that mattered was their dancing and the music. It wrapped around them like a warm, thick blanket. Enveloping them in a sense of security and vitality. One of his hands slowly traced her spine leaving a trail of fire behind. His cheek pressed against the top of her head. She felt safe...and wanted. A heady feeling that she could sense herself beginning to crave even more. Her hand tangled in the hair, her fingers lightly scraping the back of his neck. 

 "Say something in Spanish." He whispered, his lips against her scalp. 

 "Gracias por esto ... todo esto. Ha sido la mejor noche de mi vida".

 She looked back up at him, hoping to convey without words what she said. As she lifted her head up, their eyes locked. Tension filled the empty space around them, pulling them closer. For a split second, his eyes drifted to her lips and back up. Her heartbeat began racing anew. Slowly, as if waiting for her to turn away, his head tilted towards hers, his hands gripping her just a little tighter. His breath fanned across her face, warming her inside and out. She swore her heart was going to beat out of her chest. His nose brushed hers, an almost timid action that drew a smile from her. He chuckled silently then somehow pulled her even closer. She closed her eyes, a gasp escaping her when she felt the faintest touch of his lips on the corner of her mouth. 

 "Hey! Hey, you kids! What ya doin’ with my car?!" 

 All the tension evaporated like rain drops under the scorching sun. 

 "Shit...c'mon!" He grabbed her hand and started running away. Holding on tight, she ran next to him, as well as she could while wearing heels. The yells of the car's owner soon a distant sound behind them. 

 Finally, they stopped two streets later. He let go of her hand, running his hands through his hair and pacing. She leaned against the brick wall, hand over her mouth, giggles spilling forth between gasps of air. Never in her life had she done anything like this. She closed her eyes as the giggles turned into full-body laughter. One hand covered her mouth and the other wrapped around her own waist to try and contain the sound. This night was nothing like she expected but it only seemed to get better and better. This newfound revelry of youthful zeal, this silly recklessness...she wanted more and more of it. 

 When the laughter dissolved into small chuckles, she wiped her eyes as she opened them, hoping her make-up had not smudged too much. Not that she particularly cared in the moment.

 What she saw standing before her killed the laughter on her tongue. 

 Bucky stood just at arm's length, staring at her like she was the stars in the heavens. 

 In a single step, he crowded her against the brick wall. "Elana…" he growled, voice low, and it might have been the most exhilarating sound she had ever heard. One of his hands cupped the back of her head, as he lowered his lips to hers. The kiss was gentle, their lips just pressed together. A soft pressure that made her melt into his arms. 

 He leaned back to press his forehead against hers. His breath just as shaky as hers, both still breathing hard from their run. 

 "That was my first kiss." She blurted out, immediately regretting the words once they escaped. 

 He leaned back to look her in the eye. "Really?"

 She shrugged nervously. "Not many fellas lining up to kiss a girl like me."

 "Their loss, doll face." He smirked, running a thumb over her bottom lip. "May I have the honor of your second kiss ever?"

 She giggled and nodded. 

 This time when their lips touched, it felt like more. The first was like licking the spoon used after mixing cookie dough. A taste of what was to come. The second kiss was eating warm cookies right out of the oven and practically ascending to heaven. 

 His lips slanted over hers perfectly, as if they were formed just for her. Their mouths moved in tandem, picking up speed. No longer were the kisses sweet and gentle. His tongue traced her bottom lip and she willingly opened her mouth to receive it like a present. These kisses were all-consuming and fiery. It was as if his touch seared into her soul, leaving an imprint there for all eternity. 

 She knew right away when she met Bucky Barnes, he was trouble. He was the kind of man her mother warned her about. The kind to sweep her off her feet and make her forget the world around her. He was kind, charming and so full of life. Yet she knew even as she was wrapped in his arms, lips pressed against his, that there was one truth that would haunt her. Even if she ignored it for now. That truth would never leave. So she overlooked it, sinking deeper and deeper into his kisses and embrace. Drowning herself in him. With her back pressed against the wall, her hands tangled in his hair and mouths devouring one another, she had never felt more alive. 

 Tonight, she would choose the fire he poured into her. Tonight, she wanted to enjoy life without fear. Tonight, she wanted to pretend that this night would never end. To thrive in this feeling of passion and life, that nothing could go wrong. 

 For the truth was one day, he was bound to break her heart.

[crossbowking]

More Than This

Summary: (Set during season 3) Daryl and Reader are on a supply run when they find themselves under attack.

A/N: Hi everyone! So this is the very FIRST installment of a series I want to start on my page where we get a bunch of author’s together and write a collective one-shot! I had a blast putting this together. It was so amazing to get a feel for everyone’s different writing styles and it was also super cool how the story ended up blending together.

The order in which we wrote was chosen by a random number generator. After all the participating author’s sent me their pieces, I edited them together -- some stuff was changed or cut for continuity purposes/length. The only thing us author’s had to go off of was the summary -- the rest was up to us! Everyone seriously did AMAZING.

Each author will be tagged after their correlating piece, so be sure to give them all some love!

Thank you to everyone who participated! I hope you all enjoyed the experience!

Happy reading!

xx crossbowking

Masterlist

Tip Jar

Dim and dirty sunlight filtered in through the grimy supermarket windows, providing enough light to see the walker’s blood staining the worn linoleum.

You wrinkled your nose and yanked your knife out of its rotting head before stepping away from the mess. The stabbing you'd gotten used to, but you didn’t think you’d ever get used to that smell.

You looked up when someone stepped into the aisle, but it was only Daryl. You’d recognize those broad shoulders and that crossbow anywhere. You gave him a quick smile and cleaned your blade on the walker’s torn pants. “I think this is the last of them.”

Daryl looked down at the walker. “Better stick together, just in case.”

You nodded, re-sheathing your knife and letting him lead the way.

The two of you did one more sweep of the store before you started your search. You went aisle by aisle, looking under broken shelves and moving piles of cardboard and other debris. But your mind was only half on the task at hand, too distracted by thoughts of Daryl.

You didn’t know exactly when you began to notice the clear blue color of his eyes or how much you wanted to reach out and brush the hair out of his face when it began to grow long. You didn’t know when you started missing him when he was off hunting or how happy it made you when he came back safe.

All you knew was that you were head over heels and that kind of scared you.

You chanced a glance at him and when he looked up from what he was doing and met your gaze, you felt that familiar lurch in your chest. The mad urge to tell him how you felt overtook you. “Daryl, I —”

The front door of the store slammed open, cutting the moment short. You had time to whip around and take in several bedraggled men spilling into the store and realized they were aiming their weapons at you.

But Daryl was there and he was grabbing your arm and yanking you into his chest and diving behind the nearest piece of cover just as shots began to split the air. (@mundieoriley​)

Your heart pounded in your ears along with the sound of hailing gunshots.

Daryl held you in an almost painful grip against him, the furious look of protection etched onto his face.

You desperately tried to catch your breath, feeling panic start to rise inside you.

These people came from absolutely nowhere. How long had they been following you? How could you have not noticed? How could Daryl not have?

You had no time to speculate as the sudden silence that followed was just as jarring.

As you stirred in his arms, Daryl pulled away just enough to look you in the eyes and placed a finger to his lips. You nodded and felt yourself calm slightly, the blue sincerity of his eyes radiating some kind of strength you believed in.

"Find ‘em," a gruff voice called out against the stark silence. "Gut the asshole, but don't mark up the girl.”

You could hear the sneer in the man's voice and your stomach turned.

Daryl's grip on your ribs tightened at the words possessively, and if it wasn't any other situation, you would have enjoyed the sensation to no end.

You, in turn, tightened your grip on your knife, trying to be ready for anything.

The sudden sound of multiple people walking in your direction made your eyes flick to Daryl's in a plead. A plead for direction, a plan, any communication as to what you should do. But Daryl had hardened over, the look on his face showing that he was ready to take on a hundred men if that's what it was going to take. (@rhyatt-deauxtreve​)

He didn't move until it was almost too late.

You tried to loosen his grip because the men were so close and you had to move now. And then you were roughly pushed forward, Daryl's hands no longer holding you tight against his chest.

You ducked away when the first bullet hit the shelf to your left. You didn’t have time to think, you just ran, half bent, hiding behind cabinets and shelves. Your blood was boiling and you distinctly heard the beats of your own heart. Somewhere behind you, the deafening whistle of a bolt cut through the air.

Suddenly Daryl was a little ahead and on your left. He turned around, loaded the crossbow, hiding behind the wall, and fired another bolt.

They were close, too close, and the small distance that you’d managed to win was rapidly shrinking.

As if through the cotton wool in your ears, you heard Daryl suddenly groan in pain.

A bullet had gone through his right side.

“Daryl!” you yelped.

But before you could react, he grabbed your hand and pushed you into a small room, looking over his shoulder every few seconds. “Lock the door and stay quiet,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

“What!” you yelled and immediately lowered your voice. “Are you out of your mind? Get in here, there are too many of them!”

“Ain’t gonna fight,” he shot you a glare. “Gonna lead ‘em away. Now listen to what I say and stay.”

And then he was gone, shutting the door behind him.

Soon you heard firing and shouts. The men ran past your door. You stopped breathing and closed your eyes, praying to whatever God for them to pass you by.

And then, as soon as it had started, the firing stopped.

Sudden silence engulfed the store.

Nothing. There was absolutely nothing. You no longer heard the voices and shooting. Just dead silence.

And that’s when fear, primal fear, took over. (@aisling-beatha​​)

"Well, this sucks like the world's worst vacuum,” you muttered to yourself in nervous indecision, breathing away the panic before the idea of hysterical screaming could set in. You chewed on your fingernail while pacing the length of the musty, moth-infested maintenance closet. "Honestly, what was the man thinking? He's just been shot, for God's sake! He has no business leading a bunch of murdering thugs anywhere. It should be me leading them away.”

Your eyes narrowed and your jaw set as everything inside settled into a deadly calm.

You eased the door open a crack and peeked through, knives at the ready, along with a sturdy wrench you'd found and shoved into the back pocket of your jeans.

Sensing nothing of immediate import, you crept out into the gloom of the store's main area to search for clues as to Daryl's whereabouts, all the while keeping to the deepest shadows in complete silence.

One of the raiders was crouched over a fallen display of ratty old magazines, no doubt rummaging for one where the women wore as few clothes as was decent for the mass consumption standards of a grocery store.

Sliding up behind him like a ghost in the night, you pounced.

After a quick and dirty wrestling match — though he had the size advantage, he was stupid-drunk and you had the jump on him. One heavily booted foot dug into the man's spine as you leaned over him, blade a hair's breadth away from slicing his throat.

Your voice was flat, low, and completely without mercy. "I'll ask only once. Where is my friend?” (@darylconnieftw​​)

He slowly let go of the magazine still in his grip, starting to chuckle.

You felt anger rising in you as his lips formed a slight smirk. You couldn’t help but press your knife even closer to his throat, trying not to kill him then and there.

He lifted both of his hands in defense, visibly amused.

You swallowed, hoping Daryl was still alive and okay – or at least as okay as he could be considering he had gotten shot.

The man moved a little, making you shove your knife against his larynx, clarifying that you wouldn’t hesitate to slice his throat if he did something stupid.

“Whoa,” is all he came up with, glancing up at your silhouette.

You bit your lip, the taste of blood encasing your teeth as you tilted your head to look him dead in the eye. “I ain’t joking,” you stated, causing him to raise his eyebrows in a small nod.

You took a deep breath, calming yourself, before taking the knife off his throat and onto his lower arm, placing a deep cut on his wrist before pulling it back up. He screamed out in pain, his eyes asking for permission to stop the bleeding with his shirt, which you granted.

You listened to his panicked breath for a few seconds, blinking a few tears away. “I asked you something,” your voice was barely more than a whisper, yet low and aggressive.

He stared at you, stuttering as he answered. “The, uh, the guy with the dirty hair and, and, and wings on the back of his, uh, vest?”

You rolled your eyes, leaning in. “Are there any other people your group attacked in here?”

He swallowed and shook his head as you suddenly noticed a shadow to your side. (@rxsenkrxnz-imagines​​)

A good thing that had come out of all of this was that after the world ended, you’d acquired very good reflexes.

It was vital to have them good and sharp now, it was the new normal. You would’ve died many times over if you hadn’t, everyone would.

And that’s what got you to swirl around without even having to think about it, bringing the man’s overweighted body with you to face the source of the shadow, the knife nicking at the skin of the big man’s neck, making him whimper. There was a flicker of proudness and a dirty pleasure inside your chest for being able to make a big, bad man whimper.

You’d never thought that you’d be able to do that one day.

From over his shoulder, your eyes focused on another man, this one much more threatening looking than the one under your knife. He was lean and muscular and the hatred and danger in his eyes made you shiver, even though you didn’t let any of them notice.

“Stop right there, asshole,” you said between clenched teeth and the firmness of your voice surprised even yourself. “Or I’ll slit his throat open!”

Of all the things you thought the man would do, a smile was not one of them.

He lowered his head, keeping his eyes on yours, the smile making you sure you’d vomit after all of this was over. “Do it,” he said. “I don’t care. Go on, darling. Do it.” (@elisdays​​)

Well, that was not what you were expecting to hear.

You recognized the man’s voice though, it was the same one who spoke earlier and you put together that he was probably the thug pack leader. “Don’t test me!” you shouted, although you were sure he wasn’t testing you.

A snicker escaped the man’s lips. “I ain’t testing you, darling, I mean it. Do it, kill him.”

“C-come on, man! Don’t egg her on, she actually will!” the man in your grasp whimpered as he begged for his life.

The leader’s eyes fell on the one you held captive. “Sorry, Greg, but you know how it is. The more of you around, the less time we all have with this pretty one. Be a good boy and let her kill you. You’ll be remembered for your loyal sacrifice.” His words sent a shiver up your spine.

These people, no, these monsters were absolutely sick. You already knew that this new world brought either the worst or the best out of people. It was just unfortunate that most of the world became the worst versions of themselves.

“Go on, princess! What are you waiting for?” the man took a step towards you as he urged you to kill his henchman.

You needed to think of something and fast.

“You know what? This is a waste of time,” the man sighed, pulling his gun from its holster.

You gasped as Greg screamed, the thug leader pulling the trigger and shooting Greg in the head. You felt the dead weight of his body fall limp onto you and you tried to use this to your advantage. You shoved the dead body forward and ran, dashing behind shelves as the body fell onto the thug leader.

You needed to get out, you needed to get away from these people and most importantly, you needed to find out where the hell Daryl went.

Panic struck your heart when you thought about him. Was he okay? Did he run into more of them? Did he kill them? You shook your head before you could finish your thought process. Now was not the time to panic and cry. (@ddixons-angel​​)

Pull yourself together — that’s what you had to do now.

You crouched down behind one of the empty shelves, near the exit. But what were you to do? Not like it was an easy decision to make. You had to stay alive, that much was clear. Ending up dead wouldn’t be too big a use to Daryl right now.

The thing that worked in your favor was the thing that terrified you most. The reason for these men wanting you alive had very little to do with the goodness of their hearts.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by the sound of the grumbling leader, seemingly to have wrestled free of his buddy's dead body.

You should’ve been out of here by now, but you knew that running blindly wasn't going to do you much good — who could even guarantee that you wouldn’t be running straight into the rest of the guy's merry band of thugs? No, you weren’t an idiot.

You stilled completely, not daring to draw a breath as you heard the man's footsteps creep your way.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” he sang out mockingly, stupidly giving out his exact position.

He was just a shelf away, practically standing right behind you. (@of-storms-and-sadness​​)

Once he was at arm’s length on the other side of the broken shelf, you reached through with your blade, stabbing him twice in the thigh.

The pain you inflicted caused the man to groan out, cursing through gritted teeth. When he composed himself, he swung around the corner but was met with an empty aisle, excluding the cans and blood that littered the floor.

Before he could take another confused step, you struck from behind, going for his armed hand.

With his wrist in your grasp, you forced the barrel to face off to the side. The gun went off as you backed him into the shelf, using the opportunity to jab your blade into his abdomen once — twice — thrice.

If you hadn’t caught him off guard, you highly doubted that would’ve been the outcome.

The combination of his back slamming against a hard object, your deadly grip on his dominant hand, and you gutting him, caused the gun to slip from his hold and clatter to the floor. You managed to kick the weapon aside before you were roughly shoved into the rack across from you with such force it knocked, not only the air out of your lungs, but your knife out of your hand.

Blinking away your blurred vision, your mind frantically tried to come up with an idea of what to do next. Should you try to reach for the discarded gun? Your knife?

No — there was another weapon in play.

Just in the nick of time, you shrieked and ducked down, barely missing the fist that was meant to make contact with your face. You kneed him in the groin before reaching into your back pocket, feeling the wrench that you had nabbed from the maintenance closet earlier.

Positioning yourself behind the crouched man, you held both ends of the tool, bringing it over his head and to his neck. Your back greeted the ground as you laid there and applied pressure, choking the life out of the once cocky and determined bastard.

“Be a good boy and let me kill you,” you taunted his words back at him through clenched teeth as he struggled.

Once the man went limp, you shoved his body off you with a grunt and went to grab your knife and the owner-less gun — it was yours now.

All of a sudden a shot rang out.

Daryl.

Where was Daryl? (@twdeadlysins​​)

You squatted down, jamming the knife in your hand into the soft flesh of the leaders’ temple, knowing that it could only take mere minutes for the dead to rise again.

You slowly crept over to the entrance of the store and peeked outside, checking if there were any more of the thugs outside.

Your hands were slightly shaking and your heart beating frantically in your chest as your eyes traced the empty street outside of the store. You needed to get to Daryl fast, he needed your help.

The gunshot you had heard had nearly made your heart stop. Had the thugs already killed him?

Since you could not spot any immediate danger, you slowly made your way out of the store.

You chewed nervously on your bottom lip. You had not seen what direction Daryl had led the thugs, but you figured you just had to start somewhere.

You held the knife in your hand, your eyes and ears ready to pick up any movement or sound as you moved along the side of the building. You glanced over your shoulder, making sure that no one was creeping up on you as you moved forward.

Your steps suddenly came to an abrupt halt as you bumped into something solid.

You yelped and raised your hand, ready to strike, but a firm hand around your wrist stopped you.

“Easy girl, it’s just me,” you heard Daryl’s raspy voice and your wide frightened stare locked with his sky blue orbs.

You let out a relieved whimper and threw your arms around his neck, hugging him. “I thought you were dead, I heard a gunshot,” you said as you hugged him tightly.

Feeling how he flinched, you took a step back and your eyes traced down to his side where he was shot.

“Oh god, you’re hurt. We need to get you back to the others before you bleed out,” you whispered, feeling your heart start to speed up again.

The two of you were not out of danger yet. Daryl was shot and you knew it was up to you now to get you both to safety. (@easnuppa​​)

You wrapped your arms around Daryl's waist, leading him toward the truck you’d parked a little way back.

Fear gripped at your heart with every step you took, every wince Daryl tried to keep in, every little bit of blood he was losing. “Nearly there, hold on,” you pleaded to Daryl, the truck finally coming into view.

You opened the passenger side door and took as much of Daryl's weight as you could, helping him get in. You took a glance at Daryl as he sat in the passenger seat, his head leaned back on the headrest and his eyes closed.

You had never been more scared in your life as you were right there in that moment.

You quickly closed his door and rushed to the driver's seat where you promptly started the engine and began your tense journey back to the prison.

With every minute that passed, your panic started to rise, Daryl's breathing started to slow, and more blood was seeping through his fingers that were putting pressure on his gunshot wound.

“Keep pressure on it, Daryl, you hear,” you said loudly, trying to keep him awake and distracted.

But as you looked over to him, he was unresponsive.

“Daryl!” you screamed louder, hoping to wake him up, but failed. “God, no please,” you begged, tears threatening to fall as you took the hand you didn’t need and placed it on his wound, keeping the blood flow at a minimum.

“Daryl, don’t leave me, you can't do this to me,” tears now falling down your face as the gates of the prison came into view. “Please help me, it’s Daryl!” you screamed out the open window to whoever was on watch.

“He's breathing but barely,” you informed whoever came to help, feeling helpless as you

watched them cart off Daryl’s unconscious form. (@jodiereedus22​​)

Everything felt fuzzy.

The world spun around you, noises muted and muffled as the driver’s side door was yanked open. A pair of hands grasped onto your arms and you allowed yourself to be pulled from the truck, finding it impossible to move on your own.

A rough hand grabbed your chin, forcing your gaze upwards, your vacant eyes locking with Rick’s frantic ones. He was mouthing something you couldn't quite make out, his hands moving to grip either one of your shoulders, giving you an abrupt shake. “— happened? What happened, Y/N?” Rick’s voice broke through the fog, scanning your features wildly.

You opened your mouth to respond, confused as to why no words seemed to be coming out.

Rick appeared to swallow his frustration, instead taking a deep breath and placing his hand on the side of your neck. “Hey, hey, it’s alright, Y/N, it’s alright,” he soothed before his eyes hardened. “Was this the Governor?”

You swallowed audibly, forcing yourself to calm. “I-I —” you stuttered, exhaling shakily. “I don’t think so. W-We got — we, uh, we got ambushed. And Daryl —” your voice broke at the thought of what had happened.

“Listen ta’ me, Y/N,” Rick intervened, his tone noticeably softer. “Ya did all ya could do, alright? Ya got him home. Ya did all ya could do,” he reiterated.

You took a steadying breath. “I-I need to see him — I need to be with him.”

Rick nodded, a knowing look in his eyes. “I know ya do.”

Things still felt hazy as you made your way into cell block C. (@crossbowking​​)

You sat on top of the steps and waited for news on Daryl. You hoped that he was going to be okay.

After a little while, Hershel hopped out of his cell. "I stitched up his side. But he hasn't regained consciousness yet and his breathing is labored,” he told you.

You headed inside and looked at him.

"Just give me a shout if he wakes up,” Hershel told you and left you alone.

You looked at Daryl and sat beside him. "Dare, you have to wake up, please,” you said with tears in your eyes. (@leej2468​​)

You hoped he heard you so he knew he wasn’t alone.

The afternoon dragged on slowly, yet you never left his side, afraid he would wake alone. You waited impatiently, perched on a stool next to his bedside.

The events of the day played in your mind, making your heart shatter more at the fact that Daryl almost got himself killed trying to keep you safe. Furiously swiping at the tears forming in your eyes, you just hoped that he would wake up and everything would go back to normal.

But you knew, deep down, you didn’t want things to go back to normal. The unspoken feelings you had were eating you alive and today just proved that you had to tell him before something happened to either of you. You knew he cared for you, he fucking proved that today, but you had to tell him that you wanted more.

You couldn’t help but take his limp hand in your own, slightly squeezing. Eyes trained on your joined hands, you almost didn’t notice his eyes flicker open slowly.

He didn’t say a word, only gripping your hand tightly, eyes wild. “Yer alright,” he managed to gasp out, his other hand reaching up to touch your face.

“Don’t try to move,” you whispered a reply. “Let me get Hershel, okay?”

“Don’t,” he rasped, trying to tug you back to his side. “Stay.”

You couldn’t help but bring his hand to your lips, kissing his rough knuckles. He sighed at the feeling and you leaned into his hand. “I thought I lost you,” you whispered, mostly to yourself in relief, but he heard it.

“Ya won’t lose me,” he mumbled, his eyes lazily trained on you as if he would doze off any second.

“You know what we have is special,” you whispered, raising your hand to move strands of hair from his eyes. “I want to know if you feel the same. I can’t wait anymore to tell you how I feel, especially knowing that something could happen.”

He paused, his expression softening. “I know,” he finally said gruffly. “I want...” he trailed off, thoughtful, trying to come up with something to say. “I wanna protect you, keep ya safe, but —” he inhaled sharply. “But I want more.”

You let out a sigh you didn’t realize you were holding. “Me, too,” you replied, and he nodded, his eyes closing. You leaned forward, lips on his forehead, and he didn’t flinch back like he usually did at physical contact.

Instead, he let you, without restraint, his tense posture relaxing under your touch.

“I love you and I can’t lose you,” you whispered, your lips barely on his skin.

He nodded. “Me, too.”

You leaned back, still holding his hand, letting him rest. (@writerzunite​​)

Fin.

A/N: So what did everyone think! 

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[teaspoon-full-of-sugar]

mystic meadow and the sweet spot

pairing: harry styles x reader (farmers market au)

warnings: anxiety, awkwardness, shy!baker!harry, fluff, smut, unprotected sex, cockwarming

word count: 6.8k

synopsis: harry hates working the farmers markets, but the girl in the kombucha booth is cute

author’s note: hope you enjoy! xx all the love

masterlist

—

Harry used to hate working the farmer’s markets; there was so many people, so many awkward encounters, and so many stupid questions. The heat of the midsummer didn’t help either. He hated having to set the booth up and take it down, with the help of nothing more than an inadequate coworker, who spends most of his time on his phone or flirting with the other vendors. He hated working the markets, which is why he honestly contemplated quitting when his boss told him that he was scheduled to work the new rounds of the summer circuit, but the pay was double what he was normally making, in addition to mileage compensation.

It’s been a couple weeks since the market season began; every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, he has to set up his booth, put on a fake smile, try to sell as much as he can, and take the booth down, only to start it all again the next day in a different location. It’s exhausting, draining.

Today isn’t as bad as others. Cas, his poor excuse of a coworker, hadn’t even bothered showing up, but other than that, Harry hasn’t had any rude customers, and Andy, the guy who owns the spirits booth, gave him a couple bottles for cheap. By the end of the day, he sold most of the product, with only a few pastries and macarons to save for tomorrow, which will be handed out as samples.

He’s nearly all packed up when a girl meanders over near his booth. A loose yellow tee hangs off her shoulder with pale pink lace peeking out from the top of her chest, and she offers Artemis, the elderly woman who works the soap booth next to him, a soft grin. They make eye contact, and she gives him a warm smile. Thinking she’s a straggler who doesn’t know the market is closed, he offers her a tight smile while not-so-subtly boxing up the remainder of baked goods.

“Hmm, macarons,” the girl mumbles, fingering at the blue and white plaid tablecloth. “Any good?”

“Uh, yeah,” he says softly. He has never been really good when it comes to small talk, which is one reason why he probably isn’t able to have any lasting relationships; he barely had any acquaintances, let alone meaningful friendships. He scratches the back of his head, beneath a wool beanie he apparently had to wear, even though it’s been burning hot all day. Sweat seeps into his hair, threatening to drip down his neck. She nibbles on the inside of her cheek. He slides the tray of eclairs onto the side table, wrapping it with a healthy amount of plastic wrap before placing it in the insulated tote.

“And you’re not just obligated to say that since I’m a potential customer,” she smirks.

“Would never lie to such a pretty girl,” he says, smiling. He honestly can’t believe that those words actually came out of his mouth. A blush makes its way from his neck, to his cheeks, to the tips of his ears, and he prays that she can’t see it. The sun is setting; dull oranges and pinks peek over the tops of trees and wrap around her like wings, bright and comforting. He wipes his forehead, trying to conceal his blush from her. Just by looking at her, he’s sure that she wouldn’t even bat an eye at the rosy flush to his skin, but his stomach still balls up.

“Smooth,” she says. “You come here often?” Regret passes over her features as soon as she asks that, brows furrowing and head shaking. “Sorry, that sounded stupid. I just haven’t seen you. It’s normally Ryan or Cas,” she explains. She starts folding the tablecloth when Harry packs the final trays of pastries away.

“Well, Cas didn’t even show up today.” Harry can’t help the bitterness that seeps into his voice. He doesn’t mean to dump all of his anger on this poor girl, but she’s looking at him with such understanding eyes, it’s hard not to completely break and rant about everything that’s been building up. She hands the cloth to him, which he takes with an appreciative nod. “But, yeah, ‘ve been workin’ this fo’ a couple of weeks,” he says. Feeling like he’s being a little too standoffish, he offers her a smile, nudging the tray that caught her eye toward her. “You like macarons?”

It takes a bit for her to answer, and she bites at her lip, fingers wringing together. The skin of her palms are stained a pinkish-purple.

“Yeah,” she says. “They’re my favorite.”

“Here,” he says, scrambling to get a box. He digs into the tote, easily ripping into the plastic wrap. “Take some. Better you than me. ’Ve had enough sweets to last me the rest of my life.”

“Thanks.” She takes the box of pistachio-honey, raspberry-basil, and orange cream. “Pretty,” she says, fiddling with the gold ribbon he tied around it and already picking at the label. She lingers for a little bit, like she’s waiting to find something else to talk about, fingers tapping nervously on the table top. “I, uh,” she stutters, gesturing toward the booth across the way from his and a little to the right, “work the kombucha stand over there.”

It’s a large booth with large, draping black curtains shifting. If the wind catches it just right, he can see streams of warm colors painted on them, layered and bold. Two men are taking down a large banner that says ‘Mystic Meadow Kombucha’ with the outline of a bull’s skull beneath it, wildflowers winding around it. It seems to be more extravagant than Harry’s setup, with 3 large kegs in the front, decorated with fake vines and flowers.

“D’ya paint?” He asks suddenly, gesturing toward her hands.

“I do, but these are from some beets. We were testing new flavors, and I, well—” She bares her hands, laughing lighty, “I wasn’t careful enough.”

“I see.”

“So, I’ll see you around,” she says after a minute, offering him a shy smile. Before she walks away, she raises the box of sweets with gratitude. “Thanks, again.”

“See ya,” he says, eyes lingering on her, watching her skip back toward her booth. One of the men looks at Harry and smirks, nodding knowingly. The rest of the night, he finds his gaze wandering back over to her booth. A couple of times, she catches his eye, and when they leave, in an old van with a flaking paint job that wobbles over every bump in the road, she waves at him.

It’s ten at night before he gets back to the bakery, the sun long gone, but the dry heat still hangs heavy in the air. Marty, the owner, is still in the office counting the money for the night that she probably wasn't able to get to earlier. It’s a fairly small operation, with only two baristas, two managers, Marty and Ryan, and two bakers, himself and Cas, who probably won’t have a job after today’s no-call-no-show. Harry leans against the doorframe, handing her the bank pouch.

“‘M headed out,” he says. “See ya tomorrow.”

“How was it?” She asks before he can leave. He turns around.

“Wha’?”

“The market,” Marty supplies. “Is it still as bad as you thought?”

“Today was better than others,” he says vaguely, his mind wandering to the girl at the kombucha stand. A smile plays on his lips. Marty cocks a brow, leaning back in her chair.

“So you wouldn’t mind working next week?”

“Nah,” he says, “Tha’s fine.”

That night, he dreams of a girl, with pretty eyes, a yellow t-shirt, and stained hands.

In the weeks following their first encounter, Harry takes the time to visit the kombucha girl before the market opens, and at the end of the night, she stops by to get a box of leftover baked goods. He’s learned a lot of things over the past few weeks: her name is Y/N, she’s the daughter of the owners of Mystic Meadow, her main jobs being selling at local markets and businesses and coming up with the different flavors, she’s working on her bachelor’s degree, she’s single (Harry found it difficult to contain his joy when she told him that), and she’s an all-around sweet girl, who’s wonderful with people.

Harry also found out that he hates kombucha.

But that doesn’t stop him from getting one every time he stops by. It’s normally before the market is actually open to the public. She just gets so excited whenever he tries a cup of the newest flavor, normally an odd mixture of spices or herbs with vinegar and a fermented fruit flavor—it’s not even good fermentation, like with alcohol— it tastes absolutely horrid, but Y/N looks at him with such hopeful eyes the first time he has a sip; he couldn’t bear seeing the disappointed look in her eyes, so he accepts the little plastic cup from her, nodding thankfully, and takes it back to his booth, where it will sit for the remainder of the night, untouched and dripping with sweat, leaving faint rings on the tablecloth.

“I brought you something,” she says to him one afternoon.

It’s early August, the sun at its peak, beating down on his black tee; he really needs to learn how to dress for such heat.

“Yeah?”

She lugs a black glass bottle from the cooler in the far corner of the booth, hidden behind the wooden chair for her. Her smile stretches from ear to ear; it’s hard to contain his own, but why would he want to? When you’re in the presence of beaming sunlight, you shouldn’t shy away, rather, embracing it because you never know how long it’s going to last. Her finger is hooked in the small hole near the top, and she slams it down on the table, the decorated glass jar filled with inspirational quotes and stickers with the Mystic Meadow logo on them nearly toppling over. He clumsily grapples for it before everything falls.

“Sorry,” she laughs, rubbing the sweat that has already formed on the bottle. She holds it out for him to take. “It’s a growler of the pear and pink peppercorn,” she says, smiling. He takes it gingerly from her hands, turning it over and feeling the weight.

“Wha’?”

“You said it was your favorite,” she says, her grin falling slightly. His heart stops for a second. Guilt floods him as he smiles widely, dimples settling deep in his cheeks.

“Ah, yes,” he says. “Thank you.”

It’s quiet after that. Neither of them, he’s noticed, are very good at making conversation. Y/N is normally the one to initiate the pleasantries, but it still takes a little bit before they can actually get into a deep conversation. Sure, when they finally find a subject that the both of them are passionate about, they can talk for hours, like her paintings or his music, but the starting off is always difficult. Granted, that’s not abnormal for Harry; he’s never been much of a talker. He can fake it if he has to, but he’s a bit of a blundering idiot sometimes, and he’s learned that the less he speaks, the less likely he is to embarrass himself—especially when he’s around Y/N.

He’s been trying to find the courage to ask her out on a date for the past few weeks, hell, ever since the day they met, but of course: he hasn’t. Granted, he’s never had much luck in the dating scene, probably because he can’t flirt for the life of him. There are some times where something charming comes out randomly, but it’s soon followed by an uncomfortable silence, and he gets embarrassed.

He just needs to go for it. He knows that. He tells himself that every time he misses his chance, when he waits too long, and the window of opportunity is slammed in his face. Y/N is a wonderful match for him, and she’s too sweet to completely laugh in his face or flat out reject him.

But it’s still scary. His heart is in his throat, and his palms are sweaty. He wipes them on his jeans, noticing the slight tremor. He tucks them in the pockets of his jeans (yet another terrible clothing choice for such a hot day).

He just needs to do it, rip it off like a band-aid.

“Was wondering,” he blurts out, shifting nervously on his feet. “Do you have plans on Saturday?”

“No, do you have something in mind?” She looks at him with hopeful eyes, and he melts. He wishes he could be as comfortable as Y/N, to not be constantly worried about the approval and validation of the people around him. He wonders what it’s like to wear his heart out on his sleeve.

He wishes he could live like that.

“Uh, I have work,” he says, “but after, maybe, we could get dinner?”

“Sounds like a date.”

—

The Sweet Spot Bakery and Cafe is a cute little shop on a corner in downtown, ironically next to a nutrition store. A blue neon sign shaped like a mug flashes in the corner of Y/N’s eye. Rain pounds onto the red and gold striped awning, dripping onto the flooded concrete. There’s cute flower boxes beneath the windows, but the flowers look sad and droopy, the dirt splattering out with every powerful raindrop. Antique metal tables are stacked in the far corner, out of the rain. Y/N shakes off her umbrella.

A sweet chime sounds when she pulls open the door. Inside, the scent of coffee and sugar fill her senses. There is just something so comfortable about being in a bakery or even a cafe that always reminds her of warmth, of intimacy, of home. The shop is fairly empty, with an older man reading in one of the corners, snug in a velvet chair, and a couple quietly chatting on the other side, hidden behind a hanging plant, their legs crossed over each others’ on a leather stool.

An older woman greets her from behind the counter, obscured by a gold espresso machine. She’s short with graying black hair, brown eyes peeking behind horned glasses. Her red painted lips stretch into a smile.

“How can I help you, sweetheart?”

“Hi, is Harry here?”

As if he could hear her, Harry stumbles out from the back, the door swinging idly behind him. Flour coats his arms to his elbows, with a few stripes on his nose and forehead. The green bandana struggles to hold back his hair, curls slipping onto his forehead.

“Y/N,” he breathes out. He wipes his hands on the apron, a cloud of white billowing out. He coughs. He shoos the woman away and leans against the counter, his features impassive. To the untrained eye, he looks normal, fine, calm, even, but Y/N has learned how to read him; from the faint blush on his cheeks to the look in his eyes, which are unable to meet hers. He looks anxious, more so than usual, and there’s a sinking feeling in her stomach.

“Sorry, I forgo’ to tell ya, but I’m scheduled to close tonight.”

“That’s fine.” She tries to hide the disappointment in her voice. “We can do this some other time, then.”

“I can take my break in a bit. Marty doesn’ really mind how long it takes. D'ya wanna sit? Be out in a minute,” he says quickly.

“Sure,” she says, nodding. She opts for the corner booth, away from the other customers. Harry comes out from behind the counter only a moment later, like he promised, clean with a large white mug clutched in one shaky hand and a white box, wrapped in a pretty gold bow, in the other.

“Here ya go,” he says, sliding a large mug toward her. Foam sloshes over the edges and onto the table, wetting the napkin under the cup as well as her hand. He curses under his breath, grappling for the napkin dispenser. A poorly shaped face made with cinnamon smiles up at her, and she wants to aw at the sight, her lips pouting.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, wiping her hand with a stale paper napkin.

“It’s fine, H,” she whispers, placing her hand on his.

He doesn’t really know why he’s so nervous (more nervous than usual). It’s not like this is his first time meeting her; they’re comfortable with each other, and they joke around, and he also knows that she’s interested because of how understanding she was when he told her that his shift changed, or maybe that is a sign that she’s not interested.

He really needs to stop overthinking these things.

He’s a grown man. He should be able to talk with her without his hands clamming up or his heart beating out of his chest. Maybe it’s the pressure of it being defined as a “date” that makes it even worse. He just hopes that he doesn’t psych himself out.

“Thank you.” She grins.

“No problem. Remembered that ya told me once that you liked honey and cinnamon.”

Her heart swells at his words. Even though Harry puts on an uneasy exterior, he’s very attentive and loving. None of her exes would have remembered how she took her coffee after she mentioned it once.

“Sorry,” he says again suddenly, looking at the sad excuse of a smiley face on her drink. “Don’ normally work the front unless it’s too busy.”

“You should. Such a pretty face, I can’t keep it all to myself.” She pinches his cheek, and he shys away, swatting at her hand playfully. He nudges the box toward her.

“Macarons. Your favorite,” he says, and she nudges it to the side, taking a large gulp of the coffee.

“How’s it been today?” She asks, rubbing some of the foam off with her thumb.

“Slow,” he admits, breathing out shakily. His feet tap nervously on the floor, tapping back and forth, from heel to toe.

“Hey, it’s just me,” she says, placing a gentle hand on his. “No need to be nervous.”

“Right,” he says, nodding. “I jus’ feel like I should apologize again. I should’ve said something to you about my shift change.”

“It’s no problem, Harry,” she reassures him.

“I just got promoted. Marty needs help with orders and stuff, so I’ll be the bakery manager, now. She wanted me to close as a part of my training.”

“That’s great,” she smiles, lacing their fingers. He stares at them, his thumb tracing over her knuckles gently. Her skin is calloused and warm. He tugs her hand up to his lips, and she gives him a shy smile.

“You’ll still be working the markets, right?”

“Ya can’t get rid o’ me tha’ easily, lovie,” he smirks.

“Good.”

They talk for a good ten minutes, but the conversation is no deeper than the short interactions they normally have at the markets.

Harry wishes that wasn’t the case.

“Harry,” Marty calls from behind the counter, interrupting them. “A timer’s going off. What’s it for?”

“Oh, um—” He stands up, looking at Y/N with apologetic eyes. “I promise I’ll make it up to ya. Tomorrow?”

“Sure,” she says, downing the last of her drink and gathering her things.

“Brunch? I’ll text ya?”

“Harry,” Y/N calls out after he slips behind the counter.

“Yeah?”

She presses a quick kiss to his cheek, not missing the red forming on his neck.

“See you tomorrow.”

She gives him a wink before leaving. Harry stands, stunned in silence, his fingers tracing the warmth lingering from her lips.

“Whipped,” Marty mutters, a soft smirk toying on her lips.

“Shut up,” he scoffs.

“I’m not judging. It’s cute, H.”

“I don’ need this, ‘kay?”

She throws a wet towel at him, catching his leg before the door to the back closes.

—

As promised, they had Sunday brunch, with bottomless mimosas and American biscuits, something he still isn’t used to, with jam and poached eggs. Y/N, who is a lot bolder when she has some alcohol in her, chattered on and on about her friends, her parents, and her classes. College never seemed like an option for him. He always held the belief that in his career choices, a baker or a musician, he doesn’t need a degree; you either have it or you don’t type situations.

But Y/N, the smart little cookie, loves school. She talked about how she may get an education degree, but one is plenty of work right now. She commended those brave enough to be in a double major. She asked him about his family and his job, mostly; he would rather listen to her than talk, so he kept his answers short and sweet.

Afterward, they went to the park, cliche as it seems, because even though he’s lived in the area for nearly five years, he never took the time to stop by any of the parks, and Y/N took full opportunity of this: she gawked at him, pulled him out of his chair at the bistro, and slammed some cash onto the table. He tried to argue with her, that he should at least leave the tip, since he was at fault for their date yesterday not going to plan, but she wasn’t listening.

“I can’t believe you haven’t been to any of the parks,” she said, tugging him along the sidewalk. “There’s a nice one around here, only a ten minute walk. It has a pond and that cute little playground equipment—you know, the tiny slides with tiny stairs for the little kids. Do you remember those?” She stops. “Should we get bread to feed the ducks?” She shakes her head, answering her own question. “No, we can do it some other time.”

They spend the rest of the day by the pond, people watching, another one of Y/N favorite past times. After dinner, Harry didn’t get home until after sunset and went to bed with a smile on his face.

The next day, Harry spends two hours contemplating whether or not it was too early to send a good morning text. He nervously rolled around in his bed before he accidentally sent the message. She responded quickly after, and they talked for the entire day (seriously, he didn’t get up unless he absolutely had to).

Tuesday, market day, comes around quickly, and Harry gets there earlier than usual, not so subtly waiting for the Mystic Meadow van to chug through the grass lot, and when it does, his heart speeds up, but he doesn’t recognize the girl that hops out of the passenger side.

His mind runs amuck, as usual. Even though they talked nonstop the day before, he thinks that maybe she’s not here because she doesn’t want to run into him, that she was annoyed by him already, his wariness and nerves. His heart skips a beat at the thought. He tries to reassure himself that there are so many other possible explanations, but his anxiety wasn’t having it.

It takes him a while to gather the courage to go over to the booth, and he tries to act as inconspicuous as possible, pacing slowly in front of the other booths, organic fruit, soap, paintings, and jewelry, until he’s at Mystic Meadow. The chalkboard sign that usually says Y/N’s name in fancy lettering says, ‘Florence will be helping you today’ instead. A girl with very long, very bright hair turns toward him. Thick blue eyeliner outlines her eyes, and smattering of freckles enlivens her pale skin.

“Can I help you?”

“Where’s Y/N?”

She looks taken aback by the question.

“Sick,” she answers slowly, brows furrowed.

“Oh,” he whispers. “‘M Harry,” he says. Her eyes widen suddenly, and she gives him a quick once over, leaning her hip against the table.

“You’re Harry?” She laughs. “We thought she was making you up.”

“Tha’s...” Harry doesn’t really know how to feel about that; it’s a cacophony of pride, excitement, and little anxiety. Pride for the fact that Y/N talked about him to her coworker (and potentially even more people, since Florence said “we”), excitement from the fact that Y/N seems very interested in him, and, of course, anxiety from this stranger's piercing gaze. He wonders what Y/N said about him; maybe she talked about how awkward he is or his gauky figure or his clumsiness—

“How sick is she?”

“Not too sick,” Florence says, winking.

“Oh, tha’s not—“

He hates the fact that he actually sounds disgusted, even though he honestly doesn’t mind the thought of it. Sure, Florence is right; he wouldn’t mind being with Y/N in that way, but that’s beside the point. They have only been out on two dates, and the first one was at his work, of all places, so he doesn’t really count that one. He wants to take their relationship slow.

“I’m messing with you,” Flo laughs, crossing her arms, “Although, it is nice to see a grown man blushing.”

“‘M not blushin’,” he says, wiping at his cheeks petulantly. “Uh, is Y/N alright? How sick—” He swallows thickly. His skin heats up even more, struggling to find his words. He’s trying to figure out how to ask where Y/N lives without sounding like a stalker. Maybe he should just ask Y/N himself.

“Where, um, does she—”

“Here,” she says, chuckling. She rips a piece of paper loose from under the register box and writes down an address with looping script.

“Thanks.” He leaves the booth with a quick nod, the paper clutched tightly in his sweating palm; hopefully, it doesn’t smudge the ink.

“Hey, Harry,” she calls out. He turns. “You’re a good guy. I’m glad she met you.”

If he wasn’t blushing before, he sure as hell is now.

—

Y/N looks worse for wear when she answers the door to her apartment, eyes tinted red with exhaustion, puffy and droopy, and she sniffles, a stuffy breath slipping through her lips. She’s wrapped up in a fluffy blanket. Her eyes widen, and she tries to hide slightly behind the door when she sees that it’s him.

“What are you doing here?” She squeaks.

His nerves spike again, worried he’s intruding or maybe it was too soon for him to start showing up at her house unannounced, when he’s never even been there before (he knew asking Florence for her address was a bad idea). They have only been on a couple of dates, and now, he probably ruined any chances he had with her by acting impulsively and like a total creep.

“I asked Florence,” he answers softly. “Said you were sick.” When tears fill her eyes, he’s sure she’s going to yell at him for disturbing her and tell him never to come again. He doesn’t think he’s ever regretted anything so much; his skin is hot, his racing heart sinking into his stomach. “‘M sorry. I jus’ thought, since you were sick, you may wan’ some company. I’ll leave, sorry, sorry—”

“No,” she says, grabbing onto his arm before he can leave. “I’m sorry for freaking you out, but…” Her throat closes, and she tries her hardest to not start ugly-crying, but with Harry standing on her front porch, visibly drained from work, arms full of grocery and pharmacy bags, makes it very hard not to break. It’s exhausting having to take care of yourself when you’re feeling ill, and with Harry simply there, and knowing that he was thinking about her, makes things so much easier.

“You’re so sweet, H,” she says, a tear slipping down her cheek.

“May I?”

“But—” She hesitates, nibbling at her lip. “I’m in my PJ's,” she says softly.

“And ‘m all sweaty from being in tha’ sun all day,” he smiles. He lets himself in, thick boots thundering on the hardwood. “I came straight from, but I did pick up some soup and Sprite and tea. Hope you have honey and lemon,” he rambles, tugging everything out from the bags.

“Wasn’t real sure what kind of sick ya were, so…” He scratches the back of his neck. “I got everythin’.” He gives her an awkward tight smile.

“Thank you,” she sighs, wiping her nose with the sleeve of her shirt. “Do you wanna shower? I’m sure I have some clothes that can fit you.” She guides him to the bathroom, laying some towels and clothes into his arms. “The shower head screams sometimes so don’t be worried. It normally stops if you wiggle it a bit.”

“Thanks,” he smiles. Her shower is filled with dozens of half-filled soap bottles decorated the shelves and the little basket hanging from the shower head. The hot water is nearly all gone by the time he decides to use the no-more-tears strawberry shampoo. Her towels are warm and soft, softer than he thinks he’s ever felt before, and they’re big enough to nearly swallow him whole.

He finds Y/N in the kitchen with a warped mug, seemingly handmade, filled with steaming tea. She stares at the cap of medicine on the counter, breathing heavily. He can see the confliction on her features, one moment she’s nearly convinced that she doesn’t need it, that her body can take care of it overnight, but she also knows that if she didn’t take it, she’ll be in for one hell of a terrible night; then she remembers how awful it tasted the last couple of times she’s had to take it.

Her nose scrunches when she finally decides to down it.

“Thanks for the tea,” she says, “I was just about to head to bed.”

“Oh, uh,” he says nervously. “I don’ want to impose. I’ll leave. I jus’ wanted to make sure ya had everything ya needed.”

A part of him wanted her to invite him to be with her; that part that is touch starved and eager to be near her again wants to toss any worries to the side.

“As long as you’re fine listening to my coughing all night, I’m fine with you staying the night.”

She listens to nature sounds to go to sleep.

How cute is that?

For the first couple minutes, they were ocean sounds, but she didn’t like the seagulls; she had him switch it to rain after a little bit. She looked a little embarrassed when she started playing them, but Harry listened to music in order to fall asleep, so it’s really no different. He never thought about listening to nature sounds, but it’s definitely something he could get used to.

It takes them a bit to finally get settled together. They start on their own sides of the bed. Not wanting to push his luck and make her feel uncomfortable, Harry stays on his side, trying not to hoard too much of the blankets, with a pillow hugged to his chest. She’s afraid that he won’t like her being so close to him, given her current state of health. They stare at the ceiling stubbornly, one occasionally glancing over to the other.

Soon, the night-time medicine kicks in, and Y/N throws caution to the wind.

“Fuck it,” she whispers, rolling onto her side, one arm nestling underneath him with the other prying between the pillow. “You okay with this?” She looks at him with pleading eyes, and he smiles.

How could he say no to her?

“Definitely.”

And so, she snuggles deeper into his chest, eyes growing heavy at the feeling of his fingers massaging her scalp, the scent of strawberry shampoo and Vix lulling the both of them to sleep.

—

Kissing her is something he doesn’t think he could ever get tired of. The feel of her soft lips over his, with tongue and teeth, aching and messy, is addicting. He never understood why people liked kissing so much; granted he’s only had five other ones to go off of, only two of them ever lead to a full-blown make out session on his bed, but still; how much fun could it be to practically suck another person’s face off?

But he severely underestimated the power of Y/N’s lips. The first time he felt them was a couple days after he spent the night with her when she was sick. It was a quick little peck he gave her when he dropped her off at her apartment, and ever since, he was hooked. It still completely baffles how much he aches for her lips when he can’t see her, and when he finally gets his fix, it feels perfect.

He finds himself craving the taste of her tongue.

How can someone’s mouth taste good?

It’s December, now, the market season long gone, and he and Y/N have been together for nearly five months. It’s more serious than any of his other relationships. Obviously, that’s not saying much since he hasn’t had many, but Harry slowly found himself opening up more toward her, which is more than any of his other ones.

He nips at the skin of her neck, tugging off her tee, and he finds the hickey he left a couple days ago, just below the collarbone, tongue pressing lightly on the tender skin. She whimpers.

“Fuck me, H,” she moans. She’s wearing a pink, lacy bra, the same one she was wearing the first day they met. He slips the straps over her shoulders, leaving a trail of kisses behind it. Her head lolls back against his, and his hand finds its way to her neck, caressing the warm skin. He can feel her heart rate pick up.

She slips her pajama pants and panties down, kicking them across the room. She slips further down the sheet, his hands firm on her hips. He tugs her frail bra up over her head. He fondles her breast for a bit before his lips trail down the valley, his warm mouth wrapping around her tender nipple, tongue soft against the pebbling skin. Y/N feels herself melt into him, skin sensitive to every teasing kiss he leaves down her body.

“Hey, babe?”

He rests his chin on her tummy, the thin hairs coating his jaw ticking her skin.

“Yeah?”

A sweet smile crosses her face at the chills that cover her skin when he speaks, lips so close to her skin, her pussy throbbing. Her thighs twitch. She runs her fingers through his hair, fingers smoothing the flyaways down. He kisses her bellybutton.

“I love you.”

He isn’t expecting that.

He chokes a little bit, his throat closing up on him.

“What?” He lifts himself up, crawling back up her body, and she cups his face. “Really?”

She nods, a tear slipping down her cheek.

She’s not afraid that he won’t say it back. Hell, there's a part of her that doesn’t even expect him to say it back. (There’s an even smaller part that thinks that he’s just going to leave, but she doesn’t want to think of that). She’s not afraid because she knows that she needs to be the one to reassure him, to love him, to coax him out of his shell, and she’s completely willing to do that, to put forth the time and effort, because she is wholeheartedly enamored with him.

She waits for him to process everything; she can see the confliction in his eyes. Ever the worrier, Harry is thinking of the negative outcomes that can come if he goes about this the wrong way, but he doesn’t dwell on them for too long. He thinks of the mornings that he woke up in her arms, the afternoons they spent in tje park, a new tradition for them, the evenings they spent in contemplative silence, where she would paint his profile and he would serenade her with another love song, and the nights they spent making love.

Loving her is probably the easiest decision he’s ever made.

“Love you too, babylove.”

Y/N lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, and she pulls his forehead onto hers.

He wants to thank her, for being patient, for being understanding, for loving him, for just being her, really. He doesn’t think she realizes how much of an impact she has on him.

She sits up and pushes him beneath her. He leans against the headboard. It’s cold against his hot skin, sweat slipping down the small of his back. They both struggle in pulling off his pants; he almost hits her in the head. She settles low on his thighs, straddling him, and her feet tuck beneath his calves. She spits on his cock, wetting the red tip, and strokes him slowly. He moans, pouting slightly.

“No teasin’.” He tugs her forward, until their chest to chest, his hands settling low on her hips, rocking her wet pussy back and forth over the length of his cock. Her clit rubs against the head, making her hips jolt within his grasp. He easily slips inside of her, his head knocking against the headboard. She teases him, still, just barely putting the head inside before pulling out slowly. It takes a couple more tries before she sinks fully onto him, a drawn out groan slipping past his lips. He pulls her back in for a kiss, fingers trailing along the curve of her spine.

“So deep,” she moans, her thighs twitching and quivering at his side. She caresses the skin of his belly, thumb teasing along the thin hairs.

“There ya go, baby,” he coos. “Takin’ me so well.” He sets his hand on her lower abdomen, feeling the little bump. “Can feel m’self,” he smiles. He waits for her to start moving. It takes a little longer than usual, probably from the lack of preparation, but she doesn’t let that stop her. She moves her hips back and forth, wiggling about to find that one special spot.

He thrusts himself into her, and she nearly collapses completely onto him, with a broken whine breaking from her chest. Hands gripping her fleshy ass, he moans against her neck. She tastes of sweat and cherries, addicting, and she grinds harder into him, hands gripping the headboard, which hits the wall with every move of her hips. The mattress creaks noisily beneath them, but they can barely hear it over the sound of each others’ moans of pleasure.

“Love you,” he says against her lips.

She breathes out her response, a pledge of her own love; it’s weak, but that’s no surprise, since she struggles for air when he bucks his hips, hitting the deepest part of her. The aching in her chest only adds to the pleasure, the burning fire in her stomach. Her arousal slips down to his thighs.

“‘M gonna come, babylove,” he whines, skimming his nose over hers. Her teeth nibbles his lips, riding him faster.

“Come in me, H, wanna feel you,” she says breathily. His arms quiver around her, squeezing her tight to him, his face digging into her neck. Her toes curl when he comes, his nails digging into her skin. She eases him through his high, cupping his cheeks and wiping the sweat from his forehead. She pulls his head to her chest, fingers carding through his curls; his heaving breaths leaves her skin wet. She moves up, whimpering softly, but he stops her, feeling some of his cum slip out onto his thighs.

“Hm, no, lovie,” he whines, wrapping an arm around her waist. He gently moves them onto their sides, while keeping his cock nestled deep inside her. “Wanna feel you.”

She loves being so close to him, warm and full. She’s never done this with anyone. It’s intimacy at its core, with Harry holding her so tightly against him. It nearly brings tears to her eyes. She’s so glad that she met Harry, so thankful that she took that leap of faith and talked to the cute guy at the baked goods booth, who had wise eyes and a nervous smile. She’s glad that she inched past that guarded exterior to find his soft, gooey middle. Harry kisses her forehead, shifting slightly, and her sensitive walls flutter around him.

“Feels good, baby,” she moans, rubbing along his waist.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah,” she says, still at a loss for breath, her fingers absently tracing over his inked skin. Goose pimples rise in their wake.

“I don’ like kombucha.”

“Good, ‘cause I don’t like macarons.”

—

[artificialqueens]

Good Morning Campers, Chapter 4 (Crystal x Gigi) - Gelato

AN: Sorry this is so late but I started on another project that will be posted next week, thanks for the notes I really appreciate it!

“Aren’t you scared someone’s going to walk in, Miss Goode?” Crystal whispered, breathing shakily as Gigi dropped to her knees and lifted her skirt.

Her heart was racing and she hoped secretly that someone would catch them in the act.

They’d been sneaking around for well over two weeks now. Their stint in the disciplinary cabin at the edge of camp had quickly passed and they no longer had a reason to spend every waking moment together.

It was pure bliss for those seven days, spending every minute of the day at each other’s side for camp chores and each night in one another’s arms.

They’d truly gotten to know each other in and out. What they loved, hated, and wanted more than anything in the world. Stories swapped about childhood and life back home. What made each other tick, what turned each other on..

No secrets.

They were hooked on one another.

It didn’t end when they left the cabin and went their separate ways. They were just a mulch covered path away, their new quarters just a few feet from each other’s as they joined their peers as regular campers in overcrowded bunks for the remainder of their stay at Blue Springs.

Gigi was still miffed about her demotion, but wouldn’t change anything if it meant never spending the time with Crystal that she did.

“You want me to stop?” Gigi breathed hotly against Crystal’s thigh before running her tongue to meet the edge of her panties.

“No, don’t stop..” Crystal moaned softly, begging, praying that Gigi wouldn’t dare move as she ran her fingers through her red curls.

Gigi quickly did away with the offending underwear before swiftly hitching Crystal’s leg over her shoulder.

The shower stalls had become their regular meet up. It was mid morning just after breakfast, long after the morning shower rush had passed. They didn’t have much time, knowing their friends would come looking for them sooner or later.

Crystal reveled in the feel of Gigi’s tongue against her, coming undone in just a matter of minutes. She failed to keep her screams of pleasure from loudly bouncing off the shower stalls.

Gigi’s hand snaked up to cover her mouth. Crystal took her index finger between her lips and sucked slowly before pulling Gigi up to meet her lips. They kissed passionately, never wanting this moment to end.

“You.. have gotten so good at that.” Crystal breathed with a laugh, chest heaving and heart beating straight out of her chest.

“I learned from the best.” Gigi whispered hotly before bringing her in for another lasting kiss.

Crystal quickly dropped to her own knees to reciprocate before the echo of the camps PA system brought her to a screeching halt.

“Will all campers grades 10 through 12 please report to the main pavilion for announcements. That’s all campers, grade 10 through 12, report to the main pavilion.” Mrs. Davis’ voice reverberated through out the camp grounds.

The girls quickly scurried to compose themselves and to go there separate ways to meet up with their friends, much to their dismay.

After a rushed kiss goodbye, they left the stalls separately as they came, hoping that no one would notice.

——-

“Why is Creepy Crystal staring at you like that.” Violet leaned to whisper in Gigi’s ear as they sat in the crowded pavilion awaiting announcements.

It took everything in her not to yank her so called friend by the hair and threaten her life for speaking about Crystal that way, but she had agreed to Crystal’s suggestion to ignore anything anyone had to say about one another. They wanted to keep their relationship private for the time being.

Much to her relief, Mrs. Davis stepped onto the stage and began to garner the attention of everyone in the pavilion.

“Shh, it’s starting.” Gigi threw Violet’s way, ignoring her previous statement.

She chanced a glance over at Crystal, who was indeed looking over her way.

The lust in her eyes didn’t go unnoticed. Her cheeks were still flushed from their earlier meet up. She licked her lips and slowly uncrossed and recrossed her legs, flashing Gigi a bit to reveal that she hadn’t bothered to put her panties back on.

Gigi’s vision went hazy and her face got hot. She couldn’t look away.

“I’m still wet.” Crystal mouthed from across the room, biting down on her neon green polished finger tip.

Gigi went weak in the knees.

“Alright girls, settle down.” Mrs. Davis spoke into the microphone at center stage, barely succeeding in taking Gigi’s attention from Crystal.

“As many of you have looked forward to for the last few weeks, this weekend is our annual summer fling with the Blue Mountain’s Camp for Boys.” She began reading from her clip board.

Most of the pavilion erupted with cheers of excitement, aside from the Strange Gang that shared a few gagging noises, earning them a couple of glares from their peers.

“As we have in the years before, we will be tasking you all in preparing for the event. Before leaving our meeting today, please take a look at the sign up sheet. We need plenty of help decorating! Don’t forget to also place your nomination for Summer Fling Queen. You will have until the evening of the dance to place your votes.” Mrs. Davis continued.

This announcement sparked even more excited chatter from the girls, each prattling on about what to wear, what duty they wanted, and who’s name they’d throw in for Queen.

Gigi’s name flew around the room as it had the previous year. She was always a shoe-in for Queen, and although she had been mildly disgraced for being demoted from the Junior Counselors, her popularity around the camp had done nothing but soar.

“We’ll also be offering buses into town this afternoon for the young ladies who would like to do a little shopping ahead of the festivities!” Mrs. Davis shared, earning even more excited buzz from the audience.

“Yes! I’ve had my eye on a pair of earrings at the mall.” Naomi said, leading the girls out of their seats to head back to the cabin and prepare for their awaited mall trip.

Gigi chanced another glance at Crystal, who hadn’t seemed too excited for a shopping trip of her own. Her eyes were suddenly down casted and she stayed seated, twisting her fingers with one another. Gigi made quick of telling the girls that she wanted to stay behind for a moment to speak to Mrs. Davis so they would head back to the bunks before making a b-line toward Crystal.

“I’ll meet you guys later.” Crystal said to her own friends, hoping that they would give her a moment alone as she saw Gigi approaching.

“You don’t seem too thrilled about shopping.” Gigi began, taking a seat next to Crystal as the pavilion cleared out.

“Don’t have a lot of money to spend. But it’s alright, I think I’ll just skip out on the dance all together.” Crystal shrugged.

“What? No! You have to go! It’s camp tradition.” Gigi crossed her arms, in disbelief that she would be missing her chance to see Crystal in formal wear.

“I don’t have anything to wear.” Crystal laughed, leaning into a seemingly pissed Gigi. She found it amusing how worked up she had gotten over a dance.

“Well lucky for both of us, I have plenty.” Gigi smirked, a glint of mischief in her eyes.

Crystal bit her lip and began to protest, but was no match for Gigi as she pulled her from her seat and back toward the bunks.

———

Gigi denied the invitation to join the rest of the Heather’s on the bus to town, much to their annoyance.

She had insisted that she already had something to wear, but denying a trip to the mall was extremely unlike her, and this didn’t go unnoticed by Violet in particular.

After some back and forth the group left. Gigi breathed a sigh of relief and waved Crystal over from the cabin across from her own.

“Alright, short or long? I have a thousand options to choose from, baby. Take your pick!” Gigi wasted no time laying out her formal wear that had been hanging in the shared cabin closet until now.

“I dunno, Geeg’. I don’t think I’ve ever worn anything this expensive.” Crystal whispered sheepishly, taking a price tag between her fingers and running her thumb over the offensive numbers.

“Forget about that. I want you to feel as beautiful as you are. I know you don’t need an expensive dress for that. But I’m not going to let you skip out on this dance.” Gigi replied, picking up a shimmering piece toward the top of the pile.

“Try this for me, please. It’s super sparkly and bright and I’ve sort of been imagining you in it every time I see it hanging in the closet.” Gigi blushed a bit, still uncomfortable with sharing just how much she thought about Crystal on a daily basis.

Crystal agreed after some protest, stripping down and slipping the dress on.

It was a baby pink, silk gown with shimmering accents along the bodice. It hugged each of her curves just right, earning her a look of approval from Gigi who sat in awe at how a simple dress somehow transformed Crystal.

“Well, what do you think?” Crystal sighed, secretly loving how the dress fit her body like a glove. She turned her back to Gigi and looked over her shoulder for a pose.

“I think I love it on you, but I’d like it better off.” Gigi replied, pulling Crystal onto her lap.

The two took full advantage of having the cabin to themselves for the rest of the afternoon.

———

The evening of the dance came soon enough, the entire camp buzzing with excitement. After a full day on the lake, the campers scampered to get ready for a night they’d all been looking forward too since arriving weeks prior.

Crystal was a ball of nerves. She couldn’t even afford a prom ticket back home, so a dance was uncharted territory for her.

She admired herself in the single dirty mirror that cabin had to offer, the remaining member’s of the Strange Gang offering a stark contrast to her as they sported punky dresses of various colors paired with high top sneakers and wild makeup.

Crystal decided to forgo too many accessories as she normally would pile on and opted for a single drop pearl necklace Gigi had given her to pair with the dress, along with matching earrings. Her hair cascaded down her back in waves, and her make up was more subdued than usual, her sparkling lip gloss accentuating her plump lips and bringing out the shimmer in her gown.

She truly was a vision, the baby pink silken fabric hugged her perfectly, and her teal blue hair somehow tied it all in like a Barbie fever dream.

“You look stunning, babe. You think she’ll ask you to dance?” Adore piped up from behind her with a raised eyebrow. She was the only one that knew the dress was from Gigi, and the only one that she wasn’t afraid to tell the full truth of their relationship to.

Yvie still held a bit of resentment toward the Heather’s along with Katya, and Crystal had decided keeping them in the dark was better than pushing the envelope this close to camp being over.

“I have no clue. Every part of me hopes she does. But I understand if she doesn’t.” Crystal replied, suddenly nervous at the prospect of holding Gigi so closely in front of the entire camp.

She was just excited to finally see what Gigi would be wearing. During Crystal’s little fashion show in her cabin she had successfully kept her own gown under wraps, intending to keep it a surprise for Crystal. They hadn’t seen each other all day, Gigi having warned her that she would spend the majority of it getting ready for the evening.

A hoard of cheers erupted outside as the buses filled with young men from the Blue Mountain’s Camp for Boys pulled into front entrance of the camp. Many of the girls were excited at the idea of meeting a boy this evening, and some were even reuniting with boyfriends that were attending the neighboring camp.

An announcement calling all campers to the pavilion bellowed over the intercom and sent the remaining campers out of their bunks.

Crystal and Gigi agreed that they wouldn’t be able to spend too much time at each other’s side during the event as not to raise suspicion, so they opted to meet behind the pavilion before the dance for some alone time.

Crystal switched from foot to foot nervously, her toes already aching as the heels Gigi gave her to wear began to pinch. The dance had already started and Gigi was nowhere to be found. Her heart sank as she realized she may not be meeting her after all.

“Hey gorgeous.” An angelic voice came up from behind her. Crystal’s shoulder’s instantly relaxed as she turned to face Gigi in all her stunning glory.

She modeled a shimmering silk dress that was the exact same as Crystal’s, except in powder blue. Her red hair draped gracefully over her shoulders in luscious tendrils, perfectly styled and framing her face. She had gone for a makeup look that only Crystal could have inspired, her blue eyeshadow and bright pink cheeks tied her look together. Her wrists carried clunky multicolored bracelets that she had lifted from Crystal’s personal collection.

“I hope you don’t mind, I swiped these when we stayed together. I was always planning on wearing them tonight. I wanted to keep a piece of you on me.” Gigi blushed and explained the jewelry as she noticed Crystal’s eyes fall onto them.

Crystal couldn’t help but let out an ecstatic squeal and rush into Gigi’s arms, overjoyed that she had wanted to emulate her on such an important night.

“Aw baby, we’re matching!” She bounced excitedly and stepped back only to take all of Gigi in.

“I know, that’s sort of why I had you try this one on first. I already had mine picked out and I was hoping you would love it so we could be a pair!” Gigi bounced along with her.

They kissed and held each other closely for a few moments before the sound of loud pop music interrupted them from inside the newly transformed dance hall.

“I guess we better get in there. See you after, same spot? ” Crystal asked with a pout before leaning in to give Gigi a final peck and the lips.

“Actually, I was thinking we could go in.. together.” Gigi nearly whispered, intertwining her fingers with Crystal’s and gently tugging her toward the music.

Crystal’s smile grew wider and her eyes softened as she fought back tears of joy.

“Yeah?” She mustered, in shock with Gigi’s proposal.

“Yeah. And if anyone has a problem with it, fuck ‘em.” Gigi nodded and smiled broadly before walking hand in hand with Crystal to the front entrance.

They were greeted by many shocked stares from fellow campers but marched on, truly not caring what anyone thought.

The pavilion was dimly lit, a dated disco ball hanging from the ceiling lit up the dance floor as campers from both camps danced awkwardly with one another, well supervised by several counselors.

The upbeat music quickly diminished and transition into the first slow dance song of the night. The opening keys of “Take My Breath Away” by Berlin hummed over the loud speakers. The dance floor cleared, save for a few couples that lingered to dance with one another.

“May I have this dance?” Gigi asked, pulling Crystal onto the floor.

They held each other close and noticed right away how everyone was staring, including members of their own cliques.

The Strange Gang hooted and hollered in surprised shock, embracing the new couple as they drifted across the dance floor.

The Heather’s were a different story. Nicki was surprised but a bit elated at Gigi’s obvious happiness, as well was Naomi. Violet however looked as if she was about to burst a blood vessel.

Gigi waved daintily at them with a smirk over Crystal’s shoulder and pulled her close. Crystal leaned back to come face to face with the red head, their lips close and her voice low.

“Gigi.. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way before. You make me the happiest girl alive. I think... I know I love-“ She was abruptly interrupted by a booming voice across the dance floor.

“Geeg’! Babe, I’ve been looking all over for you.” A tall, blonde teenaged boy bounded over cluelessly to the couple, his tux slightly disheveled and his bow tie hanging loosely around his neck.

“Chip?!” Gigi yelped in horror and stepped away nervously from Crystal.

She wasn’t going to let anything come between her and Crystal tonight, but she certainly wasn’t expecting her boyfriend from back home to walk through the door.

[whitherliliesbloom]

the instagram boyfriends club

[ ffxivwrite2020 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #16 - lucubration ]

[ various wol/npc ships ] ★ [ 2,576 words ] [ highschool / modern au ]

haurchefant greystone, estinien wyrmblood and alphinaud leveilleur. mentions laurelis by @ancientechos​, peppermint by @mintdrop​. illya is also mentioned and appears briefly at the end. may be a little ooc but do i care?? a lot of the jokes were stolen from this youtube video, which was also the main inspiration for this fic. 

instagram pics are #seriousbusiness

Saturday mornings were typically an uneventful affair, and thankfully so. His duties as the student council president often meant hectic school days filled with a mountain high of paperwork on top of his already impressive laundry list of assignments. Alphinaud was thankful for any little moment of peace he can get - weekends in particular were sacred, reserved only for either relaxation or outings with his family, friends or girlfriend.

And yet...

[[One unread message from Estinien]]

Estinien: meet me at haurchefant’s house in 1 hour. You: Wait. In an hour??? What for?? Estinien: just be there You: ???? You: This is so sudden. Is something wrong?? You: Estinien???

Of course he’d be left on read, as was common when texting Estinien.. sometimes at the most egregious of times. This in particular would be one of the absolute worst examples of Estinien’s utter lack of prudence. No matter how many times Alphinaud would dial his friend’s number, the unanswered ringing would only cause his nerves to spike.

Within the campus grounds he was a well respected figure who possessed more authority than any of the other students of his cohort.. and yet outside of it, he’d always be reduced to being something of a pushover, one who couldn’t help but to allow himself to be pulled by the whims of his friends. 

He could only pray that whatever it was Estinien’s decided to drag him into this time, it wouldn’t take too much of his precious saturday rest.

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

“You want Haurchefant to teach us how to take instagram photos??” Alphinaud’s voice raises in pitch, nothing short of bewildered by Estinien’s request to their mutual friend as he stepped inside of the house. “I never took you to be the type who cared about that-”

“It’s not for me.” With a low grunt, Estinien mutters between grit teeth before settling himself onto the couch with a burdened thud. “It’s for Totomi.”

In an instant, it all made sense, and Alphinaud has to withhold himself from letting out an audible chuckle. It’s no surprise that an outgoing girl from the drama club who has a penchant for the extravagant and flare would like to post photos online for her following to see. Though Alphinaud himself wasn’t exactly an expert on the matter - his own instagram profile was only ever updated semi-regularly with ordinary photos of classmates and student council activities, he was at least aware that there were others who practically lived their entire lives on that app.

“Ah! You wish to learn how to take better pictures for your beloved! How wonderful!”

Haurchefant’s jovial tone elicits a grimace from Estinien, whose grip on his phone only tightens.

“I’m just sick of her asking me to constantly retake shots. I’d rather not have to stand in the middle of the street for ten minutes just to take a single picture of her in front of a brick wall.”

“And you thought to ask Haurchefant...why?” Alphinaud asks with an inquisitive tilt of his head.

“You seriously don’t know??”

“Know what?”

“Haurchefant is called the god of instagram boyfriends.. or some dumb shit like that.” 

“Uh... what?” He’s heard of instagram. He’s heard of instagram models... but what in twelves name was an instagram boyfriend?

Haurchefant’s shoulders pull back in pride upon hearing that indirect praise, however, evidently more than a little pleased that his reputation and ‘fame’.. if it could be considered that, was beginning to spread by word of mouth.

“I’m so truly flattered that you would think so highly of me!” With a raise of both his arms, Haurchefant grins. Estinien rolls his eyes and mutters ‘i wasn’t praising you’ beneath his breath. “Indeed! I will admit to be at least well experienced in the art of taking instagram pictures for my beloved!”

“Laurelis? Pardon me for asking.. I’m not surprised that she has an instagram account.. but what makes you so special?”

Right on cue, Haurchefant raises up the screen of his phone, proudly displaying the profile of the ever familiar pink-haired miqo’te. Admittedly, Alphinaud didn’t know very much about Laurelis. What little he did know was only informed to him by her best friend, who just so happened to be the very same young lady he was dating. And from the few times they’ve spoken, he could see the miqo’te as being quite an instagram addict too - as most extroverted types typically are.

Upon seeing the numbers listed on the profile, however, Alphinaud’s eyes very nearly pop out of his sockets.

“Over five thousand followers?!” That’s more than the entire student body and staff members of Eorzea academy combined. The twelve knows it will take an eternity for Alphinaud himself to see that amount of followers on his account. 

“My dear is something of a minor celebrity! And I take great pride in knowing that I was able to play a small part in helping her take the pristine, ‘aesthetically pleasing’ shots as they say that she is known for today!”

“Good for you.” If estinien’s eyes could roll any harder they’d roll to the back of his skull. 

“Ah, but what of you, Alphinaud? Are you here to learn how to take better photos for Illya?”

The shorter elezen widens his eyes in surprise, not having expected to have a question directed straight at him, but he is quick to shake his head in response. As far as he was aware, Illya wasn’t exactly more instagram savvy than he himself was. She did have an account, one he naturally followed, but it would only ever be updated once every several days - and rarely with actual photographs of herself. Food, plant life and animals made up the majority of her profile’s portfolio, not that Alphinaud ever failed to double tap on any of her pictures, no matter how menial they seemed. 

Though, he supposes she could be considered slightly internet famous as well - just not at all in the same way her best friend was. He hears that her gardening blog has just reached a 2 thousand subscriber milestone, recently.. which he imagines to be quite a feat especially considering it was by all accounts quite literally a website filled with nothing but gardening tips, tutorials and floral arrangement pictures.

“Not exactly. Estinien forced-” he nearly continues to speak, but the low grunt emitted from the couch causes Alphinaud to swallow his words “-encouraged me to come along for the lesson. He said it’d be....livelier with the three of us.”

“Well, there certainly is no harm in more company! Regardless of your reasons for being here, I’m sure the things you’ll learn today will help you and Illya in the future!” 

Haurchefant moves over to the couch, tapping on Estinien’s shoulder who could only let out a groan in annoyance.

“Now then.. shall we get on with the lesson?”

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

“Now, let’s do some practice shots! Say that I have asked you to take an OOTD picture!” 

“The hell’s OOTD.”

“Ah, outfit of the day, my friend! Now let’s have you take a picture of me and I shall give you my candid feedback! Starting with you, Alphinaud!”

The shortest of the trio thinks to protest for a moment, but quickly presses his lips together and reluctantly holds his phone up to snap a photo of his taller peer, who has already taken station by the window and posed for the camera.

“Ah a perfectly serviceable photo, my friend! But it has one critical, devastating flaw.”

“I-It’s that serious?? What is it?”

Haurchefant points to the bottom of the picture where his legs were cut off and shakes his head.

“You must never, ever cut off the feet in a full body shot, especially for an outfit of the day picture! This is one of the most common pitfalls of instagram boyfriends!” With an exaggerated wave, he gestures to his boots. “Remember! The shoes are part of the outfit!”

The sheer enthusiasm of Haurchefant’s loud proclamation only gives Alphinaud further whiplash when he turns to look at Estinien, whose face has darkened with the deepest frown he’s seen his friend wear in a long while. 

“It’s just shoes... why the hell does it matter?”

He’s more than a little disgruntled as he recalled the way Totomi had asked him to take a photo of her new wool sweater and jeans, and her numerous loud demands for him to retake the shot with her bright red sneakers in frame. It wasn’t even a new pair - but one she’s worn for years...unable to appreciate the effort she’d went into making sure her entire wardrobe was perfectly color coordinated.

“Grumble all you wish, friend, but these are things of great importance in the eyes of our ladies! Now, repeat after me! The shoes are part of the outfit!”

“T-the shoes are part of the outfit...” Alphinaud mutters, as Estinien grumbles even further. His uncooperative behavior only causes Haurchefant to grow more pushy.

“Louder! With more gusto! THE SHOES ARE PART OF THE OUTFIT!”

“Nobody gives a damn about your shoes!”

No wonder Totomi has to nag him to retake her photos...

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

“The angle you take the photo can either turn the picture into a stunning piece of work, or an unaesthetic disaster! Please Alphinaud my friend, demonstrate by taking a photo of Estinien sitting on this chair.”

Alphinaud has never held his phone in his hands for as long as he has on this day, so much that he can practically feel the heat from its overuse start to scald his palms and fingers. And yet he dares not to argue, and instead quickly snaps a photo of Estinien as instructed, who looks just as unamused and tired as he was, if not even more so. 

“Splendid, Alphinaud! The focus is just right! However, you would have done better were you to have taken the photo at a higher angle.”

“What difference would that have made?”

“A high-angled photo slims down the face, while a low-angled picture elongates the legs! Indeed, it may seem surprising, but such small, subtle differences in even the height at which you hold your camera could make all the difference in the world!” One would assume they were listening to a professional photographer speak from the way Haurchefant lectured them about the intricacies and importance of camera placement in taking instagram photographs.. and Alphinaud wasn’t sure if he was more exasperated or amazed. “Now, take a photo of Alphinaud and show me your fine work, Estinien!”

With yet another roll of his eyes, and a barely audible grumble, Estinien steps forward and holds up his phone, towering over his seated friend and quickly snaps a photo.

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

“Now, we shall practice taking pictures of one another within an imaginary scenario.” The cups of coffee and plates of biscuit Haurchefant had fetched from the kitchen were gently placed upon the dining table, before he steps back and gestures towards Alphinaud. “Say your lady and you are on a date, and she asks you to take a photo of her at the table.”

 “Um.. well, something like this?”

Alphinaud holds his phone up to Haurchefant, whose smile falters for but a brief moment.

“Oh dear, my friend.. Did you not notice the misplaced broom in the background?” He leans down and taps on the side of the photograph, where sure enough a blurry and seemingly innocuous broom stood just on the edge of the frame. It seemed harmless enough to him, and yet that mistake seemed enough to cause even Haurchefant, whose joyous demeanor never seemed to be breakable, to slump his shoulders. “The secret to success is a keen eye and attention to detail, my friend.”

For the first time in three hours, Estinien lets out a smirk and a chuckle. It seems the only way he’d get any enjoyment out of this little photo taking lesson is to see Alphinaud be told off and dejected.

“You suck at this, don’t you?”

Alphinaud’s shoulders rise and fall with a nonchalant shrug.

“Pardon, but at least my photographs are in focus.” 

“You wanna say that a little louder again, punk?”

“Now, now! Let us not fight! We are brothers in arms, and there is still much and more to learn! For our next lesson, I shall teach you how to take pictures of food and drinks!”

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

Alphinaud’s phone battery has never once died on him in his life. Even with his normally liberal use of his applications such as the notepad, calculators and on the rare occasions, prolonged social media use, he’s never used his phone enough in a single day for the battery to ever run out.

That day had certainly been the first.. and it was also at the end of that saturday, upon watching the light and life from his smart phone die out on him, that Haurchefant urged him to get a portable charger... among other things such as a selfie stick. He’d even downloaded one of those photo editing applications, one that he has still yet to fully figure his way around. 

If there was anything he’d learn on that fateful day, and thought to himself as he walked home under the hues of the setting sun that evening, it was that taking instagram pictures was seriously not a joke.

And here he was on a date with the gardening club president a mere week later.. and a far changed... and scarred man.

“Is something wrong, Alphinaud?”

Illya had caught him staring at a brick wall with a piece of particularly ‘aesthetic’ looking graffiti, and for a moment his head had been filled with naught by red blaring sirens and a words that repeatedly chanted ‘photo op’ in his head. It was only by the grace of her voice, and a slight tug of her hand in his that his attention would be pulled away, a forced smile upon his expression.

“Oh, forgive me. I was just.. distracted.”

Illya has never asked him to take a photo of her, much less stopped their date dead in its tracks in order to take a picture for her social media. She never was the type who cared much for arbitrary internet fame and followers.. and he thought he had been as well. 

T’would seem however, that he’s taken Haurchefant’s advice to heart, a little too much for his own good.. and he’s certainly far more attentive of his surroundings and much to his own horror, of the outfits that the people around him wore. One thing he hadn’t exactly counted on however... was an interest being ignited within him, an urge to take photos at golden opportunities in life when he would have otherwise thought it too mundane to capture before his lesson with Haurchefant and Estinien.

And as he stands stock still with a phone in his hands, his adorable and well dressed girlfriend by his side.. and an incredibly aesthetically pleasing looking brick wall.. And the motto of the instagram boyfriends club Haurchefant had asked him to repeat like a mantra that day echoed incessantly in his ears.

‘Her likes are your likes’

The eyes of the camera were to be treated like a gods’.. and if they thought their girlfriends beautiful, what better way to express that love than to capture that beauty on camera and share it for the world to see?

“Would you like to take a picture, Illya?”

[lemonlushff-iy]

One Last Ride - Part 1 

"Godfuckingdamnit! Don't you do this to me you fucking piece of shit rental...We're so close! FUCK!"

This was not her day. Her flight had been delayed three hours, and when she finally landed in Montana, the rental car company only had the shitty, might-die-on-you-if-you-gave-it-the-wrong-look-esq cars left.

And.

Naturally.

The sedan she picked out was a lemon.

"Why here…" she whined, looking out at the land the fucking "rust bucket" (yeah whatever - it didn't have rust on it but it was still a piece of shit) had broken down in front of.

Takahashi Ranch.

This place brought back some bittersweet memories. It didn't look like it had changed much. Then again, she couldn't see the house from here anyways. She'd have to go at least another two miles first.

Still.

She knew this place like it was the back of her hand.

There had been a time even when she had almost thought—No!

Now wasn't the time to get sentimental and mopey.

Now was the time to try and figure out what the hell she was going to do. Takahashi Ranch was about ten miles away from her family's, but they were their closest neighbor.

She could walk it...but that was stupid.

Then again, so was looking for the main house here to ask for help. She had been hoping to avoid them, same as she always did when she came back home.

Well, maybe not them so much as him.

She sighed and got out of the car, kicking the wheel in the process out of sheer frustration at the smoke rising up from under the hood of her stupid lemon car. Nervously, she lifted the hood up and swore.

Oh yeah. The engine had overheated.

Fuck!

She did not have the time to be dealing with this...and with shitty cell phone reception, it's not like she could easily call her mom and tell her what had happened. Kagome bit her lip and looked up at the sky, trying to weigh her options.

1 - She could walk the ten miles to her house. It would take her about three hours and a hefty amount of change...but it would also spare her from her other option. Which waaaaas…

2 - She walk the two miles to the main house on Takahashi Ranch.

She honestly didn't know which one was worse. And if she hadn't been spending so much time debating them, she might have actually noticed that she wasn't exactly alone anymore.

"It is you…"

Kagome placed a hand over her heart, trying to calm its racing as she jumped and yelped in surprise before she turned to address her surprise...intruder? Guest? Acquaintance? Would have been lover? Almost husband?

It's hard to come up with a word to describe your childhood sweetheart and the love of your life...yet here she was, trying to do just that.

God he hadn't changed.

Inuyasha was still as handsome as ever.

Maybe that wasn't fair. He used to have a boyish charm to him. Now...now he was anything but "boyish". His jaw had sharpened over the years, much like the rest of his body - hardening with the hard work that came with being a cattle rancher. He hadn't shaved in a bit, and the lower half of his face was peppered with a fine stubble. It used to grow in patchy...that's just another thing that had changed with time...just like his eyes.

They used to be such a beautiful, warm golden color. Like honey. He could melt her with a look...had almost seduced her more than once with just his eyes and the purr of his voice. She could almost feel the slide of his fingers dipping below her pants to tease her...

Now, his eyes were cold. Hard. Just like his tone.

She took it that he was just as thrilled to see her as she was him.

The white horse he sat atop let out a snort, and his gaze softened a little, comforting the mare and rubbing her neck.

"There, there, Bessie," he soothed.

"Bessie? What happened to Suzzie?"

He shot her a dark look as if to say she should know better than to ask.

"It's been seven years, Kagome…"

Yes. It had been.

She should have known better. She loved that mare...He used to take her riding across the ranch on her. He would hold her so tight...keep her pressed firmly to his chest while Suzzie kept on, wind blowing through their hair. They'd stop once they got to the cliff and hop off, rolling around in the grass as he pinned her down and kissed her deeply.

Passionately.

But...that was before.

"I heard you mighta been comin’ back...didn't think ya actually would."

"Not welcome?" she asked raising her brow, crossing her arms over her breasts. He looked away from her, pained.

"Are you looking to be welcome, still?"

"This is still my home, Yash…"

"Don't call me that," he whispered, turning to look at her again. "We...we don't use those names anymore, got it?"

"Yeah. Sure…" she agreed.

Fuck why did this hurt so much? It was all in the past. It should be all in the past.

"How did you know I was here?" she asked, and he shot her a withering look, tapping his nose with a claw tipped finger.

"Pops and Sessh and me were out fixing the fence. I caught your scent in the wind. I thought I might have been crazy, but they said they smelled it too. Didn't think you'd stop here intentionally…"

He was certainly right about that.

"So you came to play the big ol' knight in shining armor?"

He arched a brow, smiling wryly as he gestured towards his dusty, muddy clothing.

"Only thing shining about me right now is my belt buckle, and even that's pushing it."

She couldn't help but laugh, and his face relaxed a little before his eyes saddened and hardened again.

"So...what's the problem?" he asked, nodding his head towards her broken down shit bucket.

"Engine overheated," she shrugged. "All the good rentals were gone already," she continued before he could ask and his tongue kissed his teeth in understanding.

"Mind if I look?"

"Knock yourself out," she encouraged, and he gracefully swung a leg around Bessie, stepping off of her like it was second nature to him. He hopped over the fence and came towards the car, and she suddenly found herself swallowing hard.

Why did it have to be so difficult? Why couldn't...why could it have never happened? Then maybe…

She shook her head and sighed, watching him silently appraise the ruins before them. He wore a white tank top, exposing his arms and his long silver hair had been pulled up and away from his neck into a bun to help keep him cool from the early summer heat and hard work repairing the fence.

She couldn't help but admire him as he looked over her car, before tipping his worn ten-gallon hat and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. Why did he still have to be so attractive? Why couldn't he have gone bald or gotten fat or developed some sort of skin condition?

She internally sighed and shook her head.

As a half demon, she didn't think any of those things were possible. At least not with Takahashi blood running through his veins.

"It's over heated alright. Only thing you can do is wait for it to cool and pour some water on it and pray it starts up again."

"Fuck," she moaned, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her palms, and when she looked back up, she saw him smirking at her. "What?"

"Nothin'," he shrugged, leaning his hip against the side of the car. "What do ya wanna do about it, Kagome?" he asked, raising a brow.

"What do you mean "what do I want to do about it?"? I have to do just what you said."

"Yeah," he agreed. "But I mean am I taking you to your Mom's, or are you gonna come back with me?"

Oh God…

Neither was a good option. But she loved his mother almost as much as she loved her own…

"Guess I'm going back with you."

Inspired by @clearwillow‘s “New Moon Ride”. I tried to hold out until March 14th...that went really well for me. 

Let me know if we want tags! I’m hoping to hold off on the rest until then. 

[writerbyaccident]

Song of the Sea (Yandere MermaidxReader)

Paused in front of the chasm, the mermaid gathered her courage as well as she could. It was a difficult task though, with the lifeless atmosphere and crushing darkness that greeted her from the entrance of the trench. She had never ventured this far from her warmly colored coral city, previously content to stay close to the currents she had always known. Even now she could hardly believe what she was about to do, but she also knew that is was necessary; everything was necessary for love. Though her tail thrashed in fright, she refused to swim away. She needed a miracle, and that was what she had come to find.

           Taking one last gulp of the cool water that surrounded her, the mermaid dove down into the trench. As she swam downwards into the chasm, she sensed the as the light behind her began to disappear, but she kept herself from looking back by picturing your face in her mind’s eye. Soon she was enveloped completely in darkness, swimming blindly through dead water. Minutes passed, or perhaps hours, but eventually a sickly glow began to permeate through the channel. On the side of the chasm wall lied a cave from which the green gleam originated. Making her way towards the entrance, the mermaid peered inside, trying to confirm that this was indeed the cave of her people’s legends.

           “It’s very rude to stand in doorways,” an oily voice called out from the cave. “If you are seeking something, you need only enter and ask.” Fins trembling, the mermaid ventured into the cave, following the current that had suddenly appeared to usher her in. Although the current was a bit too strong for her liking, she found herself grateful for it once the cavern spiraled into a series of offshoots and tunnels. Glowing algae and moss clung the walls of the cave, lighting her way and letting you see the crumbling stone that broke off and floated to the cavern floor. She couldn’t help but wonder how anyone could choose to live in such a place, where no fish ventured to provide either entertainment or food, where the currents were always relentlessly chilling. It was only from sheer desperation that she had brought herself to such an unwelcoming place, for she knew that only the one who lived here would be able to help her. The sea witch was an ancient figure, one entwined into a multitude of myths and hundreds of horrors. But it was said that if one obeyed the old laws in approaching her, she could grant you even the most impossible of your desires.

           After some time, the mermaid finally reached the main cavern, the one that held whom she sought. From a darkened corner of the cave the sea witch swam forth, her skin deathly pale and her eyes a glittering black. Her hair was of a similar hue, as dark as squid ink, while it’s length reached all the way to the end of her tail. Each aspect of the sea witch belied something haunting, something not of this world, but her tail most of all. It was not like the tail of any other mermaid. It matched not that of an ordinary fish, but that of an eel. Long and slick, the sea witch’s tail was a slimy black without a single scale to be seen. The lack of scales made the flesh of her tail appear stretched and overly smooth, as though it had been bathed in oil. The sight of her almost had the little mermaid make a desperate dash for the cave entrance, but when she reminded herself of her purpose in making this journey she was able to calm herself.

           “Why have you come?” the sea witch asked.

           “I have come to ask a boon, Maker of Tides,” the mermaid answered, reciting the ancient words she had taken care to memorize. Swimming a bit closer, she placed her offerings on the cavern floor. The sea witch peered down, examining the gifts of milky-white pearls and scales shed from the sea whip carefully. Baring her pointed teeth in a satisfied facsimile of a smile, she gathered them with her bony fingers and placed them within the ancient chest that held all of her other payments. Legend said that the chest was taken from a human ship that had been dragged to the bottom of the ocean, one long since ground to dust, dragged down by a hurricane caused by the sea witch herself.

           “And what is the boon you wish me to grant?”

           “Mother of Storms, I humbly ask that you grant me the ability to be with the one I love. For while my love has been brought before me by the tides, they have since gone. They are human, and therefore cannot join me beneath the waves.”

           “So you wish to become a human yourself then?”

           “No,” replied the mermaid, shaking her head slightly. “I cannot give up my home so easily. Besides, I have looked into the depths of my love, and here is where they belong. I beg you not to turn me into a human, but to turn them into one of us.”

           “I see,” responded the sea witch with a cold laugh. “This will be a difficult potion to make, but thankfully your offerings are sufficient.” With that, she began to pluck various bottles from the carved-out shelves in the cavern walls. Some seemed to gleam with some secret light, while other appeared to be empty. Taking the ingredients to the center of the cave, the sea witch hissed strange words to the cauldron that rested there, causing the water below it to bubble and boil. While she uncorked the bottles and poured in the ingredients, the witch sang softly under her breath, a strange tune that her patron failed to recognize. Thrashing her tail in excitement, the mermaid looked on at the process greedily. After so long of being forced to keep her distance from you, lest she be caught in one of the fishing nets you hurled from your boat, she would finally be able to hold you close and never have to let go.

           Swarmed by the past, the mermaid recalled the first and only time thus far that she had been able to touch you. A fortnight ago you had been out on your boat with some of your crew, forced by a poor month to journey out into the water late that night. While the mermaid was certainly grateful for the chance to see you again, she couldn’t help but resent the fact that you were forced to work so relentlessly hard. If you simply lived beneath the waves, or even on some small island where she could bring you whatever you may need, you would want for nothing ever again. Her anger at the situation only grew as storm clouds had suddenly gathered, swallowing every star in the night sky. You and your crew had tried to reach the shore before the storm broke, but the thrashing of the waves kept you from getting far. Unable to look away, she watched as the rain came hurtling down, bolts of lightning not far behind. Your boat, looking so pitifully small as the monstrous waves rose past the deck, was tossed and tipped on its side. Then, as one wave began to gather more and more volume, she swam closer, needing to see where you were. Suddenly, the wave crashed into your ship, sending you and a large number of your crew tumbling into the ocean. Screeching, the mermaid sliced through the waves, searching for you desperately. Several of the others spotted her, but she didn’t let that slow her down. They most likely wouldn’t survive, and if they did, what they had seen would be easily dismissed.

           Taking human faces in her hands and turning them towards her, she peered closely to see if she could find you. Many of the still-living humans had called out to her, begging her to save them, but her concerns were focused solely on you. If you had drowned, no storm would ever be able to compare to tempest in her heart. Pushing through the rough currents, her eyes whipped over the waves until they landed on a familiar form. Thrashing forward, the mermaid had reached you quickly, and wrapping her arms around your waist, she swam for the shore. Although you were unconscious, she had felt you breathing in her grip. Swimming through the night, she eventually reached the shoreline, laying you gently on the sand. Wiping water from your skin, she had stayed with you until other humans came to the shore. Slipping back into the water, she had looked back sadly at your form, wishing she could take you home where you would be safe.

           Snapping back to the present, the mermaid prayed to all of the salt in the sea that the witch’s potion would work. She could no longer content herself with simply watching you, not now that she knew the dangers you faced without her there to protect you. You needed her, and she needed you with her. Tired of this endless push and pull, she had decided to finally take action, whatever the consequences may be. You might take some time to adjust to the new world you would soon find yourself a part of, but she knew that you would come to love it as she did, that you would come to love her as she loved you.

[twenty-sixumbrellas]

A Heartbeat, Perfect, and Law and Order

Pairing: Older! Five x Female! Reader

Prompt: “could i request a five x reader where they’re like getting married like they’re both so giddy and smiley during and after and they’re just extra lmao if not that’s ok!” -lovely @campcampie

A/N: I’m timing at a meet rn and I’m having a gr8 time! Can we pretend Five never left? K thanks. Y’all are about 20ish? How old are people who get married? (Peep me playing Tamagotchi every time I get a writer’s block) Also I’ve never been married (lmao) so I guessed on most of this. :)

( @andyoudoctor ’s gif )

“I’m so excited!!” Allison says from her seat at the vanity. She picks up the curler, which you take from her.

“Why? It’s my wedding,” you sass, curling some of your hair. You chose Allison, Vanya, and Grace as your bridesmaids.

Vanya puts her hand on top of your shaking one. “You look amazing, and I bet Five wishes he could see you now.”

———Five’s POV———

“I want to see my wife,” I demand, trying to move around Luther’s massive monkey shoulders.

“You know the rules. Not before the wedding,” he sighs. He puts a hand on my shoulder, which I quickly shake off. It’s too bad my powers aren’t working. I imagine it’s because of the stress.

Luther moves for a moment and I book it. Where is she? Finally arriving at the door of the Bride’s room, I try and open the door. Locked.

“Go away Five,” says Allison nonchalantly from the other side.

“Five?” Her voice sounded heavenly.

I lean against the door and I hear her do the same. “I really want to see you. I can’t teleport though.”

“I really want to see you too. But you know we can’t. I will see you later, Mister.” She giggles and I sigh. I really want to see how beautiful she looks.

Klaus starts nervously pulling me away. “Until later?”

She sighs. “I’d wait until the end of the world for you.”

“Let’s go, Loverboy,” Diego says, pulling me.

———Your POV———

“I’m nervous!” You yell at Allison and Vanya. They finish applying the veil, and they both smile.

“Y/n,” Vanya starts, “you look wonderful.”

“Exactly. But... are you sure you want Klaus to walk you down?” Allison raises an eyebrow.

“I would like no one else to.”

———Five’s POV———

I wait, nervously twitching my thumbs, for her arrival. The music starts a sweet melody, and my heart beats out of my chest. Where is she?

Just then, Klaus emerges, looking extremely happy, with a veiled y/n at his side. I can’t see what she looks like, but I’m already so awestruck from how she looks.

She walks up and Klaus moves to his place on my side. I reach up and feel the soft material move through my fingers, lifting it slowly, I gasp. I’m breathless. Her hair is put up neatly but eloquently, and frames her face perfectly. Her eyes. Oh my god, her eyes. Their color shows vibrantly, and are filled with love and happiness.

I realize I’m tearing up and look down, still smiling like an idiot.

I can’t believe I’m marrying a goddess.

The boring speech starts, and I zone through it. My vows are up.

“With this hand I will lift your sorrows. Your cup will never be empty, for I will be your wine. With this candle, I will light your way into darkness. With this ring, I ask you to be mine.” I nearly faint from my nerves, but she smiles sweetly anyway. She could always see through me.

“Five, my dear, I love you because you were completely ready to do that vow.” Laughs emerge from the pews. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Every moment, whether drinking coffee at three am, or tipping canoes, I’m happy as long as you, my true love, are there. I want to be your always.” She slips my ring on and smiles at me teary-eyed. I smile back, in the same state.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

We meet in the middle for a sweet, passionate kiss that recieves a few wolf-whistles. We separate with me chuckling, and y/n looks like she wants to hit me. “I missed you too~” I sing.

“Stop it.”

———Your POV (are y’all dizzy yet? XD)———

The wedding reception is small, but feels like home. Your Grandma comes, and you laugh when she gives Five a good death-grip hug.

“Grandma, don’t kill him,” you say, laughing. “We haven’t gotten to the dance yet!”

Five just rolls his eyes, and pulls you to the floor. You & I (Nobody In the World) by John Legend plays, and you start moving in sync with the beat. You speed up with him when the music pics up.

Spinning you around him as the music slows, Five smiles down at you, and leans in for a tender kiss. To be interrupted by Klaus.

He shouts, “All right, everyone take your seats, I want to be the first toast!” You look at eachother, very much scared of his next words. You sit down at the main table, and pray that he doesn’t say something to make Five’s family hate you.

“I’ve known Five for a long time. My entire life. And he’s a real asshole.” There’s a few gasps from the croud, and you grow more nervous. “But in all of that time, I’ve never seen him love someone as much as he loves y/n.” The whole room ‘awes’ and you go red. “But here’s a story about y/n-” you cut him off.

Taking the mic form him, you say, “Alright that’s enough. Who’s next?”

“Me, please,” says Vanya. “Now usually,” She begins once handed a mic, “I don’t do these kinds of things, but y/n and Five are my best friends, so you know I have to.” Good-hearted chuckles come from the family. “I remember when Five and y/n first met. It was awful.

“They used to sneak everywhere, which was easy because she lived next door.” You laugh at this. “They fell in love, and were both stupid enough not to see it. Everyone else did. I will never be able to thank either of you enough for causing each of my best friends’ happiness.”

You mouthe, ‘thank you’ to her and she winks.

You stand up and shout, “Cake!” Five’s shoulders shake at his silent laughter. “Shut up.” You grab a handful and shove it in his face. Everyone ‘ooo’s’. He looks at you open-mouthed, but then devilishly smirks. Grabbing a handful of his own, he hits you square in the face.

“You’ve got something.... there.” You laugh, and it’s heaven to his ears.

The two of you kiss once more, covered in, very expensive, mind you, cake. Klaus cheers and takes a massive bite of his slice.

———Five’s POV (last switch I promise)———

We get home, finally and share a sigh. She sprints to our room, and I follow. She speed changes into one of my old shirts and faded pajama pants.

I just put on sweats and a David Bowie shirt.

We sit on the couch together, very close, and I rub her ring finger delicately. She hums, and I drift off to her heartbeat, Perfect, and Law and Order.

[shadowdianne]

Vow (I will follow, no matter what) [Dishonored 2]

There is something called canon but since canon is stupid I’m not even going to bother with it.

Facts about the game. Yes, I know Emily sort of got her powers the very same day they reached Karnaca but, allow me.

Also, since I’m talking about this: There is this very cool art that should be seen and shared ad infinitum.

Well, enough Xd Dunno who will end up reading this but let’s get on with it; shall we?

@niki-frost Thing has been done! It’s basically 6am so I’ll come back later for a proper editing. But here it is! ^^

The scent of saltpeter assaulted her senses as she opened her eyes and, for a second, Alexi felt disoriented while she blinked owlishly; the rocking sensation she vaguely remembered that had followed her once she had finally closed her eyes a few hours ago still echoing throughout her body. Wincing as the vague shapes of thrown-away wood crates that stunk of rotting whale meat begun to grow more prominent through the corner of her eyes, she found herself staring at the ceiling of what she now recognized as a boat.  

The dreadful whale. The name floated inside her head, the letters colored in faded white, reddish at the corners due to badly washed blood and she couldn’t help herself as she felt a shudder running through her body; cold sticking to the sweat that had coated the loose tank top she wore. Despite the fairly flimsy material, she still felt its weight against her muscles and she bite down on her bottom lip while her right hand dipped beneath the sheets that covered her, the slowly healing scar that awaited on her torso still tender and warmer than the rest of her body.

Drawing slow, lazy lines around the jaded borders of the scar, she couldn’t do anything but shiver a second time as the images that had plagued her dreams ever since Dunwall had been left behind; images of death, blood and the mixed scent of gunpowder and whale’s oil. The same one that, with its eerily blue glow, powered the belly of the ship she was currently in. Not that she had been too keen on going there ever since they both had embarked. No, that had been something Emily had done; her eyes just as dark as the thoughts she could see peering through them every time she thought Alexi wasn’t looking.

Emily. The name made her crane her neck at her left; at where Emily had still been studying Karnaca’s maps when she had finally kissed her on her temple, asking her to try to fall asleep. A wish she knew wouldn’t be headed. It wasn’t, she admitted to herself while moving her hand away from the scar, letting the fabric of the tank top cover it once more, like she could blame her.

The other woman was giving her back at her, her form a blurred figure in the darkness that covered the room, but Alexi was able to listen to the sound of her breathing reaching towards her through the distance that separated them. A soft snoring that she had teased the Empress with endlessly the times they both had allowed themselves to lounge in bed; early meetings and Alexi’s own shifts be damned. Emily had always feigned to be appalled by how Alexi impersonated her, the pretended snoring always dissolving into a fit of laughter when the dark-haired woman started to tickle her. Now, as the former Captain of the Guard eyed the sleeping Empress, she couldn’t stop the sad smile that curved her lips.

If either of them had known how the Anniversary would play out…

Shaking her head, Alexi took a gulp of air, the saltpeter’s scent still pungent and seeming to grow stronger by the second. There was no point on thinking on what they both would have done. Neither of them had that privilege, not anymore.

And that was what maybe scared her more; she had spent the majority of her young and then adult life knowing fully well that she had been prepared to all sorts of situations in order to defend the live of the woman that laid in front of her. Not having the resources, or the answers, to do it scared her more than anything. Pressing her lips into a thin line, she considered moving closer to Emily; hug her and let sleep win over her once more. At least until the weak light beams that would signal a new day would awaken them both.

Careful on not putting too much strain on her torso she scooped closer: closing the few inches that were between her and Emily in the narrow mattress Meagan had provided for them. The woman had not blinked twice when Alexi had grasped Emily’s hand as Dunwall’s shore disappeared into the fog the ship cut into like a knife, and, despite being weak and nauseous after needing to run from the people she had once considered friends, coworkers, with blood spilling over the rushed done bandage Emily had been able to create up Dunwall Tower, Alexi had felt a rush of gratitude cursing through her veins.

Gratitude at not even needing to put the mask Emily and she had become so adept at using whenever they were in the presence of others, others who didn’t know their secret. A secret that she suspected Corvo knew. Even if the man never said it.

Her thoughts about the silent man were interrupted, however, when she felt a cold droplet splashing against her forehead. Frowning and stopping her arm in midair, she rose it towards her skin, water coating the tips of her fingers once she looked at them.

With the stench of salt and rotten meat only growing thicker, Alexi looked up at the ceiling, halfway worried the leaks she had spied at the main quarters of the ship had somehow started to form in the tiny cabin she was in. Her eyes, however, widened, as she found herself staring at a vast expanse that seemed to stretch miles above her head; giant shapes of a darker indigo peppering what couldn’t be described as pitch darkness but something much more sinister.

Twisted shapes of what seemed to be ships rising from the now disappeared ceiling, Alexi swallowed down a scream as a giant, empty eye floated towards her. An eye that, as if underwater, twirled over itself before it got swallowed back by the writhing darkness that seemed about to suffocate the small cabin in where the walls themselves were already disappearing: replaced by jaded slabs of broken and onyx-like stones.

Clearing her throat, Alexi glanced at her side, at Emily’s still unmoving form. The sheets and the posture she was in obscured her face from her but Alexi was able to distinguish the tensioned muscles of her lover’s back, the way her posture looked as if it had changed. Fearful something had happened to her and momentarily deciding to forget the shoals that floated between yellowed sails, Alexi reached for the other woman, her fingers not even caressing Emily’s shoulder when she tried to speak.

“Em…”

Her voice halted as Emily’s silhouette disappeared in a plum of smoke, the almost liquid nature in where it floated away mesmerizing Alexi for a second before she lunged forward, her torso protesting and her legs getting tangled into the sheets. Arms digging into the quickly disappearing smoke, she called Emily’s name a second time, the panic tinting her vocal chords strumming through the darkness, echoes of it returning to her; distorted to the point of being unrecognizable.

Kicking the sheets away, Alexi rose to her feet, glancing around to what didn’t seem to be a cabin any longer but just an extension of the stone slabs. The sword she had been able to steal before embarking was nowhere to be seen, even if she could remember leaving it close to the bed; the fact that they were in the middle of the ocean not helping her feel safe. Growling and feeling dizziness starting to overtake her, as if she was still in the ship, waves caressing the hull, she gulped down a sob while she called for Emily a third time.

The voice that answered her was deeper than the Empress’, its tone dispassionate, cruel, and Alexi stumbled as a mirthless “Try again” rose from around her, seeping into her bones while she turned towards the missing walls.

There, standing taller than she was, sclera as dark as the expanse that rose above them both, a man awaited.

She had never been followed Faith closely. She, like many others that came from humble beginnings, didn’t buy on the Overseers tales of piety. But she had heard the tales of what Corvo had done during The Plague, she had seen the troubled eyes the man always sported whenever someone mentioned the mark on his hand. The same one Emily had started to cover after their first night on the ship; answers to where it had come from cagey, full of fear as she seemed to blink away from existence; tears dangling from her eyelashes, skin tender and raw.

She had played enough at Potterstead’s shores to have heard of those pieces of bone that sometimes floated towards the blood-soaked sand. The ones one wasn’t supposed to take home, the ones that granted images of grandeur as they slowly ate you from inside, turning you into a skeleton, a shadow, of what you once were. She had heard enough descriptions, enough tales she had liked to believe were just stories to keep children as well-behaved as possible.

And it was precisely because of this, because of the paintings she had seen displayed on some of the balls she had attended as Emily’s bodyguard, that she knew who the man was.

She could only thank her training for the way her legs didn’t tremble as she stood as tall as she was; peering into the dark eyes of the stranger, chin raised and hands turning into fists.

“Where is she?” She asked, and her voice echoed once more, as if coming from a well; as if the noise itself was being sucked by the mere presence of, who she knew, could only be the one who some prayed to; his cult as old as the bones over where Dunwall had been built.

The Outsider smirked, his body distorting before it gained definition once more.

“Not here.” He provided and Alexi knew she wasn’t going to get a clearer answer. She had heard whispers of course, of those who, ingesting the drug present on what they later on used to create the darts some members of the Guard used, were able to sense the presence of the being that now stood in front of her. She wondered if this wasn’t the case: if the food she had ingested earlier wasn’t doused off with some of the substance.

No point on wondering. If she had been brought to the Void she was just a pawn for the man in front of her.

“Why I’m here then?”

The man tilted his head to one side, the brown clothes he wore plain and unassuming. A contrast so powerful against his eyes that Alexi bite back a nervous chuckle. One that died on her lips the moment The Outsider spoke again.

“You weren’t supposed to survive.”

Hands rising towards her wound, Alexi fully expected to see them coated in blood. Yet, the scar was still closed when she felt the protuberance of the healing skin and she felt the bitter taste of wounded pride sliding down her throat as the man laughed. The sound of it felt like nails on her body; pulling from her insides and so she clutched her fingers against the tank top, pulling the material away from her as she waited.

Eventually, her curiosity slid through the darkness, effectively stopping the laughter.

“Why?”

The man hummed, crossing his arms in front of his chest and Alexi dragged out a shuddering breath as she felt the touch of something cold, slimy, at the back of her neck.

“You weren’t.” He replied, his voice not holding any hint if the fact disappointed him or not. “But Emily saved you, helped you. Almost got discovered as you slithered through the streets of what have been your home for years.”

Alexi said nothing, the images the words evoked enough for her to remain silent. She had told Emily more times than she was able to quantify that she was the one that needed to flee the city. That she needed to leave her behind. Emily wasn’t prone to crying, never had been, but her hot tears and the anger that had sharpened the angles of her face as she shook her face and kissed her, irate, had been more than an answer for her pleas.

“She is stubborn.” She found herself saying once the silence stretched and the man’s lips curved in a lopsided smirk, one that made Alexi think on the dark ichor whales exuded as they were being drained.

“Which makes this all much more interesting.” The Outsider pointed at his back, at where the expanse grew lighter for a moment, the shadow of a stone-made Emily blinking into existence. Face contorted in fear, the statue held her sword- Corvo’s sword- on her right as her left arm was pressed close to her chest, the shape she had seen on her hand prominent even from this distance: glowing gold. “I have granted her my gifts.” The man’s voice was fading, and Alexi focused on him once more, trying to commit every detail to memory. “I wonder, however, how your influence will affect her. Will there be chaos? Or order?”

The last consonant cluster reached Alexi just as the man’s figure disappeared, turned into the same dust Emily had left behind. Sight already darkening once more, Alexi grabbed into the slabs, pain shooting up her arms as she fell to her knees, her wound throbbing, as she fought to keep on breathing.

“Alexi? Alexi!”

She recognized the voice that reached through her, Emily’s worried face the first thing she saw as she blinked back into consciousness. No great expanse around her, no creatures floating on their own blood, Alexi realized she was clawing at her midsection, the burning sensation still present and haunting. The cabin was still dark but the light was grey, showing the first signs of the upcoming morning, the kind of one Alexi was ready to welcome with open arms.

“Emily.”

Her voice was faint, her throat protesting as she swallowed, and she felt parched when she licked her bottom lip: her tongue clumsy against her teeth. When she zeroed on Emily again the worry on the other woman’s eyes had transformed into cautiousness, pupils trembling as the Empress gaze roamed her limbs, stopping at her hands. Almost as if she was expecting…

Alexi let out a broken sound, one that she wasn’t even sure if it was a sob or a chuckle. Shaking her head, she rose both of her hands, the effort that took making her feel dizzy once more while the other woman moved back, kneeling on the mattress as Alexis propped up against the headboard of it.

“I’ve seen him.” Her confirmation didn’t dissipate Emily’s obvious worry and she found herself sitting straighter, mid-prepared to stand. “The…”

She halted. There was no point on spaying his name. They both knew who she was referring to.

Emily’s own hands trembled on her lap, the cloth she had started to wear around her wrist and left hand askew as she picked on her fingers, playing with them in that nervous tick Alexi always told her was horrible for politics. Moving forward and grasping the hands, caressing the back of the cloth with one thumb, Alexi parted her lips; ready to try again.

“He told me you have been gifted.”

Emily didn’t deny it, but her eyes turned troubled and Alexi felt the prickle of fear growing at the back of her skull once more. Fear for what the conversation could have been like for the Empress to be so doubtful, so fragile.

“I’m not sure if I will…” The woman’s melodic accent stopped as she did, the sound reaching Alexi as she glanced down, at the faint black lines she was able to see.

“You should.” She found herself saying and she wondered if this was what the Outsider had said about her; about her changing what seemed to be  a mere game for the man. Shaking her head, she grasped Emily’s left hand tighter, letting the other fall free from her grasp. Nodding reassuringly, Alexi tried to smile.

With the Outsider’s help they could have a chance. However tiny it was. And Emily would have her at her side. She would take care of what it would need to be taken care of. Be that a killer or the Outsider himself.

“He gave you this.” She said, softly, and Emily nodded at the words. A sight Alexi felt drunk from. Fear dissipating, she tried once more. “He has given you his mark. Using it won’t…”

She didn’t use the verb she knew both of them were thinking: corrupt you.

It wasn’t one she wanted to even think about. And so, she plowed through.

“He didn’t give me his mark though, he also told me I should be dead.” That escaped her mouth in one single breath and she found herself being yanked away from the bed as Emily moved backwards, their hands still intertwined.

“He what?”

Nodding, Alexi moved her hand up Emily’s forearm, noticing the way the fabric of the long-sleeve blouse the woman wore bunched against her clammy fingers.

“He told me I should have died.”

It was quieter this time and Alexi sighed deeply as Emily pulled her closer, freeing herself from her grasp and rising her marked hand up to her cheek, the signet ring gleaming into the dim light.

“It doesn’t matter.” She begun, and Alexi wanted to laugh. Only Emily would deny the word of an otherworldly being after all. “You are alive. You…”

The two of them glanced at where the top covered Alexi’s wound and, almost reverently, Emily began to move the fabric up, muscles and tender skin jumping to her touch before Alexi was able to repress her reaction.

She couldn’t swallow down a curse as Emily did the same in front of her however; where an angry scar had been a few hours ago the faded color of a completely healed skin welcomed them both now. The line of where the sword had dug into her insides completely was healed and just a shade darker than the rest of her body. As if it had been done years ago; as if it hadn’t been her almost demise.

“Maybe you have been gifted after all.” The murmur made Alexi look back up towards Emily’s face, tears welling up her eyes.

“I can’t…”

Her response died down as Emily closed her eyes and shivered, sobs so soft they almost went unnoticed, wrecking through her.

Sneaking her left hand towards the dark-haired woman’s back, Alexi pulled her closer, the distance minute enough so she could feel her body, no shadow, no trick, on the way she felt the other woman’s hiccupped breathing.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, and Alexi’s heart stuttered. “I just, what if I wouldn’t have tried to pry the door open? What if…”

“I couldn’t die before I knew you were safe.”

The words left her mouth before Alexi was even fully aware of them, but she knew they rang true when Emily nibbled at her lip, eyes opening once more as she pressed her forehead against her.

“I still won’t.”

It was a heavy promise, the kind of one that shouldn’t be said but Alexi felt confident on it; on what it entailed. Outsider’s help or not.

Blindly reaching for Emily’s lips, Alexi dropped a peck on them; a vow made.

A vow she would fight against the Outsider for, a vow she would fulfill.

“I won’t leave.”

And she felt the words thrumming as Emily nodded, craning her neck and kissing her back. Fully.

She would stay. Right where she was. For Emily. For them.

[idk-dolans]

V for VANDALISM (E.D.)

WARNINGS: swearing, bad words, explicit content i think???

I really hope you’ll like it just as much as I do and please let me know your opinion on this one! It’s my first E fic this long and I’m nervous😂

Vandalism (/ˈvand(ə)lɪz(ə)m/) - an action involving deliberate destruction of or damage to public or private property.

“Hello?” Her soft voice answered, shifting her position in the bed so that she can talk properly at the phone. He bit his lip, feeling a hint of remorse for waking her up at this hour.

“Wanna go for a walk?”

She looked around them every now and then almost too afraid to get caught. She’ll be in big trouble if anyone sees her with him, or even worse, if her father sees them together. She knew it’s wrong to be out at this hour of the night in the presence of the most wanted vandaliser in town. Everyone wanted to find who is the one that destroys the walls and masterpieces around New Jersey, everyone wanted to put their hand on him and punish him just as the law demands it to be punished. But he was way too smart for them. He never gets caught.

Ethan saw her retention and looked at her beautiful face while putting his hood on his head. He held in front of her his red bandana, waiting for her to take it and put it on her face just as he taught her a few months ago when he brought the courage to finally ask her on these adventures of his, afraid she might not like it or find them boring. She looked in his hazel eyes which appear darker due to the surroundings and she took the bandana from him, brushing delicately her fingers on top of his hand. While never breaking eye contact, she put it on, letting it fall around her neck and she pulled her hood over her head just as Ethan did. He looked at her adorringly before coming closer and pressing his lips on her forehead for a few seconds, taking a step back afterwards.

“I’m scared.” (Y/N) whispered, embracing herself with her cold hands in an attempt of heating her body a little in the cold night.

“Do you trust me?” Ethan asked, coming closer again. He looked down at her, seeing the cute little gesture she does with her feet but he abtains his chuckle.

“Of course I do!” She scoffed. “It’s just… I told you, if my father ever catches us it’s end game for both of us!” Her voice became louder with each word and Ethan just stood there, watching and listening to her. He was a little scared too to be honest, he didn’t want her to get in trouble because of him mainly because her Father was a cop… and not any cop. Her Father was the head of the main police station in New Jersey and when you have a parent inside the law, you can’t allow yourself to bring such shame to him and your family. Sure, when something happen he can always run and escape, but leaving her behind it’s not good for any of them for so many reasons. During the day everything is good, but once the night settles… everything changes and he takes these risks only because he loves her and wants her to experience something new, to feel the adrenaline he feels every night and to accept his world just like it is, to accept him.

“I don’t want that, Ethan.” She continued when she saw his response delays to appear. She comes closer and put his hood down, locking her hands through his dark hair, a thing Ethan loved. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead on hers, letting out a sigh.

“It won’t happen, (Y/N).”

**

“Okay, I think it’s safe for us to stop.” Ethan shouted after (Y/N) who was running ahead of him and she didn’t seem to stop any time soon. They were both laughing like crazy as the sky lightens in streaks of pink and orange and clouds are lit from the bottom in a fiery glow. Sunrise intensifies with each minute, growing brighter and sharper, and visibility improves as night is cast off. Their laughs stop just as fast as they began, only big smiles remaining on their faces while Ethan comes closer to his girl. She looks up at him and he push delicately a strand of messy hair behind her ear, inching closer to her face. Her eyes seem heavy and her cheeks were a light color of red due to her hysterical laughing and the cold that pierced her face as she ran. He was impressed with her running skills, she literally surpassed him. But maybe that happens when you tell someone to run for their life, he actually feels a little bad. Ethan decided to take (Y/N) on that side of the city where it can’t happen anything bad if someone saw you because there are not security cameras and other things that might compromise their adventure but while he was “tagging” a wall with his signature, a man saw them and started shouting after them. (Y/N) almost screamed and she could feel her air caught up in her throat while Ethan casually catched her arm and started running in the opposite direction. They finally made it downtown and stopped running.

“I must admit it, beautiful, I’m hurt and impressed.” He let out a laugh, moving his hand to the back of her head and her smile grew bigger. “Maybe you’re not just a book-worm after all.” He rolled his eyes jokingly and this time she let out a laugh. Even though they wanted to stay like this forever, the tale must come to an end.

“I think it’s time for me to go…” (Y/N) began slowly. “I don’t want my father to wake up and find out I’m not home.”

“Yeah, I know.” He sighed, looking into her caramel eyes that always seem to melt into his own hazel eyes whenever he watched her. He cupped her face with his other hand and pressed his lips to her cold ones in a short and sweet kiss. “Take care, beautiful.” He then kissed her forehead and she nodded before kissing him one more time. She smiled and turned around, heading home and leaving Ethan watching her tiny sillouette until she dissapeared around the corner.

(Y/N) tried to walk faster while adjusting her hood on her head and then putting her hands in her hoodie’s pockets. Ethan’s bandana hung loosely around her neck and the smell of his cologne invaded once again her nostrills. She took in his scent she adored so much and tried to calm down a little. It basically just started to light outside, her father won’t be up until at least 6:30 o'clock. Shrugging that off, she anyway started to walk faster just because she was cold and tired and she wanted to throw herself on her bed and drift off to sleep, but the morning air caught up in her throat when she saw her father’s car in the distance, driving down the dimly lit and desserted alley. She stopped dead in her tracks, her heart beating like crazy and she ran toward the corner of the street, praying that he didnt see her. She took her phone out, checking the time, confusion washing over her face. It wasn’t even 6 in the morning, what was going on? She decided it was best for her to arrive home as fast as she could so she started running down the alley that led behind her house. Looking around, she didn’t saw anyone or anything out of ordinary, it was really quiet, only the birds started chirpping. She went inside the house, closing the door slowly behind her so that she won’t make any noise and tip-toed through the house and up the stairs until she entered her room. She let out a sigh she didn’t know she was holding and threw herself on the bed, falling asleep almost instantly after she closed her eyes.

____________

Ethan woke up around noon, a little alerted. (Y/N) didn’t call him nor texted him and he started worrying a little, it was unusual for her to do this but as he was complaining about it, his phone buzzed beside his pillow. He turned over, taking the phone in his hand, a smile appearing on his face when he saw the name of his girl on his phone’s screen. He opened her message, his smile growing bigger with each word read.

“Hi handsome! :) sorry to bother you if you’re sleeping but I just got you something and I’m excited for you to see it. I’ve also bought a few pancakes from that place you love so much and I’m waiting for you at our bench.

Hurry! They’ll get cold! 💋”

**

“Am I late?” Ethan shouted from the distance, bringing (Y/N)’s attention back. She smiled, looking at him riding his BMX closer to her until he hopped off of it, letting it down. She closed the book she was currently reading and placed it in her open backpack, turning back again to Ethan.

“I think you made it, the pancakes aren’t that cold.” She put her hand under her chin as if she was thinking then let out a giggle. Ethan’s heart grew bigger at the girl in front of him if that’s even possible and he had this stupid smile on his face. He couldn’t resist anymore and stepped closer, cupping her face with his hands. Pressing a soft and loving kiss on her lips he knew in that moment he was the luckiest guy in the world. She smiled shyly at him before breaking eye contact. “I have something for you!” (Y/N) said excited, searching inside her backpack while Ethan took one of the pancakes. He let out a moan and rolled his eyes.

“These are so fucking good!” He grumbled, his voice a little muffled because of the amount of food he had in his mouth. (Y/N) frowned and turned to him.

“Language, young man!” She said through gritted teeth and for Ethan she was the most adorable thing in the entire world. He chuckled but decided to play along.

“Sorry!” He let out, swallowing. “They are just too delicious.” He shoves the rest of the pancake in his mouth before taking a seat beside (Y/N). She took his hand in hers and placed the book in the palm of his hand. He looked curiously, taking it from her.

“Verity, huh?” He asked, turning the book over. “I’ve never heard of Colleen Hoover.” He admitted and (Y/N) let out a laugh. Of course he never heard of her, he only read the few books (Y/N) gave him. It was kind of like a tradition - she would give him a book, he’ll read it and then he would “transform” his art to fit the content of the book. It was really romantic for him and in that way, (Y/N) knew as well he read the books. “Tell me a little about it, why Verity?”

“I chose this book for you because I’m sure you’ll love it.” She began to spoke and Ethan stopped all of his movements, keeping the book in his hands and listening to her voice. “What I’ve come to appreciate most about Colleen Hoover’s work—whether it’s an emotionally charged love story or in this case, her first go at suspense—is her penchant for pushing boundaries. For telling the unexpected story.”

“And how do you know I’ll love it?” He asked, not turning to look at her. (Y/N) smiled.

“This storyline is dark, and the lives of the characters that inhabit the pages are far from perfect, so don’t kid yourself into thinking this is something it’s not. Verity is horrifying, maddening, and what-the-hell-inducing, but it’s also sustenance for that looking to satisfy a craving for something different.” She explained, leaving him dumbfounded as always. He didn’t say anything so she continued. “I’m sure you’ll like it because you too are different and that kind of person that people always judge by its cover and catalogs as something that it’s not when in reality, you hold a lot of a different story.” He listened to her talk, her voice soothing him and they stood in silence for a few moments before he turned to her.

“Thank you, (Y/N)! It means a lot to me and I really appreciate it!” She smiled widely at him and kissed his cheek lovingly.

“Hope you’ll manage to read a few chapters until tonight, I want to go on another adventure.” She winked at him and Ethan’s smile grew bigger.

____________

“Dad? Are you home?” (Y/N) shouted from the front door, getting rid of her barely there-black sandals. She let her backpack down and looked around, going straight to the living room.

“Yes, cupcake, I’m in the kitchen!” He shouted from where he was and (Y/N) cringed a little at the nickname. She didn’t mind though, that meant he’s in a good mood. She entered the kitchen, seeing her father there in his cop uniform. He was eating a bowl of cereals with fruit yogurt and looked ahead of him at the tv on the counter.

“Hey, I woke up when you left this morning, it was quite early.” She spoke softly and her father hummed in response.

“They called me for another graffiti.” He answered, not looking at her. “It was at the end of the city, but they ran before we could arrive.” (Y/N) shifted uncomfortably next to the table, it was the same spot she and Ethan were a few hours ago. Thank God they left immediately.

(Y/N) took an apple from the table and sat down on a chair beside her father. She turned her head to the tv as well and saw the images on the news, feeling her stomach tighten. They were talking again about the vandalisers, about Ethan.

“Why don’t they let them be? I don’t see anything wrong with the graffers.” She scoffed, taking another bite from her apple. Mr. Dawson threw her a look before turning again to the tv.

“You don’t understand and I’m not expecting you to do so.” He began to speak, not looking at her. “These vandals damage the surroundings and I’m not gonna allow that. Not in my city!” He continued, turning to her this time. It wasn’t fair.

“I think what they do can be called art. Have you seen the ones done by V? They are amazing and contain every kind of color and themes.” She tried to change her father’s mind, but he only glared at her. “He did that wonderful and dark landscape on the front wall of the Penitentiary, how amazing was that?”

“Oooh, you’re talking about that one that also graffed the Police Station wall with A.C.A.B. and signed under it with V for VANDALISM.” Mr. Dawson tried to sound excited but (Y/N) felt the irony and anger in his voice and let out a long sigh, turning her head to the tv again. All she hopes for is that Ethan or any of his friends won’t get caught.

“Admit it, they draw on the most secure buildings, full of cameras and guardians on every step and they somehow still managed to never get caught. They are really smart.” She shrugged, taking a few more bites from her apple and watched as her father took his bowl and put it in the sink.

“No, dear, I think they are just a bunch of hooligans who only try to cause trouble around the city.” He chuckled but his daughter saw it wasn’t a real one, he wasn’t amused, he was frustrated that this bunch of hooligans were a lot smarter than all the cops in the city. Now (Y/N) was amused.

“Whatever.” She threw the apple spine in the trash and turned around. “Dad?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Is it okay if I go out tonight with Ethan and our other friends?” She asked in that sweet voice of hers and her father couldn’t tell her no. Also he knew Ethan and liked him very much so he knew his daughter is in good hands. Oh, if only he knew…

“Yeah, I don’t have any problem with that. I’m on my night shift anyway, just be careful!”

____________

“Some families are lucky enough to never experience a single tragedy. But then there are those families that see to have tragedies waiting on the back burner. What can go wrong, goes wrong. And then gets worse."  (Y/N) almost hummed the quotes as they walked toward the meeting point. Ethan started smiling and passed his right hand through his hair just as he intertwines fingers with the delicate girl to his left.

"The Crawford’s have experienced devastating tragedy in the loss of their twin daughters. Lowen can’t help but feel sympathy for the grieving Jeremy and his remaining son. Then she uncovers Verity’s unfinished autobiography. Page upon page of bone-chilling, psychotic admissions. As Lowen uncovers Verity’s deepest, darkest secrets, things between her and Jeremy begin to intensify.” Ethan explained, proud of himself after he finished and he looked down at (Y/N), seeing how she was already eyeing him with adoring eyes so he winked at her. She looked somewhere else, feeling her cheeks heating up and Ethan let out an angelic laugh, stoping and coming in front of her. She put her hands on his chest while he carefully cupped her face, almost too afraid she was gonna break in his hands. They were so different, yet so similiar. Even though he comes from a whole different world than her, he just couldn’t let her go for anything in life. He was attracted to her in a way he can’t explain but he wasn’t complaining. (Y/N) was everything for him and she’s the only person that can take his pain away and soothe him with just her voice. He wasn’t like the rest of the boys and she knew that too, he had problems, he was difficult, tough, stubborn and so on but she wouldn’t change a thing about him because she loves him just the way he is and no one in the world can compare to the vandaliser in a hoodie that stole her heart.

“I love you, bub!” He let out after a while of only looking into her eyes; her beautiful and gorgeous eyes he adored so much. (Y/N) smiled and cupped his face as well, taking him down to her for a kiss. He almost did it in a brutal way but his lips became fast sensual above hers and he pulled her closer if that was even possible.

“I love you.” She whispered, giving him a sweet “butterfly kiss” and Ethan could feel his little heart beating faster.

“Hey, Dolan!” An unknown voice spoke, making (Y/N) frown a little and looking up to Ethan with an eyebrow raised. He took her hand back in his and dragged her among him towards the boy. He wore a snapback over his dirty blonde hair as they could see from that little gap. He had piercing blue eyes, a silver nosering and a lot of tattoos, one of them being visible from under his purple hoodie and up his neck. He adjusted his bag on his shoulder while letting out the smoke from his cigarette.

“Ivan.” Ethan greeted him coldly. “It’s been a while.” He spoke again, a look of pure boredom on his face. (Y/N) stood a little behind him, tightening her arms around Ethan’s and she looked up at the boy. He screamed clearly trouble.

“Is this your girl?” Ivan ignored Ethan, putting all of his attention on the small girl beside him. She gulped and wanted to take a step back while Ethan remained still. “She’s very pretty!” He exclaimed, turning his attention back to the man that was now almost fuming. He wanted to punch him in the face and erase that stupid smirk of his but he tried to remain calm and keep his composure. He didn’t want to scare (Y/N).

“Are you done?” Ethan asked, his voice and face stone cold. (Y/N) looked at him, embracing him now, afraid he might say or do something bad.

“Oh wow, just offering a compliment.” Ivan laughed, throwing the cigarette-butt away. “I’m sorry if I offended you.” He smiled to both of them but Ethan was still imagining how he could crush his head.

“Come on, E.” (Y/N) spoke softly to him, not breaking eye contact with Ivan. “Let’s go!” She said a little louder this time, pulling Ethan’s hand. He obeyed without any words and started walking again to the meeting point, leaving Ivan behind.

After arriving and meeting each other, the boys and even a few girls started exchanging the spray cans they needed. (Y/N) bit her lip, the thought of her father catching them tonight making her shiver. She looked down to where Ethan stood, putting the spray cans in his bag.

“E?”

“Yes, love?” He answered instantly, not turning to her. She bit again her lip, then spoke.

“My father is driving around the city tonight.” Ethan stopped his movements, taking in what she just said and her gaze was fixed on the back of his head. He chuckled before turning to her.

“Are you scared?”

“Yeah…”

“Me too.” Ethan admitted lightly before getting up and approaching her. She widened her eyes, then furrowed her brows and sighed.

“We’ll be good.” She assured him and he nodded before taking his bag and putting it on his shoulder.

**

(Y/N) didn’t have that much fun in her entire life and she was a whole new person when she was with Ethan. He couldn’t even finish the draw he was currently trying to make because he was looking at her continuously. She took one of Ethan’s sprays and shakes it before coming to the wall. She draws a crossed V which she then embraced it in a heart. Ethan smiled and came to where she stood, adjusting the shaky heart she made, looking adorringly at it.

“Thank you for showing me the night life.” She spoke over his shoulder, smiling widely and Ethan turned to her, leaving the spray can down.

“You like it?” He asked, coming closer, putting his hands on her hips. She was so little in Ethan’s hands and that thought alone made wonders in his mind, remembering those times they made love in his room, on those same mattress that keep all the secrets and memories they both shared.

“I love it!” She exclaimed, her eyes having that specific shine. He kissed her, a kiss full of love and passion that stopped way too soon for their like.

“Dolan! We have problems!” Annelisse shouted from the distance, running towards them. She was Ivan’s sister and Grayson’s girlfriend. Even though her brother was a big asshole, she was really chill and didn’t cause any trouble to the people around her beside the cops that wanted her too for her art. She tried to make Grayson to come with her in these adventures at night just as Ethan did with (Y/N) but he wasn’t in for it. He loved her, of course, but the danger was too much for him and he couldn’t risk it. Annelisse was kind of jealous of their relationship but somehow happy that Ethan found the perfect girl for him. His face always lit up when he talked about her and just a few days ago he told the boys he wanted to surprise her with a graffiti, but not too soon. Not after what happened.

“What’s going on?” Ethan turned to her, observing the tears in her eyes and panick in her voice. She was franticaly looking around them. Something bad happened.

“They got Ivan! They picked him up!” She screamed, more tears coming down her face now. (Y/N) and Ethan’s faces were shocked and they just looked at her in disbelief. “We need to leave! Now!” She screamed once again before the sirens of the police’s car started hearing again in the distance. Ethan turned to (Y/N) who began to panick, tears forming in her eyes as well and he put his hands on her cheeks, forcing her to look him in the eyes.

“Breathe, baby! I’m here! Nothing’s gonna happen, okay?” He tried to calm her down, breathing in and out in sync with her, wiping away her tears. “Just follow me.” He kissed her forehead then took the rest of the spraying cans, stuffing them in his bag. “Everyone! Hurry!” He shouted over to the rest of the people, taking (Y/N)’s hand in his before starting to run. The sirens were too close and the noise began to feel unsupportable for their ears. They all started running after Ethan. The sirens echoed through his head and he heard them from everywhere around him, making it hard for them to realize where they actually come from. His fear transformed instantly in panick and pure dread when they ran just around the block and five cars of police were waiting for them there, with the flares-up in red and blue. They stopped abruptly in front of the headlights, mouths agape. They don’t have any chance to run now, they are surrounded.

“Everyone down on their knees!” (Y/N) heard what sounded like her father’s voice shouting at them and her heart skipped a beat. She wasn’t sure though, everything now in her head buzzed and her sight was blurry due to her tears that threatened to fall any time now on her cold cheeks.

“As for you, young lady, I’m so dissapointed in you!” She knew for sure now that it was her father. She finally let the tears fall and sobbed hardly, looking how he approached her. “If only I knew my daughter hangs out with you…” He looked over to Ethan who just stood in front of her father, not being able to do or say anything. “I’ll make sure you won’t be near her again, am I clear?” He shouted at Ethan and he gulped, letting his head down.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. (Y/N), get in the car, we’ll have a talk at home. You’re in a lot of trouble, young lady!” Mr. Dawson was now in front of his daughter who didn’t seem to listen to him.

“No.” She said between sobs and all of the eyes were now on her.

“I beg your pardon?” Her father looked at her confused, anger evident in his voice now.

“Baby, what are you do-”

“I said no!” She brought up the courage to shout at him and Ethan couldn’t believe his eyes and ears just as her father. “I’m not going anywhere, Dad!” She continued, not knowing what made her do this but she didn’t complained. She was sick of this situation.

“Enough with these nonsenses!” Mr. Dawson was the one who screamed now and everyone got silent. “Go get them!” He shouted at the cops before they rushed to catch the vandalisers. (Y/N) screamed when she saw two of them put their hands on Ethan and she tried to stop them before she felt a pair of strong arms catching her from behind. Everything around them slowed down and with only a few seconds left, they both strrugled in the arms of the cops to make a step toward each other. Their lips caught each other in a desperate kiss full of all the fear and passion they had in them. It was that kind of kiss that made everything around them stop and just live the moment; the kind of kiss that said “please, don’t leave me!” and “don’t worry, I’ll be okay.”

They were both hardly pulled apart and (Y/N) looked at Ethan who mimicked those three words that made her world sink in an infinite abyss, her heart breaking into pieces.

“I love you.”

____________

“What is it guys?” (Y/N) asked Jake and Isaac, another two friends of Ethan and graffers. They somehow managed to escape that night, two months ago to be exactly. Since then, (Y/N) seemed to lost all of her shine, they took her happiness from her, they took her Ethan and she swore she’ll never gonna forgive her Dad for it. She sometimes visits and hangs out with Grayson, just so that he can forget about the tragedy too. Annelisse was caught and with that, Grayson’s world sunk deeper than (Y/N)’s. They got his brother and his girlfriend.

“Uhm, we wanted to show you something for a while and we decided that now is the moment.” Isaac spoke, a little awkward because they didn’t know how to behave in front of her now, not after all that happened.

“Just… Close your eyes or something, it’s not that far.”

**

“Okay, you can open them! Take your time, we’ll wait for you at the corner of the street.” Jake spoke this time, taking off his hands of her shoulders, taking a few steps back. He dragged Isaac after him and left (Y/N) there.

When she opened her eyes, she saw the most beautiful and realistic graff of them all. There, just a few steps ahead of her, on the white wall were two people; a boy, which was down on one knee, nikes on, shorts, a black hoodie -which hood covered up his head so that you could see only his nose and mouth from the profile- and in his hand he had a red rose that he offered to the other person: a girl that was looking down at him, sandals on, light pink dress and her hands were on her face, not believing the gesture. Next to the amazing drawing was the same crossed V, embraced in a little heart. (Y/N) came closer, a big smile on her face and her eyes fell down in front of the wall.

The same red rose was waiting for her together with a white paper. She took them up, her smile growing wider and she opened the paper.

“Okay so this is like the 4th or 5th page I’m trying to write cause letters are not my thing.” She read on the paper, letting out a laugh and knowing immediately this was Ethan.

“I don’t know how to start this and obviously I don’t know how I’ll end it either but I’m gonna try for you.

I hope you like the graff you just saw because I wasn’t able to see it. It was a surprise I had in plan for you for a long time now but I couldn’t do it anymore… I hope those fucks guys that did it nailed it cause if they didn’t, I’m gonna rip of their heads when I come out.

I’m sorry I’m not that kind of boyfriend that you always find in books and can stay with you everyday and make you happy. I’m sorry for the trouble I brought to you and I hope you can forgive me. I know I have a lot of defects but I’m working so hard on them and to be a better person. You taught me a lot of things and I’m so grateful for that, for you, that even after what happened I still have you in my life. I’m a really lucky guy.

I took the books from you here and I already finished them, it’s really boring here and the food is crap. But don’t worry, I’m fine! I didn’t drop the soap ;) (omg that was so bad, I’m sorry). I have a few more months of staying here and after that we can finally see each other! I’m extremely excited about it!

Anyway, tell Grayson I said "hi!” and to not worry cause me and Annelisse are okay and we’re missing him!

I hope I’ll see you again in no time baby cause I miss you so, so, so much and I want to see your beautiful face again.

I love you, bub!“

Tears fell uncontrolably down her face and she let out a few sobs, raising her eyes to look again at the beautiful picture in front of her. She misses him so much it hurts.

"I love you too, E!”

____________

THE END

[miitzwrites]

Unbreakable Kiss (1)

Hey y’all, I’m here with a new mini series “Type of kisses”, inspired by a list on Tumblr. This time, I decided to go with Lawlight because they’re a guilty pleasure of mine. This series is an AU that I hope you guys like. Disclaimer, it’s my first time writing for this fandom, and for a m/m couple, so yeah, I hope you guys enjoy. If you have a prompt for a drabble, shot me an ask @miitzwrites on Tumblr. As always, english isn’t my first language, and this piece was unbeta’ed. Comments are more than welcome! Enjoy!

" 7. Unbreakable Kiss - The type of kiss that really shouldn’t be happening, it’s a mistake, but you just can’t find yourself able to pull away. "

In the end, both of them were defeated.

The APN closed the investigation, blaming Kyosuke Higuchi for the deaths committed by Kira. The shinigamis and the deadly notebook seemed something out from a nightmare, but they were real. The team wouldn’t be able to forget the horrible face of a shinigami named Rem, nor the shook that it caused them to find out how Kira killed. But it was over now. At least, a couple of days later after the imprisonment of Higuchi, the task force had a good reason to celebrate.

Except for L and Light.

For the world outside, they were the perfect team of investigators. Some would say they were rivals, most would agree that they were friends. What people didn’t know was that something deeper transpired between them.

During the time that Light gave up the ownership of the Death Note, his good nature come out. His pure desire to make justice appealed L, to the point of questioning more than once if this young man, with a brilliant future and an impressive intellect, could really be a cold hearted serial killer.

But also, during that brief time, they got closer.

The touches started by accident. The chain that connected them together, didn’t allow much movement. They would bump into each other or skim their fingers on the other’s skin to reach out for something. Then, they started fighting constantly. Although Light was impulsive, L was agile, and when Light tried to press him down, L would always have the upper hand.

And then, the softer caress began.

At nights, when neither one could sleep, a wandering hand would set on the other’s, like a reassuring reminder that they weren’t alone. Some nights, out of curiosity, Light would run his fingers through L’s hair, noticing its softness, and the sleepy man would make a pleased sound. And some other nights, the slightly older detective would touch Light’s jaw, just because he could, and because it felt different under his fingertips, compared to when he punched Light there with a fist.

And then, after a particularly nasty fight, they kissed for the first time.

Their lips collided against each other, fighting for dominance, as they always did. L’s slim hands traveled up and down Light’s side, setting down on his hips. Light, on his part, kept a bruising grip on the back of L’s neck, while his other hand tried to pull his shirt off.

From the beginning, they were aware that having an affair, for a lack of a better word, wasn’t their most rational decision, but as Light pushed into L, savoring the feeling of being connected for the first time, all rational mind flied out of the window.

Their bodies were a sweaty mess when they both climaxed. Light rested his head on L’s shoulder, sleep calling him quickly. And once again, L was left alone with his thoughts. As he played with Light’s hair, he prayed to any god that might hear him, to let him enjoy this moment. “Please, don’t let him be Kira.”

The days passed in a blur. They kept fighting, arguing as they always did, but they also kept having sex, kept kissing each other senseless. And before either Light or L could see it, they kept falling for each other. And hard.

But, as the saying goes, the higher you go the harder you fall.

And then, that dreadful night came.

The team retrieved the notebook from Higuchi and sent it to the lab for analysis. Light remained in silence for the rest of the way back to the headquarters. L eyed him, suspiciously. He got Kira, he got the weapon, but he didn’t get the motives, and Light looked almost pale. There was something going on, and he needed answers, that deep inside, knew he wouldn’t like.

Once they were alone, L was the first to talk.

“What’s on your mind?” L asked from the threshold of their shared bedroom. He observed Light for a long moment. Light kept his eyes glued to the floor, and only managed to get out a weak ‘I’m sorry’ from his lips.

L was afraid of unveiling a truth that he much rather hide. But he couldn’t. He moved to stand in front of Light, and with care, he tipped Light’s chin with his finger. Light wore his usual unexpressive mask, but his eyes told more than what L wanted to know.

“Tell me it isn’t real. Tell me that my suspicions about you are unfounded. Tell me that you’re not him, and we’ll forget about it for as long as we live.” L’s voice sounded strange to his own ears. Was he begging? Did the great investigator try to fool himself again? A voice inside his head told him to stop this nonsense, and he did.

He turned around and moved to the window to try to collect his feelings and thoughts. Disappointment, betrayal, hurt were unknown to him, and in that very moment, he could feel everything pile up in his chest.

"Are you going to turn me in?" came the soft voice of Light Yagami, who hadn't moved from where he was standing. Then, something clicked inside the investigator's head. He straightened his posture, and turned to look at Light. "Is that what worries you?" The accusation in his voice didn't go unnoticed by Light, but he didn't answer.

L felt something cracking within himself, and for the first time in years, a knot in his throat made it impossible for him to keep speaking. He needed time to understand the wave of emotions that threatened to drown him. Without a word, he left the room. Light didn't try to stop him, and for a while, he could only stare at the spot that L had occupied just a moments ago.

-----

Two days passed since the task force captured the fake Kira.

Light could breath normally. He had realized that L had no intention of turning him in, which was a relief. But they hadn't spoken since that night, and that made him nervous. He was aware that more questions would have to be answered, but knowing how unpredictable L was, he had no idea of when to expect them.

"Yeah, I heard he's leaving tonight. I even offered to move the celebration party to his room, but he refused," Matsuda happily chatted with Aizawa, unaware of Light's presence. "What did you say, Matsuda?" Asked Light, interrupting their conversation, "Ryuzaki won't be coming tonight, Light. He said something about his flight and leaving tonight, you know, another case or something like that."

Light felt the color draining from his face in that instant, and without a second thought, he left the main office, practically running to the elevator to reach the floor where his and L's bedroom was.

He stormed into the room a little breathless, and found L staring out of the window, with a thumb in between his lips, thinking.

"You can't leave, L," Light said, brushing the fangs off his eyes. "You aren't done here."

"And why is that, Light? The case is closed, so my work here is done. Whether the right person will be put into jail or not, that's not my decision to make."

Light cringed internally at the implication of L’s words, but he said nothing. "But we need to talk. There's still some things you need to know."

"You can talk to one of the other members of the task force, as for me, I've had enough of this place."

His patience was wearing thin, and in a desperate attempt to have L listen to his reasons, Light strode towards him, and grabbed his arm to force L to turn around and face him. L's black eyes seemed empty, like simple black orbs that could shallow him at any moment. L was, most of the time, expressionless, but right now, he just looked hollow.

"Why, Light? Why did you do it?" L questioned Light, and his cold voice sent shivers to Light's spine. Reluctant to even confess his sins, Light shook his head, avoiding his question. "That doesn't matter now, L, you just need to know that I.-"

"That you what, Light? That you used me to get what you wanted? Is that so?" L cut him off, and Light frantically shook his head again. "I'm sorry, L, but what happened between us wasn't originally in my plans. If it helps, I never lied to you when we were together."

L wanted to laugh at that, but he just tilted his head, frowning. “Is this another white lie that you tell people not to hurt their feelings?”

“No! L, when I said that I liked you and your company, I meant it. But I also thought if I got rid of you, no one would interfere again, and I could create an utopia where no crime were tolerated.” Light confessed, and in an strange way, that act alone felt liberating.

L listened silently, and let out a heavy sigh. He wasn’t good with feelings, he never had to confront them, nor to explain what happened inside his mind and heart, but right then, he felt lost.

“L, you also need to know that, in the process, I think I developed feelings for you.”

“And yet, you still are going to kill me, aren’t you?” More than a question, L’s words were a confirmation that wasn’t refused by Light. L took another look around and headed to the door, but was stopped by Light, who grabbed his arm tightly. “Please, don’t leave me.” It was a desperate attempt, and Light hated how fragile he sounded. ‘I don’t have to beg you,’ he thought, “I’m a god, am I not?’

L, then, met Light' eyes. Light softly spoke, "I wish I had met you under different circumstances." He didn't let go of his arm, instead, Light closed the distance between them.

In his mind, L recited over and over again why this was wrong, but didn't stop Light. He did the exact opposite of what his mind told him to do. He kissed Light back.

Their lips molded perfectly into each other, as a practiced dance that they knew by memory. Light grabbed the back of L's neck, pressing his body against the other man. Without breaking the kiss, L cornered him into the nearest wall, as his hands roamed freely down Light's torso. 'This is right,' Light thought as L poured everything he had into the kiss. L was certain that this would be the last time he would have to enjoy this moment, so he savoured it, saving the memory of Light's lips for the upcoming lonely nights. Light, on his part, wanted to believe that this would be enough to convice L to stay. But he should know better than that.

L broke the kiss, and rested his forehead against the other detective. Then, he murmured something that Light couldn't understand. "I said 'L. Lawliet', that's my name. Do as you please with it."

Light stared dumfounded at L. He finally got his name, yes, but this wasn't how he wanted to find out. L moved away, returning to his usual blank expression and odd demeanour.

"Goodbye, Kira."

Without sparing another glance at Light, he abandoned the room.

Light remained still until he felt something wet run down his cheeks. He wasn't crying, was he? The god of the new world couldn't be bothered by such mundane things, and yet, the man who had just walked out his life, stole something from him, that he knew he would never get back.

Yes, L discovered the real identity of Kira.

Yes, Light finally had the real name of the mysterious detective L.

But in the end, neither of them get what they really wanted.