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godofsexdrugsandrocknroll · 4 years ago

Text

On A Tropical Island

Jaune: Great. Just great. Now I’m lost and all my friends are missing too! I’m too angry to be depressed!

Neo: *Head pops out of the sand, spitting it everywhere*

Jaune: Oh, even better. Now I have company. This can’t possibly get any worse! *Ignores Neo glaring*

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

Jaune: Stop following me! You’re a bad girl!

Neo: *Cocks eyebrow*

Jaune: *Blushes* Not what I meant! I mean you’re evil! And all you’ve done to help so far is poke me with a stick! *Is poked with a stick* Dammit, stop that!

Neo: *Pokes him in the butt instead*

Jaune: OW! That’s not what I meant you menace!

Neo: *Preens at being called a menace*

Jaune: And stop trying to be cute, too!

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

Neo: *Tapping bare foot*

Jaune: Okay, so maybe my sense of direction isn’t the best. *gets The Look* Alright alright already, jeez. We’re back where we started, your shoes, your jacket and my armor are now forever lost to the wilds and it’s not my fault!

Neo: *Stares*

Jaune: *Shifts guiltily* Okay maybe it is, but if I had a map *Neo crosses her arms, reigniting The Look™ * we’d still probably be lost since the rest of team RNJR banned me from the map after reading it backwards and upside down.

Neo: *Nods firmly, taking the lead*

Jaune: For the fourth time.

Neo: *Turns, gapes in shock, shakes her head and grabs him by the hand*

Jaune: *Offended* Hey, I’m not a child! I won’t get lost!

Neo: *Looks at him through her eyelashes*

Jaune: *Sighs* Okay, fine. But only because getting lost in a weird jungle is way worse than getting lost in the grocery store at 14.

Neo: *Stops, removes belt, ties end around his wrist and grabs the other end*

Jaune: *Starts whining*

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

Jaune: Dear diary *ignores Neo’s pointing and silent laughter* today is day 17 on the worst island to ever exist. Butthole and I -- OW, SHIT-FUCK-SHIT! I really hate that you sharpened your stick into a spear! Fine, Neo and I finally have a a good system in place for food. We’ve got our firepit, Neo turned my armor we found into a pan, one pot and a skillet, my impeccable home economics have saved our asses and we’ve got a spit for roasting things over the fire!

Neo: *Munches happily on roast rabbit*

Jaune: It’s really working out! Neo’s great at the spotting and tracking, I get to use the spear to hunt and there’s plenty of these really stupid semi-intelligent rabbits that seem to have a language of their own that are really good when you cook ‘em just right. *Pauses* I think they might have stolen my shirt though, I haven’t seen that thing in like four days.

Neo: *Mentally reminds herself to burn the eye candy’s shirt before he finds it*

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

Day 28

Jaune: Ow, stop kicking me! I said I was sorry!

Neo: *Jumps on Jaune, bites his ear*

Jaune: AAAGGHH!!! Dammit Neo, how many times do I have to tell you not to bite me! It’s not my fault that seagull stole your hat! In case you hadn’t noticed, it stole Pyrrha’s sash too!

Neo: *Jumps off him, gestures emphatically*

Jaune: I know, you angry little troll! *Instead of attacking him again, Neo just stares at him sadly* I-I... *sighs* I know. I know. I really wanna kill that thing too. It’s...it’s all I had left of her too. All you had left of Torchwick. But we’re stuck here. We can’t find my friends and this island is huge.

Neo: *Nods unhappily*

Neo: *Jabs him with her stick spear*

Jaune: Yeah, we can kill any seagulls we see. *Neo blinks, considers trying to get her point across but nods*

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

Day 49

Jaune: How do you set everything on fire! I told you we needed just enough to warm ourselves!

Neo: *Lunges at Jaune, leaves fire to burn*

Jaune: *Is strangled*

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

Day 54

Neo: *Admires Jaune’s ass in jorts*

Jaune: I still don’t understand why you had to ruin my jeans. Tossing the boots into that bottomless pit, I get. My feet thank you. Uh, except when I keep stepping on sharp rocks and twigs. But really?

Neo: *Points at him, hand fans herself and panics, shaking her head rapidly*

Jaune: *Oblivious, insulted* Yeah, yeah, I’m sweaty! Fine, fuck having pant legs! I wanna get scratched and bitten by those weird little blue people again!

Neo: *Blinks, shakes her head in exasperation and relief*

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

Day 59

Jaune: I can’t believe you committed genocide because those blue people stole your top! Neo, they just wanted a tent!

Neo: *Glares murderously at Jaune, covering her frilly pink and white bra with her hand and arm*

Jaune: *Gulps* I-I-I-I know! It’s upsetting, but murder isn’t always the answer!

Neo: *Uses free hand and makes bunny ears*

Jaune: Hey, those rabbits might be really stupid but they’re super mean spirited! One tried to drop a rock on my head and don’t you dare say it’d be an improvement!

Neo: *Startled, laughs*

Jaune: *Sheepish, laughs too*

Neo: *Continues laughing, eventually noticing Jaune has stopped and is red in the face, wide eyed*

Neo: *Notices she moved her arm and Jaune is staring at her chest*

Jaune: *Notices Neo’s glare and red face* W-wait, hold on a minute now, I didn’t mean to--

Neo: *Glomps, bites his nipple*

Jaune: *Girlish screams that can be heard for miles*

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

Day 72

Jaune: No, put the berries down. You can’t just keep eating fruit all the time, you’re already very small and need to keep yourself healthy if you don’t wanna lie rotting as a corpse on this island forever.

Neo: *Grabs a huge handful of berries, shoves them in her mouth smugly*

Jaune: Dammit Neo, stop being so bratty! I’m only trying to help! *Grabs Rabbit jerky* Now do your body good, open your mouth and eat my meat!

Neo: *Gags, chokes, spits mushy berries out and kicks Jaune in the solar plexus for the phrasing*

Jaune: *Wheezing* I swear I didn’t mean to OH X-RAY AND VAV, SAVE ME!

Nearby Seagull: *Hearing the abyssal, shrieking screams of the Tall One, flies off in terror and decides to move the family nest*

Neo: *Biting, kicking, punching and pinching*

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

Day 88

Jaune: I can hardly shave Neo, if you don’t remember my sword’s a jagged piece of sharp metal these days!

Neo: *Shows off shaved armpits, shows off shaved legs having long since created shorts from her capris and shows him a wooden knife*

Jaune: I should be concerned that you’ve created another stabby, but somehow -- GASP! *Actually gasps, clutches his beard* No! You wouldn’t!

Neo: *Grins*

Jaune: Please don’t, beloved friend of mine.

Neo: *Touched*

Jaune: What? We are. I mean sure you bite and attack me way more than most normal people do but you did save me from that rabbit mercenary group that tried to use a swinging log to splatter my brains against a tree. You might’ve been a bad guy once, but it’s nearly been three months and you’ve more than proven yourself. And I can’t really not call you a friend when I feel guilty about how I treated you.

Neo: *Smiles, undoes her bra*

Jaune: Wait, WHAT!? *Neo jumps on him and smiling happily, gives his cheek a kiss and starts shaving* WAIT NEO NO, THAT’S NOT FAIR YOU CAN’T USE BOOBIES AS A WEAPON LIKE THA- *Neo shakes her body side to side* -GGRRRGGG! That is so cruel. You’re the worst friend ever. I’m glad you have to sit on my ribs and not my lap because that would be even worse.

Neo: *Continues shaving*

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

Day 146

Jaune: *Using his semblance* See, what’d I tell you? They get smarter! No way are those little demons gonna fall for the same trap twice.

Neo: *Lets Jaune heal the bloody bite marks from a rabbit, squirms*

Jaune: Stop it, you’re fine. *Kisses healed hand* Booboo be gone!

Neo: *Blushes brightly, stares wide eyed*

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

Day 179

Neo: *Spinkicks boulder about to crush Jaune*

Jaune: Thanks Neo! *To a small, derpy looking anthropomorphic rabbit* Your wretched plan is foiled you vile creature from the deepest pits of hell! Now do me a favor and get stabbed!

Neo: *Spins away, clutching her beating heart as the sound of a vicious goring occurs*

Jaune: Another day, another dead rabbit! Oh look, there’s more! *Offers the Spear of Ultimate Stick to Neo* You wanna eviscerate the next couple?

Neo: *Wonders what this feeling is*

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

Day 187

Jaune: *Gaping stupidly at Neo’s perfectly lit fire* W-wha? How!? Two months ago you lit my hair on fire *brushing hand through short, unstyled blondeness* but n-now...

Neo: *Smugly roasting bird meat*

Jaune: *Scoops Neo into a hug, spins the wide eyed mute* I understand how Dad felt when I finally learned to tie my shoes in the 6th grade now! I’m so proud, Neo! OW!

Neo: *Spits Jaune’s shoulder blood out, turns away blushing*

Jaune: Still proud. *Notices Neo blushing, deliberately not looking at him* Uh-oh. *Quietly, to himself* Oh no. I recognize this feeling. Ohhh shit. Okay, what the hell Jaune!? You see her boobs and you feel awkward about your boner for three days, but she looks all cute and embarrassed and that’s what does me in!? What kind of bullshit is this!?

Neo: *Oblivious, cupping her cheeks and cutely twisting back and forth*

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

Day 219

Jaune: AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Neo: *Silently screaming at the top of her lungs*

Jaune: OH MY GOD NEO WHY THE FUCK IS HE SO BIG!? *Looks fearfully back at a 12 foot tall, musclebound, derpy looking anthroporphic rabbit sprinting at them with rage in its unthinking eyes*

Neo: *Frantically mimes stabbing*

Jaune: NEO, WHAT THE FUCK, I THINK HE’S TOO SWOLE FOR HUSHABYE!!!

Neo: *Heart flutters at Jaune’s name for their spear*

Giant Rabbit: ▂▂▃▃▄▄▅▅!

Jaune: *Ears ringing*

Neo: *Points at Jaune’s crotch, mimes stabbing*

Jaune: *Pales* THAT’S PROBABLY THE MOST EVIL THOUGHT YOU’VE EVER HAD IN YOUR LIFE! *Neo pouts, mimes it again* I’M JUST SAYING, NOT JUDGING, LET’S DO IT! *Uses semblance*

Neo: *Commits murder most foul*

Jaune: *Whips out the wooden knife* I’M SO SORRY FOR THIS, YOU OVERGROWN FREAK OF NATURE! *Jumps on the screaming body of the mutated rabbit, starts stabbing*

~~5 Minutes Later~~

Jaune: *Covered in blood, wipes forehead* Phew. Killing something this big really takes it out of you.

Neo: *Covered in blood, staring at Jaune wide eyed*

Jaune: Kind of a shame he looks basically human. Save for his stupid head, I guess, because I kinda don’t wanna eat anything that’ll make me feel too cannibally. *Puts hand on chin, blood drips* But I kinda think this is like the Final Boss of those rabbits. Maybe chop his head off and put on a pike like you did with that poor little blue guy that seemed to be the other blue people’s chief? *Nods resolutely* Yeah, gotta establish dominance and fear in those godless little fucks. *Looks at Neo* What do you think, NeeeMMMMPPPHHH!!!

Neo: *Glomps Jaune, shoves her tongue into his mouth*

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

Day 237

Neo: Gakgh gakgh gakgh!

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

Day 243

Jaune: Oh god, yeah, fuck yeah, you like that don’t you? *Grabs Neo’s hair*

Neo: *Likes that very much*

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

Day 249

Jaune: *Waggles knife* So, uh, aim for the kidneys?

Neo: *Nods emphatically*

Jaune: Huh. I guess I’ll test it out on Cinder. Thanks honey. *Kisses cheek*

Neo: *Swoons*

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

Day 251

Jaune: *Naked, washing grumpy Neo’s hair* I really mean it! I am so sorry. Just, well, uh...okay, you give amazing head and I wasn’t expecting you to go for the balls. Or, uh, the other thing, but well, um *sighs* look, the taint thing was just really unexpected and I’m really sorry I came in your hair! *Blushes*

Neo: *Can’t help but be proud, leans into his hands*

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

Day 268

Jaune: Is there no end to your flexibility!? *Chokes on air* Nope. Guess not.

Neo: *Doing the splits smugly*

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Day 274

Jaune: And that is why, despite what people say, Immortal Konflict is superior to Road Combatant!

Neo: *Nods seriously*

Jaune: Wanna play when we get back to Remnant, maybe after we kill Salem in her sleep or something?

Neo: *Nods excitedly*

Jaune: You’re the best! *Kisses temple* Ow, why are you hitting me, I thought you liked kisses!?

Neo: *Liking forehead and temple kisses but not wanting to admit it*

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

Day 296

Jaune: *Cumming inside*

Neo: *Toes curl, signing ‘I Love You’ over and over again*

Jaune: *Panting* God I love you too, Neo.

Neo: *Gapes, signs*

Jaune: *Panting decreases* Uh, yeah? My Dad has permanent hearing damage from his Huntsman days. Some chick had a mortar-giant cudgel-battering ram weapon and you can guess about how well that went.

Neo: *Signs more*

Jaune: I-- *realizes* ohhhh. I get it. Uh, I didn’t even think about it. You never signed so I figured you never learned. Ow, my ass!

Neo: *Stops pinching his ass, signs again but slower*

Jaune: *Blushes brightly* Um, yeah. I did. Is that-- *Neo flips him onto his back, kissing him and rocking her hips*

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

Day 338

Jaune: *Contently holding Neo* This really was the last thing I expected to happen. *Neo nods as she leans into him* I...I don’t think I can ever really not miss Pyrrha, or despise Cinder from the bottom of my soul.

Neo: *Signs rapidly that she feels the same way, that she misses Roman*

Jaune: Yeah. I know. *Clears throat* But I think it’s okay. I mean I didn’t expect this to happen, but I’m glad it did. *Snuggling occurs* We’re gonna get out of here. We’re putting Cinder in the dirt. Then we’re gonna do the same to Salem. Then buy a house.

Neo: *Signs*

Jaune: I’ve kinda been a country boy my whole life. It’s up to you *is headbutted* OW! *Neo rubs the back of her aching head, signs, Jaune rubs his chin* Then it’s decided.

*Enjoying each others presence*

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

Day 362

Weiss: Actually, the amount of slashes in the trees could just mean some new terrible creature of ridiculous origin could have made this area of the forest its stomping grounds.

Blake: *Flatly* As long it’s not the flying piranhas with steel teeth that drip acid, I’m fine.

Ruby: *Shudders* Please don’t remind me! I’m suppressing, Blake! Do you want to ruin fish sticks and mustard for me!?

Blake: *Grimaces* Yes.

Yang: *Ignores the bickering* Not gonna lie Weiss, after that giant crocodile with the crown and the cape and the penguin with the hammer, something a little more normal and horrific sounds just like home. *Adjusts cheetah print bikini, shifts hips under her grass skirt*

Weiss: *Eyebrow twitches* Right. Home. Which you clearly miss. *Eyes Yang’s flawless tan*

Yang: Huh? Well, yeah! Not to devalue the disaster we have waiting for us when we get back but I’m dying for a cheeseburger and a *in singsong* Strawberry Sunrise!

Ruby: *Cutting off Weiss and ignoring a fuming Blake* It could be Jaune though!

Weiss: Yes, possibly, but you have to consider the fact-- *Steps around tree, goes silent at the sounds*

Neo: *In a mating press clutching her feet, biting her lip and then silently moaning*

Jaune: *Going so hard he’s clapping Neo’s cheeks*

Weiss: --that maybe those living, spiny fruits got us again and we’re all on a very bad trip. *Can’t look away but wants to*

Ruby: *Blushes furiously*

Blake: *Covers nose, turns away*

Yang: I really wanna be there for our boy but *ignores Jaune’s cursing, Neo’s nodding and Jaune pushing in deep and creampieing the silently screaming mute* a really big part of me wants to punch him in his stupid face. Really!? Her!?

Blake: *Muffled* You sure you’re not just salty that it’s Neo?

Jaune: *Awkwardly, wide eyed but happy* Oh. Guys. Hey! Hi! *Weiss screeches as Jaune stands, Neo breathes heavily but grins smugly*

Yang: Nope. Not at all. *Clenching fist*

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

Day 363

Yang: Okay. I’m cool with whole... *gestures at Neo and Jaune holding hands* thing, because honestly I’d have to be a condescending and arrogant bitch to look down on you because of that, but really?

Ruby: Yang has a point, little blue people and psychotic but also really stupid rabbits and their super-duper-strong Daddy Rabbit? And you killed them alllll oh wow. *Staring at something that Jaune pulled from a bag* That’s a weird looking skull. *Whispering* Why does he have a skull!? Oh no, Neo really did corrupt him and not just with that!

Yang: *Gapes, recovers slowly, sarcastically* She is such a good influence on you Jaune.

Jaune: *Grinning* I know, right? I mean imagine if Neo wasn’t here with me! I probably would’ve survived but I would’ve been so depressed that I’d probably be coming back eyeless and with a ton of PTSD! And maybe a quirky catchphrase!

Yang: Because that’s important. *Rolls eyes* Besides, you couldn’t pull off a catchphrase to save your life.

Jaune: *Face goes slack, contorts stupidly in a scream* BWAAAAH!

Team RWBY: *Jerks*

Neo: *Bites Jaune’s pinky*

Jaune: OW-OW-OW! Take a joke, Neo!

Yang: No, yeah, pretty much on the shrimp’s side.

Weiss: I have no idea what that was but never do it again.

Blake: *Forgives Jaune and Neo for their crusade against the rabbits*

Ruby: *Giggling at the derp face Jaune made*

Jaune: Fine, fine, you win. *Pouting* Using their war cry would have been so insulting to their memory though.

Neo: *Smiling, kisses Jaune’s cheek, signs that he’s a big baby*

Weiss: Getting back to the point though, we didn’t think Jaune would be in nearly as good shape as he’s in now. In that regard I feel we owe Neopolitan a good deal of gratitude.

Blake: And like it or not Yang, having her not just be an enemy of Salem but actually on our side?

Yang: Yeah, well--

Ruby: Plus he’s happy! And I think he kind of needs it. *Sadly* We all do. A-and if Neo is what makes him happy, then I think I’m happy too.

Jaune: *Touched* Rubes...

Ruby: It hurts, Jaune. But I can’t imagine...well, I can’t imagine if it were me. So it’ll take time but the best thing I can do here is be happy for you and get us outta here! *Pumps fist*

Neo: *Signs rapidly*

Jaune: *Grins* And make Cinder and Salem unalive! And in the days leading to that, make them wish they were already dead!

Ruby: *Uncomfortable at the bloodlust* Umm...

Yang: Ah fuck it, you speak my language like that and I can’t stay mad at you! Let’s do it! *Slaps Blake’s ass*

Blake: *Yelps, blushes and glares at Yang* Is this really the time for that!?

Weiss: *Rubbing the bridge of her nose with her eyes squeezed shut* Ah, the onset of a pounding headache. Truly the gang is back together again.

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

Day 365

Jaune: Kinda conveniant that exactly one year after falling into the mythical island of who knows where we find ourselves back in the real world, isn’t it?

Neo: *Hand on her hip, staring at him*

Yang: I’m with the midget. *Grass skirt swishes* Are you really about to complain we’re free of that hellhole?

Weiss: They have a point. After everything we fought there you’d think you would be more appreciative.

Jaune: I am. It just seemmmmpph! *Is kissed by Neo*

Neo: *Happily shuts Jaune up*

Ruby: Alright, let’s do this!

*Action pose except Yang’s tan, in a cheetah fur bikini and a grass skirt, Jaune has a handful of Neo’s ass and Neo is grabbing Jaune by the hair, clearly using tongue and Hushabye is aimed in a slightly red faced Blake’s direction*

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

I got the chance to see the RWBY finale today and rather than be depressed and think about Penny, I decided I’d go ahead and write a Silent Knight fic instead. It’s all over the place but really, that’s to be expected since I went in with no plan. I know people are already bitching over on Reddit about Jaune possibly getting attention, but like with most people who dislike a character I decided to pay them no mind whatsoever.

Because honestly, with Dragonslayer never happening I’d be perfectly fine with Jaune x Neo.

As for this entire thing, I had way more fun with it than I should have and I hope anyone reading it has just as much fun as I did writing it.

Oh. And yes, there were plenty of Rabbids and Smurfs harmed in the creation of this lengthy drabble.

#rwby #jaune arc #neopolitan #silent knight #jaune x neo #team rwby #rwby volume 8 finale #au #this is what happens when you let a drunk type #what's crack-a-lackin'#shitpost

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mythicamagic · 4 years ago

Note

"You couldn't handle me even if I came with instructions."

Okay, curiosity got the better of me, and even though there are so many good prompts to choose, I settled with this one. There is no telling which way it will go, but it sounds amusing! Have fun! ^_^

Decided to do something different with this involving mind reading, hope you like.

----

Becoming privy to Sesshoumaru's thoughts happened about as unexpectedly as one would think. Having returned from the future after three years, Kagome had figured the amount of weirdness in her life would scale back a bit. The jewel was gone, and everyone was enjoying their 'happily ever afters' so surely she could finally gain some semblance of normalcy in the past, right?

'Irritating…'

Kagome shifted, sneaking a glance at the Daiyoukai as he sat at the base of a tree. His voice resounded inside her mind, seemingly without his knowledge or consent. He was eyeing something flitting about mid-air. A fly, she suspected.

Golden eyes shifted, slit pupils keen. A hand blurred, catching the thing between forefinger and thumb.

'Die.'

Green light shone out from between his fingers, successfully killing his 'prey.'

Kagome supposed it was somewhat comforting to know that his thoughts were about the same as whatever words he deigned to speak aloud. The psychic ability she'd gained only applied to Sesshoumaru, and had happened one random day when she'd been fighting a demon.

Between one moment and the next- a presence had warmed her side as he'd deflected an attack meant for her. This had resulted in sharp, static red youki swallowing their forms briefly- Sesshoumaru's energy rushing through her system. It had stolen Kagome's breath and sent her heart thundering.

A second later, she'd started hearing his thoughts. Most startling of all, they'd begun with something completely unexpected;

'I will keep you safe, foolish miko.'

Biting her lip, Kagome snuck another glance at him- only to find Sesshoumaru gazing back. Squeaking, she focused on her forgotten work, roughly weaving a basket with a little more force than necessary.

"Are you alright, Kagome?" Sango asked, sitting beside her on the grassy hill as they prepared a few herbs and useful things for Kaede.

"Fine! Totally f-"

'Her scent is erratic, yet the woman continues to sneak glances at me. How odd. Is she becoming interested in this one? It is long overdue.'

"What?" Kagome questioned out loud, feeling Sango’s perplexed stare. The heat of another pair of eyes warmed the nape of her neck.

'Hn, I have not sensed her pine for the Half Breed in many months after their breakup. It is possible she is looking for another male. The miko is not promiscuous enough to trifle with me. She requires...a lasting bond.'

Biting her lip, Kagome's eyes burned with want to look at him again.

'Could I keep a miko? She is not like others. They usually despise my kind- and I do not care for them. But this bratty, fiery woman has proven herself through her dealings with the Jewel and the Spider. Mn...the thought of having her should not stir my blood so,' he sighed in her mind. 'Perhaps once I accept my interest in her, the vivid fantasies will stop.'

What fantasies? she wondered.

Kagome really should not have asked, because somehow a lewd mental image of herself was projected from his head directly into her gawking brain.

Standing quickly, skirts swaying about her thighs- Kagome forced a smile. "I-I forgot to do something earlier! Sorry Sango, I'll finish up with you later."

Hurrying down the hill, she stiffened upon hearing a silky voice trail after her inside her mind.

'Why is she leaving? This is unacceptable. She takes her mouth-watering scent with her,' he seemed to pause contemplatively. 'Must your retreating form be so pleasing to the eye, Kagome?'

Kagome flushed red, feeling the urge to cover her ass while running from the unexpected thoughts. However, she kept her hands at her side- a weird thrill of excitement racing down her spine.

Like a radio broadcast sounding out from a speaker- the further she ran, the dimmer his velvety voice became.

---

Emerging from Kaede's hut a few days later, Kagome fussed with her new clothing. Miko robes felt somewhat uncomfortable, but Kaede had insisted she at least try getting used to wearing them for a few days.

She honestly couldn't imagine walking around in such garments as a permanent uniform. They reminded her too much of someone else.

'No.'

Kagome jerked, freezing in place and pretending to fiddle with her collar, trying to secretly glance around for the elusive Daiyouaki.

'...Those robes do not suit her. What's more- her light scent is muddied with unnecessary feelings. Those clothes make you self-conscious, do they not, miko? Take them off.'

Blinking, Kagome's heart warmed slightly inside her chest. He could read her so easily? He...cared about how she felt?

"And those pants cover her long legs. Disgusting. You are the one who forced me into appreciating a woman's thighs, miko. Bare them to me again.'

Hissing a short breath through her teeth, Kagome whipped her head to one side- spying Sesshoumaru lingering by a hut about 40 yards away. He stiffened, blatantly surprised she'd pinpointed his location so easily.

'Could she sense me?'

Blushing, Kagome cleared her throat and gave a slight wave, before disappearing back inside the hut. She wanted to test something, and the fluttering inside her lower stomach was getting too prominent to ignore.

---

Stepping out after a quick wardrobe change, Kagome pretended not to notice him again, fiddling with her cute modern outfit. She felt more at ease in her home wear, and the voice in her head seemed to agree.

'That is much better…' Sesshoumaru's tone slid into that of curiosity. 'You feel mischievous, miko? Now why is that? I sense your fluttering excitement.'

Raised her arms above her head nonchalantly, Kagome arched her back as she stretched.

'What…?' the thinness of his tone almost made her grin ferally. 'What...are those?'

Kagome had never intended to wear them. In fact, she'd stuffed them deep inside the depths of her backpack because Yuka, Eri and Ayumi had taken it upon themselves to buy her something 'sexy' for her bad boyfriend and Souta had innocently walked into her room one day while she was packing. She hadn't had the heart to tell her friends she'd broken up with Inuyasha a long while ago.

She had no need for black lacy thigh highs, complete with suspender garter belts resting enticingly on her thighs. Or at least, she hadn't until today. Kagome stretched with a little more exaggeration, letting out a breathy sigh as her pleated skirt hitched up, exposing more of her toned legs to his gaze.

A terribly loud noise deafened her hearing like a clap of rumbling thunder, heralding a storm. Kagome realised a little belatedly that it hadn't been contained to the privacy of Sesshoumaru's mind- the growl rippling through the space between them.

He stood much closer than expected, golden eyes pinning her in place.

"Oh- hi there, Sesshoumaru," Kagome hid her surprise behind a smile. "Something wrong?"

The Daiyoukai's burning, orange eyes searched her face. Slowly, they dimmed back into gold, as he realised there was nothing appropriate he could say.

'Do you know what you are doing, little minx? Or are you completely unaware of how badly I desire those thighs wrapped around my waist?'

"Nothing," he said out loud, face completely devoid of expression.

Kagome arched a brow. He had a damn good poker face.

"Well...okay," she lifted a shoulder, taking a few steps away. "But you know, if something was bothering you, it would be better all round to just tell me. I'm not a mind reader."

Mild intrigue flickered. "I do not think you would appreciate knowing my innermost thoughts."

"Try me."

Sesshoumaru's lips curved, his blank expression cracking into something more honest and imperfect. Human, almost, in its raw appetite- the demon circling around her slowly like a predator. "The dark hungering of an inuyoukai is not something that pure and pretty miko's could stomach," he uttered.

Kagome took a breath, keeping to her bravado. Because if she didn't keep her courage, the thoughts she'd heard so clearly inside her mind would remain exactly that- formless. Never touching reality.

And that felt like a shame.

"Maybe not all of them could, but I've journeyed across Japan with a perverted con-artist and been kidnapped by dark and terrible demons much bigger than you," she hummed, keeping eye contact. "And I'm not promiscuous or anything, but I'm not a prude either. Given the right person, even I can get a little...hungry."

She heard a sharp in-take of breath. Sesshoumaru stopped, lingering in close proximity as his voice dropped into something downright sinful. "How surprising."

Kagome lifted a shoulder. "Not really, but judging by your hesitancy to share anything on your mind- maybe my 'dark hungering' would be too much for you."

Golden eyes flashed. "Preposterous."

"No, no- I think it's true," she gave an impish smile. "You couldn't handle me even if I came with instructions."

This seemed to snap his carefully constructed facade of control. Sesshoumaru's claws snapped out, fingers trembling as they gripped her hair. A fierce breeze lashed around them as Kagome realised he'd collected white energy around their forms- speeding them out of sight into the lush forest. Away from the safety of witnesses. None could save her now.

Sesshoumaru bore down over her, neck craned, mouth hovering close. It was sharp teeth that brushed her parted lips first.

'I will have you- strange, enticing, annoying woman.'

Kagome shuddered, blue eyes darkened as her thighs rubbed together. Her hands met silken robes, gliding up into silky hair as his arm swooped down, hooking beneath her knees.

While their lips crashed together and Sesshoumaru held her aloft- Kagome smiled and wordlessly obliged by wrapping her thighs around his lean waist, giggling as the taciturn demon inwardly purred.

#Sesshoumaru x Kagome #Sesskag #asks

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starsstruck · 4 years ago

Text

cloudbusting; part two.

a classic coffee shop story. harry is a painter that quickly becomes a regular at his neighbourhood cafe, and it just might have something to do with a certain barista. rushed closing shifts, late night grocery shopping, and stolen looks.

pairing: harry x reader warnings: language words: 10.9k

art by holly warburton. (i have no vision for the mc of the fic, people in the images of paintings i use are purely because this is how i envision harry’s art to be !)

series masterlist |

a/n: part 2 babyy ! i’m so excited to share this story you have no idea, i really hope everyone enjoys this chapter ! as always i love to hear your thoughts, please share and let me know what you think ! ❣️

Life apparently was one long grocery run.

When you weren’t heading to and from work, you were going to the grocery store. Somehow never able to do one big trip with enough groceries to last you over a week. Even when you tried, you always found yourself heading back a couple nights later for something that was forgotten.

So here you found yourself, after a shift on a Wednesday night, walking through the brightly lit aisles of a nearby supermarket. With a quick stop home to change out of your jeans, to dress in something a bit more fitting for the hot July evening.

Sound of Mitski filling your ears, stopping in the produce section as you filled a cloth bag with a few heads of broccoli.

Harry spotted you nearly immediately. You were observing a zucchini like it was the last vegetable on the planet, eyebrows furrowed and full attention focused on it before you placed it in the basket that was perched in the crook of your arm.

Slowly walking towards you; not wanting to seem like he had been following you through the store, but also wanting to get the chance to talk to you.

His lips twitched as he took in your outfit, some cutoff shorts with a big beige teeshirt loosely tucked into the waistband. He squinted a bit, making out the face of Cher on the back of the shirt.

You had moved from the vegetables to the fruits, picking up a couple of peaches at random to place in your basket. He skirted around the few people in the supermarket, heading to the fruit section as well.

Grabbing a bag of green grapes that were directly across from you, he tried not to look at you.

It took a few seconds, but as you walked over to his side of the section you finally glanced at him. Not fully realizing it was Harry right away, having to whip your head back up again as you found his eyes were already on you.

There was a moment of silent staring, neither saying a word, before you gave him a tentative smile and a small wave.

It wasn’t uncommon that you saw regulars out and about outside of the café. Since you lived closed by, and a lot of regulars were patrons that lived in the neighbourhood. More times than you could count you’d had odd encounters and run-ins.

Sometimes they would recognize you and you wouldn’t know who they were, sometimes they would try and strike up a conversation. The most you usually gave them was a polite smile and maybe a little wave.

But as Harry grinned at you, you found yourself taking out your earphones.

“Hey,” he spoke first, shifting the basket in his hands. “Fancy seeing you here.”

You laughed lightly at his words. “Seem to be seeing a lot of you lately…”

Harry felt his cheeks warm. “I mean –” he stumbled over his words. “Not that much. Considering it’s usually at your work.”

“That’s true,” you mumbled, glancing down at your shopping basket, nearly embarrassed by how much snack food you had rather than food to cook with.

“You didn’t come to the show.”

Looking back up to meet his gaze again, you bit your lips together. “Yeah I – sorry.”

There were a lot of reasons you didn’t go. When he had invited you last week, you told him that you were going to be closing that day so you might not be able to go. Which was fully the truth.

The night of, you had briefly considered it. But you also didn’t really know him at all, and found it maybe a bit weird if you went? Even though he invited you.

“Closing took a while and well – anyway, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he chuckled. “It was a small show, there’s sure to be more.”

“Why do you need to have your art in a small coffee shop?” Asking after a second. “I mean – if you have shows and everything.”

“Just always looking for something new,” he shrugged. “And the gallery is tiny. I technically work there actually, with a few friends.”

“How do you technically work somewhere?”

“I help out as an art prep,” he explained, propping his grocery basket down on the ground by his feet. “It’s probably the least glamorous job you could have at a gallery. It’s just putting up and taking down exhibitions. Measuring where screws go, that kind of thing.”

You only nodded, still a bit unsure of how he fully didn’t work there.

“They don’t usually need the extra help, so more times than most I’m not needed.” He shrugged, likely reading your confusion.

“Okay,” you nodded again. “You know, there might be other cafés around that could help you out as well.”

You watched his eyebrows rise, smile growing. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“No,” laughing, feeling nearly nervous. “Just trying to help out a local artist.”

“Well,” he bent down, picking up his basket. “Thank you. And I guess you’ll have to see my work another time.”

Watching the hint of a sly smile grow on his lips, mirroring it in your own expression. “I guess so.”

There was a pause in conversation. “Are you –” he motioned to the basket perched on your arm. “Are you all done? I was just heading to pay.”

“I – uh,” having the bad habit of never making a list when you shopped, you didn’t really know when to stop with your groceries.

“Yeah I’m all done. I just want to grab a few more fruits.” Mumbling as you glanced around, eyes widening at the prices of the berries.

Harry nodded, as he took as small step back. Not moving from where he stood, waiting as you grabbed a small bunch of bananas. You silently wandered past the sections of citrus fruits, picking up some lemons before deciding that should be enough for your shop today.

Harry followed patiently; at first you hadn’t realized that he was staying back for you so the both of you could head out to checkout together.

“All done,” you smiled at him, feeling oddly endeared that he had waited for you.

Walking side by side to the register, placing your items on the conveyor belt with a divider between you and Harry. After paying and bagging your groceries, you were both strolling out into the heavy evening air, moving your sunglasses from the top of your head down to cover your eyes.

“I’m going this way, where are you headed?” He pointed down the street. The sun was casting an orange glow over the building, making them shine golden.

Turning to Harry, letting your eyes skim over him just the slightest bit. He was wearing loose blue jeans that looked worn, a wide hole on the right knee. A white shirt with light blue writing you didn’t get a chance to read, was loosely tucked in. He always seemed to be nicely dressed, even though all the outfits were seemingly casual.

He also had what looked like a hair clip holding some of his hair out from his face, sitting on the top of his head. You had never seen anyone wear their hair like that, and you were finding yourself a bit curious to how he even thought of doing that in the first place.

“I’m headed that way as well, for a bit.” You replied, adjusting the strap of your bag over your shoulder. “I live like fifteen minutes away.”

“We’re close to your work,” Harry glanced at you from the corner of his eye, as you both started walking down the street together.

“Yeah,” you grinned. “It’s nice, living so close to work. It’s only a little walk, no need for a drive or transit.”

“That’s good,” he nodded from next to you. “You’re lucky. I’ve had to lug my paintings on the train a few times, it isn’t the most graceful thing.”

“I know you said you wouldn’t show me a picture of your art,” you started, curiosity getting the best of you. “But can you tell me what kind of paintings?”

He was quiet for a second. “Big ones.”

That was all he said for a moment, and you thought that he was done speaking until he cleared his throat again. “With big colours. I like to uh – I get inspired by just almost, anything that catches my eye, if that makes sense. It comes out in like, big colours and shapes.”

You couldn’t really picture what he meant, but you nodded anyway.

“Like,” he continued. “Think of anything you enjoy, or find nice or just have any feeling towards.”

“I –” you weren’t sure what he was asking of you. “I don’t know.”

He laughed, glancing over at you with a wide smile. “It could be anything. Just, first thing that comes to mind.”

Pausing again, before answering. “I like walking along the water. I just – uh, I don’t know, by the docks. I like the smell of the air. Its like, the diesel mixed with something, I don’t know, it’s probably bad for you but. I like it.”

“What colours does it make you think of?”

That oddly made sense. “Blue. Like –” looking around for a blue that properly described the one you had in mind. Finding nearly the same colour on an awning across the street, stopping to point at it. “Like that blue.”

It was a deep but bright colour, darker than a royal blue. It made you think of the way the sky met the water, on a bright sunny day. It made you think of boats that lined the docks, and the smell of the old wood under your feet as you walked along.

You turned back to face Harry. “Is that too obvious of an answer?”

Laughing again, he shook his head. “Its whatever you feel, there are no wrong answers.”

“So what about it?” You asked, once you started walking again. “What about the blue –like, what about the colour that you think of have to do with your art practice?”

“Well,” he paused, eyes facing forward. “I take inspiration from that; I take whatever shape or colour or person or just, whatever. And then I paint it.”

“Okay,” you drew you the word. “Still would help to see your actual paintings though.”

“You could’ve,” he teased. “Missed out on that.”

“Sorry – oh,” you paused, stopping at the corner of the street where you were turning right. “I’m going this way.”

“Okay,” he stopped next to you. “Oh! Are you working tomorrow?”

You bit back your smile. “No, I have two days off in a row actually. I’ll be back on Saturday.”

He smiled, sun beaming behind him. “I’ll see you then. And hey have a good time off.”

“Thank you,” you hummed, waving by to him with your free hand as you turned in the street.

You didn’t know what it was about Harry. He had an energy, if you will, around him that for some reason set you in a good mood. You had also never really struck up any kind of conversation with a customer outside of work like that, other than the few times you had run into Dani, but that didn’t really count.

Turning around to glance at him, seeing him walk in the opposite direction from you. Unable to help feeling slightly curious about the customer who you were quickly getting to know.

Here !

Reading Mae’s text, buzzing her in and unlocking your front door as well, sending her a quick text to come up.

You had spent the entire day doing laundry and tidying up, grabbing the errands that you had forgotten last night. Your apartment had gotten messy over the past couple of weeks, clothes littering the floor of your room as your ever-growing problem of lacking proper storage continued.

So happy that you had two days off in a row, a luxury. You could spend the first day tidying and getting everything done, and the second day doing something fun.

And now after a day of getting your life together, you had your best friend since college, Mae, coming over to make some dinner.

“Hi!”

Hearing her voice call through your small third floor studio, as she let herself in and locked the door behind her. You followed the sound of her voice, watching as she emerged from around the wall and into the kitchen where you were searching for a bottle of wine.

“It’s so clean in here.” She was glancing around, looking at your empty-of-dishes sink and the put away pile of books that usually sat on your table.

“It’s always clean in here,” you smiled at her, finding the wine you were looking for.

“Sure,” she smiled, keeping her laugh at bay as she knew that really wasn’t the truth.

“How was work?”

“Good,” she sighed, dropping her bag on the table, eyeing the bottle of wine you carried. “I think I’m finally getting Jules to like me. Or at least not hate me.”

“I told you, I doubt she ever hated you,” you replied, knowing all about the partner at the firm that was giving her a tough time.

Having met Mae your first year of college; although the two of you didn’t really get to know each other and get close until the second year. She majored in political science, along with you, except that she now just finished up law school and started working at a law firm.

You had always envied those who knew exactly what they wanted their path to be. Whether that path changed or not, you still wanted to have something to work towards.

Mae had always wanted to go into law, with a specialty in environmental policy and that was exactly what she was doing. You, on the other hand, had no idea what to do after getting your degree. Not applying for grad school unlike the majority of your friends, knowing that you would just be wasting your time and money with more school.

You just never really figured out what it was you wanted to do after. It wasn’t so much that you found yourself stuck; it was just that you knew that there was something missing –that life had to have more to it.

“I know,” she sighed, following you to your couch as you carried two glasses in one hand and the wine in the other. “I just feel like she’s been giving me a tough time – a tougher time than the other associates.”

“I mean,” you paused, opening the bottle. “She’s got to know how smart you are. I doubt that she makes anyone work as hard as you, if she doesn’t think you could handle it.”

“I know, you’re right,” she watched as you poured a generous amount of wine into both glasses, before passing her one of them. “And she did tell me that I was her favourite associate to go to.”

“Oh my god,” Mae was always selling herself short. “She very much never hated you.”

“Mm, I know,” Mae repeated, taking a sip of her wine, a smile now on her face. “Anyway, how about you? How’s work?”

“Same,” you shrugged.

There were never big things to report from work, especially to someone who didn’t particularly understand what it meant when a customer would order something ridiculous, or would return their drink because they thought it would be different. “I’m trying to remember crazy customer’s… oh!”

“I had a woman get mad at me yesterday because a man cut in front of her in line – she said that I should’ve been watching the door to see the order of who was coming in.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Mae laughed. “God I really don’t miss working customer service, and having to deal with entitled people like that.”

“It’s the heat,” you pointed to your open window. “Makes people dumber. I know I say this every year, but I swear every summer customers get worse.”

“And oh God,” you continued. “I was also closing with Erinne and she just is the slowest when she cleans the outside. I hate to be too pushy but like – I mean technically I’m her boss, right? I just feel like everything I say to her goes out her head.”

“That’s annoying,” Mae nodded, nearly halfway through her wine. “I know you don’t want to be that manager but you have every right to tell her off.”

“I know,” you took your own sip of wine, smacking your lips together at the slightly sweet flavour. “But I just remember at my old job, when my coworker became the manager and I never really took him seriously.”

“Okay but you’ve been manager ever since you started – and have been there way longer than she has.”

“I just feel almost if I got harsh with her? I’ve never really really gotten mad at anyone.” You thought it over. “But honestly, work is good. It really is the best café I’ve ever worked at.”

It had been too long since the two of you had got a whole evening just the two of you. It was lovely, to say the least.

“Oh! Didn’t you have a date last weekend? How was it?”

You shook your head. “It wasn’t anything, I ended up cancelling.”

“What?” Mae shifted, her legs up on the couch as she turned to face you. “Why?”

Biting your lips together, not really having any true reason for cancelling the date. “I don’t know – I wasn’t that excited in the first place, and he just kind of had an off-putting vibe. We were supposed to go out after my shift was over but it was also just an exhausting day.”

The date would have been with a coworker of Mae’s, one who she had briefly introduced you to but that she didn’t know well herself, as they didn’t directly work together.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have …?”

“Don’t be,” you shook your head, voice light. “Not your fault at all, I just really wasn’t feeling it.”

Your mind drifted, having nearly forgotten about the date that you cancelled over the weekend. You had no energy for it, and no energy to force yourself to like someone you already were sure you wouldn’t hit it off with.

“I get that,” she nodded. “If you don’t feel it you don’t. No use in wasting everyone’s time with someone you’re not excited about.”

“Mm,” you hummed, finishing off your wine. “Though. There is this guy…”

You tried to stop your lips from turning into a smile, hiding half your face in your glass. Mae shifted next to you, waiting for you to continue your story as she knew that look on your face. “Yeah?”

“I don’t know,” you sighed, placing down your glass on the coffee table in front of the couch. “It’s not really anything. He’s been coming into my work a lot lately, flirting with me – or at least I’m pretty sure he is.”

“Oh I’m sure he is,” she nodded. “All your customers are in love with you.”

“They are not,” you laughed. “I’m just good at my job.”

“Has he ever been there when I’ve been in?”

“No,” you shook your head. “I don’t think so. He started coming in a few weeks ago – maybe like a month ago? He wanted to know how he could get his art up on the walls.”

“His art?”

Mae placed her now emptied glass next to yours on the coffee table, as you nodded. “He’s an artist.”

“How old is he?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, around our age, I think. Like 25, 26?”

“What’s his name? I want to see if I can find his Instagram.” She briefly stood, going to grab her phone that was sitting next to her bag on your kitchen counter. Soon returning to sit next to you, unlocking her phone.

“Harry – I don’t know his last name.” You told her. “I don’t know, he kind of seems like he wouldn’t have one.”

Mae glanced up at you as you repositioned yourself next to her so that you could peer over her shoulder. “He’s an artist and it’s 2020. I’m sure he has one. Plus, I’m sure it’s on public.”

You watched her type in ‘Harry’ into the Instagram explore search bar, the simplest of tasks that of course brought her results inconclusive as he didn’t know people she knew.

“Do you know anything else?” She asked, after looking at the profiles of the first ‘Harry’s’ that the search result brought up.

“No,” you thought for a second. “Oh! One second.”

You remembered the small slip of paper he had given you, with the name of the gallery that he had art up at. It might be another dead end, but it was all you had.

“Here,” you called, after finding the small crumpled slip at the bottom of your bag. “He had some art at this gallery.”

Watching over Mae’s shoulder as she grabbed the slip from you, typing in the name of the gallery. Easily finding their Instagram page, scrolling through the first few pictures for anything that would help her search.

“Is this him?” She spoke after a moment, calling your attention away from the wine that you were searching for again and back to her phone.

You squinted at her screen, watching her thumb swipe over a series of photos, one of which had an image of Harry. He was standing next to two paintings, ones you assumed were his. His hands were behind his back, small smile on his face with some baggy white pants and a loose shirt tucked into the waistband, and the same scuffed Vans he always wore.

“Yeah, that’s him,” you hummed, watching as Mae tapped the picture to see if he was tagged in it.

Success in seeing that he was, going over to his page. Mae was right, it was public.

She scrolled for a bit, going past rows of what you assumed was his art. Some fully finished paintings, some close ups, some sketches in pencil crayon. She stopped once she found a picture, three rows down, of him standing in the sunshine with yellow tinted sunglasses on, an open sketchbook held up in his hands.

Tapping on the picture, enlarging it on her screen as she scrolled down a bit to read the caption. “This is him?”

You nodded again. “Yes.”

She glanced away from her phone, up to meet your eyes. Saying your name quickly, with a little laugh. “He’s so cute. I thought you said all the guys who hit on you at work were old and gross.”

“I mean,” you slid in to sit next to her. “They are. He’s not really hitting on me though. I just kind of have the feeling he’s into me, you know how it is? I don’t know.”

She nodded. “Usually when you suspect it, it’s true though, isn’t it? Flirt with him, see what happens.”

You nodded, lip between your teeth, knowing that she was right. Mae glanced back at her phone, before handing it over to you so that you could further inspect his Instagram. “And seriously, he’s really fucking cute.”

She got up from next to you, tapping your thigh with her now free hand. “I’m going to chop veggies for dinner, you keep looking.”

You only laughed absentmindedly at her comment, although not protesting as she moved to start making dinner for the night. Swiping away from the picture of Harry, scrolling through his feed. Most pictures were of his art, some single pictures, some had multiple one’s together in the post.

Reading over his username, harrystylesart. You briefly wondered if that was his real name or just one he used.

Looking at recent posts first, seeing images of pages out of a sketchbook, orange and red shapes drawn across a white page. Swiping through the post, you saw another image of the same book, this time the picture taken from a bit further away. You immediately recognized the slightly worn wooden table, and corner of the familiar little blue mug.

The drawing itself was of something nondescript, the same oranges and reds, this time with blue outlined as well. You tried to make out what it was, but assumed it was just mindless sketching. Your recalled what Harry had told you, about how he liked to use a lot of colour – this must be his process.

Still, you felt oddly happy that he had taken these pictures at your work.

You kept up with your snooping, looking through pictures of his paintings. He was right, about them being big and colourful. Some seemed to have just odd shapes, some had people, some seemed to include places or buildings.

You kind of wished that you understood them, that you knew why he was making these. All his captions were of very few words, most with no captions at all.

That being said, you found yourself genuinely really liking them. Some in particular, just held a specific feeling that you really enjoyed. You didn’t know anymore than that, you just liked to look at them.

“Find anything else?” Mae asked you, once you had shut off her phone and joined her in the kitchen.

“Nothing big,” you hummed, grabbing a pan from under the counter. “I don’t know, I’ll see. Like I said, it’s just a suspicion. Maybe I’m also a bit bored, it has been a while since I’ve been excited about someone.”

Mae nodded along with you, waving her knife in the air as if to point to you. “That’s true too, it is really fun when you start to have a little thing – I almost miss that.”

She had been in a relationship for nearly three years now. “You do not,” you scoffed.

“Okay,” she paused. “Maybe not. Dating is fun but also kind of awful. But seriously, it is nice to be excited about someone.”

“Never said I was excited,” you hummed, though you knew she saw right through you.

“Okay,” she drew out the word, clearly unconvinced. “But remember that last guy you dated? He was no fun. What was his name?”

“Ross,” you wrinkled your nose at the memory. “Yeah he wasn’t great.”

Mae nodded. “You never even told me about him until the end.”

You had a habit of not always telling your friends about your dating life. Sometimes you would fill them in on every gory detail, and other time you would briefly mention that you started seeing someone but it had fizzled.

It was also very telling about how the dates had been – one’s you were excited about were usually heard of right away.

To Mae, it seemed like you dated a lot, but that was also because she had mostly been in longer term relationships. You thought you dated a normal amount -- you often found yourself saying yes, when people were interested because you told yourself that you never knew what could come of it.

“I’ll come in to your work soon,” Mae continued, changing the subject. “I haven’t been in a while, like to properly sit down. Plus, I want to see this guy.”

“I’m back on Saturday, working right through until Thursday.”

Mae thought over he own schedule. “I have Monday off, and it’s usually calmer then too right?”

“Yeah, it should be quiet. Monday,” you paused, remembering there was something particular about that day. “Oh, I’m closing alone then. Everyone has been taking their vacation at once. But you can stay with me for closing if you want, we could get dinner afterwards.”

“Perfect! I’ll bring all my work to get done, and yes dinner sounds lovely.”

The bliss of your days off ended, and the chaos of the weekend shifts followed. The weekend was always a bit crazy – sometimes you lucked out and it was oddly empty but this was no lucky weekend.

By the time Monday rolled around, you were already tired. And it was only the third day in a stretch of a full week of work with no days off.

At least you were working the closing, offering you a small chance to sleep in as you didn’t have to get into work until the early afternoon, although the downside of today’s shift however, was that you were going to be closing alone.

Mae came into work with you, bringing stacks of paperwork with her to the café to work on.

It was about an hour after Mae had arrived, that you saw Harry coming through the side window. He was just reaching to open up the door, and you were trying to catch Mae’s attention to subtly tell her that the guy she had helped you find online was about to come in.

When Harry walked in, he saw you walking over to the front corner and sit yourself on a chair across from someone else.

He kept walking, seeing your attention pulled away as it was obvious you really knew the person you were chatting with. He heard your laugh ring out through the café from behind him, as he spotted his open table in the back and situated himself there.

Not going up to the counter until he saw you behind it again, waiting a couple minutes as you seemed to be taking a tiny break with who he assumed was your friend. Eventually though, he slowly walked to the front until he was standing across from you at the counter.

“Hi,” you called, from where you stood a bit further back, rearranging clean cups under the counter. “What can I get for you today?”

“Over ice, thank you.”

He watched you pause with a little nod, as you didn’t bother to put the order into the system right away and instead moved further back to the espresso machine to make his drink. He left some change on the counter by the till, sliding it far enough in so that you couldn’t miss it.

He walked around the counter until he was on the other side of the espresso machine, seeing half of you hidden to him as you prepared his drink.

“Sorry if that was weird, in the grocery store the other day.”

He watched you peek out from around the machine. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “Must be kind of odd to see a regular from your work outside of that setting.”

“A bit,” you smiled. “But not that much. You’d be surprised by how often I run into customers.”

“Really?” His eyebrows rose. “What’s the worst place you’ve even seen a regular?”

“Nothing really that bad. Sometimes it is a bit weird when I’m at their place of work. Like there’s a woman who bartends at Corner Stone, who also comes here a lot – its like we’re each other’s regulars.”

He saw your eyebrows furrow slightly, as if trying to think of some other occurrences you had had outside of work. “Oh! This doesn’t really count as seeing someone, but I’ve found customers on Tinder before.”

“Really? Ever match with any of them?” He bit his lips together, feeling the hint of a smirk on his lips.

“God no. I never used it that much anyway.” You said, laughing lightly. He briefly wondered if you had done it on purpose, mentioning something like that to him. But he had to tell himself that you were really just answering his question.

You had just finished up making his drink, placing it on the counter in front of him and tapping it lightly against the marble as you usually did.

“Why do you always do that?”

“What?” You blinked back at him.

“You always tap the cup on the counter like that.”

“Oh,” you smiled, small shrug in your shoulders. “It’s a habit. It’s to knock out any little air bubbles from when the espresso pours. If the pour is really smooth, there shouldn’t really be any. It doesn’t matter as much when it’s over ice though, since the ice gets in the way.”

“You do this with all drinks?”

“No,” you replied. “I mean with hot milk drinks you need to smooth out the air from the milk bubbles. And before preparing them you also tap out the milk, and the espresso – again if there are bubbles.”

“All about presentation, isn’t it?”

“Exactly,” he warmed at the laugh that shook your chest. “When it looks nice it tastes nice too.”

He took a small sip of the cold drink. “I don’t think you’ve ever made me a bad cup of coffee.”

“Glad to hear that.”

The two of you both turned your heads at the same time, at the sound of the door closing shut. A group of three women had just come in, chatting loudly as they all made their way to the front counter.

“I got to –” you pointed your thumb in their direction.

“Of course,” he nodded, watching as you turned away from him. Your hand moved down to your back pocket, tapping over your bum lightly as if searching for something in your pocket. He saw you pull out that red pen you always carried, twirling it between your index and middle finger as you went to stand by the till.

Coffee in hand, Harry walked around the counter and back to his to the table where he had left his things.

You eyed Mae while the group wanting to order continued to read the menu, watching her mouth something you could barely make out. She tilted her chin up, nodding her head towards where Harry had gone to sit.

Shaking your head with a light laugh, not sure what she was trying to tell you. You didn’t have time to find you either, as the woman standing closest to the till interrupted you silent conversation. “We’re ready to order.”

Not getting the change to talk to Harry again until a few hours later, right before closing. You saw him standing by the counter, empty cup in hand that he gently placed into the nearly overflowing buss bin.

“Thank you,” you hummed, walking past him on the opposite side of the counter as you started sweeping the inside. There seemed to be more grounds on the floor today than usual.

“Not a problem,” he grinned. “You seem to be everywhere tonight, I swear I just saw you going back to the washrooms.”

“A lot more to do tonight, since it’s just me closing.” You emptied out the dustbin into the garbage can, deciding that you were done sweeping for the day – hoping that the muck left over on the floor would come out with the mop.

“What do you mean it’s just you?”

You glanced around, as if you hadn’t been alone this entire time. Grabbing the dish bin that was sitting between the two of you, walking to grab whatever was left to be cleaned. Harry followed your motions, from the other side of the counter.

“I’m working alone…” you started slowly. “Usually we have two people close together, but we’re short staffed right now. Today and next week it’s just me.”

“That’s no fun,” he said, looking around and seeing nearly all empty tables now.

“Closing isn’t usually that fun,” you laughed, gathering everything that could be sent through the dishwasher. “It just takes a lot longer when I’m alone.”

“I can imagine cleaning must take a while.” He glanced around, looking at all the floor space that needed to be swept then mopped.

“It’s okay,” you shrugged, grabbing your buss bin. “I get paid by the hour, not on salary so I’ll get a bit of overtime in there.”

He only nodded, and your eyes flicked over to the clock hanging on the wall across from you. “I mean this in the nicest way possible but we are now closed.”

Harry followed your eyes to look up at the clock as well, before glancing back at you. “Are you kicking me out?”

“Yes, I am,” nodding with a chuckle, watching him walk over to where his things still sat on a table, gathering them up. Moving the dish bin to the back to fill up the dishwasher, wiping your wet hands on your jeans to go lock the door after Harry leaves.

“You know I’m not the last one here,” he said to you from where he stood, after your reappeared from the back room. He pointed over to where Mae sat at a front table, bent over an array of papers. She didn’t really seem like she was reading them though, her eyes briefly landing on yours when you looked over.

“She gets to stay with me,” you grinned, walking out from behind the counter. “We’re grabbing dinner after.”

“Nice of you to not make her wait outside.”

You laughed, walking to the front door to hold it open as the last thing to do before ushering Harry outside.

You hadn’t noticed he had come up behind you, arm brushing past you. His hand wrapped around yours on the door handle, taking you by surprise the slightest bit, as he was suddenly so close behind you.

“Oh –” muttered under your breath, taking a step back to move away, but your back only hit Harry’s chest as he had you more or less boxed in. “Sorry.”

Your hand slipped away from between the metal of the handle and the warmth of Harry’s hand, trying to slip out from your closeness to the door to give him space to walk out. Slightly propping it open, deciding to move outside and hold it open from the outside.

Glancing up at him, feeling warmth creep up your skin at the awkwardness of the moment, meeting his eyes with your lips bit between your teeth.

“Sorry,” Harry repeated to you, pushing the door all the way open to walk out. You didn’t miss the red tint on his cheeks, and the way his eyes flicked away from yours so quickly you barely got to hold his gaze.

“Have a good rest of your day,” you smiled, giving him a small wave as you decided to quickly move past whatever moment you had found yourself stuck in.

“I’ll see you,” he flashed that wide smile of his, showing off the dimples that appeared as he brought a hand up to move his sunglasses from the top of his head to lay perched on his nose.

You waved when he turned away, walking down the street away from where you were now closing the door and locking it shut.

Mae who had risen from where she was sitting was now slowly walking over to the counter, leaning her elbows on top of it while she waited for you to join her side.

She had a small smile playing at the corner of her mouth, bottom lip lodged between her teeth as if it was nearly impossible for her to keep her mouth shut.

You only laughed at her expression, shaking your head slightly when you walked past her, giving her a little swat with the back of your hand.

“What?” She calls out after you’ve left her alone again, heading to the back to load the last bit of dishes into the dishwasher. “I didn’t say a word.”

“I know what you’re thinking!” You called as you rinsed off old mugs, the traces of coffee now dried to the ceramic.

Double checking that there was nothing left to be sent through, closing the door and pressing the button for the hot water and soap to start cleaning the dishes for the last time of the day.

Emerging out in the open again, on the opposite side of the counter from Mae. You knew there was still mopping left to do outside, but you wanted to get the cash out done first and out of the way.

Mae was silent again, unmoving from her spot as she watched you dump out the coins from the tip jar as you began to lay them out to easily count them. You concentrated for a bit, making small piles of four with your quarters.

“He’s really into you,” she finally said, waiting for you to look back up at her.

You kept your head dipped down, eyes on the counter where all the coins and bills sat to be counted. Biting your lips together as you again found yourself unable to help the slight smile building.

“I know,” you finally uttered, sending her a quick glance with a laugh at her expression.

“He’s even better looking in person.”

“I know,” you repeated, eyes focused downwards at the coins that you were quickly counting. “Now shush! I don’t want to lose count.”

It was the same thing the following week, as it always was. You had your days off, got groceries, ran errands. The weekend was crazy, that was again to be expected especially with the particularly nice weather. Dani had been away, so you hadn’t seen him in about a week.

The week had been just as busy as the previous one, the hot days of late July making more and more people come in for some nice cooled iced drinks. It was a bit crazy to you, how quickly your weeks went by when all you would do was look forward to your days off.

The following Monday, it was nice to have your slow and steady shift again. You had to close alone once more, but this would be the last time as some staff were going to be back from their summer vacation so you would be fully staffed once again.

The afternoon had gone by very slowly, nearly too slow, that you had just been mindlessly cleaning all day. It was good, in a way, because it meant that there would be less cleaning to be done later that evening once the doors were locked and you would be left to finish up alone.

Another commonality with your Monday shift is that Harry was routinely there. Situated in that back corner table he always seemed to get, bag on the chair across from him and things spread out in front of him. You had been too preoccupied with all your reorganizing and cleaning to properly chat with him today. But a small part of you also wanted to see if he would come to you.

Nothing really interesting happened, though, until you were getting ready to start even more closing cleaning and you were passing by his table with a broom in hand.

Sweeping under the empty table across from him first, before moving closer to where he was sitting and letting your eyes wander from the floor to the table, catching a glance at his sketchbook.

It was similar to what you had seen on his Instagram, only this time he had several drawings that were distinctly people.

“Hey,” he suddenly spoke, pulling your attention away from his book and over to where he was now looking at you. “I can see you snooping.”

“Oops,” you shrugged, feigning sheepishness. “I told you, I like to try and figure out the lives of customers. That comes with looking over their shoulder at what they do.”

“Have you figured out the lives of everyone sitting here now?” You didn’t miss how he changed the subject.

“Of course.”

“I think I have too,” he hummed, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest as he gazed up at you.

“I see most of these people a few times a week – I think I have a bit more dirt on them than you.” Placing your broom to lean against the wall behind you, making sure it didn’t fall before crossing your arms over your chest.

The shop was nearly empty by this point, but you knew that almost every customer currently sitting at a table had been in here at least once a week.

“What about those two?” He pointed with his chin, nodding his head in the direction of the couple sitting in the back, across from where Harry was. “Do you think its a date, like a new relationship? Or a longer term thing.”

“Oh,” you hummed, having seen those two at least twice a week for the past couple months. “They’ve been dating for at least a year. Minimum.”

“Okay,” he drew out the word, nodding as he agreed with you. “What about those two?” The only other couple was across the shop on the other side, sitting on the big plushy chairs that Dani always sat at. You had never seen them before.

“I would say,” you paused, trying to observe their body language as you stood back with your hands in the back pockets of your jeans. “Second or third date. They’re still sitting across from each other and have nothing else with them to work on – but they seem just touchy enough. Coffee was probably a last-minute idea, but for sure not the first date.”

Looking back at Harry, finding him still watching you. “You really thought about that one, huh.”

“I told you –” eyes flicking back to the couple in question. “I like to figure out people’s lives. Seeing people on coffee dates is always fun. They’re usually always first or new dates, or in long-term relationships.”

“Coffee dates are easy first dates,” Harry murmured, nodding his head. “Wouldn’t be surprised if you saw a lot of them.”

You thought it over for a second. “I guess I do, yeah. Easy for nervous couples.”

“Can’t imagine you like getting coffee on a first date.”

“Not really,” you said, not missing a beat. Eyes slightly narrowing on him, lips curving, as you silently wondered where he was going with this conversation. “Unless they don’t know what my job is.”

“What about just getting coffee – like not as a first date – is that okay?”

You bit your lips together, eyes briefly leaving his. “Of course.”

He smiled. “Done that recently?”

Was he trying to see if you were single? “No, not recently,” you hummed, eyes flicking back to his.

You only broke his gaze for a second as you watched him pull his bottom lip between his teeth, grin breaking the corners of his mouth. Neither of you spoke for a moment, eyes locked in a little staring contest.

He was the first to look away, clearing his throat as he angled his head towards the front door. “I think I’m keeping you from customers.”

Your attention was pulled away from him, watching a group of four walk in through the door, glancing up at the menu hanging behind the register.

Shooting him one more quick look, before sauntering off to go slid in behind the counter. Hands still placed in the back pocket of your jeans, grabbing the pen that was in one of them as you went to take their order.

After that group there seemed to be another, and another. It wasn’t busy, per se, just steady. And since you were alone, it gave the feeling of being a bit busier since there was no one else there to help you pull shots, or take orders.

Still, slowly customers petered out and there were only a few people left sitting around the café. You had already cleaned the majority of the espresso machine, cleaning out the portafilters and clearing the grounds that collected at the bottom.

Dishes had been constantly running, and you just grabbed the broom to start sweeping the emptier half of the café so that once you were closed, the cleaning wouldn’t take long.

“Closing soon,” you hummed, as you passed by Harry’s table with the broom in hand once more.

“I know, I know, don’t worry.” He put down his pencil, his pause in movement causing you to stop by his table for a second. “You’re closing alone again today, aren’t you?”

“I am,” you breathed, eyes flicking to the clock.

“And you don’t have you friend here to keep you company like last time.”

“I don’t,” you bit your lips together.

He shifted a bit in his chair, feet flat on the ground with one arm placed over the back of the chair as he twisted his body to face you. “Do you, uh –” he paused, flipping his pencil between his fingers. “Do you need any company?”

“What are you suggesting?” You felt the corner of your lips perk to a sly smile.

“If you want,” he quickly started, sitting up straighter. “I could keep you company.”

There was another pause, neither of you speaking for a moment.

But you found yourself nodding to his request. “It’s not that interesting, just me running around cleaning, and counting coins. But I mean – if you want to.”

He nodded along with you. “’Course I do. Plus. I really like this space to work in, it’s inspiring and all that.”

“Okay,” you slowly spoke the word. “But you’re going to have to lift your feet later so I can sweep under your table.”

“Will do.”

You moved past him after that, head still lowered as you swept under the tables across from where Harry sat, moving your little pile of dust and dirt into the dustbin. Busying yourself, since you actually were busy, trying not to smile after your conversation with Harry.

Soon you were ushering the rest of the customers out, the clock hitting seven and the doors being locked. You brought in the patio furniture after fully sweeping and mopping one side of the café, the side that Harry was not sitting at.

The inside cleaning was all nearly done, beans put away, espresso machine fully cleaned and counter wiped down. You were just starting to sweep the second half of the shop, nearly done with the cleaning before you could cash out.

“I can help, if you need.”

Harry had remained fairly quiet after the doors were locked with the two of you still inside. Just as he said, he was still perched over his table with pencils in hand and book open in front of him. You were too busy to really stop by and see what he was doing, assuming he was working on those sketches you had seen when you were spying on his Instagram.

“I’m not paying you,” you teased, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. “But seriously, you don’t have to.”

“I can – if you want. I’m bugging you enough, may as well help.”

“I thought you wanted to feel the space, or something? Getting inspired? But really – it’s okay. I’m nearly done here and just need to cash out.”

He paused for a second, before nodding. “Okay, okay. Well I’m here if you need me.”

Conversation stopped there again, for a while at least. You cleaned the washroom, finished mopping all floors and dumped out the dirty water. After all the big cleaning was done, you made yourself a nice cold iced tea in a to go cup that you would take home afterwards.

Grabbing a chair from the back room and bringing it up to the till to sit down while you cashed out, dumping out all the coins and bills from the tip jar first. Counting in silence, not having noticed how Harry had moved tables and was now seated across from you instead of in the back.

“It’s different after closing.”

You glanced up from where you had rows of quarters lined on the counter, trying to not loose your count. “I mean,” you spoke, only after writing down the amount you calculated. “It’s the same – but calmer. Or sometimes more stressful, depending on the day, and who I close with. It’s for sure not as nice as being here alone in the morning.”

You saw Harry nod. “I really like the mornings.”

“You mentioned that,” you hummed, beginning the dreaded task of counting up the smaller coins.

He fell quiet again, watching you quickly move the coins from the counter to the register, counting under your breath while you worked. He didn’t want to distract you and have to start all over again, instead deciding to pull his attention back to his sketch book.

Flipping his pencil between his fingers a couple times, listening to the coins clacking overlapped with the soft sounds of whatever song was playing – he didn’t know it. Finding himself drawing small things he saw around the shop; the way the mugs were stacked, the way the leaves on a plant fell to one side, the way there always seemed to be umbrellas shoved in the vase out front even though it hadn’t rained in weeks.

And then he found his eyes falling back to you; the line that formed between your brows as you focused on counting, the way you sat with one leg tucked under the other, the small movement of your lips as you spoke under your breath.

He hadn’t fully realized he was colouring in the curve of your cheeks until he caught himself unable to stop looking up at you. Using the only pencil crayons he brought with him, colouring you in with two shades of blue.

Starting your outline over again and again, each time focusing on a different part of you that he could see. Squinting as he drew the soft curve of your eyelashes, and then the rise of your hairline, and the dip of skin from your neck until the soft green colour of your shirt started below your collarbones.

After a couple minutes in silence, your sudden movement from where you were sitting brought his attention back up to you, watching as you walked away from the till to the back, quickly coming back with a little baggy in hand.

He shut his sketchbook with the pencils still resting between the pages, rising to his feet with a little push back of his chair. The noise brought your attention to him for a second, eyes flicking between him and your task at hand.

“You did that fast,” he hummed, leaning his elbows down on the counter across from you. You were bagging the counted money, writing down the amounts of the day. Harry tried to not let his eyes linger on your hands. Not wanting to seem like he was spying on how much money you had made in a day, when he was really watching the way you were gently gripping the pen that was being swiveled between your fingertips.

“You learn a few tricks over the years to make it go faster,” you murmured, zipping shut your baggies that would be placed in the safe for the night.

Once you were all done, the only thing left was one last load of dishes to run through before you could close for the night.You began to wait for the dishes to clean, you were suddenly aware of how quiet the space was around you and Harry, the soft music of Mazzy Star creating a dreamy atmosphere.

You also realized you had no real reason for letting Harry stay past closing – it wasn’t like the two of you were doing anything afterwards. But you also knew that you were maybe expecting something, and just maybe the two of you would be doing something together once you were off work.

Bringing the dish rack filled with clean steaming dishes to the front counter, letting them drip dry for a bit before you started to put them away.

Harry was tentatively walking over to where you were, not completely crossing the invisible line that separated the inside to the outside of the café, but pushing it enough.

“Sure you don’t need a hand?” He asked, once he was leaning against the counter that the dishes were sitting on.

“I told you, I can’t pay you for any of it,” you joked. “But really, it’s okay. I’m nearly done.”

He only nodded, watching as you looped your fingers through the handles of mugs to carry more of them at once.

You wondered really what Harry had to gain from watching you finish up your closing shift. You knew he said he liked the space of the café, that it inspired him. Whether that was bullshit or not, you didn’t mind his company.

Still slightly curious about how he was spending all his time at your work, and how he didn’t seem to have anything else going on at the moment other than watching you put away still steaming hot dishes.

“I know you said you kind of work at that gallery,” you started. “But I mean – and I don’t mean this in a bad way but, don’t you have another job? Like not a 9 to 5 but, I don’t know. You’re here weekday’s and weekends, sometimes early and sometimes late.”

Pausing, not sure if you were properly vocalizing the small curiosities you had about Harry. “You know I like trying to figure out the lives of customers but – I mean what do you do?”

He was silent for a bit, and a first you thought you had made a bit of an idiot of yourself but you saw the small tug at the corner of his lips, indicating a smile.

“I’ve been telling you,” he finally said, eyes gleaming when he looked at you. “I’m an artist. That is my 9 to 5. I manage to get some small jobs here and there to make some extra money, but so far I’ve been able to make a living. Get’s a bit tough sometimes but lately I’ve been managing to get a slow and steady stream of commissions.”

You felt a bit bad, nearly dumb for asking. “What kind of small jobs?”

“Well,” he leant against the counter across from you. “Some art handling at galleries. I taught a few classes, probably not very well, at a community centre. Just small things to make some money on the side. But like I said, being an artist is my 9 to 5.”

“Oh,” the word sounded so small in response. “That’s really cool. I mean that, that’s just … really cool.”

You didn’t know why you found yourself so lost for words. He had explained it to you so casually, so nonchalant about following what he wanted.

Picking up the now empty dish tray, bringing it to the back. You didn’t pay that close attention to what you were doing, quickly rinsing it out and turning off the dishwasher. Your mind was wandering, Harry’s words running through your head over and over.

Not realizing it at first, but when you dipped your head down to make sure the dishwasher was properly drained, your vision went a bit blurry. There were small tears pricking at your eyes, building at your waterline and threatening to spill over.

Quickly tilting your head back as if the tears would fall back into their ducts, dabbing the skin under your eyes with the back of your hand.

There was no real reason for the sudden tears that appeared, you knew that. It was probably a culmination of too many busy days of not enough rest. But another small voice was telling you something else, and you knew exactly why you were crying.

But for now, you couldn’t indulge your thoughts too much since you knew that would only open the gates for more tears to come. Shaking your head, pulling out your phone from your pocket to use as a makeshift mirror to make sure the whites of your eyes weren’t shining red.

Keeping your head down a bit as you walked out, avoiding Harry’s gaze. Grabbing your cup filled with iced tea you had made for yourself before cashing out, taking a long sip as if more hydration would make you look as if you hadn’t been crying.

Silently checking over that everything was all ready for the opening shift tomorrow morning. Heading to the iPad to clock out, closing the POS for the day.

“I’m all done,” you finally spoke while heading to the back room for the last time, making sure the fridge door was properly shut before grabbing your bag and keys to leave for the day.

Waiting by the alarm system when you gathered all your things, watching over your shoulder as Harry stood by the door with his own bag. Punching in the security code to set the alarm for the night, hearing the paced beeping that started and alerted the time you had to walk out and lock the door.

He propped the front door open for you, holding it open before waiting while you locked it shut, double checking it was properly closed.

“I just have to…” you muttered under your breath, heading in the opposite direction to the other side of the café. There was an emergency exit in the back, that usually remained lock but sometimes someone would unlock it and forget to close it again, so you always made sure to check.

The door didn’t budge when you pulled on it, finding it properly closed. You met up with Harry again, avoiding his gaze as you kept your eyes trained down on the pavement under your feet.

You knew there had been a big and sudden shift in your mood, but you couldn’t think of any reason to explain it so you simply remained silent.

But, you also didn’t want to start explaining why you were suddenly crying.

“Which way are you headed?”

“Uhm,” you had to think for a second, although you took the same path every single day. “This way.”

Pointing ahead in the direction you would walk down before turning over to the block your apartment was on. Harry hummed next to you, beginning the walk by your side.

Remaining quiet for the first couple minutes, keeping your eyes more or less downcast. Knowing you probably didn’t have the best energy to be around right now, and not even wanting to bother with any kind of small talk.

“Are you alright?”

Lost in your own head, you had almost forgotten about Harry walking next to you in the cooling air of the city. You turned to him for a brief moment, eyes flitting over his before looking forward again.

“Yeah I – I’m just tired. Long couple of days.”

Before Harry got a chance to speak, you realized that you need to turn onto your block. “I’m going here – I’ll see you around.”

You turned the block, stopping for barely a second as Harry uttered a small “See you,” before you walked the opposite direction of him.

Pace picking up as you wanted nothing more than to be home at the moment, quickly walking the rest of the way home.

Finally closing your door behind you, not caring where your bag ended up on the floor and going to immediately crack open a window, airing out the stuffy apartment. You busied yourself with lighting a stick of sandalwood incense, letting the smoke slowly blow out the window, the smell starting to fill the room.

It wasn’t until you went to change into a sweatshirt and shorts, catching a glance of your appearance in the mirror when you suddenly felt tears well up again. Reaching for your phone, deciding that if you were going to wallow in your sudden sadness that you should have a soundtrack for it.

Pouring yourself a glass of wine, knowing you should make something to eat as well but not having the energy for it at the moment.

You only took one sip of the drink before placing it back down on the counter, feeling small tears fall from the corner of your eyes. Wiping under your face with the back of your sleeve, knowing more tears were to come.

The sudden cry had come out a bit out of no where. It sometimes was like that, the unexpected surge of tears that suddenly needed to fall from your eyes.

What surprised you, was that it was triggered by what Harry told you. Him telling you that his work as an artist was his 9 to 5 job, that he was following what he always wanted to do and was so far able to get by.

It was similar to the way you felt with Mae, sometimes. The two of you had graduated with the same degrees, but she was following her dream while you had the same job you held all throughout college. Sure, maybe the location of the job was different, and this time you were manager, but it still felt like the same job.

It wasn’t that you felt unfulfilled in life, and you did really like your job. It was just that there was sure to be more – this couldn’t be it for the rest of your life.

And the small, snarky comment from family or even customers didn’t help. You had had customers ask you if you were just working there “for now” and if it was “some place you were trying to get out of.” It was condescending really, and you always politely smiled at them and told them no, but it never helped with feeling not good enough.

So sitting with your wine, and a little cry, was very much what you needed right now.

#please share and let me know what you think <3 #and i hope everyone enjoys !!!! <33 #cb #harry styles writing #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfic

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apossessionadaybreak · 4 years ago

Text

Family Bonding

I couldn’t stop grinning when I woke up today. Maybe it was the sun shining through the window, or the smell of coffee coming from the kitchen, or the strong, virile body I was wearing. I laughed, it couldn’t have been more than a couple of days since I hopped into this host but every moment spent in him was further proof that I had made the correct choice. It hadn’t been easy cornering him but week after week of playing the part of his coworker, slowly gaining his trust, had all finally led to this moment. I strutted around the room, a ridiculous one-man parade, a treat meant only for my eyes. I stood before the mirror and beheld my lovely form, feeling something begin to stir and strain against my briefs as I did so. Oh, did I feel good. But it was still early, there was plenty to do, places to be, and a lot more masquerading to do. I patted my member as it stiffened in its cloth prison. Perhaps, if I still remained unsatisfied at the end of the day.

I opened the door and walked into the rest of the house. Yes, yes, all of it lovely, all of it in order, all of it mine. I strode into the living room to see a young man having breakfast.

"Morning son," I called out in my strong voice. “Thanks for the coffee,” I boomed again as I helped myself to a fresh cup.

He nodded, hesitantly perhaps? I made a mental note of the way he looked at me today, and didn’t like what I saw. Uncertainty, unease. No that wouldn’t do at all. I resolved to be a better father as I walked up to where he sat.

“What are you doing on this fine Saturday?” I said, slapping him on the back as I did so. He winced, but gave a wan smile. “Grandpa’s coming over to pick me up, we’re going fishing.”

My jaw clenched but I continued smiling even as I felt a low, cold fury building up inside me. “He’s coming over?”

“Yeah, in fact, any minute now. Let me go get my stuff, I want to be ready to leave when he comes.” He grabbed his phone as he walked to his room, closing the door just a tad faster than normal. Something was not right. No, I thought darkly, nothing was right about this. A stern expression came over my face as I closed my eyes. Focus, I just needed some time to think, with this mind I could work out what I needed to do. I clenched my fists, and grit my teeth as I pondered. My father, my own father, the man who raised me, betraying me like this? How could he not tell me he was coming over? Sweat formed on my furrowed brow as I fumed, trying, failing to cool me off. I forced myself to breathe, to take my time. Certainly this was an affront to my senses but any one who saw me like this would think I had gone insane, becoming this worked up over nothing at all. But I had spent this long, worked this hard, only for that bumbling fool to come along and mess with things. I tried to console myself it would only be for an afternoon, no time at all really but inside my heart I knew I was lying to myself. I had become obsessed with this young man, this youth who was now my son. Having him listen to me, talk to me, look up to me, it was heaven. That had been another reason for taking this host, besides his obvious merits. How could I compete with the old man? He was my senior in every way. I couldn’t allow my son to be stolen away under my nose like that. Then again, this father of mine, it was his blood that coursed through my veins, the one who gave me this strong heart to beat his blood through my veins. I grinned, the solution had been so obvious, how could I have been so blind? I shook my head to myself in disbelief, how foolish I had been to not see the enormity of this golden opportunity on a silver plate. The doorbell rang, and I grinned, things were falling into place, everything would be in order, no, they would be even better than before. I heard the sound of my son’s door being opened.

“Is that Grandpa?” I heard his voice.

“Let me check” I hollered back, chuckling to myself as I did so.

Sure enough when I checked the peephole, I saw the familiar visage of my father, my old man standing outside, patiently waiting. I opened the door.

“Hiya Pops.”

“Oh, morning son. Hope you don’t mind, I planned to take Nate fishing. You can come along too if you want!” He laughed to himself, a hearty roar, like a large ashy fire. I marvelled at the sound and subconsciously licked my lips. I could barely contain my excitement.

“Sounds great Pops, I may just join you two but I’ve got something to show you. Come in, come in, we can talk more in my room.”

He graciously accepted my invitation as I undid the locks. Smiling to myself, I chained the gate and shut the door, making sure there was no way anyone could come in, or out.

I led the way to my room, opening the door for my father. He stepped in imperiously, with the air of a man who had gotten his way all his life. Not arrogant, it was just how things worked when you were as loved and respected as he was.

“Alright son, what did you want to tell me?”

I smiled, my eyes lighting up with genuine joy.

“Hold still old man.”

I saw the barest frown begin to form on his face as his brow furrowed in puzzlement. He began to open his mouth to ask the question I knew was forming in his mind. I knew what he was going to say. I didn’t care, instead I lunged at his throat. He choked in a mixture of shock, panic, and utter confusion. He spluttered as he tried to yell out but the cry died in his throat as I held on, my penetrating gaze boring deep into his eyes. He whimpered slightly as he stared back, his pupils rapidly dilating, his normally half-shut eyes now open wide in terror and awe. I had him. I tilted my head back and began to push myself out. Slowly, surely, I unstuck the various parts of myself from within my host. My spectral form tore free from the muscle and bone it had been so deeply encased in for the past few days. I felt his senses began to leave me as his limbs grew numb and his eyes grew dull as I continued to detach myself. My host gagged as he coughed up more and more of my essence. I sighed, apparently even in death I could not escape from certain problems. When I had been alive I had been a large man. Now, I certainly had the spirit to match, just not always the body to go along with it. This vessel had been fairly accommodating, if a bit of a squeeze. The remnants of my ghostly belly bubbled up from my host’s, leaving only my tail to wiggle around in his throat. Just another oddity of being a ghost, though I supposed there was little need for legs if one could just as easily hover over the ground. I rubbed my plump hands together in anticipation. But I couldn’t leave just yet. I clutched on to my hefty paunch, digging in to grab handfuls of ectoplasm. Turning to my host with a loving look, I gently laid it over his face. It jiggled there momentarily, before sinking through his nose, his eyes, and soon it was pouring through every available orifice, heading straight for his brain. I felt the welcome return of his sight, his touch, his taste, though they were different now, faded in a way. No matter, so long as I still retained control, still dictated every breath he took, every step he made. Having finished the necessary preparations, I turned back to the old man. His shallow breaths indicated he was still under, still waiting but close, too close to consciousness. I smiled, a fighter, he would serve me well. I rubbed my hands together once again, straightening them out as far as they would go. Using my hosts’s mouth as a makeshift springboard, I lifted myself into the air, and dove straight into the old man’s open jaw.

Oh, what a RUSH. I could feel him, his spirit as it thrashed away, aware of this foreign presence, this threat to itself. I tunneled further, deeper still, pushing past the walls of red and white to the soft ethereal core. In one smooth motion, I grabbed onto it as I swung myself upright using the momentum I had gained, and pressed my own into it. It shuddered as it felt the unwelcome intrusion, the way it unwillingly yielded to take in mine, the way it could do nothing but accept me.

I opened my eyes, feeling a brand new set of senses fill my consciousness, swamping me with new information. I closed my eyes as I drank it all in, gluttonously sucking in as much as I could. More, more, more. I choked, opening my eyes involuntarily as I huffed a few short pants. Looking at me lovingly... was me. Even now as I looked at him, I could also see him looking at me through his eyes. We smiled in unison, lips curling up perfectly in sync. I smirked and he did as well. I laughed, and the bass of our voices layered effortlessly with each other, bouncing around the room. Together, we began to unbutton our shirts, unbuckle our belts. As the clothes slipped off our bodies we tumbled onto the nearby couch, staring at each other, scarcely breathing as we gazed at each other’s beauty. As the old man, I laid down first, slowly curling my back while still ensuring I could see my son. As my son, I brought my hairy body atop my father’s. We shivered, feeling the way our fur, our skin, brushed against each other, every contact a small jolt of pleasure. We looked at each other, entranced. It was understood what was to be done, no words needed to be said.

---

I stepped out of the room as the old man. Strong as these bodies were, the rapid sequence of activity had drained the younger. It was time for me to rest, but also time for me to continue my day afresh, with the adrenaline rush of a new host. I stepped out into the living room to see a young man sitting on the couch, staring at his phone. He looked up as I approached.

“Grandpa! You’re here!” He said, surprised. I closed my eyes from the abrupt rush as he addressed me, so trusting, so sincere.

“Sorry son,” I rumbled, “didn’t mean to keep you waiting. Had some matters to discuss with your dad.”

“Oh.” His face fell as he cast his eyes downwards. I frowned but stayed silent, sensing he wanted to say something.

“About dad... he’s been acting kind of weird lately. I don’t know what’s gotten into him.” Ah, so that was the problem. I patted myself on the back mentally, clearly I was on a streak of good decisions, making all the right moves.

“Don’t you worry about that son, we’ll have plenty of time to talk on the boat. Now let’s go fishing.” I saw him relax as he raised his head to smile at me. He got up from the couch and started to the door. I clapped a giant hand onto his shoulder, turning my head to give him a knowing wink.

#daddy #father #dad #grandfather #grandpa #daddy bear #beard #family #ghost #bear #male possession #pair possession #multiple possession #split possession #split #long story

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braiawrites · 4 years ago

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Lost & Found - Chapter 4

Summary: A glimpse into Pellia's story. || Inspired by this prompt by @newblood-freya

Words: 2046

Rating: sfw

Warnings: Minor mention of blood.

Links:

Fic Masterlist

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FIVE

Prompt by newblood-freya

Read it on AO3

Writing Masterlist

Send me an ask!

***

“Alright, fine. I’ll figure it out myself,” the mortal said, her eyes dark under a scowl.

Pellia watched as she turned, Cardan perched on her shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. She hadn’t necessarily meant to harm him when she’d changed him into a cat, but from the way the girl clearly coddled him, she thought perhaps she’d done him a favour.

Cardan twisted to look back at her in the cramped confines of the cell. He gave her a slow, haughty blink—probably because he couldn’t smirk—before settling himself like a scarf over the human’s shoulders.

Pellia did the only thing one could be expected to do in response to such an insult: she flipped him off, and then, for good measure, stuck her tongue out at him too.

He flicked his tail before turning away, and Pellia threw her arms up with an exclamation of defeat.

“That was so unnecessary,” she called after the retreating form of the cat prince and his human. Neither of them turned back.

With a sigh, Pellia retreated to the palette at the back of her cell and sank onto the bed. She felt the prickle of tears at the corners of her eyes, but she tried to push them down, blink them away, something. She couldn't cry, not here, not now.

If any tears were to be shed, they wouldn’t be hers. She’d vowed that to herself six months ago, when she’d crossed the sea from Delaware to Faerieland. She’d come with steel in her hands and poisons at her belt. With fury in her eyes and vengeance on her heart. She had come with one purpose and one purpose alone: to take back what was hers, what he’d stolen.

And until she recovered what she’d come for, she had vowed that she would not weep.

You will not cry, she reminded herself. You will not cry, you will not cry—

“You will not cry.” The words were carried from her mouth on a trembling breath, a mantra and a promise and a plea, torn from so deep in her heart that Pellia was certain her next breath would be crimson with blood.

Her thoughts fell again to Cardan and the girl, her skin burning bright with shame as she realized she had never actually seen them leave. She hoped they hadn’t heard her.

Oh, yes, she thought bitterly, because that would be all she needed: the cruel prince and his nosy human girlfriend, seeing her at her weakest. The cherry on top of her melting sundae.

She laughed at the thought, and then laughed some more, because there was something churning in her gut and clutching at her heart, and if she didn’t laugh at the pain then she’d cry and she wouldn’t do that. She couldn’t do that.

No matter how much it hurt, no matter how bitter she felt or how hot her rage burned, she could not cry until she was free and back home in Delaware, until she was safe and her family was whole again.

~ ~ ~

She’d known a storm was brewing from the first time she'd met him. It had been a Wednesday evening and the wind blowing off the coast was warm with the promise of summer. Pellia had been walking home from school, her slender fingers skillfully weaving a crown of wildflowers. Beside her, her younger sister talked animatedly about her day: the presentation she’d given in science class, the book her English class was starting, who she’d talked with at lunch.

Neither of them noticed the figure following twenty or so paces behind them.

Pellia tucked the last stem into the crown and turned it in her hands, admiring her handiwork as Amber changed topics.

“So, in drama we’re doing A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and I’m going to audition for Titania. I think I’d make a good Faerie queen, anyway, but I was thinking maybe you could help me act all magical and Fae-like.”

Pellia looked up from where she was fixing a rip in a flower petal. It was a small magic, but Amber’s eyes sparked as she watched the petal knit itself together.

“I’ll never get tired of seeing you do that,” she sighed. “I wish I had magic.”

Pellia’s brow lifted. “Faerie isn’t as innocent as you think it is, love.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But I didn’t say anything about Faerie,” Amber pouted, “just that I wish I had magic. I dunno, I think it would be cool.”

“You have your own kind of magic—the power of being the bane of my existence and also somehow my favourite human.” Pellia’s shoulder bumped Amber’s in a playful jostle.

“You flatter me, oh great pain in my a—”

“Hey! Watch your profanity.”

“My profanity!”

“Mhm.”

“You have the dirtiest mouth I’ve ever heard from anyone. And you’re telling me to watch my language?!”

Pellia let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head. “Nevermind.” She paused, lifting the flower crown in her hands. “For my Queen Titania. I spelled it so it wouldn’t die.”

Amber took the circlet almost reverently holding it up to see each vibrant petal in the sun’s light.

“It’s shiny,” she pointed out. “Is there a glamour on it?”

Pellia gave her sister a lopsided grin. “A little. I tried to tone it down a bit, but—I couldn’t resist. It’ll glamour you, too, when you wear it.”

Her younger sister said nothing for a moment, just staring at the crown—and then a huge grin broke across her face, brighter than a thousand suns.

“I love it, Pell, thank you.”

She lifted the crown to nestle among chestnut locks, letting the leaves weave into her hair. As soon as they touched her head, she seemed to glow more vividly, her eyes sparkling and her skin smoothing and her cheeks blushing a warm pink. She beamed at her older sister, then shoved her off the sidewalk.

Pellia squeaked as she flailed to catch her balance. Her eyes, glamoured brown, met Amber’s mischievous hazel gaze.

“I just made you a flower crown, bro,” Pellia said, her shock mingling with amusement.

“Yeah, and I love it!”

“Well, you’re a little brat, you know that?”

“Love you, too, Pell!” Amber sang, spinning gracefully to continue the last stretch of their walk home.

Pellia shook her head—and that was when she saw him, out of the corner of her eye.

Wearing a long, dark shirt, tied at the waist with a golden sash, woolen leggings despite the tepid weather, and leather slip shoes that clearly had not come from the human world, he was impossible to mistake.

How long had he been following them? Pellia wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

She turned, casually, and started after Amber’s retreating form at a stroll, before breaking into a jog with a call of, “You’re going to pay for that! And for making me run!”

Ahead, Amber cackled. As Pellia caught up to her, she elbowed her sister in the side, grinning.

“Hey, so guess what?”

“What?”

“Well, act natural, and don’t look, but there’s someone trailing us.”

Before Amber could follow the natural inclination to glance over her shoulder, Pellia slung her arm around her little sister’s neck and leaned in.

“I said don’t look. Now pretend I said something funny.”

Amber laughed. It was actually very convincing—she was a good actress.

“You’re kidding,” the younger girl chuckled, bumping her older sister with her elbow.

“I wish I was. But something about him makes me uneasy. And he’s fey, too, which pretty much automatically means bad news.”

“How would you even know that?”

“I saw it!” Pellia said, pulling out her phone. “Like, I turned around and he was just—right there. I swear!”

Opening her camera, Pellia angled her phone to better see their stalker. She made a show of checking her hair, her makeup, eyes glued to the figure in the background. She zoomed in. The hilt of a sword peeked over his shoulder.

Definitely not peaceable, then, she thought. Pellia made her decision:

“We're not going home.” She pulled her sister by the arm, turning a corner away from their house.

“I think you're being a tiny bit paranoid, Pell,” Amber said, attempting to pull away.

“No,” the pixie shook her head. The buildings on this street were tighter, packed together with cramped alleyways between every couple.

They approached an intersection and Pellia pointed to the building across the way. “Go, inside the gas station. I'll come get you in a sec.”

“Fiiine.” The younger girl pouted, but turned away.

“Hurry!” Pellia hissed, and Amber jogged across the empty street.

Rushed footsteps came from around the corner, and Pellia ducked down one of the alleys, dropping her bag and pressing herself against the brick wall.

She listened, trying to quiet her breathing.

The steps ceased abruptly. Pellia reached for the cord around her neck, pulling it from beneath her shirt.

The dagger she unsheathed was small, but definitely better than nothing. She tucked the sheath on its cord back beneath her shirt and adjusted her grip on the hilt. The leather was smooth beneath her fingers, the blade glinting sharply.

The footsteps resumed, cautiously.

Their owner came into view, looking the wrong direction. Pellia slipped from the alley and slid behind him, the edge of her knife held to his neck as pulled him back into the shade between houses. At his struggle, she pressed the blade against his skin.

“I don't know which part of Faerie you're from,” she purred into his ear, “but in the court where I grew up, it was generally considered rude to follow people like that.”

She shoved him face first into the wall, her hand between his shoulder blades. “So? Who are you and what do you want?”

“I was just sent to gather intel, I’m not here to hurt you,” he said. His voice was higher than she’d expected and his throat bobbed under her blade as he spoke.

“I’m so reassured.” The sarcasm dripping from Pellia’s voice was fatal. “Who sent you?”

“I—I can’t say,” he said.

“You might wanna try.” Her blade pressed in.

“Oath!” he squeaked, flinching away from her. “I took an oath, I cannot speak his name!”

Pellia’s brows went up at this. To hold that kind of power over someone…

“Why does he want to know about me?”

“I don’t know,” the fae whimpered. “He doesn’t tell me these things. I only know what I am to do, never the reason.”

She rocked back on her heels, allowing her grip to loosen on his collar. Her mind was racing, trying to fit together the insubstantial pieces of this puzzle. She hadn’t dealt with anyone from Faerie since they’d fled to the mortal world. She didn’t know how she’d been found, let alone why someone would be tracking her in the first place.

“Please don’t kill me.” The words came out as little more than a breath, but they sent a little thrill through Pellia’s stomach all the same.

She laughed. “Kill you? This is a new shirt, I don’t want your blood all over it. Besides, I need you to take a message back for me.”

Her captive nodded, his cheek scraping against the brick.

She leaned in. “Tell your boss that if he wants to know something, he can come talk to me himself. And in the meantime, he can stay out of my business. Oh, and you might also let him know that I hold grudges; the next person he sends to ‘gather intel’ won’t be coming back.”

At the faerie’s promise to leave immediately, Pellia released him. She watched as he headed back toward the coast, flinching at a passing car. What had been the point in sending someone to trail her, especially someone so obviously out of his depth in the human world?

Pellia shook her head. She hoped this would be the end of it, but something deep down told her that it wouldn’t be over so simply.

Two weeks later, she returned home to a dark haired, silver-eyed prince in her living room. Her family was out.

“My greetings, Pellia Nerium,” Balekin Greenbriar said. “Have a seat. I have a proposition to discuss with you.”

***

A/N: This chapter was so much fun to write and I developed Pellia's backstory so much, which I was kind of not expecting. I feel like I'm discovering what happens next along with all of you haha! I do hope you've been enjoying so far! I promise cat!Cardan and Jude will be back next chapter.

Thank you for sticking around every week to read, it honestly makes me so happy to know that there are people who are enjoying my writing. And if you have the time, I would love if you left a comment to let me know what you think! Also, please let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list!

Until next week, lovelies!

Tagging: @stardustsroses @nahthanks @jurdanhell @my-one-true-l @thefolkofthefic @greenbriarxrose @bookavert @queen-of-demons-and-hell @theviolettulip @lysandra-ghost-leopard @playlistmusings @localgoof @garnet-babe @iamaprincessallgirlsare

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archonanqi · 4 years ago

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fragile as dust / 3

🔖 [first] [prev] [next]

---

ch 3 | first impressions

Please, sit,” the man offered. His voice was back to the way it was before, quiet, gentle and solemn. You obeyed, sitting gingerly on the edge of one of the wooden seats. “May I have your name?”

“Hansi, sir.” Quickly, you add, “though sir can call me whatever sir likes.”

“Hansi,” he murmured. In his lips, your name — something that’s been baggage all your life, a reminder of the woman who threw you away — sounded like divinity. “Please, call me Zhongli.”

Okay. The meeting was not going at all how you expected. But then again, it was what you figured: honorable in public, but behind closed doors—

“Yes, Mr. Zhongli,” you nodded.

“Would you like some tea?” He gestured to the other cup in the middle of the table. It was filled with a faint, golden liquid. “Please, help yourself. It’s Pu’Er.”

You only froze for a second. Sure, you’d play along. You thanked him, reaching for the cup. It burned your fingers through the porcelain, but Archons be damned if you were going to drop and break it. You took a small sip. It scorched your parched throat all the way down.

“How is it?”

“It’s good, sir—“

“Zhongli,” he reminded you gently.

“It’s good, Mr. Zhongli.” It was not a lie — you wouldn’t be able to tell good tea from boiled grass, but the cup you just downed warmed your stomach and soothed your frayed nerves.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he smiled, and suddenly — too late — you realized that maybe you shouldn’t have drunk something that you hadn’t watched this strange man prepare. You knew of the drugs that these men sometimes slipped into the food they gave to street rats like you, you’d seen many a woman and child stolen away because of it.

You cursed yourself �� what had happened to keeping your guard up? Was a soothing voice and pretty face all it took to earn your trust these days?

You stiffened as he raised a gloved hand. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but you certainly were not expecting him to launch into a monologue about the history of Pu’Er tea.

He did, anyway, losing you somewhere between “harvested from the caves of Ling’ju Pass” and “aged delicately for fifteen years”. To say that his behavior had transcended bewildering was an understatement. Was this some kind of setup? A sick joke that rich people played on their new servants and slaves?

You realized that he’d stopped talking, clearly awaiting a response.

“Wow, aged for fifteen years. That’s a uh, long time,” you offered lamely. Archon help you.

“It may seem so,” Zhongli mused, “but it’s precisely that fermentation process that gives the Pu’Er tea its signature flavor. Fifteen years is but a small price to pay for such a unique experience, don’t you think?”

Briefly, you remembered all the trinkets and wallets and jewelry you’d stolen from passersby, how desperately you’d pawned them off at the nearest willing merchant for the promise of a meal or two.

“Yes,” you agreed, even though you couldn’t begin to imagine being rich enough to wait fifteen years to sell something.

It had been a few minutes since you’d drunk the first sip of tea, and you were still fine. Besides, he was drinking from the same pot. Maybe the tea was safe, after all. You took another sip, finishing your cup. Despite yourself, you found yourself hoping that Zhongli would continue talking in that silky voice of his, even if it was just about fermented tea leaves.

“I do apologize for rambling the evening away. I’m sure you’re exhausted from your journey.” He continued, “If you’re finished with your tea, perhaps we should head home. We can talk tomorrow, once you’ve rested.”

Home. You swallowed a dry retch, the implications stuck in your throat. Of course. It served you right for forgetting what you were here for. Behind closed doors—

“Yes. We can go if that’s what pleases you, Mr. Zhongli.” Your voice broke twice in that sentence. If Zhongli noticed, he did not say anything about it.

He rose from his seat, and suddenly you realized just how tall, how solid he was. If you ran, he would catch you. If you fought back—

Sweeping by you, he opened the door and stepped aside, gesturing into the night air. “After you.”

---

You trailed a few feet behind him as you two walked through the quiet, twisting alleys of Liyue. You thought you knew the city well enough, having lived on its streets for as long as you had, but he seemed to know the back roads of the city like it were an extension of his own body.

You took a deep breath to calm yourself. He left behind a faint lingering scent of flowers — like the glaze lilies you’d stolen from Yujing Terrace to pawn, but mostly, he smelled of warmth — earthy, spices, the fresh spring grass.

Seeing Zhongli in all his standing glory made you suddenly and horribly aware of how unsightly you were in comparison. You’d been cleaned up before the escort, but there were still yellowing bruises that the damp cloth couldn’t erase, chewed fingernails and frayed hair and rib bones that jut out from under pallid skin. And while the dress you were wearing was the nicest thing you’d ever owned, it was but rags in comparison to the elegant outfit Zhongli was clad in.

Your gaze stopped at his waist, and the golden gem dangling at his belt.

“Is that a Vision?” you blurted, and immediately regret it. “I’m sorry, it’s not my place to ask about you, Mr. Zhongli.”

“Please, never apologize for speaking your mind,” Zhongli answered, without missing a stride. “And to answer your question, yes. A Geo Vision.”

The one at your chest is still warm against your skin. “That’s amazing,” you say, and you meant it. Vision users were powerful people capable of unbelievable feats — even raised on the streets, you knew that. You wondered how Zhongli got his Vision: a fight, perhaps, against the ferocious monsters that roamed the wilderness outside Liyue Harbor?

If Zhongli had a Vision, there was no longer any doubt about it: the Vision given to you was a mistake. How could you ever hope to compare to someone like him? “You must be an incredible person, if Rex Lapis himself acknowledged you.”

Zhongli did take pause at that, peering at you with a strange look in his eyes. A small smile danced across his lips. “That is one way to think of it,” he acknowledged, as he continued walking. “It has been said that Rex Lapis only grants Visions to those he deems the most worthy.”

The rest of the trek was silent, until he stopped walking so suddenly that you almost bumped into him. You looked up from the ground, and found your breath taken away by the sculpture before you. It was a statue of Rex Lapis — there were plenty around Liyue, but tonight, silver stone gleaming under a sky full of stars, he looked ethereal.

“This was cast by the first generation of Hanfeng Ironmongers, long before mankind mastered the properties of flame and the forge,” Zhongli said, citing the name of the most famous clan of blacksmiths in Liyue Harbor. “Each time I pass it, I like to take a moment to stop and admire it. It’s a beautiful statue.”

“Beautiful,” you echoed absently, “he’s beautiful.” This was the Archon who had saved your life with that Vision, whether he’d meant to or not. You offered a silent prayer — of unyielding gratitude, for forgiveness, and for mercy. When you opened your eyes, Zhongli was eyeing you with a strange look on his face.

“I would ask you what you prayed for,” he chuckles, “but some superstitious folk would say then that your prayers won’t come true. Shall we continue? We are almost home.”

---

After ten more minutes of walking, you could feel your ankles trembling under the weight of your body. You and Zhongli had left Liyue, and begun walking through the forests on the outskirts of the city. Finally, he came to a stop in front of a house tucked into the foliage of a valley. It was a sizable estate, with a walled back garden and two floors, but you were mildly surprised that he hadn’t brought you to a castle, at this point.

Zhongli unlocked the door and gestured, again, for you to go ahead. Your stomach in knots, you took your first step into your new home — and prison.

It was warm.

Embers crackled in the fireplace of the living room, casting a faint golden glow on the tasteful, lavish furniture that lined the floor. There were tapestry scrolls on either side of the fireplace here too. You don’t understand the poetry written on these ones, either.

“Welcome to my home,” Zhongli said, walking past you. He did not touch you. “We have much to discuss, but that can wait until tomorrow. You look like you’re on the brink of collapse, and we can’t have you getting sick from exhaustion.” Despite yourself, you feel a small twinge of something at that — you’d never, in your life, had someone care about your health. He probably just doesn’t want to deal with the hassle of a sick servant, you told yourself.

“Let us go to bed and have a good night’s sleep first,” Zhongli continued, and anything you’d felt quickly soured.

Bed. You swallowed the panic rising bright and hot in your lungs. You might not be as educated as he surely was, but you were not naive. You knew that sleep was not what you would be getting tonight. The plea got stuck on your tongue. What could you say, to stop this rich, powerful man from claiming what was his?

“Let me show you to your room.” He beckoned at you to follow as he strode down a long hallway. You blinked, too stunned to obey for a moment, before running after him.

“My room?” You asked.

“Yes.” He paused at the end of the hallway, opening one of the doors to reveal a cozy bedroom. Like everything else about Zhongli, it was tastefully decorated — lush, dark green curtains framing a circular window. A bed sat in the corner of the room, adorned with thick blankets and more pillows than you’d ever seen in your life.

“This room was a study until very recently, and so these drawers are still currently full of my things,” Zhongli gestured to the bedside table, “but the closets are empty and free for you to use. I was thinking that we could go shopping for some clothes for you tomorrow, if you were feeling well enough. I do apologize for not purchasing any in advance, I was not sure of your measurements—“

“Wait,” you said, afraid to let yourself hope. “Wait. We won’t be sharing a bed?”

He turned to look at you, surprise briefly flashing in his eyes, and you’d never wanted to take back a sentence so badly in your life. A palpable silence draped the room, as Zhongli studied you so intently that you thought you might fall over dead, right then and there.

“Truthfully tell me,” he said, voice as low as a hum. “Is that what you would want?”

It took all of your courage to shake your head.

“Then we will have our separate rooms,” Zhongli said, with an air of decisive finality, and continued like he hadn’t just shaken your world. “I will show you around the house tomorrow. There is water in the jug by your bed. Is there anything you might need for the night?”

You shake your head mutely, again.

“Very well. My room is right across the hall — please do not hesitate to shout if you need anything.” Zhongli smiled, and it’s so beautiful that you had to shake the shivers from your spine. “Good night, Hansi.”

There it was again, your name in his lips — divine.

Zhongli closed the door gently behind him, and you sunk to your knees, all the strength suddenly gone from your body. You’d survived the first evening with your new master. You’d survived.

Once you picked yourself back up, you peeled your Geo Vision out from under the dress, taking your first look at it under the proper light of an oil lamp. It’s unframed, of course, unlike Zhongli’s, but the golden gemstone was identical in all other ways — catching the light in all its facets with a dazzling shimmer. When you put it into the bedside drawer, shoving it under the piles of scrolls and parchments, you were surprised to feel a twinge of sadness.

Stupid. How could you miss something that was not rightfully yours?

Still, you couldn’t help but feel a little excited as you clambered into the bed — your first very bed! Sinking into the sheets (they smelled heavenly), you let out an embarrassingly loud sigh of contentment.

There was a little voice in the back of your head screaming — and part of you still knew, irrefutably, that you can’t trust Zhongli — but the call of sleep is much, much louder. You let your heavy lids fall shut, and quickly fell into the most comfortable slumber of your life.

#zhongli #zhongli x reader #zhongli fanfic #genshin fanfic #zhongli fanfiction #genshin zhongli #fragile as dust #my writing

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constantlyunlightening · 4 years ago

Text

Peeping

Kinktober Day 3: Voyeurism w/ Kirishima

Other kinks/Trigger warnings: masturbation/mutual masturbation

Third day strong! (Still loads more to go but writing is hard, ya’ll). Also, if you happen to have suggestions/prompts for fluffier stuff, lemme know. I’m probably going to do Chisaki for tomorrow and if that’s what happens, we’ll need some sweeter stuff to wash it down with afterwords :) This one is pretty sweet compared to my other 2 so far though!

Disclaimers: Read/interact only if you’re 18+. Characters are all 20+

Kirishima was home! A buzz of excitement jolted through you as you had to stop yourself from squealing as you saw his boots in the doorway.

His hero work always kept him so busy, especially either the last week or two. You've hardly even seen him. He hasn't been getting home until well after it was time for you to sleep, but today, he was home before you?

He had messaged during a break earlier in the week that he was going to be getting some time to rest soon but you hadn't realized he meant today! A smile was gracing your features before you could stop it and you were quick to rush through the house to find him. It was with reluctance that you went through the hallways quietly in case he had taken to having a nap - you could only imagine he was exhausted. You didn't want to be the reason he woke up, but you were positively buzzing.

After taking a peek into the living room and the kitchen, just to be sure he wasn't lounging around somewhere, you made your way up towards the bedroom and that's when you heard a feral little grunting sound that stopped you in your tracks.��

It was soft, but you didn't have to sit here and analyze to know what sort of noise it was. You had heard it so many times; right up against the shell of your ear. You've heard the low rumble fanning over your skin before as his face tucked away against your body. You're baby Eijiro was in there and he was working on getting off. Was he….

The bedroom door was cracked open just enough to have temptation grab you and suck you in. You tiptoed your way to the door and, against your better morals, peered inside to have your breath taken away with the scene before you. It had been much too long since you last touched your boyfriend, because seeming him lounged on the bed with his cock out and in his hand instantly got you needy.

You must have been dating an actual Greek God - he sure was built like one in any case. He hadn't bothered to take off his hero uniform with the exception of his belt - you assumed he had tossed it off to the floor somewhere but you were a bit too transfixed to make that confirmation yourself. His hero uniform put all those toned muscles in his arm and chest on display and, while they were incredibly fun to ogle on television, it was much more fun to see in person. Especially now with the way his body had a thin sheen of sweat clinging to him.

His legs were hung off the edge of the bed, spread wide and putting the shaft in his hand on open display. You always noticed how big Kirishima hands were but his dick was even bigger. Even as he clenched and stroked his hand over himself, you could make out the color and thickness of it, you could spot glimpses of that dark vein running along the underside. You busied yourself with taking in every inch of his form, taking pause at the tensing of the arm he used to prop himself back and up on the bed, the heavy rise and fall of his chest as he worked himself up, the clench in his jaw and the baring of fangs as a stroke his particularly well.

Your hero had you in a spell. The mere sight of him not only made your thighs clench and squirm, but it also took away the logical part of your thoughts that would have told you that maybe you shouldn't be secretly watching him - no matter how good the clench of his strong hand looked around his cock. Maybe he would get angry with you, but it wasn't like you hadn't seen all of these parts of him before. Besides he's had you touch yourself in front of him a couple time before, so maybe it was his turn to show himself off. Although maybe you should announce yourself and then watch. Or maybe you should waltz over and ride on him for your own relief as well as his. You were starting to drip.

Another growl of pleasure from your red head had you legs anchored into place. You would be on that dick some point tonight if you had your way but for now, you wanted to watch. Kirshima always declared it was some form of manliness by focusing on your pleasure over his - he always made you cum first and he loved making you cum a lot. But this time, you were getting to watch him enjoy himself, touch himself for his own sake. You were getting to see him get off on his own terms. May as well let your hero focus on himself for round one, right?

You weren't above touching yourself in the meantime though.

Your own hand had snuck down past your waist band and into the fabric of your panties, letting your fingers trace along the slit of your folds as quietly as you could manage. You hadn't wanted to get caught anyway, but even less so with your hands down your pants like this. You just had to be quiet. You could do that, right? Besides, it'd be easy enough to match your motions with his, hide your ragged pants under the guise of his own grunts and smacking skin.

You fanned over your sweet spot a couple times, but quickly decided to switch lower. Your body was clenching around air - may as well give it something to attend to. As you noticed Kirishima switch to a slower stroke, you timed your motion with his own, slipping two fingers into your waiting sex as his hand rode down the length of his.

Biting on the inside of your cheek was the only way to stop your sound. Gotta keep quiet. But even the thought of his hard cock riding into you was enough to send a wave of pleasure straight through your core. His quirk was hardening, but he didn't need it to get himself up and leave a dent. You practically felt like you had imprints left inside you with the way he would drive into your body - he shaped you out perfectly for himself… You missed that feeling. You missed having him written into your body, missed having the marks of sharp bites hidden on your skin, missed being enveloped in his smell and in his arms. He didn't indicate any signs of spotting you, but as if he could read your mind, he was suddenly picking up the pace and you moved in tandem. Each pump of your own fingers, you pretended it was him inside you instead and your back arched with the fantasy.

Pleasure wrapped your vision and you had to force your legs to keep from shaking as you picked up with each increase in tempo Kirishima gave. Your biting into your cheek got a bit tougher to. He was getting close and you could tell from the way he was straining to keep his voice down. He had a habit of suppressing his own groans and grunts when he was close to orgasm. When you had pouted after a session and asked him why, he claimed it was because he didn't want anything to muffle the sound of your orgasm. He wanted to hear every single sound from the loudest, neediest scream, to the softest, blissful sigh. It wouldn't be very manly of him to steal the spotlight from star of his show, right? And apparently, that habit carried over to his solo sessions, because now as his hips rocked up into his hand - muscles tensing- his voice was strained, jaw clenched as he tried to suppress his sounds. You weren't used to withholding your own noises, but you were trying real hard now as you worked yourself up, wanting to cum with him. For an added little boost, your free hand snaked up your shirt and found its way to your chest, tugging at the closest peek it could as your sight lost focus of anything else other than the motion over his cock. So fucking close.

You were so ready to see stars, so transfixed in your own bliss. Then you heard Eijiro's voice speak up again and it almost made you wanna cum on the spot - he said your name. It wasn't exactly surprising, you were his girlfriend after all. But something about him still touching himself to thoughts of you even when he was alone? The fact that it was your name on his lips when he was at the cusp of orgasm? Damn.

You were ready for that last push- that last shove to push you over your peak.

But then his hand stopped.

His hand stopped and you wanted to cry. Was he edging himself? Or what was he…

Suddenly you heard you name again - strained from a stolen orgasm but this didn't sound like it was said from the sheer ecstasy, this sounded like it was being directed. Directed at you.

With the hand at his cock at a full freeze and your heart leaping into your chest, your eyes nervously darted upwards and you were met with two crimson eyes staring directly at you from the bed. A shark tooth grin aimed your way.

"Pretty shady of you to be a peeping tom like that, babe," his voice came out playful but the edge in it from his little edging stunt had your body absolutely jolting. You came to attention in your shock, but you didn't miss the way his eyes seemed to follow your hand as you pulled it out of your pants - now deliciously wet. "But it'd be even worse of me to keep the best part to myself when I know you're over there waiting for me - c'mere."

Definitely not mad. Oh, no. He sounded eager in fact, and despite the heat flooding to your face at being caught, his call had you beckoned to him like a moth to a flame. How were you to resist?

The next moment, your bodily shakily carried you to stand between his legs and he wasted no time dragging you in by the swell of your hips. "Besides, I've been holding myself back this whole time until I could get to you again. I got a lot of love to give. Come get your fill."

#Kirishima Eijirou #bnha smut #kinktober #kirishima x reader #do you guys like kirishima or eijiro better #im so used to kiri #but #ya know #also if this fic doesnt appear in the tags i will s c r e a m

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dindooku · 4 years ago

Text

right i know i said i would make this mega juicy but the sad boi hours hit and... well. just read it.

i’m sorry.

You thought you wanted to escape.

You thought you wanted to be free.

You thought you wanted to be alone.

Tradegy only strikes when the mind and soul are in disilusionment; when the body is so preoccupied chasing its lust that it refuses to listen to its reason.

Blind.

rating: Mature/Explicit (had descriptions of blood and violence etc and depressive/dark thoughts)

- please be warned this chapter is sad af, so if you can’t/do not want to read about sad boi hours please do not read

word count: 4,940

————————

You didn't bother sleeping that night, your mind was too busy thinking of ways to escape the Mandalorian.

You were nothing but cheated, it felt like. And upon further contemplation, you'd practically convinced yourself that you didn't mean anything to him and that he'd just played you as everyone else had. There were no feelings, no personal sentiments, no attachment between him and you; and it hurt. He'd gotten what he wanted, and would continue to control and manipulate you behind your back, clutching your sense of freedom and chaining you to the cold confines of the Razor Crest.

You didn't want to believe this, though. You wanted more than anything for your mind to be playing tricks on you, and for your feelings, your true hidden feelings to be true. You wanted him to want you, to trust you. you wanted to work as a team, a power-couple you could say. But the fact of the matter at hand is that Mando had no interest in you helping him, working or even having any sort of independence at all.

You felt so confused.

On one hand, you wanted to stay, to give in and just be the stay at home babysitter Mando wanted you to be. But on the other hand, you wanted to finally be free, to do what you want and just go wild. Gideon had awoken something deep, something dark within you and you knew it'd only be a matter of time before you couldn't contain it anymore. You had to get out and release some energy - you wanted to on Nevarro but Din had stopped you, and you wanted to the other day when he left for his bounty, but yet again Mando demanded you stay on the ship.

It was suffocating.

Your choice was clear. You only really had one option, run. Run as far and as fast as you can. he was one of the best trackers in the galaxy, but you were a vicious machine bred and trained, ruthless and aggressive. You would do anything to taste the sweet buzz of adrenaline again, to feel truly alive once more. You were addicted to it, the smell of violence tugged at your heart, and the sadistic bite of pain made your insides twist and turn in with-drawl. You really couldn't control it any longer. The sweet temptations of the galaxy before you we're all-encompassing.

Back to the plan. It was night, the ship was sunken into the blanket of night. You checked the wall clock, 02:19AM. Perfect; Din would be asleep around now and locked away in his cabin with the Kid - that meant no distractions. You quietly slid out of the bed, silently slipping on your trousers, tunic and everything else you'd need - both your thigh knife holsters and the chest cueress. you slid on the poncho Mando had let you borrow to keep warm and slowly left the cabin.

And you were practically on autopilot. You made no sound as you edged around the hull - ensuring you missed furniture and loose bits of metal as you had memorised the ship in the little time you'd spent on it. You found yourself stood just outside of Din's cabin, right next to the weapons cabinet. You had one shot at this, and you prayed to the maker above that he was in a deep enough sleep to not wake up to the sound of you ransacking his weapons stash. As quietly as you could, you tapped the code into the keypad to the right and the doors swung open, you caught them before they made the classic tap against the wall of the ship.

You didn't have much time, hurry.

You eyed the contents and quickly grabbed the two Karambit knives Mando had gifted you, along with the bag and belt of throwing knives, and two combat Beskar knives too. You *borrowed* a couple of charges as well as a blaster, which you hastily tucked into the back of your pants. You eyed the cupboard for something to holster it in, and you found yourself lucky as you grabbed a secondary thigh holster. You're pretty sure it was one of Mando's shin holsters he used for the Vibro-blade that sat tucked in his boot, but it'd hold the blaster for now and it was small enough to wrap the upper part of your thigh. Perfect. You needed credits too - you hated having to steal from Din, but if you had any chance of getting off if this rock without him, you had to do what was necessary; so you took the bag of credits sat comfy in the corner of the cupboard and emptied a few into your hands. You took what you needed and placed the credits into the pouch with the throwing knives.

With as much caution as before, you closed the doors to the cupboard, to then hastily make your way to the kitchen. You grabbed what you could that was at hand, a few protein bars, an empty flask and a dried packet of fruit. You didn't fill up the flask as you knew the sound of running water would wake Din up - you could find somewhere on the way. He'd left a shoulder satchel in the corner of the room and you swung it over your shoulder, placing more food and other bits into it as stealthily as you could.

You'd got everything you needed, now came the hard part. You crept out of the kitchen and into the main hull, quietly stepping until you were face to face with the ramp. You knew this would wake him up, but you were betting on the fact that he was either in really, really deep sleep or he would be too slow getting up and out to catch the direction you'd be leaving. That was another thing.

Where would you go?

You thought back to your survival training and countless hours spent tracking, stalking targets. You could do this, you were more than qualified. trust in yourself.

You took a deep breath before punching the code into the keypad for the ramp. the loud whir of electric motors grinding into life reverberated through the hull, and you didn't miss the distinctive clash and thud of Din falling out of his bed and trying his best to put his armour on.

But he was too slow.

By the time he'd gotten into the cockpit and aimed his blaster, you were gone.

---

You ran like your life depended on it - well, it pretty much did because you knew if Din caught up to you you were practically dead anyway. The man had pretty good taps on his temper but you were sure that he would just about lose his shit if he got hold of you. And that adrenaline, that fantastic sick rush is what fuelled you to run, and run, and run.

Luckily you had been quick enough to leave the ship, and Din didn't manage to get a grip on which direction you'd left - but you knew he had some sort of tracking gadget in that metal lid of his so you would have to be smart. Find somewhere busy and mix up the tracks, maybe even switch out your footwear or - wait, you could carve a new tread into the soles of your boots; perfect. But not now, because if he was tracking you he'd instantly notice the change - you needed commotion to confuse and render his tracking software useless.

You'd been running for around an hour now - more than your body would normally be able to cope with at this tempo, but you couldn't rest, you had to find a way off of this planet. You took a second to take in your surroundings. The heavy bushland had initially thickened into a desolate forest, but after some time you found the tree density to be thinning out, and after another half hour of running you found yourself at the back entrance to some sort of settlement or town.

You took a second to compose yourself, it was still incredibly early in the morning, but you didn't have time to wait.

You strode into the town, and it became apparent quite quickly that luck was on your side. As you peered around the corner the lights of a shipyard lit up in the far distance of the settlement. It wasn't anything big, but it was enough - a couple of ships lay dormant in the 5 or 6 bays at the far end of town.

You'd never stolen a ship before.

Trying not to act suspicious in case anyone was watching, you walked down through the main street of the town. The grass and moss had all but withered away into a solid dirt track, and the huts made of wood from the forest trees littered the surrounding landscape. It was quiet but serene, and you definitely felt a pang of guilt knowing that you were not the type of person that would be welcome here, you'd only cause trouble; and by the looks of things, they didn't get much trouble around here. Eventually, you found yourself at the entry of the shipyard and you let your eyes roll over the selection of docked ships. Instantly you knew two of the prospective six were off-limits as their owners sat outside, slumped over in their chairs next to each other - and by the looks of the empty bottles of alcohol, they were out for good. This was ideal, things couldn't be better. As you scanned the area, you noticed the ship you'd be taking.

It was an odd shape, but for some reason or another, you couldn't help but feel like you'd seen it before. It was definitely familiar, but from where you wouldn't know. It had a long snout of sorts and was sharp and precise in its craftsmanship. On either side, long triangles perched high, like ears. It was definitely unique, but it was in tidy condition and would do for what you needed.

Taking another look around, you quietly made your way over. To your astonishment, the ship was left unlocked. Surely a ship of this condition wouldn't be left in such a state of complete in-security? Either way, finders keepers.

You pressed the button to open the ramp and quickly made your way inside as it closed behind you. You hurried into the cockpit, instantly recognising the universal controls and powering the ship on. You clicked the holo-map and found the quickest path out of the atmosphere into space, you could worry about where to go later, you just needed to get off the ground. Flipping the switch for the thrusters, you felt the blazing roar of engines vibrate the cockpit and before you could think twice about what you were doing, you'd pulled the control arm back and were lifting into the sky. Turning the ship in a 180 away from the direction of the Razor Crest, you edged your way out from the dock and into the pre-planned flight path you'd programmed just moments before.

And just like that, you were gone. ---

Din awoke to the sound of the Razor Crest ramp opening, and before he could even register what he was doing, he was clumsily stumbling out of his bed and onto the hard dura-steel floor. The Kid awoke with a startled cry, and the bashing and clanking of Beskar being hurriedly worn didn't help matters - he could sense something was wrong. But Din wasn't fast enough, as when the door to his cabin opening and he strode out, blaster pointed and finger itching on the trigger, the hull was empty.

Odd, there's no one here, why - wait.

Din ran over to your cabin but knew better than to barge in. Instead, he hastily rapped his knuckles against the door.

"Hey! Wake up, did you open the ramp, are you ok?" Nothing. Dead silence. He tried again, this time knocking harder and with a bit more haste. "HEY! GET UP," and again, there was no response. Something wasn't right. He knew that breaking into your room was a complete breach of your privacy, but he'd rather deal with the consequences of your wrath than find you hurt, or worse. He shot the blaster into the keypad of the door and it flew open, but what he found was not what he expected. He expected you to either be asleep or to even be mid-fight with an intruder. Not for you to not be there.

This was worse, so much worse.

He turned and punched the side of the wall, groaning out in both parts pain from the impact of his knuckles against the dura-steel, and part from the rage and frustration at the realisation that this was his fault.

You'd left him.

The only person he could ever confide in, to let his guard down and allow himself to have some sort of pleasure in life; the only person he trusted, and you were gone. He didn't have time for this though, he had to find you, apologise, just do something. He couldn't let you just walk away from this, you'd been through too much together, and if you weren't there with him, he couldn't protect you. He'd nearly lost you once, he couldn't do it again.

He all but ran to the weapons locker, grabbing his pulse rifle and a few charges, the usual load-out he would take when tracking a bounty - and that's what he supposed this was, it was his job to track people, its all he'd ever done. Yet he still felt as nervous as his first time - what if he didn't find you?

And then the question of *why* burned its way to the front of his mind. What had he done to push you away like this? Yes, you'd shared a few intimate moments, but he was under the impression that, well, you enjoyed it just as much as he did... what had he done so wrong to make you want to leave, without even saying goodbye? He understood you were frustrated with him for stopping you from coming with him, but he only wanted what was best for both you and the Kid - taking you both with him was just not on the cards, even on a safe planet like this. You were more than capable of holding your own, that was made evident by the way you handled the Bounty that he'd brought back not a few hours ago. It was incredible, the way you moved so effortlessly but with clear, unhinged violence; it was beautiful, *you* were beautiful - yet he hated the ironic bond you shared with aggression and beauty - it was like you couldn't have one without the other, that your DNA was composed of the complicated connection both traits possessed and any attempt to strip or mutate your makeup would ruin you. Deep down he wished you weren't as skilled as you were because then he would have a reason other than his own selfishness to tell you to stay behind. But, he didn't... you were made to fight like he was, and he was being the biggest damn hypocrite by denying your basic rights to freedom.

He had to put these feelings aside. Focus on the task at hand - finding you and making sure you were safe. He would turn this galaxy upside down, wreak undying havoc among those that stopped him from getting to you.

He had to hunt like his life depended on it.

---

You had safely made it out of the upper atmosphere and were now sat comfortably in the vacuum of space. Your fingers trailed the star map in front of you - desperate to find somewhere to bunker low, maybe even take on some underground work and earn a few extra credits, just enough to tide you over so you can resupply and form a contingency plan.

Yavin...nope, Hoth...nope, Mustafar, definitely not...Tatooine...

Tatooine.

Perfect.

You'd heard of the secluded little dust planet on the outer rim, and it was notorious for its harbouring of the Hutts and criminals alike. That's exactly what you were looking for, you'd fit right in; plus you knew it'd be easy to get work, maybe even an underground bounty or two?

You punched in the flight plan and took a swig of water from the flask you'd just recently filled up. you had struck gold with this ship - it was full of food and medical supplies, and even had an impressive cabinet of weapons too. it was exactly what you needed. So, without hesitation, you were off.

_____

You honestly thought he'd have found you by now, but you mused the growing fear that maybe you were right.

He didn't care about you.

It had been eight months now and Din still hadn't shown his face.

Your time on Tatooine had been one you hadn't expected. You initially fled to the sandbox to get away from Din and abuse the freedom you thought you had earned, but the gimmick soon wore thin and now you were living like a hermit in the middle of the desert. You'd tried to save face after a particularly violent cantina shootout which was incidentally but unsurprisingly your fault, and so you fled the small town of Mos Espa. You trawled the desert for a few days until you came across a nice little secluded cave. Upon further inspection it seemed to be abandoned, the telltale traces of a previous life from long ago littered the inside. Dusty blankets and old kitchenware were tidily packed away as if the previous owner knew they wouldn't return, but they left things in such an order in which anyone would still be welcome in their domain. And so you took solitude in this little hiding spot of yours, bringing the ship back for safekeeping by parking it just next to the entrance of the cave.

The supplies on the ship had lasted you a while, three weeks if you rationed sensibly - but you knew you couldn't keep it up for long so get yourself busy with renovating the place. You came across the skeletal remnants of a water catcher and after a couple of days of tinkering, you got the old bit of kit running. That was your water sorted, now just food.

Whilst you had enough credits to last you a while, you reasoned on finding a somewhat stable source of income that would allow you to buy essentials, bits and pieces and any materials you may need to keep the water catcher running. So, at the start of your second week in your new humble abode, you set out for Mos Espa, and after a few drop-ins and questionable interview tactics, you'd managed to grab yourself a job as a barmaid.

It didn't pay particularly well, but it was just enough to get by and put food on the table. Life was simple.

Sweet.

Innocent.

Something you never thought you would be entitled to, something you knew you didn't deserve the privilege of experiencing. You had done enough damage in your lifetime to warrant another full of debt - and yet you found yourself on your back, counting the stars in a constellation you hadn't seen before, the cold touch of night soothing the phantom pain of singularity - the regret of your choice to be alone.

Because as much as you loved this new quiet life you had manufactured, it was nothing worth substance if you were not to share it with anyone.

You craved the intimate connection forged between two souls - that of which you would read about in mythical books of old, or listen upon as wise words were spoken in hindsight around the dying light of a fire. The indescribable feeling of love, companionship, trust.

It was something you had never felt in completion, and the slightest taste had you craving more to the point of insanity.

You thought you wanted to escape.

You thought you wanted to be free.

You thought you wanted to be alone.

Tragedy only strikes when the mind and soul are in disillusionment; when the body is so preoccupied chasing its lust that it refuses to listen to its reason.

Blind.

But you supposed that it all made sense now. The false pretences you had stumbled across, this home you had forged out of desperation for freedom.

Home isn't the place, the bricks or windows or doors.

Home is where the heart is, and your heart resided in the lost arms of Beskar.

_____

"Hey, Grogu?" Din asked from the pilot's seat. The little green gremlin's head shot up out of recognition, his toothy grin and litte 'eh?' spurring the hidden grin igniting on Din's face.

"You think she's ok, out there?" He asked.

"Patoo?" Grogu grunted.

Din chuckled, turning back to face the viewport before replying, "Y'know, wherever she is. Do you think she is doing alright?" He mused, head resting back against the seat. His search to find any Jedi willing to train Grogu had coming up short. Ahsoka had sent him to the seeing stone; she said Grogu would make his decision. His decision was to stay with the Mandalorian. Din was torn by this, he wanted Grogu to learn the way of his people, to become the incredible Jedi he knew he could be - whatever a Jedi truly was anyway; but he also needed Grogu more than many would realise. Din didn't let it on, but the day you left, he had never been the same. He had Grogu, yes, but that was different.

Grogu gave him something to focus on, something to care and nurture, to keep him grounded whenever he found himself wanting to just fly away from the mess he called a life.

But you gave him something to live for. He'd never mourned the loss of presence, of physical contact. He practically lived by a code that repressed said urges; a code that denied any humility. And yet for the last eight months, all he had done was grieve the loss of your lost promises, his own wishes for comfort.

People deal with loss in different ways, but like you, Din found himself being irresponsible. Hed made stupid mistakes. Hed done things he would never be able to seek forgiveness from for simply speaking the words would surely cast him as nothing but wild. Hed committed sins he knew earned him a first-class seat to the fiery pits of beyond, but the pain of your absence was torturous enough as it was, and he'd rather pay his debt with interest than feel the consequences of your disappearance any longer than he needed to. So after the few wreckless weeks of pure unbridled rage, and after a stern intervention from Cara and Carga, he finally managed to see somewhat straight.

He would find you, he had to. He would hunt you down like prey as his life depended on it.

Because it did.

He was truly alone.

The silence had never been so loud.

The nightmares had never been so violent.

______

You'd never seen the place so busy.

It was your lucky night it seemed, as you handed one of your friendly regulars their eighth drink. The cantina was flourishing, overflowing to the point where your boss Roscoe had to open up the back to allow for the partons to use the backyard as a makeshift drinks garden. It was the height of Tattoine summer and the suns were setting later and later into the night with each day that passed. It wasn't just the high suns and glorious weather that attracted your customers though, it was the now tactfully reduced amount of clothing you were wearing,

See, it was tactical for two reasons.

A - it was extremely hot and wearing any layers more than what was necessary was a form of self-punishment - so your ripped dregs for clothing would have to do. B - the fewer clothes you wore, the more tips you made.

At first, it felt wrong to scala van your body in this way, but you really needed the credits if you were to have any chance of leaving this dustbowl. You were tired of waiting for someone who is not coming back. So, anywhere better than here would do.

A loud whistle sounded from the other side of the bar. Rolling your eyes internally you reminded yourself that your shift ended in half an hour and you could be out of here and back in your bed within the hour. You turned, strolling over to the greasy bounty hunter who had called you over, your exposed hips swaying with more swagger than you actually possessed.

"Yes Honey?" You said in the fake charm you wore in the bar.

"Sweetheart, would you mind passing me a glass of your strongest?" The man winked as he spoke, the yellow and black spots of his lack of dental hygiene making you internally cringe. But you needed the credits and you didn't fancy another bar fight.

"Sure Honey, one half of our strongest is coming right up," you mused, seductively winking as you reached up the bar and grabbed the watered-down bottle of Correllian whiskey.

"Here'y'are Darlin, enjoy," winking as you walked away to serve the next customer. But you froze as you turned.

A metallic shine flashed from the far corners of the cantina, hidden.

Your head whipped around at the pace of stars but landed empty-handed. The stall was empty. You really had thought you'd gotten over the Mandalorian by now, and it had been a few weeks since you'd had any fleeting thoughts or wanton urges. But you could've sworn you saw the telltale reflection of Beskar under neon lights. You shook your head at the thought and proceeded with your next order.

"Pretty thing you are aren't ya?"

"Thanks, Daru, such a poet with your words," you giggled convincingly at the regular. Daru had always been kind but his intentions were always clear. He wanted your body. You'd entertained the thought of it as a means of therapy, but it was fleeting and you swore to yourself you wouldn't fall that low. Daru was a handsome man, yes - honey-rich blonde curls and hazy green eyes spoke something of a mystery, of excitement. But the thought of adventure didn't tickle you like it used to, instead it petrified you. That excitement was only fuelled by one, and that fuel was finite.

"Just for tonight sweetheart, I'll make it worth your while," he murmurs, his lips sealed around the edge of the pint glass but his eyes fixed on yours. You lifted an eyebrow at him out of surprise.

"I'm sure you would Daru, but I am tired and haven't eaten all day, I just want to go home." You admit, hoping that the honesty card would steer him clear of you.

"I'll cook ya something if you like?" He offers.

"Its ok Daru, thankyou," you smiled solemnly - he was in no state to cook let alone perform.

"Why is it pretty women like you always turn down good guys like us, hmm?" He spits. You turn from where you'd been walking away, the previous softness you faked for him now shifting into a cold glare, but he continued despite your silent warning, "do ya just want arseholes who fuck you and leave you in the dirt, who hurt you and take what they want without askin'?"

"Daru..." you warn, your hand slipping to hover over the karambit hidden under the ripped chiffon of your thigh.

"What? Are you gonna beat me up, princess? What is a pretty little thing like you gonna do to a fuckup of a man like me? I've hurt people sweetheart." He hisses, standing aggressively and squaring his shoulders to you from across the bar.

The cantina is silent, all eyes now trained on you.

You tried so, so hard not to lose your shit. And you nearly held it together until Daru spoke one too many words.

"You're just a pretty mouth and a fuckable cunt"

Before he had time to react, you pulled him by the collar of his shirt, his face now only moments away from yours.

"And I've killed people, Daru, I've killed people for a lot less," you whisper to just him. His eyes widen, his realisation that the glint in your eye wasn't that of fear, but of restraint. Daru shifted and pulled but it was no use. You grabbed his empty glass from the side of the bar table and smashed it across his temple, the glass shattering and cutting both his head and your palm. But this didn't phase you as you moved your hand to the back of his head and pushed his temple into the glassy shards littering the table. He screamed as the sandy shards embedded into his flesh, but his plight was short-lived as you plunged the sharpened Beskar which hid on your hip into the nape of his neck, pinning his now lifeless body to the table.

The blood poured like a fine rum.

"Out." You mutter, but it was loud enough for those inside to hear and within a few seconds the room was empty.

"He had it coming." Comes a familiar metallic voice.

"Excuse me?" You chide as you look up, but stalling in your tracks.

There he stood.

The plight of your nightmares for the last year.

Confident and swave.

Regrettably so.

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davidmann95 · 4 years ago

Note

So... Crossover #1: any thoughts?

Anonymous said: You seemed not to think much of Crossover #1 on Twitter. Your full thoughts?

wcwit said: So Cates' Crossover #1, best bad comic of the year or just regular pretentious trash?

An incidental note upfront: What you’re seeing there is the apparently SUPER-RARE SECRET VARIANT COVER I unwittingly picked up at the store - at first glance indistinguishable from the standard cover, the kid getting four-color-fucked by mysterious comic book rays is in fact themselves reading a variant cover of the book, rather than the main cover again in an infinite painting-within-a-painting sort of deal that’s the standard.

So I wasn’t gonna get this: my initial post on the comic and what an obviously awful idea it was back when we only knew half the premise and it was known as Pray The Capes Away actually got some out-of-nowhere traction recently, and I’ve grown rapidly tired of Cates’ Marvel work. Even learning that it was going to be Image’s biggest debut in decades - Jesus fuck, how and why - mostly just made me wish it was Commanders in Crisis getting those kinds of numbers. But Sean Dillon/@deathchrist2000 and Ritesh Babu both got early looks at it and assured me that I, specifically, needed to see the last page, so in I dove. I’ll be posting my reaction to the last page below because I recorded it for their amusement, and below that I’ll talk about said last page. It may surprise you, however, that that wasn’t my main takeaway from the issue.

Let’s accentuate the positive first! This book is gorgeous. Geoff Shaw was terrific back with Thanos Wins, but this is an incredible stylistic level-up aided and abetted by Dee Cunniffe’s colors: it’s rote as hell to say “They mix the elevated and the mundane so well!”, but even beyond the obvious ben-day dots stuff there’s such a tangible sense that the comic book beings don’t belong here, that they’re of higher, misty, platonic stuff and we squishy non-paper-people inevitably crumble and break and bleed in their wake, communicating that big idea so much more powerfully than the actual loads of text on the subject. And if we’re talking good things, I’ll concede it’s possible that there could be subtleties that play out in more interesting ways as it goes on, and that not everything is meant to be taken at face value: a smart friend who actually did like it mentioned being interested in it as clumsy but potentially effective exploration of ‘what if the fun hobby you had inadvertently became contaminated and stigmatized by forces beyond your control?’ In a post-Comicsgate world where we recently ended up inches away from the Superman logo almost certainly becoming a fascist propaganda symbol ala the Punisher skull for at least a generation, that’s a defensible lens to view this book through.

For all Donny Cates’ legitimate talents however, I don’t think an expectation of subtlety is gonna work out with this one.

Okay first off getting into the rest of it the main characters’ name is Ellipsis because “Those three little dots...they can become anything”, so there’s that. More importantly, in the world of this story where comic fans face social oppression after superpeople materialize and fuck up Colorado, they face EVERY KIND OF OPPRESSION: there are clear parallels drawn in here to the violence and harassment faced by people persecuted for their religion, people seeking abortions, queer people, and people of color; this motherfucker even drops a “hates and fears” to let us know comic collecting basically makes you one of the goddamn X-Men. Which in theory could be a purely misjudged allegory rather than stemming from actual, obscenely inflated to the point of disgusting fears of ‘nerd oppression’, except that the book literally opens with a quote from Wertham. If Cates didn’t want to make the message “Hating comics? That’s bad. Like, racism bad”, he utterly, grotesquely failed by inextricably intermingling imagery of real-world bigotry with systemic, deluded fanboy paranoia, at least as of this first issue that’s supposed to meaningfully convey the premise. As a queer dude I think I’m somewhat in my lane to say it’s too blunt and broad and dopey to be particularly offensive, but the co-opting of oppression is what this is rooted in.

The idea of ‘comics good no matter what people think, ain’t it?’ extends to the last traditional local comic store standing in this world: much as superheroes are the primary cause of suffering in this world but the point of the story is still supposed to reveal the beauty in them, part of this is that the comics community isn’t perfect but it sure is great. Which is expressed here via Ellie’s boss Otto, a loveable asshole who yells at people coming in trying to sell the wrong kind of comics to fuck off, but at heart is we’re supposed to understand a good enough dude that the shop he runs is “the only home a lot of (the benighted nerds) have left” (because I guess in this alternate universe the physical stores are still the main hub through which comics fans talk with one another?).

So here’s a story of my very own! That’s me in 2013, it must’ve been some kind of special day because I’m wearing a shirt with a button. I’d at that point only frequented one of what would be my thus far four regular comic shops. The first was a great place, and while to say I had a sense of community there would be overstating it a bit, I was on really good terms with the owner and we regularly chatted when we had the time. When I left for college my store there wasn’t as well-stocked, and for some damn reason all variant covers were double-price, but I got along really well with the owner there too. The third I wasn’t so lucky; the guy regularly behind the desk was never overtly hostile, but clearly wanted to wring my neck every time I asked when a missing comic might get in or if I could update my pull list, and given I’m in the ‘ideal’ demographic for being a comic book store regular and was dropping a solid lump of money there every week, I wonder how others were treated there (the store nearly went under, was saved on the last day of operation by another store that wanted to incorporate it as part of its franchise, then shortly afterwards DID go under and is now I believe a beef jerky place). My current store is fine, I didn’t chat much with the folks behind the counter even before we all had medical incentive to get in and out of places fairly quickly but it almost always has what I’m looking for.

Just because those were my regular stores of course doesn’t mean those are the only ones I’ve ever gone to. About a year before that picture was taken - it’s the closest I could find - when I was 17 my store didn’t have something or another I was looking for, so I head across town to see if another place I had looked up had it. This other place didn’t have what I was looking for either, though I distinctly remember picking up a few issues of Hickman’s FF while I was there since I had foolishly fallen off, hence my remembering the year. I bought a couple issues, but hung around for a bit looking to see if I might grab something else out of a dollar box, setting my comics down. Without realizing it, I’d set my books down on top of another issue, and when I decided I wasn’t getting anything else, I just picked that up along with the rest of the pile and was about to walk out before the owner stopped me. He explained what I had done though assumed it had been deliberate, and because I was a good-hearted little geek I even recall thinking “Well, he’s gonna chew me out, but I guess I deserve it. I’ll try and take this to heart as a learning experience.”

Then he pulled up his shirt a little to show me the gun on his belt. He pointed at the security camera monitors at his desk, and explained to me that if I ever did something like that again, he would have it on tape, and he would pull that gun on me and hold me there while he called the cops.

As it turned out, the comic was free.

The whole thing was so sudden and bizarre and unexpected I didn’t actually freak out until the drive home. It wasn’t until weeks or maybe months later that I managed to tell my dad about the experience, because I *had* nearly stolen a (free) comic and my guilt was mixed in with my nerves and I guess I was somehow too close to register just how disproportionate his response was. It wasn’t until now, nearly a decade later and thinking about it for the first time in a long time as I write this, that I wondered if that might have gone differently - especially living in the midwest - if I hadn’t been a white, squeaky-voiced 17-year-old.

So, minor spoiler, when our cantankerous but well-meaning LCS owner yells to call the cops and grabs and yells at a small kid for pocketing a comic (and later displays fantasy racism towards said kid), I am not filled with nostalgic love for the brotherly safe space that is comic book stores, where this guy while not meant to be seen as perfect is still framed in part as a charming, witty representation of Why We Love These Places, And This Community, And This Genre, And This Medium. Cates is clearly drawing on real time at his local stores, but he equally clearly has a very different takeaway from those experiences than me. And I am, again, in a demographic - white, cis-male, abled, bi but more interested in women, disposable income, a lifelong collector - that the industry and a lot of the guys who sell it to us contort themselves around catering to, even if I had a single very negative experience and later an ongoing low-key uncomfortable one to help disabuse me of any notions of the purity of the dork community. In the world of Crossover as of #1, toxicity is intertwined, deliberately or not on the part of the creators, with what we love on the cosmic and small business scales alike, but at least in the latter case it’s the whole picture that’s beautiful, not any single kernel that needs to be worked on to be dug up.

So underneath is my video reaction to the last page of Crossover #1. Very minor spoilers because I mutter the last two words of the comic to myself, but under the video I discuss said final page and some other scattered thoughts. Whether you read that or not, my takeaway is this: I’m fascinated with wherever the hell this thing is going, I’m glad my dad liked it well enough to want to keep getting it because now I’ll get to see where it heads, but my first impression is that this is at heart meant as cheapass Oscar-bait for people who only read Batman. It’s big and high-concept but also small and intimate! It’s meta and about how great you, the reader are for your consumption, especially the consumption of this! It’s going to be in large part about a forbidden love between a couple divided across impermeable social lines (a couple where they’re a seemingly straight white man and woman, but one likes comics)! Maybe it’ll become Not That, and I’m sure it’ll do at least something interesting along the way because Cates has done good stuff before and there are some inherently interesting big ideas for him to play with here, but for the love of god if you’re thinking about getting this buy Commanders in Crisis too or instead, it’s another new book out of Image about superheroes dealing with the collapse of the multiverse but that one is really fucking good.

So the final page splash reveal is that when the comic book child discovered in here got out of Colorado, which has had an impenetrable energy shield erected around it by one of the heroes for years, she and others were ferried out of there...by Superman, as the narration declares that “This is a story...about hope.” They don’t say the word, but she sketches her savior, Ellie and Otto freak out and go “Is that---” when they see it, and on that last page we see that while a crude drawing it isn’t a rough analogue character, it’s a guy with a cape and trunks with an S on his chest. Surprisingly, I don’t have much to say: it’s just another blunt signifier that superheroes rule and are the best, paired with the most utterly devalued notion as of late of what makes Superman special in ‘hope’. I mean, I’m perversely excited to see whether this is building the entire series on a hook it can never deliver on, or if Cates actually has talked DC into an intercompany crossover; believable given they’ve done a bunch of those over the last several years, and why else would Mark Waid be supervising as ‘story editor’ on this? I guess it’ll shake out one way or another with #6 given Cates has said it “has one of the more epic and — I would argue historic — sequences in comic book history in it.” But I’m far less convinced this is gonna truly go into the meaty question of “What does Superman mean and what makes him unique in this world where superheroes in general are indisputably either failures or monstrous bastards given the scale of destruction their presence has brought about, and he himself failed to stop that?” than as some kind of holy grail of how great superheroes are despite how dang violent they’ve gotten these days for the crew to chase after, whatever additional twist will surely be placed upon it. At least he’s kinda helping an immigrant kid get over a wall, if that’s deliberate?

Random final thoughts:

* If I wrote the opening essay and turned it in in a college course, I would be expelled for plagiarizing Grant Morrison. This is not a joke.

* If mainstream American superhero comics ended January 2017 in this universe, its own last ‘crossover’ was Civil War II, which is hilarious.

* God, please tell me if it takes the dive after all that this isn’t somehow tied into whatever Waid’s Superman project is.

* I wouldn’t normally crap on issues with the finer details of worldbuilding, but A. This is rooted in a nominally ‘real’ world playing by recognizable rules, B. I’m ragging on this anyway so what’s the harm, and C. It’s really obvious. So: Why is one of the racists against the superheroes the guy who loves superheroes so much he’s the last holdout in the entire world still selling comic books about them? How does this modestly-sized shop exist long-term with apparently a significant regular customer base if there are no new comics or even reprints to restock with, ever? Who’s buying the serialized cop/cowboy comics that the U.S. government apparently created pretty much overnight (nobody, it’s just another Wertham dig)?

* The solicit for issue #3 proclaims “Don't miss this one, folks. If you do, it just might drive you...mad.”, so now I fear some kind of Ultra Comics riff.

* “Kids love chains” is the most metal-ass quote of all time and I hate that it’s being wasted as an arc title on this book.

#Donny Cates #Geoff Shaw #Dee Cunniffe #John J. Hill #Mark Waid #Me #Superman #Opinion

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imaginetonyandbucky · 4 years ago

Text

The Buy In

Chapter 8: Highs and Lows

By @dracusfyre

The drive back was a study in anticipation; feeling daring, Bucky trailed his fingers along the back of Tony’s hand and up his forearm as he shifted gears, light, teasing caresses that earned him hot looks that made his pulse pound. In return, at stoplights Tony would take his hand off the gear shift and rest it on Bucky’s thigh just above the knee; Bucky held his breath each time, wanting his hand to slide further up, but all Tony would do is rest it there, the warmth and weight of it a promise for later while the curl of his lips said he knew what Bucky was thinking. Bucky, for his part, couldn’t keep his eyes off Tony, able to look his fill while Tony had to watch the road. His gaze roamed from the beginning of crow’s feet at the corners of Tony’s eyes, down to the goatee that framed his wide, mobile mouth. Tony licked his lips, as if he could feel the weight of Bucky’s gaze, and Bucky had to swallow thickly. His eyes trailed down the line of Tony’s throat, to the shadowed divot at the base of Tony’s throat; Bucky wanted to put his tongue there and taste Tony’s skin.

He finally had to turn his head to face the window, exhaling shakily. It had been a long time since he’d wanted anyone this badly; he wondered if part of it was that it had the thrill of the forbidden and had to admit to himself that that was at least part of it. The other part of it was the smug way Tony smiled when he admitted to screwing over some rich asshole, and the way his eyes had lit up when he made one of his friends smile, and the fact that Tony was, objectively, a goddamn good looking man.

Before he knew it, they were back at his place, and Bucky had to direct Tony to a spot where he wouldn’t get ticketed or towed. Tony put the car in park and turned in his seat to face Bucky. “Are you sure about this?” he asked. He reached out and ran a finger over the curve of Bucky’s jaw, leaving heat in its wake. Bucky caught Tony’s hand and pressed a kiss to the inside of Tony’s wrist; he could feel Tony’s pulse pounding against his lips. “Yes,” he murmured against Tony’s skin and felt him shiver.

“Then let’s go inside,” Tony said roughly. “This car is too goddamn small for the things I want to do with you.”

They barely took the time to kick off their shoes before they were reaching for each other, Tony cupping Bucky’s face in his hands while Bucky curled his fingers in Tony’s belt to pull him close. Tony was taking no prisoners with his kiss; he slanted his mouth across Bucky’s once, as a question, and when Bucky parted his lips in invitation he delved inside, tongue thrusting against Bucky’s. Bucky made a sound in his chest, deep and hungry, and turned them so he could press Tony against the door. This close, it was impossible not to notice how much taller he was than Tony, and he used that ruthlessly, crowding into Tony’s space as he let Tony take him apart with his mouth.

“Oh my God,” Tony muttered, pulling back so his eyes could rove over Bucky’s face, pupils blown. Bucky took advantage of Tony’s distraction to shove Tony’s suit jacket off his shoulders, tossing it in the direction of the couch. Underneath the jacket Tony’s shirt was t-shirt soft, and Bucky ran his hands over it, enjoying the feeling of soft cotton over hard muscles, before he slid his hands underneath. He felt and heard Tony’s groan as his hands found warm skin, making him greedy for the other noises he could coax out of him. Tony's breath was warm pants across Bucky’s mouth, and Bucky pressed one more hard kiss to his lips before he was kissing along Tony’s jaw and pressing his teeth against Tony’s neck. He straightened just long enough to pull Tony’s shirt off. Tony’s hands, meanwhile, had been busy on the buttons of Bucky’s shirt, and he swept the plackets aside to put his hands on Bucky’s chest.

This time it was Bucky’s turn to moan. “Bedroom,” he said as Tony ran thumbs over his nipples, and put a hand inside the waistband of Tony’s slacks to pull him deeper into the apartment. On the one hand, he wanted to take his time, but on the other, he felt like he might shake apart if he didn’t feel Tony’s body against his right now. As Tony captured his mouth again, Bucky made short work of Tony’s belt, making another sound deep in his chest as his finger brushed over the hard line of Tony’s erection. Tony inhaled sharply and stilled as Bucky explored him through the soft fabric of his pants, cupping and squeezing.

“You’re going to drive me crazy,” Tony groaned, pulling Bucky down for another kiss with one hand while the other unbuttoned Bucky’s jeans, sliding his hand inside. Bucky felt his knees get week at the touch and wanted to thrust against the sweet, hot pressure. He felt the thrill at the base of his spine that said he was well on his way to coming and the surprise that he was already so far gone made him pull back with a huff of laughter. He rested his forehead against Tony’s and sucked in a few deep breaths, trying to calm down.

“I don’t want this over too quickly,” he said when Tony looked at him with a question in his eyes.

“No," Tony agreed. His eyes roved over Bucky's chest and down to where he was measuring Bucky’s length with his hand. As Bucky's hips flexed into his touch, he said, a little breathlessly, “We can go twice?”

“And that’s why you’re the genius,” Bucky said, and kicked off his pants as he let Tony push him onto the bed.

***

As the early morning sunlight started to spill over the horizon, Tony fell into his own bed with a sigh; he could theoretically catch a few more hours of sleep, but he was too acutely aware of how cold his sheets were and how empty the bed was to sleep. He made the insanely risky move to stay as late as possible before leaving because it felt so good to be in Blue Eyes' bed, to have another warm body pressed against his own, relaxed and comfortable in the soft darkness of a shared night. Leaving had been difficult; he’d tried to extricate himself without waking Blue Eyes up, but the man slept too lightly and had reached for him when he felt the bed move. Even though he'd offered, Tony wouldn’t let Blue Eyes walk him to his car – it was already light enough that someone could see them together – so they’d said goodbye at the door with long, drugging kisses and lingering touches, as if they were both storing them up against a future famine. Leaving the apartment and facing the chill of predawn had been jarring and demoralizing, particularly when the knowledge that that night could never happen again was a lead weight in his stomach the whole ride home.

Rolling over onto his back, Tony threw an arm over his eyes and made a disgruntled sound. If Rhodey found out where he’d been all night he’d curse up a blue streak, starting with “he’s technically your employee” to “he’s probably a cop” to “it might have been a setup” while hitting “you don’t even know who he really is” along the way. Tony couldn’t regret it, though, not when it had been the best night he'd had in years.

He reached for his phone and pulled up the text he'd sent to Blue Eyes earlier; his thumb hovered over the keyboard as he fought the impulse to write something. What would he say though? Thanks for a great night, but we can't do it again? Surely Blue Eyes knew that as well as he did, he had a lot more to lose than Tony if they got caught.

After a long minute he put the phone back down with a sigh and stared at the ceiling as the sky grew brighter. It was going to be a long day.

***

The next day, even though he had been awake when Tony had left in the dim hours of the morning, Bucky was still sad to wake up alone. Tony had said goodbye like he’d known it was the last time they would see each other, and it had made Bucky’s heart wrench as he’d closed the door behind him. He’d stood there for a long moment, head resting against the door, before he’d gone back to bed. The sheets still smelled of sex and Tony, and even though he had hours to go before he was supposed to work, the heaviness in his chest meant it took a long time for him to fall back asleep.

As the alarm on his phone trilled at him, Bucky hit snooze and rolled back over, planting his face in the pillow that still held traces of Tony's cologne. One night was apparently enough to instill a Pavlovian response and he spent a few moments daydreaming wistfully of what it would be like to have morning sex with Tony. Before he could really get into it, however, his phone trilled again, reminding him that all the problems he'd left for Future Bucky were rapidly becoming problems for Right Now Bucky.

“Fuck,” he groaned out loud, then he rolled over and grabbed his phone. As he started coffee and breakfast, he forced himself read through the notifications he’d been ignoring all night. The highlight, of course, was from his handlers on Discord: Great party! Guest of honor never showed tho, bummer. Maybe next time.

“Next time,” Bucky read out loud, and sighed. He banged his head against his kitchen cabinets. If he’d thought it through before he’d panicked yesterday, he would have realized that he couldn’t protect Tony forever; his handler would get suspicious that Tony was slipping through their hands every time. And Tony was far from stupid; once he found out his garage with all of the stolen cars had been the subject of a police raid, he’d be thinking of people who had known about the cars and had been acting suspiciously, and Bucky’s impulsive date night was a huge red flag. He knew Tony wouldn't hurt him if he found out that Bucky was a cop, but imagining the look of betrayal on Tony's face made him feel sick. He closed the app and opened up his text message from last night; it was stupid to think that Tony would have texted him, but he still stared at the phone with disappointment. After a few moments, he deleted the number and set his phone down with a sigh.

"It's going to be a long day," he said to his empty kitchen.

---------

A/N: If you are enjoying this story, come find me over at @marveltrumpshate where I will be participating in auctioning off TWO fanfics! One auction is a fic with art (with @massivespacewren ) and the other is a solo fic. All the money goes to a good cause of your choosing! Hope to see you there!

#tony stark #bucky barnes #tony x bucky #winteriron #no powers au

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yankyo · 4 years ago

Text

Confession

Reverse au! Gender Neutral Demon Reader x Priest Zhuk

Warnings: corruption kink, semi public sex, some Dubcon elements, you blow Zhuk in a confessional my guy, what more to say here

Light filtered through the stain glass windows, the sounds of the choir singing echoing through the building added to the tranquility that usually set his very soul at ease - but today there was one jarring issue that held him at the edge of his seat no matter how he tried to ignore it: you. Father Zhuk Shoggoth was a devout man, he had been raised by this church more than he had been by his mother and when he was of age, he began training to be a priest in hopes of giving back to the community that had done so much for him. Years of his life had been devoted to his craft and his reputation as the kindly priest was cemented into the very foundation of this church after all these years - but unexpected things came out of nowhere it seemed and the very church he now owned was at peril.

Black wings cut through the soft light, your twinkling giggle discordant with the music as your form twisted through the air, though your eyes never left his tense form. "What's wrong, Father, you look like you tasted something sour?" False concern. You looked like you were enjoying yourself far too much, but that was to be expected from the demon that latched itself to his church. It had only been a week now and still he questioned if he hadn't just gone insane. Demons seriously existed? He was a man of faith, sure, but demons? He had thought it was just myth, story, an analogy or something of that nature, but no, you had told him all too gleefully that demons were real and you were just one of the grunts. You had more to tell him, he was certain, but he had spent the last week just trying to ignore your presence with all his might - it seemed like he was the only one who could see you after all and it seemed like you weren't able to truly affect your surroundings so you were more or less harmless. He hoped at least.

"Father, are you ignoring me?" You pouted, somewhere in the back of Zhuk's mind he could admit the sight of you was strangely cute, even with the twisted horns on your head and the fangs he could see poking into your plump lower lip. He would never admit this out loud, of course, he was a man of faith, he wasn’t someone who could be entranced by the likes of you, right? Or at least, that was what he told himself. “You’re mean, you know, first person who can see me in half a millennia and you just ignore me. That’s hurtful, you know.” He fought the urge to scoff at your cheeky little grin. Just don't react. They’ll go away so long as you don't react. He had been repeating that mantra in his head for the past week and yet each time he returned to the church, there you were, as if waiting for his return like a loyal pet. Like a dutiful little kitten. It was hard not to see you like that, especially now as your tail swayed gracefully behind you as you nuzzled up against him so sweetly. The only one who could see you and apparently the only one who could touch you - at least until he said your name three times you claimed. You hadn’t even thought to ask him more than once to say your name, when he had shot you down flat that first time you had only smiled and told him that you were more than happy to just have him for now. He wondered just how true that was, but you didn’t stray far from his side and while you seemed to enjoy teasing him constantly, you never turned that onto anyone else or tried to embarrass him too much in front of other people.

“Father Shoggoth?” He cut out of his thoughts and turned a gentle smile onto the young lady that approached him. Catherine Smalls - a newcomer to the church that had only been around for a couple of months, but she had eagerly joined the community and would often come around as church was ending to offer him help or just to talk to him about the day’s sermon.

“Yes, my child?” At his side, you stiffened slightly, your grip tightening on his arm as you shifted up in your spot.

“Ah,” She blushed and fidgeted with the hem of her dress, “I don’t really know how to go about this, but, I would like to.... confess?” She glanced back to the confessional booth before looking back to him.

“I understand,” He rose to his feet, “The congregation is already filtering out, would you like to confess now?” At his side, you practically curled around his arm, your tail wrapping around his wrist tight enough to cut off blood flow. “I’ll go take my place inside the booth, feel free to join me whenever you’re ready.” Confessing sins was not always the easiest thing to do, after all and it seemed as if she was already nervous.

“Fuck, you’re thick.” You scoffed, the curse making him stiffen slightly even as he walked away.

“You’re in the house of god, mind your language.” He hissed under his breath before inwardly cursing himself, he wasn’t supposed to acknowledge you at all.

“Father Shoggoth, I would like to... confess~” You mocked her tone, not even responding to his retort. “How much you wanna bet she’s gonna do something cheesy like confessing how she’s been having ‘sinful thoughts for a man of faith’?”

“Stop.” This time you did respond, letting out another scoff before tearing yourself from his side to zip off somewhere deeper into the church, leaving him alone finally. You’d be back, you always returned to his side after all, and he had a job to do he couldn’t just run off to see what this new little tantrum was about when he wasn’t even supposed to be acknowledging your presence to begin with. So why did he look after you, trying to see where you had run off this time? And why was the sudden silence strangely heavy now? He tried to just ignore the feeling as he settled into the confessional, reaching up to take his cross in hand and utter a small prayer to the lord for guidance, though before he could finish his prayer he heard Catherine open the door and settle in on her side of the booth. Through the partition, he could vaguely see her form, see her take in a nervous breath before she began to speak.

“Forgive me father, for I have sinned. It’s been...” She broke off, letting out an anxious laugh, “It’s been forever since my last confession.”

“Speak, my child, and be heard,” He urged, keeping his voice soft and supportive. For a moment, she was silent, as if summoning up her courage.

“Father, I haven’t lived the greatest life, I’ve stolen and I’ve lied and I’ve cheated, but coming to this church has given me new life to try and strive to be better.” Hands slid along his shoulders slowly, the touch so light he almost didn’t notice it until he head your soft giggle. Don’t, he looked back at you, hoping to ward you off with just the look but you just smiled at his stern scowl and swung around to straddle his lap.

“Come on, Father, you should be listening to what she has to say, don’t you think?” He moved as if to try to push you off his lap, but his hands were glued to his sides as if held there by some unseen force.

“Everyone has been so welcoming and nice and you,” Catherine continued not even noticing the slight struggle going on next to her. “You’ve been so kind and supportive. Honestly, I don’t think I could have come as far as I have if you weren’t here. I’ve been to so many churches and tried to find faith so many times, but it always ended up the same. But coming here, I found myself just captivated by your sermons. They helped me get through my weeks.”

“Aw, how sweet.” You sneered, “Don’t you think that’s just the cutest thing you’ve ever heard? You’ve given her new life.”

“I’m glad.” He gave you a glare, but tried to keep his tone soft. “I try to be welcoming to everyone who walks in through these doors.”

“Liar.” You whispered, “You’ve been trying to chase me out since day one. Is that special treatment or just discrimination?” He shook his head, fighting the urge to shush you so he could focus.

“I... I feel guilty, Father Shoggoth. I haven’t been coming to church with the purest mind as of late.” His heart sank at your grin.

“See? I told you so. Pretty young thing like her comes into a new church and falls for the handsome Priest, tale as old as time.” You slid off his lap and onto the floor, your hands pulling up his robes up his thighs.

“Stop.” He couldn’t stop himself this time. No matter how he tried to yank himself free, he was glued in his spot, forced to just sit there as your hands settled on his thighs.

“Sorry, father, I, I just-”

“No!” This wasn’t him, he didn’t panic, he didn’t lose his cool. Not like this. “I’m sorry, I was just... trying to wrap my head around this. You may continue.”

“Are you sure?” Both Catherine and you spoke up at the same time, her soft and hesitant, you with a teasing lilt to your voice.

“I...” Your hands were cold, but the touch was soft as you rubbed his thighs, just waiting for his approval. “Yes.” No, no, that’s not what he meant to say. He shouldn’t be giving you permission like this. He should be fighting to push you off still. He should... why were you still just sitting there?

“Tell me, Father, tell me you haven’t ever thought about this? Tell me to stop.” A shiver worked its way up his very being now, a ball of warmth unfurling in his stomach.

“.... Continue.... Please.” Catherine let out another breathy little laugh, this one much giddier than the last.

“Ok Father.” She replied, sounding so giddy it make his heart squeeze with guilt - but that feeling couldn’t last long as you reached for his belt and undid it with ease, your hands delving into his pants to pull out his rapidly hardening member.

“I don’t even know when exactly it started, maybe I felt this way the very first time I saw you. You look so dashing up on the stand, the way the light falls on you, your robes, your physique... you’re just so handsome.”

“She’s right.” You agreed with a purr as your fingers trailed up his cock, the cold sensation making him shudder. “But you know, I think you’re the most handsome when you step off the stand. When the robes come off and that fake smile is gone.”

“You really hold everyone captivated. Honestly I wouldn’t be surprised if no one even breathes until you’re finished. We all sit hanging off your every word. I know it’s not just me, half the women in the church wouldn’t hesitate to be by your side if you gave them even the smallest look.” He could hardly focus on what she was saying, not when you were giving him that look and your plump lips opened to let your tongue loll out. Slowly, so slowly he could almost scream, you licked the head of his cock before you took him into his mouth. Inch by painfully slow inch, you bobbed your head to take his cock deeper and deeper into your sinful mouth, sucking gently all the while. His nails dug into his hands from the sheer strain it was not to moan out loud as his cock pressed into your throat and you just sat there, just softly sucking on his cock and driving him out of his mind. ".... what do you think of that, Father?" He jolted to, trying to retain his composure, but surely failing miserably.

"I... about what?" Catherine gave a gigge anyways.

"I never thought you would be so shy, Father, its actually rather cute how flustered you are." If only she could actually see what was going on in the booth next to her. If she could see his throbbing cock, his heaving chest as he held back the moans, the pleas that wanted to come out. He was far from the refined man he was known to be, but he couldn't bring himself to even care. "What would you think about maybe looking into this attraction and going on a date with me? We could go to the park or have dinner. I know you've taken your vows, Father and I'll go as slow as you want me to." You snickered now, your tail wrapping around the base of his cock as you pulled back. It took everything inside of him not to beg you to keep sucking him off. He was about to cum, and God help him, he wanted to cum down your throat.

"Answer her, Father. Tell her how slow you like it." Your hand was stroking his cock again, your pointer finger tapping the leaking head to collect the precum and smear it along the length of his cock. He wasn't sure where the strength came from, maybe you were too distracted or maybe the effect just wore off, but he reached out for you without any trouble and took your horns in hand and yanked your head back down. You let out another giggle, but your mouth easily opened and you didn't fight him at all as his cock slid straight back to your throat.

"My child, I don't know about that." How he was able to keep his voice steady, he would never know, "dating one of my congregation... I don't know if it would be a good idea."

"But... but Father!" Catherine's hand laid on the partition, her voice pleading. "Just give me a chance, let me show my devotion to you. I... I know this is a sin to long for a man of faith this much but I... I just can't stop thinking about you!" Your drool was leaking into his pants, fuck you were messy, but the sight of your wet face, those watering eyes, those lips stretched around his cock - he bit back a growl and forced your head down once more, holding you at the base of his cock as he came down your throat.

"At... at least give me time to think about it." He ground out. Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck! He couldn't remember a time he had come so hard. But you swallowed every last drop dutifully and as his limp hands fell from your horns, you pulled back to show him the cum gathered on your tongue before you swallowed that too. Lord in heaven, forgive me. He reached out for you, pulling your smaller body into his so he could kiss you, one hand on your waist, the other laced in your hair as he licked the traced of his cum from your sweet mouth. Until all he could taste was you.

There was no telling how long he say there just kissing you, but eventually the need for air won out and he pushed you back.

"Catherine, my child, as penance-"

".... she already left." You informed him, sounding as breathless as he did. "She said something about being glad you listened and think about the date and she wants to hear your answer next Sunday." .... he hadn't even noticed her leaving.

"Ah." Was all he could say. Finally, he started to get to his feet, putting himself together as he did so. Thankfully, his robes covered the mess you made of his jeans, but how was he to get to his car without anyone seeing?

"You gonna do it?" He raised a brow at your question, your sudden, almost meek, tone. "You gonna date her? I mean, I get it. Pretty, devout. Human." You muttered the last word almost bitterly. "Seems like a match made in heaven."

".... no." Your sullen face perked up slightly at that, "I've already got my hands full with a sly little kitten."

"I didn’t know you had a cat. Can I see her? Cats can sometimes see me if I try really hard, but going to people's houses is kinda hard if I don't know exactly where they are. I mean its not like I can really leave the church without permission anyways and-"

"I don't have a cat." He cut you off, sidestepping you to leave the confessional.

"Huh?" You floated after him, looking bewildered. He remained silent as he walked through the church, giving nods to the few who still remained to clean up after service until he had made it to his little office in the back. "Hey! You're acting weird, Father. Is this about the blowjob, cuz you gave permission and that last part was all you and-" he cut you off again the moment the door fell shut, once more grabbing you to pull your body against his and kiss the words out of your mouth.

"Do you ever shut up?" He asked, a wolfish grin spreading across his face at your flustered face. Cute. "How do I give you permission to leave the church?" Your confused expression was back. "I can't just leave my kitten behind, can I?" Lord, he knew he was going to go to hell, but that sweet smile that spread across your face was the only taste of heaven he needed. At least until he could lay you down on his bed and get between your thighs.

#beetlejuice fanfiction #beetlejuice smut #the conglomerate #zhuk #priest au #mafia don

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yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years ago

Text

The Grey Palace

So this a book I’m really hoping to actually finish! It’s a horror slasher story, but it’s set on a cruise ship. I’m posting the first chapter for my followers to read if they’re interested in following along with the creation and storyline! Feedback is greatly appreciated!

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A sleek grey seagull was perched on the wooden guard rail around the churning green ocean. It shifted from foot to pink foot, ruffling unruly feathers, and squinted beady black eyes up at the giant ship looming above it. It looked suspicious of the vessel, and even more suspicious of the people boarding its mass.

The Grey Palace was the greatest cruise ship to ever exist--or so all the Yelp reviews claimed. It included casinos and spas and waterparks and food! But only if you pay for it, because it’s not like you already paid $425 for a single ticket for your four person family.

It was a colossal sea beast, made out of the finest and toughest extra-strength steel plates and boasting the largest size of a cruise ship in the whole world at a staggering 1,854.25 feet in length and 265.74 feet in height. It had a tonnage of 230,000 gross tons, outweighing every other ship in the business. Its hull could shatter icebergs, its bow could split the sea in two, its propellers were more powerful than any jet or rocket in the entire world. Luxurious lounges and steamy spas promised the best relaxation, the waterpark and Kid’s Club proclaimed full entertainment for children, and the restaurants provided the best food on the seven seas. It got its name from the lustrous grey color it was painted, reflecting rainbows all across the body of the ship.

Everybody wanted to board the floating Palace, and only a select few got the invitation into the Aquatic Kingdom.

But in this case, a “select few” meant 8,700 people.

The boarding dock was clamored with passengers. Families that made the mistake of keeping their luggage on them instead of turning it in to the porters, families that trying to keep all their kids from running off, families already bickering over what they were going to do first, all packed into one area that was treacherously close to the ocean and a giant ship that would easily be able to sweep a fallen victim underneath its mass. One woman had her toddler on a child leash like it was a dog, tugging on the rope every once and awhile when the kid tried to run off. Another mom was herding her family in close to take a selfie, earning disgruntled noises from the children when they had to squint and smile up into the sun. A man was loudly talking to a video camera he was holding, most likely making a vlog for YouTube that would only probably get 67,000 views and 1,230 likes. Worryingly close to the edge of the dock was a pair of kids, pointing into the water and calling out what they saw while their parents obliviously chatted with some other people. Several porters were furiously helping everyone board, sweat beading their brows as they worked diligently.

The seagull watched them all, raising its beak in a haughty manner. It seemed miffed by the intrusion of so many humans in its territory, but didn’t have the strength or size to do anything about it, so it just gazed judgmentally from a distance. Its dark eyes shifted over to the girl looking back at it, then screeched in surprise when she was shoved, jerking open its narrow wings and leaping away into the air.

“Come ON, Violet!!” Ethan shrieked.

Violet staggered to the side, nearly tottering into someone behind her while she attempted to regain her balance. She clenched her fists, growling softly in her throat for a moment before letting her anger dissolve away.

“I’m coming,” She said.

“You’re being SLOWWWW!!” Aiden yelled, earning a few glances from other people because of his volume.

“Sorry,” Violet muttered, hunching her shoulders in.

Her family bustled across the port, getting closer and closer to the gangway with each, but before they could cross the threshold, a ship photographer jumped into their path, wearing a painfully cheery grin and brandishing a bulky camera.

“Would you like to take a family photo before boarding?” She asked, waving an arm to a photobooth set up. The backdrop was of The Grey Palace sailing.

“Can we, Mama?” Felicity asked Deandra eagerly, tugging at her arm.

Deandra smiled down at her. “Of course, dear!”

They hustled over to the backdrop. Violet attempted to follow, but Tobias stood in her path and firmly said, “Not you.”

Violet backed away obediently, not bothering to argue.

She watched as the seven of them posed for a photo, the epitome of a white, rich family. Deandra was fifty-four, but she was constantly being praised for how good she looked for her age. Unblemished, glowing ivory skin, clear of any wrinkles, and dyed champagne blonde hair. Her neck and wrists were loaded with jewelry, but her hawk-like amber eyes were sharper and brighter than the diamonds she wore, always locating every one of Violet’s flaws.

Tobias was like her toy, even though he was older, bigger, and burlier than she was. He was as nicely dressed as his wife, clad in a tweed jacket despite the summer Whittier heat and expensive jeans and a gold watch that cost more than all their tickets combined, but he still had the face of a lizard, dull blue eyes, and brittle, greying hair that he would slather with enough gel to start a fire. But he was rich, being one of the top congressmen in the state, and had a sharp-tongue that pleased Mother, both audibly and physically, and was very easy to walk all over. Violet guessed that was why Mother even kept him around.

Carly was their pride and joy. She had a supermodel body, thin and tan, with long, luscious blonde hair and the bright blue eyes of Father. She was pretty, but cruel, like a diamond wrapped in barbed wire. Her words were always loaded with venom, manipulative and cunning and bearing no mercy or guilt over what she said. She was harsh and cold, which was probably why she still wasn’t married at twenty-seven, and when Violet told her this after her favorite paints were stolen, she beat her into unconsciousness. Violet still had the long, winding scar across her left side from when she had been lashed with the sharp edge of a broken flower vase.

Tobias Jr., or just Toby, was the exact opposite of the man he was named after. Out of all her siblings, he was Violet’s favorite. He was a coward and a boot-licker, but he was genuine and had a good heart. He got Violet into The Walking Dead and once cleaned off her back when Father whipped her with his belt after she talked back over something controversial, but provided little help against her mistreatment, being just as scared to stand up to their parents. Still, it was a step up over everyone else. His dark amber eyes were doe-like and his brown hair was always unruly no matter how much he brushed it. In a way, he almost reminded Violet of the seagull, watchful and cautious.

Felicity was Mother’s mini me and Father’s little princess. Her wavy hair showed the natural hue of Mother’s, honey blonde, but her eyes were the deep blue of Father’s. She was incredibly slick and deceptive, as well as exceptionally greedy, always able to get whatever she wants whenever she wants it. She was dripping with as much jewelry as Mother was, maybe even more, and looked at everyone else with great disdain, disgusted at how ugly they were compared to her. Her voice was like the squeal of a pig, and she often preened herself in any reflective surface that could serve as a mirror. At age eleven, she already thought she was the queen of the world.

Aiden and Ethan were nothing but imps. Violet didn’t even know why Mother and Father had them; there was no point in their existence. They just lived to take up space and time and money, but their parents treated them like they were heirs to the throne. They were near identical, with dirty blonde hair in a mushroom-like shape around their heads and eyes so dark they looked brown instead of amber. All they seemed to know how to do was eat food and cause chaos, often forcing themselves into Violet’s personal space just to annoy her.

That was the Nicotero family. The rich, flawless Nicotero family, perfectly happy without the illegitimate child chained to them by blood.

Violet, the kid who the congressman cheated on his wife to have on accident, named after a flower because her father couldn’t think of anything better than the plant he saw squashed on the side of the sidewalk when he was fleeing the scene after stealing her from her mother’s breast mere days after being born.

Violet, the girl with weirdly pale grey eyes that no one else in her family had and hands that never seemed to stop fidgeting with things and an overly anxious mind that contrasted with a bursting internal temper.

Violet, the library for all the should have’s-could have’s-would have’s, an encyclopedia of everything that shouldn’t have happened, an example of what her siblings were not supposed to be.

Violet, the fifteen-year-old with vibrant petals curled towards her family, but poisonous roots lying beneath, just like her name’s sake.

“Say ‘cruise ship’!”

“CRUISE SHIP!!!”

The camera flashed and the photo was taken.

Violet blinked her eyes; they were sore in the sunlight. She shifted from foot to foot as she waited for her family to finish up at the photobooth. She wondered if they would put it on the fridge like all the other photographs she wasn’t a part of. They never put up the things she was in.

“Come on! Come on! Come on!” Felicity yipped, pulling on Father’s arm. “I wanna get on already!!!”

“We’re coming, we’re coming,” Father chuckled. He somehow had all the patience in the world when dealing with the squealing Felicity, but once yelled at Violet for taking too long to tie her shoes.

The Nicotero family pushed their way through the crowd to the closest gangway, shoulder checking other people and trodding over feet without pity in the process. Violet did her best to apologize to anyone they disturbed, seeing as no one else was, so she walked down the walkway and glass doors slightly turned around, and when she faced forward again, she got her first glimpse of the place where she would be spending the next one hundred days.

The main atrium was a giant room with a high-vaulted ceiling and looked like it had been carved out of glass; every surface was shiny and spotless. There were spiral staircases and grand steps and visible catwalks coiled around the walls, all bursting with activity. A marble fountain with intricately designed leaping dolphins was burbling softly in the center of the room, and King the Silver Polar Bear, the mascot of The Grey Palace, was standing in front of it, waving to passengers as they came in and occasionally taking photos with kids who came up to him. Violet must have been staring for a bit too long because he spotted her and pointed, then waved her over. Violet shook her head and said, “No thanks” but Felicity shoved her over with a shrill, “Go say hi, Violet! Someone actually wants to see you!”

Violet staggered forward, feeling that sensation of rage bubble up inside of her again, but, like before, it dissipated rather quickly, as there was nothing she could do. She merely sighed and looked up at the large grey bear now looming over her.

“Umm… Hi.” Violet said awkwardly. What were you even supposed to say to the mascots? Especially when you have to talk to them against your will?

King waved cheerfully. The head of the suit was set in a petrified, open-mouth smile and the eyes were permanently wide and glowing with glee. It was almost unnerving in a way. Was the person underneath the mass of grey fur as happy as the skin it was wearing?

“Uhh… Sorry, I don’t really know what to say.” Violet said, cringing internally. Her cheeks felt like they were on fire.

King made a dismissive hand gesture, then pat her head. The action felt profoundly awkward, but Violet was polite and said goodbye before shuffling back over to her family with her head ducked. Felicity and the twins exploded into high-pitched giggles.

“Violet. Don’t run off.” Mother said sharply, staring down her nose as Violet.

“Yes, Mother,” Violet muttered.

Carly suddenly looked up from her phone. “We should go get drinks. The rooms probably aren’t ready yet.”

Mother nodded. “Good idea.”

She led the pack through a wide hallway, whisking by other passengers like she was the queen of the Aquatic Kingdom. On the way, Toby shuffled over to Violet.

“I don’t like those people in costumes,” He said. “Gives me the creeps.”

Violet peered up at him. “How old are you?”

“Oi! Rude!” Toby elbowed her gently. He never tried to purposely hurt her. “So… What do you think?”

Violet gazed around the hallway. It was lit up brightly, casting colorful shadows across the painted walls.

“It’s nice,” Violet said. “Nicer than any place I’ve been to. Aside from the house, of course.”

She had been shocked when Mother told her about the cruise a week before her freshman year ended. It was going to be a big family trip, and she was actually invited. Usually she was left out of these things. Being alone at their mansion for a week or so at a time while the rest of her family was out travelling or on vacation had been a normal affair ever since she was eleven.

Toby frowned for a moment at that, then quickly said, “It’s gonna be fun.”

They passed through a set of glass doors and entered onto one of the many decks. Surprisingly, there weren’t too many people out yet, as everyone was probably still getting checked in or exploring. Mother glided over to a canopy bar and began ordering.

They probably spent an hour at that bar, sipping brightly colored cocktails and chatting avidly over their plans for the trip. Violet stayed out of it, of course. She sat at the smooth wooden counter, twirling a pink drink umbrella and scrawling mindless thoughts in a small purple notebook to pass the time.

An elbow as pointy as a dagger jabbed into her back at one point, making her pen streak across her page, leaving a permanent black like through the written words. She clenched her jaw and turned around.

“Yes?”

“Come ON!” Felicity said. “We’re going to go eat!”

“Didn’t you hear us talking?” Father squinted at her.

“Sorry. I must have dozed off.” Violet said.

Carly scoffed. “You shouldn’t even be here.”

Nobody said anything against this. Violet didn’t, either.

They went to the buffet where lunch was waiting, and Mother grumbled about how many people there were, but they eventually sat down to eat, their plates piled with food. Violet got more than she intended, but ate everything, just now realizing how hungry she was. She got judgemental looks from her family, but she did her best to just ignore them.

After lunch, they finally checked into their cabins. They got the suites, of course.

Mother, Father, and the twins got the largest room, one with a queen bed and bunk beds for Aiden and Ethan. Carly and Felicity room together, while Violet stayed with Toby. It was fine with her, really. She rather be with her older brother than any of the others.

The rest of the day was spent preparing for the trip. Toby took the twins and Felicity to get signed up for the Kid’s Club, while Carly hooked up with some friends also on the cruise, Mother went to make reservations for the spa, and Father already began drinking.

Violet stayed in her cabin, writing away in her notepad while listening to the TV drone on. She finally got up and went out when the sun began to set, unknowingly stumbling right into a departure party on the main deck.

Music blasted as thousands of bodies writhed around together. Several people were in the pool, splashing around loudly, while others were watching the entertainment shows with great interest. Violet couldn’t stand all the noise, so she ventured to the back of the ship and watched as the land slowly disappeared on the horizon.

A man leaned against the railing a few feet away from her as the golden-orange sunset was starting to turn a bright red color. After he blew out a wisp of smoke from the lit cigarette he had, he said, “This is gonna be one hell of a trip.”

As the first firework was set off at the deck, Violet replied, “You can say that again.”

#the grey palace #lizzie’s dumb book #my writing #horror #horror story

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illfoandillfie · 5 years ago

Text

No Particular Place To Go

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Reader

Summery: Roger takes you on a drive

Warnings: None really. Some swearing, some talk of sex but nothing explicit, driving without a seatbelt

Words: 1724

A/N: I didn't really plan to write this but I was sitting on a bus listening to my 50s playlist today when No Particular Place To Go by Chuck Berry came up on shuffle and it inspired me. Something short and cute to tide you over until I can finish one of the other things i'm working on.

Also did you know seat belts weren't compulsory in the UK until like 1983!

Taglist: @laedymoon @dtfrogertaylor @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @supersonicfreddie

You knew it was Roger’s car coming down the street the second you heard the growl of the engine. It didn’t have the low whine of the woman next door’s car or the sickly chug of the one from across the road that pissed Roger off every time he heard it. He strongly believed a car that nice should belong to someone who’d look after it properly and not the prick who had it. As if to prove that he made sure his own set of wheels was at its cleanest and smoothest running whenever he picked you up for a date. You weren’t sure if it was a pride thing or just a determination to be better than annoying assholes or if it was because he’d caught the guy checking you out one hot afternoon. Whatever the reason it kept things interesting. And stopped Roger from outright punching the guy. Plus it meant you could recognise Roger’s engine within seconds, having heard him purr his way to your door every time you had a date. Which is why you were already skipping down the front steps before he could step out of the car. “Hi love,” he grinned as he pulled you into a hug, “you ready to go?” “Yeah, where are you taking me?” “On a drive,” He shrugged as he pulled the front passenger door open for you, “nowhere particular. Just thought it might be a bit of fun, you and me and the open road.” “Sounds very romantic Rog.” “Damn fuckin’ right it will be.” You couldn’t help but laugh as he shut the door and made his way round to the driver’s seat. He looked bemused as he glanced over and saw you buckling your seatbelt. “You are the only person I’ve ever met who bothers with that thing.” “You say that like you meet hundreds of people every day when we both know that’s not true. Honestly, I can’t believe you don’t buckle up. The number of scrapes you’ve gotten into.” “Hey! It’s not that many,” he half laughed as he pulled out onto the road. “There was like three last week if I’m not mistaken – the pole you hit when you were reversing, that scratch you spent hours buffing out from that little red car you got too close t-” “Okay okay, point taken. But,” he glanced in the mirror as he pulled up at an intersection, “counter argument.” It was a good thing the road was quiet because Roger leaned in to kiss you softly, fingertips dancing over your jaw, making you entirely forget what your third example was. If you hadn’t been sat in the passenger seat of a running vehicle you would have been more than happy to let Roger keep kissing you. But, instead you whispered his name against his lips the first moment he pulled away long enough for you to get the word out. “Said you were gonna take me on a drive,” “Technically I did.” “Only three streets from home,” “Exactly, three whole streets. Haven’t gone too far to turn around yet,” “Rog, c’mon,” He sighed and leaned in for one final kiss before he faced forward again, looked right and left and then kept driving, “You sure you don’t wanna head home?” “Get me more than three streets away and you’ll get more than a kiss.”

The sun was beginning to set as you reached the highway. Roger had stolen a few more quick kisses at various red lights and stop signs, but for the most part he was well behaved. You fiddled with the radio as he drove, trying to find a decent station to listen to as you got further and further away from home, singing along to whatever songs you landed on between bursts of conversation. It was while you were singing along to an advertising jingle you’d heard a thousand times that you caught Roger looking at you. “What is it?” “Nothing. I love you,” “I love you too, Rog,” A giggle was pulled from you as Roger threw his arm around you and tugged you to lean against his side, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head. It did absolutely nothing to stem the rising urge to kiss him again. But he was driving and, now that you were out of the backstreets, there were more cars around to be mindful of. So you leaned your head on Roger’s shoulder, fingers twitching in your lap with the desire to get closer, to hold him properly, no steering wheels or seat belts in the way. You tried to distract yourself from those thoughts by suggesting you play eye spy or something similar, but the game didn’t last long. The dying light made it harder and harder to see things clearly enough and, though you thought you were doing an admirable job of keeping yourself under wraps, Roger wasn’t doing so well. His breath was coming noticeably harder and seemed to catch in his throat whenever you leaned your head against his shoulder, his voice was rougher, and you could have sworn his pants were a bit tighter than they had been when he got into the car.

When you noticed the first stars appearing in the sky you spoke up, “should we pull over?” Roger nodded and jerked the car onto the grass on the side of the road. You hoped he hadn’t done something stupid and got the wheels stuck but the thought was driven from your mind when the noise of the engine died down. “Been wondering when you’d ask instead of making all those cute little needy sighing noises. And you’re nipples have been poking through your shirt for so long now it’s a miracle I stayed so focused on the road.” “Shut up and kiss me again,” Roger’s face broke into a grin as he did as you’d requested, clearly as eager to get his hands on you as you were to touch him. He twisted towards you more as his tongue ran over your bottom lip, one hand cupping your face. His other hand dropped down to your chest, pinching and squeezing over your shirt. Your arched into him as much as the seatbelt would allow, torn between grabbing him back and undoing the belt. Your nails scraped over the release button, bumping against Roger’s as you both fumbled with it. But neither of you managed to hit it properly, the belt staying tight. You let out a breathless chuckle that Roger happily swallowed as you moved your hand up to his jaw, letting him unbuckle you. He groaned softly when there was no pop and shifted in his seat. “Stupid fucking thing,” he mumbled against your lips as he tried a second time to release you. When he was met with the same problem he pulled away, focusing all his attention on the buckle. “Rog, what are you doing?” “It’s not….You try, I’m at a bad angle,” You rolled your eyes, “Y’know if you used yours more you’d know how to get them un- Fuck. It’s not working,” “What?” “Rog I’m stuck. Your piece of shit car has me trapped,” “Hey, she’s not that bad,” “Mmhmm, sure,” you tugged on the belt, the panic rising in your chest and not being able to get loose, “because everyone knows the good cars have these sorts of problems,” “Stop talking shit about the car, you’ve obviously buckled it wrong. Give me a second,” Roger said in response to your look, flinging his door open so he could run around to yours. He wrenched I open hard and bent over your lap to try and get a better look as he once more attempted pressing the button in. It didn’t budge. “Well?” you pulled on the belt again. “It’s gone all stiff, I need more leverage I think,” he half climbed into the car, only one leg remaining on the ground outside and tried to put more of his weight into it. You burst out laughing, unable to hold back at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. Roger joined in, his face falling against your neck as he tried to collect himself. “Is there anyway you can just fuck me like this?” You asked, through the laughter, wiping tears from your eyes. “Don’t think so. Maybe I could get my finger’s in there?” A fresh burst of laughter took you both over, Roger stumbling backwards out of the car again.

When it finally passed the worry kicked back in, your chest tightening at the thought of never being free. It was the same feeling you got when your head got stuck in your shirt. “What are we going to do, Rog?” Roger looked you over, scratching his head, “I don’t know. Something.” “That’s not helpful. I’d really quite like to not be stuck like this for the rest of my life, thanks.” “We’ll get you out, just keep trying while we drive, okay? I’ve got some oil back at my place that might help,” Roger let out a breath and shook his head, “Can’t believe my piece of shit car fucking cockblocked us.” You giggled again as he got back into the drivers seat, shaking his head, “So you agree it’s a piece of shit,” “Uh, no, you don’t get to bash on my car, only I get to do that. And if you just didn’t bother with the belt like a regular fucking person. Or if you’d let me turn around before we got too far,” You poked your tongue out at Roger. It was quiet except for the radio and the engine as Roger turned the car around and headed back the way you’d come, he mood so different to when you’d pulled up. Your body still hummed with desire but it was more subdued now, though you were sure it would be back in full force the second you broke loose. “I promise I’ll get you out,” Roger said softly, glancing over at you, “even if I have to cut the belt in half.” “I know,” you tugged on it again, hoping that the movement of the car would loosen it somehow, “But can you also promise that if I manage to get it undone while we’re driving, you’ll pull over the first chance you get.”

#my writing #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor imagine #idk ya'll #its short but like its done so #jkfhudshdksd #my writing is all over the place atm #im so sorry im like this #anyway chuck berry fuckin slaps and this song is so great

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sour-heart-treats · 4 years ago

Note

Kris,It's 11AM TIme for me to request Muay Thai/Red Pepper Angst.

The creaking of the door was the first thing to alert Red Pepper of another presence in the house. "Please let that be who I think it is..." He mumbled to himself, swiftly setting down his phone with an already dialed but not yet called number and running for the front door. Chili hadn't been home for hours, and with the winter weather settling in, there was no way that even an hour could pass without worry getting to him. He didn't approve of his sister's practices of going out for thievery- especially when the outside was so dangerous at this time of year- but Chili was her own person... As much as his protective nature wanted him to just keep his bother of a sib stuck in her room.

...She'd probably just find a way to sneak out of it, being the stealthy one that she was.

Taking a turn from the small kitchen in the household, it was through the length of the hallway that Muay Thai saw what he had expected, no one but his sister, carrying a large sack and covered in snow. The sight struck a chord of fear through him, knowing that the chilling snow likely didn't help when coupled with Chili's lack of protective clothing. Belts, thin cloth, boots, and nothing more. Sure, the boots would help, but those were mainly for her stubbornness in aesthetic rather than anything else. Hell, she learned how to run in heels just for the sake of looking flashy. This sake of fashion stuff... It wasn't going to help in negative degree weather. The thud of Chili dropping the sack she beheld unceremoniously behind her only let another chill through Red as he watched her attempt to half-heartedly warm herself up by rubbing one hand against her upper arm.

Red took a deep breath to try and keep himself from snapping at his sibling, really he tried, but... This was far too worrying to be taken lightly. "Chichi. You really can't keep going out when it's so cold... Let alone when it's dark out." The taller sibling, the thief, only shrugged at the mild scolding. Muay... Didn't appreciate this, to say the least. His eyes narrowed, prompting the thief to put her hands up in a defensive and joking manner. Clearly, she wasn't taking this all too seriously... Until seeing the small spark of flames in her sibling's eyes.

"Damn, I didn't expect you to be as snippy as the cold," Chili spoke with a snicker, though the smile on her face was far from being happy. "I came back alive, can't you be happy with that?" As much as he would have easily admitted to it, Muay wouldn't let it just slide. "Look at you! Your dough is turning pale as we speak! Don't you know a thing about how sensitive our whole family is to cold weather? We're the Peppers for a reason!"

"And I'm the Chili for a reason."

"That's not even the right kind of chilly! It doesn't mean anything!"

"Maybe not to you."

"Even if it did, it wouldn't change the fact that you put yourself in even more danger than usual! You said it would be a 'quick run'!"

Chili paused, taking a moment to look back at the large carryall she brought in, and opting to take a look through rather than responding. This infuriated Muay, almost sparking up flames on his shoulders. "What, you think you're gonna win me over with whatever you stole? You know I don't like taking your stolen goods." He snarled, though it only got a huff out of the sister as she meticulously picked out one of the items and tossed it towards Red, quiet thuds of cloth and clatters of plastic hitting the laminated floor in front of him.

"It was meant to be a Christmas present, but since you're such a hothead, I guess you get 'em two days early."

...Rolls and packages of bandaging. An expensive brand, too. Red didn't recognize it all that well, but if it was expensive and Chili happened to spend a lot of time stealing it... It must have been quality stuff. The shorter of the two kneeled down to pick the materials up, expression going from angered to somewhat confused and just a little bit guilty. "Uh... I didn't think you were going to get me anything this year..." Though somewhat foolish of him to keep his eyes down, it was met with the pleasant surprise of a cold hand into his hair, rustling it out of place. "You may be a bastard to me, but so long as I'm not stuck in prison, I'll always be sure to get you at least something to care about."

"...Thanks... But seriously, you should go get warmed up or something. There's cocoa in the cupboards, and Plum brought us marshmallows yesterday."

"Ah, perfect! Can't have a good cup of hot choccy without some 'mellows." The cold hand retreated from Muay, allowing him to look up and see the smirk that he loved to hate on his sister's face. Though it was a sense atmosphere moments ago, something more playful certainly sprung up from its ashes. "Never call it hot choccy again, or I swear-"

"If you finish that sentence, you're gonna have to make your own hot choccy, flame-boy."

"Psh... Fiiine, hot-sauce-for-brains. Go make that hot choccy."

#chili pepper cookie #red pepper cookie #muay thai cookie #cookie run #verbal violence warning #(?)#// it's like really light stuff #bittersweet section #// i've also been uhhhhh spacing out while writing this so apologies if it doesn't make much sense #// i'm trying to get out of a writer's block ghjkfdhg

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writing-of-a-british-bitch · 4 years ago

Text

The Fairy King - Chapter 10

Fandom: Queen/Borhap

Specified gender: Female

Word Count: 4.1K

Pairing: Queen X reader/ It’s a (obvious) surprise, x reader

TW: violence, swearing, Mercury being Mercury, Bri and Rog are SO JEALOUS OML, 10/10 would die for Deacon

Genre: Fantasy. (Labyrinth AU)

Series: The Fairy King

Requests: CLOSED

Masterlist

A/N: Last chapter before the epilogue :( I’m going to miss this series so much!

Upon reaching the towering walls of, what (Y/N) could only presume was the city, she couldn't help but notice a door appear before trio that definitely hadn't been there before. But given the day she had, she didn't hesitate to guess that it was one of Mercury's tricks. A guard was leant against the wall, propped up on a chair, deep in slumber.

"C'mon, we can get through if we're quiet," Brian whispered to Deacon and (Y/N). Deacon nodded silently, and Brian took (Y/N)'s hand and opened the door, leading her through. Deacon followed behind them, inaudibly pushing the door shut again.

"Something's not right. It shouldn't be this quiet. Is it normally this quiet?" (Y/N) murmured, looking to Deacon, who shook his head solemnly.

"Why am I getting this awful feeling that we've stepped straight into a trap?" Deacon responded, edging closer to her and drawing the sword that was latched to his belt.

"Thank god, you're a knight," Brian joked weakly, taking a few more cautious steps towards the arched entrance to the city.

(Y/N) took a deep breath, eyeing as Brian's free hand began to glow dimly, ready to fight if needs be. A loud clanking was heard as the group ventured further in, and a large metal warrior emerged from the winding streets of the city, looming over them. One of Mercury's knights was sat atop a dip in the warriors head, controlling it from there. The warriors head nearly reached the wall of the city, where it looked as though archers fired from. Deacon and (Y/N) took a step back in pure shock, only to get sharp spikes to the back as sword-like spikes appeared where the door they'd entered had been just moments ago. (Y/N) let out a gasp and Brian tugged her forward and away from the impaling weapons. Brian narrowed his eyes as the warrior drew closer, pointing his hand at it, glowing brighter the closer it got. A bright green blast shot from his hand but simply bounced off the armour, now on course for the trio. Deacon raised his hand and the weeds between the cobbled stones rose to the group's defence, immediately being destroyed by the blast. Brian glanced at his hand. Of course, the king would make this mighty warrior resistant to magic other than his own.

"Thought you didn't use your magic, John?" Brian asked, quickly looking back to the dryad, who had his eyes fixed on the warrior.

"Maybe not the best time to be having this conversation,"(Y/N) intruded, tapping Brian's shoulder. Her eyes widened as she saw a familiar blonde figuring running along the city wall above the warriors head. "It's Roger!"

"Of course it is," Brian muttered, rolling his eyes. (Y/N) let go of his hand and smiled up at Roger, who dropped down onto the knight. The knight was so taken by surprise that she toppled down onto the ground before Brian. She let out a squeak as she sat up and Brian shot a blast next to her as a warning. The knight scuttled off, tripping over her feet. (Y/N) watched Brian carefully, there was an aggression that she hadn't seen before. Frustration, perhaps? Whatever it was, it worried her. Roger let out a huff as he sat down, and began fiddling with the controls.

"How in the hell do you control this thing?" Roger grunted, angrily pressing buttons. The machine began sparking and spluttering, plumes of smoke pouring from the being.

"Roger, get out of there!" (Y/N) exclaimed, rushing closer to the machine. Roger's head swung from side to side jerkily, meeting the panicked eyes of Deacon, Brian and (Y/N). Realising he had few options, let out a small "Fuck it" and jumped down, landing with a solid thump. The machine crashed down and flames rose from the creature. (Y/N) rushed to Roger's side, helping him sit up. Deacon and Brian also followed after her, though the latter had a sour look on his face.

"I'm not asking to be forgiven, and I'm not ashamed of anything I did," Roger began, regretfulness filling his features. Brian raised his eyebrows at the prologue to Roger's apology " Freddie made me give you the fruit. I don't- I don't care what you think of me. I told you I was a coward and I'm not interested in being friends."

The groups' eyes softened at the "confession". Even Brian, who was being stubborn as a mule, could recognise Roger's self-defence mechanism. (Y/N) leant forward and took Roger's hand, squeezing it tightly.

"I forgive you, Roger," She said gently, giving him a small smile. Brian watched the pair with sad eyes and John eyed him, seeing the forlorn look in his eyes. Deacon shook his head sadly before looking back to (Y/N) and Roger. The blonde's head shot up at her words, eyes wide.

"You- You do?" Roger asked, completely flabbergasted. He slowly got to his feet, shuffling nervously.

"And I commend you. Rarely have I seen such courage. You're more valiant a pixie than I give you credit for," Deacon commented, placing a hand on Roger's shoulder and squeezing slightly. Brian sighed and shook his head slightly.

"You get on my nerves at the best of times, and we never see eye to eye, but you are, first and foremost, my best friend. I'll always forgive you," He stated, running a hand through his hair. He meant it, of course, everyone knew that, but Roger and Deacon were also fully aware that he was only saying it for (Y/N) sake. (Y/N)'s eyes suddenly lit up and she shoved her hand in her pocket, retrieving Roger's bag that she'd stolen hours before and handing it to him.

"Here are your things, Roger," She smiled and Roger couldn't help but smile back as he took the bag and attached it to his belt "Thanks for your help"

"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's get that rat who calls himself Mercury" Roger looked at the group and they all nodded in enthusiastic agreement

"Right! Come on!" Y/N exclaimed, running forward, with Roger quick in tow.

"You really love her don't you?" Deacon looked to Brian sadly, but Brian just shook his haid

"Come on, let's move" He said and followed after the pair.

"Your highness!" A soldier came barreling through the grand double doors, panting, followed by two other soldiers. The first soldier gave an awkward and rushed bow. Mercury had risen to his feet at the commotion and everyone in the ballroom had fallen silent, watching their king and the three soldiers with grave interest. "Your highness! The girl..."

"What?" Mercury asked with a dark smirk, sitting back down on his throne.

"The girl who ate the fruit and forgot everything!" Another one of the soldiers continued, panic in his voice.

"What of her?" The Fairy asked nonchalantly, eyebrows raised.

"She's here with your wizard guardian, your dryad head of security and your pixie jester!" The last one finished, removing his helmet and stepping forward, significantly calmer than the other two. There was a glint in his eye, similar to that of a child on Christmas. "They got past the guard and they're on their way to the tower."

Mercury shot to his feet once more and clicked his fingers. Immediately all but a handful of the people in the ballroom were scrambling out of the door and to the safety of their home. The handful that remained were suddenly shielded by a red glow and their fine suits and tailored dresses had become armour. Their intricate masks and delicate handbags transformed into shining silver.

"Go to the city of the tower! You, take the orb and hide it!" Mercury handed one of his crystal balls, the one which contained the freedom of the human girl, to a soldier, who immediately ran off with it. "She must be stopped! Do something!" Alarm bells started ringing throughout the tower as Mercury rushed down the stairs in front of his throne and walked over to one of his paintings. This painting was old and cracked, oily and greased, depicting a perfect image of the tower with all of its crumbling stones and ivy winding its way around. He quickly stepped inside, his soldiers following behind. Once arrived, the soldiers surged towards the entrance of the city, searching for the group of vigilantes, while Mercury made his way up the tower.

Roger's pointed ears pricked up at the sound of incoming footstep and immediately placed himself in front of (Y/N). Deacon and Brian, noticing Roger's sudden defensive move, prepared their respective weapons, once again prepared to fight. They continued with cautious steps getting deeper into the city and closer to the tower. Brian glanced back at (Y/N), swearing to himself that he'd protect her no matter what happened next. She caught his eye and gave him a supportive and soothing look, eyes soft and smile tender. They soon reached a wall with what looked like skinny chess pieces, or something of a similar variety, protruding from them

"I think we're going to make it," (Y/N) whispered, her smile forming into a wide grin, which made Brian's cheeks flush and Roger's head spin. Roger's head had been so clouded, in fact, that he didn't realise the gravity of the next words he said.

"Piece of cake." The trios head snapped to him, their hopeful faces falling to ones of fear and alarm. The pixie's eyes widened in realisation, shooting a glare at Deacon, who had smacked the blonde over the back of the head. Abruptly, soldiers rose to the wall, as if they'd been hiding there, all of them holding a different variation of weapon. Mercury watched as soldiers poured in from every side and enclosed the assembly. Safe in his tower. One of the soldiers blew a horn and a canon, that one group of soldiers had rolled with them, fired, making (Y/N) flinch as her ears began to ring. The cannonball flew over their heads and into one of the straw roofs of the buildings behind them. They began to charge and Brian wasted no time in turning around and back the way they came, snatching (Y/N)'s hand along the way and pulling her with him, earning a scowl from Roger.

"Quick this way!" (Y/N) shouted as she ran ahead, this time pulling Brian along and turning sharply. The sound of the cannon reverberated through the air once more, striking the building next to (Y/N), who flinched and released Brian's hand to cover her ears. Roger, seeing his opportunity, grasped her hand, this time interlocking their fingers. Brian glowered but quickly noticed that Deacon had gone missing. When he looked over his shoulder, he could spy Deacon back where they'd just run from, fighting off a group of his own soldiers in an attempt to buy the trio some time. Roger, too focused on ensuring (Y/N)'s safety, had yet to notice and tugged her along as soon as he noticed a clearing through the soldiers, who, by now, were running around like headless chickens. The wizard, torn between helping Deacon or following Roger, froze for a second, contemplating his options before deciding to trail after Roger. Though he couldn't help but feel guilty about leaving John behind. (Y/N), Roger and Brian reached an open town square.

"John! Where's John?" (Y/N) asked turning to Brian, who responded with a sheepish look. However, as he opened his mouth to reply a scream of

"Fire!" Ricochet through the air and another cannon blast was heard, narrowly missing the group once more. (Y/N) let out a frustrated huff.

"We have to find John!" She announced. Brian and Roger shared a look, knowing it would be safer for her if they continued on their way to the tower. They also knew, however, how deeply she cared for her newfound friends, and how she wouldn't stop until she found Deacon. She ran down one of the alleys, calling directions over her shoulder as the two head over heels creatures attempted to keep up. They came upon an alley where they saw Deacon charging at a group of soldiers, knocking them over like bowling pins. (Y/N) rushed over to him, yanking him into a tight but swift hug before Brian entered one of the houses, the others following behind him and slamming the door. All the soldiers were quick to swarm the house, banging on the door and bashing the walls and windows, like it was some form of apocalypse.

"Well this wasn't your smartest plan, I must say, Brian," Roger commented snarkily, leaning on the wall, arms crossed over his chest. Brian shot him an icy glare, fire in his eyes, with a twinge of jealousy still present behind them.

"You didn't exactly contribute with a plan either, so I'd appreciate it if you kept your mouth shut," Brian snapped back, narrowing his eyes daringly as Roger opened his mouth to speak. Roger quickly shut it again, turning the face the other direction with a small "hmph". Deacon and (Y/N) exchanged an awkward look, stood back by the doorway. The tension was thick and Deacon swore he could cut the sexual tension with a knife.

Brian, with a sour look still planted firmly on his face, started his journey up the ladder in the corner that led to the roof. Once he arrived at the top, he opened the latch trapdoor and looked around the house. They were completely boxed in and soldiers called expletives and insults up at the wizard. The wizard thought for a moment when suddenly a plan came to mind. He had magic, why wasn't he using it? He managed to position himself as comfortably as possible before he outstretched his arms, a green glow protruding from them and joining together in the gap between them. Wisps of green spread out far and wide across the land and after a few minutes of nothing, hundreds, if not thousands of stones came rolling through the city, chasing the soldiers around in circles, knocking some over or unconscious or simply scaring the soldiers into the houses to barricade themselves. Brian let out a gasp as the glowing of his hands dimmed, and had to steady himself, feeling very sick and light-headed. Slowly, he began to climb back down the ladder, thinking he felt better but after a few steps down, his body grew weak again from how much energy he'd used summoning the rocks and stones. Roger, (Y/N) and Deacon instantaneously surged forward to catch him as he fell backwards off of the ladder. They carefully placed him on the ground and (Y/N) sat with him, placing his head in her lap. She cupped both of his cheeks and soothingly brushed the hair away from his face. Brian smiled weakly up at her and she gave him a worried, but clearly fake smile. And it was then Roger noticed something that he never had before. Something in her eyes. Something in the way she looked at Brian. A tenderness, but not like the one she had when she looked at Deacon.

"Can you stand?" She whispered, rubbing her thumbs over his cheeks. He didn't say anything but gave her a firm nod, knowing they were running very tight on time, and couldn't afford to wait for him any longer. Deacon and Roger moved to either side of him when he gestured them over and each took a hand to help him up. For a second, he stood but as that second passed, his knees buckled and Roger quickly caught him. With a small sigh, Roger moved Brian's arm over his shoulder and put his own arm around his waist.

"We need to move. C'mon," Deacon reminded them quietly, moving to walk in front of (Y/N) since Brian and Roger were too preoccupied to protect her. The pathway was clear once more and the trio made their way closer and closer to the tower and soon they were stood right before it. Seeing as Brian was in no state to be climbing all the stairs, Deacon looked to all the winding ivy and extended his hand. The ivy wound around each person's feet tightly and worked as a makeshift elevator, lifting them through the open tower window. Brian groaned in pain when they were placed back on solid ground. (Y/N) noticed the clock on the wall and her eyes widened. She had mere minutes to find the king and get her life back. She didn't doubt that he wouldn't put up some form of fight, considering all of his tricks and deceptions. There was only one staircase going upwards from the room they were in and her eyes lingered on it.

"That's the only way he could've gone," She remarked, scratching the back of her neck nervously."Well then, come on," Roger stepped forward, with Brian still clung onto him but (Y/N) put her hands up.

"No, no. I have to face him alone," She said strongly, trying to stop them from arguing with her. Immediately Roger's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, Deacon's back straightened, and Brian gave her an odd look.

"But why?" Deacon questioned, finally putting his sword back in its holster.

"Because that's the way it's done," Was her simple answer, though she truly wished she could bring them with her. She was scared. Terrified even. What if she didn't win. What if she was stuck with the fairy king...forever.

"Well, if that's the way it is done, then that is the way you must do it," Deacon agreed remorsefully, Roger and Brian immediately shooting him angry glances. "But, should you need us..."

"Yes, should you need us.." Roger echoed, giving her a reassuring look, to which (Y/N) nodded.

"I'll call. Thank you. All of you," And with that, she darted up the stairs, her friends watching her with woeful and worried eyes. She reached a room with staircases in every direction. Up, down, sideways. It was impossible

She started to navigate her way around it, going down the stairs to her right, and up the ones after that. (Y/N) reached an even space between two of the staircases and looked around for any sign of the Fairy King. She peered over the edge, only to see Mercury stood upside down on the other side, looking right back up at her. She jumped back in shock, and Mercury swung over the edge to come face to face with her.

"How you've turned my world. I have wasted my magic on you and your little friends. You starve and near exhaust me," Mercury stated approaching her, causing her to back up. He turned a corner and as she went to follow him, he reappeared behind her. She whizzed around upon hearing his voice "Everything I've done, I've done for you. I move the stars for no one," This time he walked straight through her, sending unpleasant ripples down her spine as he walked back to the edge and swung over back to the other side. Every time she tried to look at him, he seemed to move and reappear somewhere else. He looked at her and caught her glare, narrowing his eyes back "Your eyes can be so cruel. Just as I can be so cruel. If you want your life back, go and get it," He sneered throwing the orb that had appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and throwing it to the opposite side of the room.

(Y/N) went down countless stairs and went through countless door frames as Mercury taunted her, and she would always appear somewhere else, often on the other side of the room to the orb. Mercury was messing with her, and she knew it very well. He would even bring her within inches of the orb and it would appear far away. However, she managed to distract him with his own endless monologing long enough. With a deep breath, she took a leap of faith and ran from one edge to the next, where the orb was located, and jumped off, falling through the air and grasping the orb. (Y/N) let out a laugh of glee before she noticed the room around her separating into chunks of stone and she landed on one of them, isolated in the endless sea of colours and stone. Mercury appeared from the shadowed, walking towards her as a predator would to a prey.

"Give me the orb," (Y/N) demanded, standing tall and proud, as a way of hiding her fear.

"(Y/N), beware. I have been generous up until now, and I can be cruel," Mercury warned, eyes dark and dangerous but (Y/N) could tell the boat was sinking and he was trying desperately to hang on.

"Generous?" She tilted her head, incredulously. "What have you done that's generous?"

"Everything!" He snarled "Everything that you wanted, I have done. You asked to be rid of your life. I rid you of it. You cowered before me. I was frightening. I have reordered time," He pointed to a clock that had appeared. The hands were going haywire, spinning around and around "I have turned the world upside down, and I have done it all for you! I am exhausted from living up to your expectations of me. Isn't that generous?" In his rant, Mercury had stepped closer and closer until they were face to face. (Y/N) was silent for a moment.

"Through dangers untold, and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here to the tower beyond the King's Labyrinth," She took a step forward, and this time, Mercury backed away, as if he was scared of her words. He hid his fear behind confidence and an intimidating outer appearance, but eyes are always the body's deceivers. "For my will is as strong as yours and my-"

"Stop! Wait. Look (Y/N), look what I'm offering you," A new crystal ball emerged in his hand "Your dreams."

"-And my kingdom as great."

"I ask for so little. Just let me rule you, and you can have everything you want," He attempted.

"Kingdom as great... Damn! I can never remember that line," She mumbled in frustration and a cocky smirk rose on the king's face.

"Just fear me, do as I say, and you can spend the rest of your time here with Roger. I've seen you two, I know you feel for him. That you love him," He pushed. At that, (Y/N) hesitated and Mercury saw it. She paused and stopped racking her brain and looked up at him.

"You have no power over me."

Mercury's orb flew into the sky, and images began to flash before her eyes, clocks, owls, cloth, ivy, soldiers, ballrooms, dryads, pixies, wizards...

Pixies

The orb crashed back down to the ground, and when (Y/N) opened her eyes, she was back in the ballroom, with Brian, Roger and Deacon stood before her. The room was full of people dancing and laughing. No one seemed afraid.

"What-what happened?" (Y/N) pondered, confusion filling her eyes. Deacon's eyes lit up and he scooped her into a bear hug, spinning her around in circles, the two releasing joyous laughter. Eventually, he set her down again and it was then she noticed he was not wearing his soldiers uniform but a rather smart suit, just as Roger and Brian were behind him

"You did it! You're free! We're all free!" He bellowed in glee, but he was soon pushed out the way as Brian and Roger enveloped her in a massive hug as well, practically crushing her between them.

"I don't know the last time I've seen our people so happy," Brian stated when they'd separated, looking over the crowd with a child-like grin on his face.

"And it's all thanks to you, you incredible human!" Roger laughed, not seeming to quite believe that they were actually free "And I finally got out of that awful ruffle after god knows how many millennia."

"It's a shame, it was starting to grow on me," (Y/N) teased. Roger let out a loud laugh and Brian and Deacon watched happily. Roger had been kept under a tight leash by the king for so long, they couldn't remember when they'd last seen him genuinely laugh.

"(Y/N), I think the time has come" A crystal ball emerged from thin air and balanced in Brian's fingers. "You need to go home."

"I wish I could bring you all with me," She said sadly, agreeing that their time together had come to an end. Deacon looked at the others and sighed

"Actually, there's enough magical energy left from Mercury for two people to transport back," He explained, and (Y/N) smiled before realising the decision she now had to make. She looked at her three friends, all of whom were willing to leave their own world to join her. This would be the hardest decision she'd ever had to make "No matter who you choose, we will always be there for you."

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