#ignore how like half of the lines are barely even visible. ocean huh

[catamaurrr-star]

you could fish up a thousand mending books but you'd never be able to mend the hole it left in you

[suna-reversed]

the sweetest thing

MAFIA AU! USHIJIMA X FEM READER !!nsfw!!

warnings/tags- slight voyeurism, fingering, smut turned fluff

The mixed scent of alcohol and that one expensive cologne he always wore hit you like a ton of bricks. That’s all you forced yourself to focus on, but you found it quite a tough task as the strong lingering trail of your juices filled the air, two of his long digits pushing past your slick walls. Choking back on a moan, you gripped his wrist tightly, confused as to whether you wanted to pull his hand off of you or beg him to rub it against you harder. He stopped his ministrations as you did so, not because he got the hint, but just so he could make you look up into his stern eyes that conveyed exactly how much worse tonight would be for you if you didn’t let him continue. 

You don’t exactly know how you ended up here. In the backseat of a posh car owned by the most dangerous man amongst Japan’s underground mafia. Just a whisper of his name had even the most powerful of gang leaders shaking with fear. You were still conflicted about the fear, but he sure did have your legs shaking more and more with each thrust of his fingers. You had buried your face in his shoulder, hoping that the red-haired driver would simply believe that your closeness to the man he answered to was simply a gesture of affection and not a desperate attempt at muffling your moans. You seemed to fail at that task as the fingers inside you were pulled out, only to be placed at your sensitive nub instead, rubbing circles so hard and fast that you couldn’t contain the sudden moan that left your mouth. You came undone, hips bucking against the rings on his fingers as your mind drowned in both pleasure and shame.

You could barely breathe as you felt the car come to a stop in front of your college campus. Ushijima simply put your pushed aside panties back in place, bringing up his fingers to his mouth to suck off your juices, his intense gaze locked onto yours. You didn’t think your face could get any more flustered. 

“Let me walk you back to your dorm.” Not a question. 

A shiver went down your core for what you were in for. Your mind flashing back to the memory from barely less than an hour ago when Ushijima had you pressed up against a wall outside the venue of the banquet, his lips attached to yours, the taste of champagne and cigars still heavy on his tongue as it explored yours with a passion as deep as the mariana trench. 

Your train of thought was interrupted as you noticed he had already gotten out, waiting for you with an outstretched hand. Despite having just felt him so deep inside you, the gesture somehow managed to give you more butterflies. It felt different. somehow more intimate. His calloused fingers slowly wrapped around yours, his large hand encasing almost all of yours. It made you feel warm. protected. safe. The crimson blush that grew on your nose didn’t go unnoticed by him, and maybe that’s why he didn’t leave your hand even as you started walking. Looking back, you wondered how differently things would’ve turned out if you hadn’t tripped over that one particular chair leg that unfortunate day. 

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

“I would rather eat glass than live this day all over again” you thought to yourself while recapping the events of the last 18 hours.

Your roommate had shown up drunk late at night, bruised up and beaten from a bar fight, barely giving you any time to sleep as you tended to them. Because of that, not only were you sleep deprived, but also super late to your morning classes. Plus, you were pretty sure you had managed to royally fuck up the exam you had in the afternoon. 

Wanting to unwind from the trainwreck of a day, you had stopped by your favourite cafe to grab a coffee. A headache seemed to be crawling up your head as you stood in line waiting for your order. You were so tired, you barely paid attention to your steps as you grabbed your order and went to leave. Instead, you felt time slow down as your foot got caught on the edge of a left out chair, your drink going flying onto the chest of the person who had been sitting on the opposite side. It took you a second to scramble up your feet, ready to apologise to whoever you had just sprayed with a high dose of caffeine. But as you looked up, you found yourself a little breathless staring into the olive brown orbs of a greek god of a man. A greek god whose face was raging with passive anger. The look immediately sent you into a ramble of apologies, your words of “I’m so sorry” and “I’ll pay for the ruined shirt” getting all jumbled over each other as you poorly tried to explain your own clumsiness. 

‘It’s alright. You don’t have to pay for anything.’ The deep rumble of his voice made your insides shiver. 

“Are you sure? I can get you a tissue-”

“It’s fine, I was leaving anyway.” 

A curt nod was all you received before the man turned his broad back to you, striding out with confidently. You found it weird that not even a single person turned their head to look at the man in a white shirt with a large brown stain stretched across it. You pushed that thought out to the side as a wave of tiredness hit you again. Relieved that the situation didn’t get messy, you walked back to your dorm for a much needed nap.

On the other hand, people who had known the identity of the menacing man gawked at you, wondering how you had walked just out the place without a bullet in you. 

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

“Achoo!” 

You wrapped your arms around yourself, visibly shivering as the cold air hit you. You almost whined at the warmth of Ushijima’s hand being pulled out of yours. But then a much larger and warmer fabric was thrown over your shoulders, you could've melted right there at its softness. Gazing up at him from under your lashes, you muttered out a small thanks as you nuzzled further into the collar of his cozy coat. You could've sworn you heard him sucking in his breath. His hand slipped into yours again, tugging you closer. You walked in silence, your mind still clouded by all that had happened in the span of half a night. 

“Well, that’s my building.” you said. Looking over at Ushijima’s face, you found it glowing under the illumination of the lights coming from past the entry gates.

“ Thank you for accompanying me tonight y/n.”

“ Oh, it was no big deal really. Plus, I enjoyed it a lot. Thank you for inviting me.” 

He gave you a small smile as his hand left yours and he turned around, ready to leave,

“Wait! Aren’t you going to…” You trailed off as he turned back, raising an eyebrow at your puzzled face. 

Your face contorted in confusion, was he not going to join you in your dorm? Especially after the bulge you’re sure you felt while you had been grabbing onto his thighs for support in the car earlier. 

 “...come inside?” You finished, your voice small and hesitant. 

His lips twitched upwards almost playfully, 

“Was the perverse exposition in the car not enough for you?”

“No!- I mean yes, it was.” You found your voice getting smaller and smaller. “But um- don’t you...need anything?” 

Your breath hitched in your throat as he took two long strides towards you, your face now an inch away from his chest. You felt a finger lift your chin as he brought his head close to your ear to whisper,

“Not now- I want to take my time with you” His teeth grazed down as he mumbled onto the skin of your neck, “- to learn every inch of you.” 

A small moan escaped past your throat. Pulling away, his intense burning gaze faded as a smirk formed on his lips, 

“Besides, we wouldn’t want you to wake the whole building up with your screams now would we?” 

Your eyes widened at that, causing a small laugh out of him. That only resulted in you getting more flustered.

“Ok then, I guess I’ll see you soon Ushijima-san.” 

“Wakatoshi” 

“Huh?” 

“It’s Wakatoshi for you.” He said, adjusting the collar of his coat on you and then leaning forward to press a gentle kiss against your brow. 

You tried to ignore the deafening drumming of your heartbeat in your ears as you muttered out a “Goodnight Wakatoshi”, earning a pleased look from the man himself. 

“Goodnight y/n.” 

 Was he really as vicious and bloodthirsty as he was known to be? But then who was the man who had just now made you drown in an ocean of pleasure and then tender affection? Walking away, you could only wonder of all that you were yet to receive from the dual faced man.

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N E ways, hardcore dom-sub rough sex in part two? ☉_☉

[doctors-star]

u want prompts? i am going to make shit up. how about trying to outrun a horse or piggy back rides for cowboys

“Well,” Finn says cheerfully, patting Johnny’s chest with the flat of his hand as though to reward him for good behaviour. “This may just be our dumbest idea yet.”

“Then we ain’t doin’ half bad,” Johnny objects, shifting Finn’s weight on his back as he carefully picks his way through the grasslands. In the half-dark of the moon and stars, the prairie is as a great aquamarine ocean of shifting blue-green grass that brushes against Finn’s dangling ankles as Johnny walks, and it has the curious edge of unfamiliarity and unreality in the night. Finn ain’t that heavy, and he knows the lands around Danser well enough not to be worried about getting lost, but it’s more than just the occasion that has him pressing hard for home - there’s a distinct undefined weird at play tonight, and he’s keen for familiar sights and sounds to ground him. Bitchin’ at Finn goes some way towards that. “If me carryin’ you through the night is our worst, we got a good ways to fall.”

“Oh, sure, and we’re gonna,” Finn says, still irrepressibly bright. “But we are tryin’ to outrun a horse, so. Although, I guess you’re outrunning the horse - I’m competing with the rider.”

Johnny considers, not for the first time, the merits of dropping Finn, and finds them barely insufficiently compelling. “You’re being the horse next time,” he grunts.

“Never fear,” Finn says smugly and ruffles Johnny’s hair now that he’s too pinned down to wriggle angrily away - Johnny does toss his head crossly, but this just makes him stumble. “Next time we have to run for it on foot in the night on account of how everything’s gone wildly tits up and Ainsel’s accidentally made off with our horses, you can stick your foot in a gopher hole and I’ll carry ya home.”

“Too kind,” Johnny grumbles absently, pausing to make use of a small rise and reacquaint himself with his surroundings. The desert falls off to the south, the trees forming a sharp dark line to the north and east, and somewhere between ‘em, Danser. And, god willing, Ainsel and Tommy with the horses, Will with his bag of bandages, and Noel with some helpful words of severe disapproval. No matter what Johnny had said about having yet further to fall - this displayed a level of ineptitude Noel was not, exactly, going to love.

“We’ll have more cover in the trees,” Finn points out rather more seriously.

Johnny makes a face. “Too dark - ain’t no sense in us both busting our ankles and falling in the creek in the dark.”

Finn pauses, like he’s weighing the truth of that against how funny he reckons it’d be, but concedes the point. “Desert’s a bit exposed, though,” he says, sounding resigned.

“Yeah,” Johnny says slowly, and not without confusion, as he continues down the rise and on through the grass. He shifts Finn on his back again - all right, maybe Finn is kinda heavy, or at least, his weight is wearing on Johnny - and there’s a rustle in the grass on the tree-side of them. Johnny doesn’t figure it’s much they gotta worry about: coney maybe, or gopher come out to ogle the humans outta their natural habitat - but Finn flinches away from it like he reckons the gophers have all gone rabid, or something. “I figured we’d keep going in the prairie grass ‘til we hit town.”

Finn fidgets awkwardly and nearly sends them both arse over elbow until Johnny works a hand free and smacks him quickly on the thigh. “I just-” he begins awkwardly, giving off the impression that it is only a great deal of effort that is keeping him from fidgeting. “I don’t much wanna be on prairie lands after dark, y’know.”

Johnny does not know. “I don’t wanna be out here either,” he says, bewildered. “That’s why we’re heading on home.”

“Oh, sure,” Finn says, like he’d kinda forgotten that they were desperadoes on the run, “but - I don’t wanna be here, specifically. Desert’d be fine.”

“‘Cept how we’d be shot for morons without any cover,” Johnny points out, not very gently. He twists his head awkwardly and manages a good squint at Finn’s cheekbone and a crick in his neck. “What’s eatin’ you, huh? You ain’t never gone off the prairie before.”

“Hayfever?” Finn tries.

“So help me God, Finn, I’ll drop you.”

Finn clings a little tighter, ankle flinching away from the floor. “Awright, jeez. It’s just-” he sighs massively, breath gusting down Johnny’s neck like the touch of a ghost and making him shiver. “I don’t wanna come across the Coyote.”

Johnny shifts Finn’s weight again and ignores the twinge in his back, pressing on along his straight line across the grasses to the faint lights of the town. “Coyotes aren’t that dangerous. Will says-”

“Not coyotes,” Finn corrects, “the Coyote. He, uh, might not want me hanging around long after dark. Not my patch,” he says, as if that’s cleared everything up.

Johnny raises an eyebrow. “You’ve got a feud with a coyote that’s landed you a curfew?”

“No-o,” Finn says carefully. “It’s not that bad. But. We might be better off in the desert.”

“Did you hear me about the gettin’ shot thing?” Johnny snaps, a bit louder than he had meant to. And then he stumbles forward a few more steps, emerging into a bizarre clearing of grass which he definitely had not seen from the little hill, or even one step before landing in it - this perfect circle of mown-short grass. Sitting in the middle of it is a coyote.

It tilts its head on one side.

Finn offers a sharp, nervous grin. “Technically,” he says to the coyote, “I am not on the prairie. So.”

The coyote does not so much as blink.

Johnny reckons he might be in over his head more than a little. “Desert, you said,” he declares firmly and begins trekking south.

Finn does not relax. There is a rustling noise behind them - quite a lot like the sound of a coyote following them through the grass. Johnny attempts to pick up the pace.

“I am sorry about this,” Finn says conversationally. “But can you go any faster.”

“Nope,” Johnny puffs. “You’re fuckin’ heavy.” He manages a slight increase in speed, which the coyote matches easily, and nearly trips over his own feet for it. This had not been so difficult when they’d started out - Finn seems to be getting heavier by the second, like every inch of him is slowly turning to lead.

It reminds him of a warm day when he wasn’t quite grown, but wasn’t a boy either - there had been an accident, and his Uncle Jack had died, and he was tall enough to be one of the men carrying the coffin. If, and only if, he could contain his excitement at being considered one of the men, said his mother, for long enough to behave decently, jeez. So he’d wrangled himself into solemn calm and taken up his place behind his father, and lifted when told to - and he remembers thinking, dang, why’d we need six men? Uncle Jack isn’t heavy at all. Until they’d started walking, and then Johnny had been glad of the others - but still, not too bad. But they’d kept walking. And kept walking. And by the time they’d reached the church his arms were shaking and his breath came fast and he couldn’t put Uncle Jack down fast enough, the corpse’s limbs all slowly petrifying and dragging them all down, inexorably, inevitably, into the dust.

Finn is heavy as a dead body on his back.

It is suddenly less difficult to push those last yards and hurl them both over the boundary, into the dirt. Finn is thrown from his back and rolls neatly; instinctively he tries to stand, and crumples into a small ball of hissed curses as his ankle makes itself known. Johnny himself manages to control his stumble to his knees and scramble backwards away from the grassland. He watches a black nose press through the leaves, white-glowing eyes the only thing visible in the shadows; after a considering sniff, all melt away. There is no sound, but he no longer feels eyes on him - and then there is a barking call far to the north, and the pound of hoofbeats drumming through the earth under his palms heading for the disruption, and then nothing.

He turns, very politely and calmly, to Finn. “What the fuck was that?”

Finn waves a hand dismissively. “You don’t want to know. But he’ll probably hold ‘em off for a while, as long as it’s fun to do it - we should keep goin’, though.”

“No no no-” Johnny says firmly, holding up one hand. “This - weird shit has gone on long enough. What in the god damn hell just happened to us?”

Finn narrows his eyes and tilts his head to squint thoughtfully at Johnny. In the darkness, sprawled out at the foot of the desert with limbs in every direction and propped up on his elbows, he nonetheless looks strangely alert - as though he might at any moment leap onto his twisted ankle and outdance the devil to keep them both safe. For all that the desert leaves them exposed, Johnny feels safer here than he did in amongst the prairie grasses, the same way a man feels safe from wolves behind a stock fence, for all that wolves can jump. This space has been demarcated, somehow, and called Finn’s, and Johnny don’t reckon anything else is going to come in and mess with that.

“Alright,” Finn says eventually, still with that considering tilt. “This town ain’t what you think it is. There are more things in heaven and earth, Johnny McPherson, than you ever dreamed of. There’s magic in these hills, in them stars above, in you - like as not - and definitely in me. Ainsel pretty much isn’t anything else. Sold his soul to them devilish fae.” Finn spreads his palms to the night and Johnny feels it pressing close like a crowd of people, wrapping him in the tangible darkness of a shroud, the cloying earth of the grave. “But this night - in this place - is mine. And nothing out here can hold me,” he says, eyes fixed on Johnny and black-dark in the moonlight, “not on my lands. No-one can touch me; nothing can stop me in any way that matters. Why should I fear the grave, Jonathan Elmer McPherson, when I’ve known it already? I felt its touch and it could not keep me. I am master of Danser Town, and I am chained to it like a dog. A dead-and-alive dog, black as shadow an’ the world beyond the end, and there ain’t none as can move you on without my say so. You, Jonathan Elmer McPherson,” Finn says, with a grin as cold as hard iron and as pointedly canine as a wolf - it sets Johnny’s teeth on edge, makes him shiver under his skin, makes the soles of his feet tingle with the urge to run like he’s being stabbed by a hundred tiny needles but he can’t move can’t run can’t look away from Finn’s terrible black eyes and shining silvered teeth - “you are my little lamb.” Finn raises an eyebrow in amusement. “And I will look after you.”

The desert is horribly silent for a moment. Johnny’s toes dig into the dirt. A breeze strokes through the hair at the back of his neck, and he shivers

“Well, you ain’t gotta pull my leg,” Johnny grouses, indignant more than cross. “I was only askin’.”

Finn snorts inelegantly and throws his head back to howl with laughter at the moon. Johnny feels around for a pebble and bounces it neatly off Finn’s drawn-up knee.

“An’ how come you know my middle name, anyhow?” he says, pushing up onto his feet to glower down at Finn as he snorts and tries to get his breath back under his control. “You been writin’ to my momma, or what?”

Finn unfurls, still wheezing slightly, and Johnny hauls him up onto his good foot. “Aw, never you change,” he tells Johnny fondly. “Anyhow, someone’s gotta know what gets written on your headstone. Gee up.”

“Oughtta leave you here,” Johnny grumbles, bracing for Finn’s weight. The man ain’t quite so heavy now - or not yet - Johnny reckons maybe he’d just needed a rest. They ought to make Danser, no trouble. “I thought I was a lamb, not a horse.”

“Nah,” Finn says with confidence. “I’m the lamb. You can be Saint John the Baptist.”

“I ain’t got the patience.”

“You out-walked a horse with marvellous patience,” Finn points out cheerfully. “And, as Saint John, you get to dunk me in a river and claim it was for the good of my soul.”

“Oh.” Johnny tilts his head and shift’s Finn’s weight on his back as they set out once more for home. “Well, when you put it like that.”

[silvcrlining]

founder’s day festival: finley’s entry

Though Finley never stops by the Pelican Town’s Founder Day Festival-- can’t really bring themself to--, that doesn’t mean they didn’t submit an entry for the art display. It was a decision they had made long before everything that went down in the Valentine’s Dance; plus, after a year of living in the valley, they had accumulated a hefty amount of photos. They wanted to do something good with them. So their entry hangs up in the exhibition: a series of portraits, with a plaque beneath them all that reads Faces of the Valley.

The sun is just rising over the trees in Cindersap Forest, over the top of a familiar van, and Sloane is caught mid-smirk, a teasing glint in faer eyes as fae reach faer tea cup out to clink it against the photographer’s cup, barely visible in the lower left-hand corner of the photo.

There’s a lone piano in the airport. The giant windows in the foreground are blurred, but the raging storm outside is visible. Even then, it’s easy to miss when the subject of the photo seems to capture all the attention: Ben, sitting at the piano bench, hands frozen over the keys. He doesn’t seem to notice someone’s taking his photo, and the look on his face is peaceful, calm.

Any picture of Koa in Finley’s reel is more often than not barely catching his blurry form. At the summer extravaganza, however, you bet he wants his knight costume to be immortalized through photography. He stands near the stage, chest puffed out, grinning wide, striking the most heroic pose he can (Finley made sure to add an extra shine to his suit while editing). In the back, Lizzie is trying to jump into the frame, waving at the photographer in her poofy princess dress.

Lizzie gets her own portrait, though. It’s after one of her and Finley’s training sessions. Her ponytail is slightly disheveled, cheeks flushed from running, but it seems like she set a new best running time, because she has her arms thrown in the air, eyes wide and mouth curled into a bright smile. She barely looks tired.

Some of the valley kids gather in front of the library after a day of school. Some stick their tongues out, others flash toothy smiles; meanwhile, Alex crouches behind them to level their height differences out, the look on his face somewhere between content and amused at the kids’ antics.

It’s nighttime, deep in a small clearing in the forest. There’s a scattering of camping tents set up in the background. In front of them, Henry sits on a log, a thick blanket wrapped around his shoulders, a cup of cocoa cradled in his hands. The campfire in front of him washes him in warm light. Although tired, the light shows in his eyes, which shine as gently as the shy smile on his face.

Kiran sits under a tree by the town, a picnic blanket splayed out beneath him and a sketchbook propped up on his lap. It seems like he was previously entranced with whatever he was drawing before Finley made him look up. His gaze is focused on the camera lens, a brow raised slightly, but the corners of his lips are raised slightly, pencil still pressed to the page.

The next portrait overlooks the ocean by the pier. There’s a lone boat floating along the water with two figures sitting inside. Willy, the fishing shop owner, isn’t paying attention to the camera; he has his fishing line tossed over the edge and is staring intently at the water in heavy concentration. Jemma, however, is not as focused; she practically leans over the boat, frozen in mid-ecstatic-wave towards the photographer, mouth open as if she was yelling out a greeting.

Matty stares at the screen of the only working arcade game in the Saloon, a picture of utter focus, his hands slightly blurred from whatever quick movement he was doing along the controls of the game. There’s a half-empty Joja Cola can propped up precariously beside the controls, and yes-- that is the renowned Pizza Slut hat sitting proudly on his head. Kiran is visible in the back, playing a game of pool with Malia-- though he seems more focused on Matty than anything else.

Malia isn’t looking at the camera. Instead, her head is thrown back in a laugh, an arm spread over the back of her couch. Her other hand is petting her cat, Salem, who is curled up in her lap. There’s a bottle of wine on the side-table and the sun is just beginning to set, the golden hour rays peeking in through the windows, casting the house in yellow light. For a moment, the house doesn’t look like a museum of memories; it just looks like a home. Malia looks happy.

Anya looks like an absolute natural on stage. The light from the disco ball glitters beautifully against her as she looks out at the crowd, clad in her skates and a charming smile. Behind her, her proposal for a roller rink is projected. Even if it wasn’t the winning proposal, the portrait makes it hard to ignore how easily she can capture anyone’s attention.

Art... really likes apples, huh? Did anyone else know that? His portrait is the definition of happiness, the grin across his face endearing as he reaches out towards the apple the photographer is holding out, visible at the bottom of the frame. The farm looms in the background behind him. Lizzie once again tries to sneak into the photo from a distance.

Sofia tilts her head at the camera, a small simper on her lips as she stands behind the counter of the library, hands placed neatly on top of its surface. Half of her hair is tied up in two buns on either side of her head. In front of her, there’s a notebook scribbled to the margins with words and, beside it, there’s a stack of books. Are they reserved for someone? There’s a sticky note on top that reads: for Elaine.

Sasha’s portrait is probably the most professional-looking, if only because it’s the only one that was planned-- she needed photos for her Instagram, and Finley needed more pictures in their portfolio. It was a begrudging agreement. Sasha leans back against a fence that overlooks the wide open space in front of the farms. The sun is shining, wind blowing gently through her hair as she looks off in the distance. Even if she’s posing, there’s an unmistakably pensive look in her eyes.

Dakota crouches on the forest floor, a wooden sign near them warning passerby's not to tread near. Their brows are creased in concentration, though it looks like they’re almost trying not to notice the camera-- which is exactly what had happened. “It’s for a festival entry! Just... act natural! Study the dirt or something, you know-- look academic.”

It’s after the General Store has finally reigned victorious over Joja Mart. Elaine is in charge of helping prepare the store for its reopening, but she’s taking a break at the time the picture is taken. She sits on the back of her ✨ truck ✨, the remnants of her finished snack beside her. She seems to be entranced in a book, a rare look of contentment washing over her face as her eyes dart across the pages. It’s hard to make out the cover of the book-- something by Stephen King.

Archie stands outside of the Saloon, leaning against one of the walls as a cigarette hangs from her lips, her bag slung over her shoulder. One of the outside lights shines down on her, given that it’s already well into nighttime. The look she gives the camera is dull, unimpressed. Finley must have said something really charming at the right time, however, because there’s a hint of something lighter coloring her features-- a gentle amusement.

The flower shop takes center stage... almost. Thalia commands attention, though; the small girl is almost a blur of movement as she’s caught mid-skip towards the camera. There’s a lemonade stand behind her, and she no doubt has a practiced script to get Finley to buy some. Gabe waits by the stand, hands tucked into his pockets, his gaze focused on his daughter; the love in his eyes is clear as day.

Finley doesn’t know Arden that well, but they find her outside of the General Store, and the light is hitting her just right, so it’d be a shame not to capture the moment. Arden only notices the camera after the photo has been taken. in her portrait, she’s too busy looking through the flyers pinned up on the bulletin board. Finley knew that look she wore all too well-- looking for a brand new start.

Iris had just finished pinning up a paper up on the bulletin board when Finley asked to take a photo. It seems like Iris had been almost too happy to oblige. In her portrait, she strikes a practiced pose, hip jutting out, a hand on her waist, head cocked to the side with a smirk. She’s wearing a puffy jacket and sunglasses perched atop her head, a combination that truly makes no sense, but her confidence radiates through the photo enough that it almost works.

Even if she’s new, Zola seems to fit in just fine at the Saloon. It’s an odd contradiction, though, because with the sweet smile stretched across her lips, she manages to stand out against the rest of the regulars loitering in the back. She seems to be in a conversation with the newest bartender, who looks sheepish but excited as she watches Zola, who’s in the middle of tossing an ice cube in the air and catching it within a shot glass. Sick moves.

Adria stands in front of her office building, smiling brightly at the camera. It had only been a few days after she arrived and was officially open for business, and that much is noticeable on her face. Her eyes are bright and enthusiastic, her smile warm and inviting. She looks hopeful. It’s the kind of hope the valley desperately needed.

There’s a softness to Jillian in this portrait that feels rare. It seems like it’s just another normal day of work at the General Store. Jillian is in the middle of organizing jam jars on the shelves, but her head is turned towards the camera. The photo captures the last remnants of what was probably an exasperated and/or annoyed glare before it was replaced by something much more simple, but just as loud-- a tiny smile.

The final photograph is the only one that has the subject facing away from the camera completely. It overlooks the ocean once again. The sky is a gentle, cloudless blue with silhouettes of birds scattered across; the water is rippling with lazy waves; the pier is empty, except for one person. At the end of the deck, Finley sits staring at the ocean, their back towards the camera, their shoes beside them. Their hair looks a lot shorter than it is now-- it was taken on their first week in the valley, when they found this spot and decided it might be worth staying here for a while.

[lfd072936]

Harlequin - Chapter 3

Word count: 3116

Summary: Things start to develop between Arthur and Lola during movie night. It’s mostly fluff and comfort.

Warnings: some cursing and derogatory terms (and smoking?)

Tagged: @tiredwritersworld and @trailerparkbarbiedoll

Chapter 1 link

Chapter 2 link

GIF by: @harleyfleck​

3.       Fame

As much as they both wanted it, there was no way for them to be alone anywhere. She did sit beside him from time to time at the cafeteria or the com room, but never for too long as she feared her increased attention would be suspicious and despite of her words Arthur didn’t want to bother Lola by constantly looking for her company. When they could talk it was always nice and calming for both of them, but the situation was never right to talk about something more serious. It always was topics like the weather or some hospital gossip, enjoyable but meaningless.

Though that day somehow they didn’t bump into each other at all. Maybe it was because Lola did not feel well and did all her tasks very goal-oriented to get them over with, thus not paying attention to her surroundings. Arthur very well could have been in sight many times during the day, she just didn’t notice. It was maybe an hour before left of her shift, but she decided to head back to the staff’s room early. She was determined not to feel guilty knowing how many times her colleagues would disappear for hours during the day, why couldn’t she allow herself to do the same? She sunk into one of the more remote chairs a little further away from the swarm of the crowd of people already gathering for the nightshift. It wasn’t her lucky day though, not even five minutes passed by before someone approached her. Lola initially thought she’d make small talk with her, but it was something worse.

- Hey, girl… needed a little break, huh? – she was one of the other attractive employees in Arkham, but as nice as she was to her colleagues, she was as ruthless and tough with the patients, earning her a fair share of notoriety. – Listen… I know you must be tired, but I have to ask you for a favor. It is movie night and most of our guys are, I mean you can see it yourself, they’re big and burly and they’re perfect for keeping the order during the night shift, but some nutjobs are unsettled by them when they are around while the movie is on.

- You have a movie night? – she was too tired to mind what was leaving her mouth. At her old wing there was a TV room where anyone could go to before bedtime, she assumed that this type of entertainment was simply cut out altogether here.

- Yeah. – the woman, Annie seemed irritated that Lola didn’t volunteer already and she had to continue her rambling. – It is a little treat for those who behave… you don’t have to worry, only the most stable are allowed to watch and even those are restrained. But we need some day shifters to stay and help out, because it’s a big project each time, you know, lot of these retards. – Lola gave no reaction. - …And I heard you can handle them quite well. – she wanted to say no so badly, but hearing Annie talk about the patients like this, she couldn’t stand the thought of leaving them in her and her company’s hands. Not just Arthur, either of them. They were all nice or at least tolerable, but for Lola they were all people.

- Sure… I’ll do it. – she sighed.

- That’s great, Lola… you’re gonna enjoy it – she gave a small, reassuring squeeze on her shoulders, although a human-like facial expression would have been more convincing. Well fuck you too, Annie.

The patients were herded into a room where was the TV was set up. They flocked in happily into the small place and found their seats without any incidents, some walking on their own some wheeled in. Although the more violent patients were indeed at least handcuffed, some weren’t restrained at all. Lola reckoned that Annie was not only an asshole, but also a liar. In the rush of trying to get everyone in and to their seats at a reasonable time, she didn’t even realize that Arthur was among those who were allowed to watch the movie. He did notice her and although he was eager to talk to her, he decided to leave it. Not only did she look very busy, he also still lacked the confidence to just walk up to her and start a conversation and maybe even sit on her side. Her kindness towards the other patients didn’t help either, she even hugged one of them and she never hugged him. Suddenly he didn’t feel so special anymore. Disappointed and enraged he sat on a chair closest to the door and watched her from afar as she took a seat a few rows ahead of him. Lola chatted with the patients surrounding her and was smiling at them, just like she had done with him yesterday.

Arthur barely felt interested in the film anymore, even though movie nights were usually something to look forward to. A nurse pushed the cassette in and turned off the lights. The movie started, illuminating the excited crowd. The title was never revealed beforehand so when it flashed up onscreen the workers always had to count on some loud reactions and this time wasn’t an exception. They all wanted crime and action, but those in command of the movie selection had to walk the fine line between insultingly juvenile and violent or sexual enough to spark attacks, so these movies were mostly off-limits. Some booed loudly when the word “Fame” lit up on the screen, but despite the immense discontent with the choice, not one of them requested to be escorted back into their cell. Arthur had heard about this movie before, back when it came out. It was a musical about the lives of a couple of talented schoolchildren hoping to make it one day in NYC. He had always been interested in this movie, but never gotten to see it, mostly because of the lack of time and money. Maybe this will be an enjoyable night after all.

The movie went on just fine, not the best one he had ever seen, but he cherished every little drop of entertainment they were given in here. At around the half-hour mark during a scene in a ballet studio, Lola stood up and as quietly as she could started to move towards the door. Arthur assumed that she was headed to the restroom, but when she passed him, even though she was only lit by the vibrating light of the screen, he could tell that she was crying. Her hand was in front of her mouth, tears rushing down her face and she was in a visible hurry to get out. Arthur was truly surprised that nobody followed her at least to ask what’s wrong. He looked around one last time, but none of the workers paid attention, they, just like the patients, were fixated on the movie, so Arthur sprung after Lola. She was well ahead of him, but he could see her turning onto a lesser used hallway. She collapsed onto the floor, hiding behind the cabinet and finally with the comforting coldness of the wall behind her back, she could let her sobs out. Arthur tried to approach her as carefully as possible, it was weird for him to see her this vulnerable.

- Hey… - her whole body winced from his soft voice, getting ready to jump, but once she’d seen that it was Arthur her muscles relaxed a bit.

- Oh hey. What… what are you doing here, Arthur? – she tried to calm herself while wiping her tears with the sleeves of her shirt, pretending as if nothing had happened. Without much success of course.

- Are you OK? – he asked gingerly.

- Yeah, sure. Everything is fine – her voice cracked as another sudden sob erupted from her throat. – I mean… I know you’re not stupid Arthur and you can see that something is very much not fine. But there is nothing you can do to help.

- I can listen – he said after a while. Lola looked up at him, eyes full of pain and confusion. She didn’t say anything just gave him a small nod. He usually would have needed a little more encouragement but this time he decided to follow his instincts and sat down on the ground beside her. He left a good ten inches between them, but made sure that every other movement and expression he’d made was supportive and comforting. He wanted to touch her, to embrace her so bad, but he still needed to gather some courage for that. They sat in silence for a while, but he wasn’t hurrying her to talk.

- Have you ever felt like you fucked your whole life up, Arthur? – she finally spoke, staring into the air in front of her. – Like you could pinpoint the moment it all turned downhill?

- No… my life is going pretty smoothly – he said. Lola chuckled quietly, but it was only a second of joy in her ocean of sorrow.

- You know, I wanted to be a dancer… I was a dancer actually. But there was this girl… and she was new, but she was so full of herself. She constantly belittled me and everyone else, everybody hated her. And then she got a leading role that I really wanted. Better yet it was practically in my hand, but she managed to snatch it from me. And then she even had the audacity to rub it in my face. – he could tell she was getting angry just talking about it. – And I snapped… I was doing everyone a favor by shutting her up for a few minutes. – tears filled her eyes up again. – I only got a year for assault, because the attempted murder charges were dropped, but I wanted to kill her. And I most definitely would have, if I hadn’t been stopped. So yeah… I can safely say that the moment I ruined my whole life was when I decided to give in to my urges and ignore the consequences just to feel her squirming under my hands as I cut off her airflow. - she was trembling with rage.

Arthur put his hand on her shoulder, gently caressing her with his thumb. This wasn’t something he’d expected to hear from Lola, but in a way he felt even more connected to her.

- Sometimes you just have to stand up for yourself… you don’t have to take everything they try to shove down your throat.

- I know, but it just wasn’t worth it in my case… - she was on the verge of crying again. - …because I’ll never dance again. – she couldn’t hold it back any longer. She let her tears escape and she clasped her arms around Arthur’s body almost instinctively.

- Who says you can never dance again? – he pulled her closer into the embrace. – I would love to see you dance sometime.

- Thank you, Arthur – she laid her head into the crook of his neck. – Thank you so much – she whispered making him shiver. His scent was so nice, so clean and fresh spiced with the fragrance of cigarettes. He let Lola lean on his shoulder, just enjoying her company and the touching of their skin. It was nice to hold a girl in his arms even if the circumstances weren’t exactly ideal. Arthur felt proud for being the only one who cared enough to follow her. She would definitely like him more than the others after this.

Even though Lola calmed down a little bit she still was visibly tense at heart, Arthur could tell. Unable to know whether she even smoked, he offered her the only thing that usually made him a little more relaxed: a cigarette. She accepted without saying a word. Minutes passed in silence as they let the grey smoke fill up the hallway.

- I never told anybody about this – she spoke at last after putting out her cigarette on the tiles and flicking it under the cabinet. Most of her colleagues knew why she went to prison, but not her motives. – Thank you for being so understanding.

- Well, I’m not in a place to judge. I know a thing or two about losing control. – he paused. – Perhaps you’ve seen it… - he always wondered whether she’d known who he was, why he was here.

- Yes. Although I don’t think there’s a single person in Gotham who hasn’t – she giggled. – But it’s almost like you’re a whole different person than the one I’d seen on TV.

- Sometimes it feels like it wasn’t me – he thought for a second. – I mean my therapist told me not to shift the blame and to take responsibility, which I try to do so obviously it was me. But when I put my makeup on, I did feel like a different person. – Lola got out of the embrace and faced him visibly intrigued.

- You think that was the key? The clown-face?

- I mean I wasn’t taking my medicine, and I had a rough couple of days – he laughed awkwardly. – But yeah, the paint and suit made me feel… powerful. And all those people who agreed with me… - it was obviously hard for him to talk about this. Convinced by years of therapy that he should be ashamed of his actions. As much as Lola wanted to see it as the triumph of modern psychology, she just couldn’t. She had adored the Joker for too long.

- It wasn’t a mistake. They agreed with you because you were right – she said almost inaudibly, knowing that she shouldn’t be saying this.

- You think so? – his eyes suddenly lit up and he looked at her like a puppy.

- Sometimes you just have to stand up for yourself. You don’t have to take everything they try to shove down your throat. And you were the king of that. – he didn’t answer, he just smiled to himself coyly. Not many people in the hospital had ever told him anything reassuring, but of course they hadn’t. He felt like Lola was proud of him, better yet she liked him. And not just the well-behaved, medicated Arthur, she liked him when he was truly himself. Definitely a first.

She let him dwelve in his thought for a minute, before reaching for his hand.

- Come on now, let’s go back before they notice we left. – he let her lead him back to the TV room, although at this point he probably would have followed her anywhere. It felt awfully natural to walk hand in hand silently. Just before sneaking back to their seats Lola pulled him closer.

- When I dance for you, Arthur… - she whispered into his ear, after he instinctively put his hands on her waist. – … I will want you to dance with me – Lola wanted to kiss him badly, but the risk was too high, so she broke away from his touch and entered the room cautiously. Arthur stood there for a while consumed by his thoughts. This had gone unbelievably well. His rage from before evaporated into satisfaction and… hope maybe? Surely this wasn’t something she’d do with any of the other patients.

He returned to his seat a few rows behind her. The movie went by quite fast, not that Arthur had been paying too much attention. The fact that they’d missed key elements of the movie and more so his racing thoughts made it impossible for him to focus. But he held himself together until he was finally escorted back to his cell, sadly not by Lola. He could have kissed her then, but his luck ran out for the day. Once lying on his bed, Arthur could allow himself to fall into a deep hole of visions. He’d generally seen his sometimes too vivid imagination as a curse, but from time to time he could turn it into a blessing. Not very often and he always had to remind himself what was reality and what was only in his head, but the fact that he could was a small thing worth celebrating. He put his hands on his chest where hers were just an hour ago, closed his eyes and let his fantasies fog up his mind. In his mind Lola was in a nurse uniform, but not the kind that nurses wore in here, the type you get when you try to put together a Halloween costume last-minute. A tight, white mini dress with a red cross on it, a headpiece, stethoscope and lots and lots of cleavage. She danced, not in a way of course as the dancer she was, but what the tightness of the dress let her. She looked a little tipsy. Arthur smiled to himself, squirming a little. The very next moment she was naked, getting closer and closer with her little awkward dance. He was fully prepared to imagine their first time together, when he suddenly heard one of the chairs screeching on the floor. He looked up startled.

- Hey, Arthur – Gary said, while clumsily climbing onto the chair. – Hope I’m not bothering you.

- Hello Gary. I’m sorry you had to see this – Arthur said. Of course he failed to notice that his friend was speaking with an American accent.

- It’s alright, I came unannounced. She’s a really pretty girl.

- Yeah… yeah she is. – he nodded repeatedly.

- Is she your girlfriend? – Gary started to snack on some raisins he seemingly pulled out of nowhere.

- I think so… How did you get in here? This floor is very heavily guarded.

- I’m really small, remember?

- Well, thanks for stopping by… it always means a lot when you visit me.

- It’s my pleasure, Arthur. We really miss you at Haha’s. You were the best clown, you know… – all it took was a loud bang from one of the neighboring cells for him to snap back to reality and see Gary completely fade from the chair. Within second he realized that his mind had played a sick joke on him yet again. His laughter erupted without warning from the thought of how easily he could be deceived by himself. Even after establishing it multiple times with his therapist that Gary couldn’t possibly visit him, not that he would want to. He wished to return his fantasies back to Lola, but he just couldn’t get himself to. The sour aftertaste of being tricked by his head into imagining a whole person completely lingered and he wasn’t ready to make her part of his visions again. Even if he would do it consciously. He needed her to stay as real as possible, for as long as possible.