#its very soft and tame but its a nice change of pace from the usual fucked stuff i make hehe

[sinfulforrest]

a new home fic is gonna drop later tonight >:3c

to those that saw it at like 2am this morning when i accidentally posted it, no you didn't 🫵🫵🫵

[littlemisslipbalm]

Little Border Town

Summary: It begins with a man and a woman, as it always seems to. One lives in France and the other lives in Italy, technically, but they’re also neighbors. Various issues arise between these two and they can’t ever seem to see eye to eye on anything. Will they ever move past their petty fighting or is the little town they live in doomed to only gossip about what Harry and Y/N are fighting about today?

AKA: Harry and Y/N are neighbors that fight all the time, the whole town wants to know when they’ll just fuck. 

Featuring italrry as well as mustachrry! and running italrry... I hope y’all like! this is just part one, so much more is in store so pls let me know what you think :) lots of love - first fic that’s not named from a quote said in the story I’m shook!! the growth, the range...she has it apparently! side note: i had to change the gif from italrry/mustachrry bc something is whack with the formatting and either the keep reading or the title keeps disappearing so i tried some stuff to resolve it *sobbing*

Word Count: 8.5k | Warnings: swearing, mentions of relatives death, bickering, otherwise tame for now?

Pt. 2

-

There’s a little town that straddles the border between Italy and France. It’s just a little ways from Nice on the French side and Ventimiglia on the Italian side. The population is rather small and the tourists who come are usually either returners or are very very lost. One street you’re in France and the next you’re in Italy. It can be confusing to newcomers, but the locals love it -- for the most part. These streets are easily delineating as French or Italian by the little country flags that hang above all the shops or in the windows.

It’s a coastal town with cobblestone everywhere and bright painted buildings. The water is a soft blue and the wind barely ever brings any waves greater than a foot high. There’s a shop for everything and it seems to be frozen in the past from the outside, thankfully if you step into the tiny bed and breakfast there is wifi. The sun almost always shines down on this sweet piece of paradise, the winter does however bring gusting winds and thunderstorms. Those storms rattle the little town and afterwards you’ll find the residents picking up the pieces that have fallen off the shops.

Now, this little border town, with its streets separated by French and Italian customs, well almost all of them, it seems imperative to mention. There, in the exact middle of the little town, is one street that is split down the middle, half in France and half in Italy. The locals from the French and the Italian sides love that street the most because it has this certain dynamic spark of change that brings them together, makes them unique. Except for two locals that seemingly hate this street. These two locals aren’t actually true locals either. They both moved there a couple years ago.

Harry, from the Italian side, owns the shoemaker and repair shop. He hailed from England and moved to the little town when his great uncle, Joe, had sent him a letter pleading for him to take over his shop so that he could retire. Harry, ever the traveler, hopped on the next flight out to Italy and then traversed by train and bus until he reached his Joe’s home. Like most of the shops, there was a living space above the shop area. Harry lived there with Joe until he passed away a few years back leaving Harry to tend the store alone. He didn’t mind too much, being left there alone. He had always loved Italy and to get to live in the countryside in a little cobblestone town and own a shop was a dream come true. After living there for two years, he had bought a sailboat that he would take out when the shop was closed. He also had bought himself a motorcycle that he would ride to the next greatest city if he was ever in dire need of more of a nightlife as a 26 year old. He loved it, his own slice of paradise… except for his thorn in his side.

Y/N, from the French side, owns the bookstore, which carries lots of vintage books and records. She had moved there after college. In school, she had studied French and taken a year abroad in Paris and had traveled down to Nice for a month. While in Nice she had made a few friends and one of them had come from the little border town. They had insisted they all go there for a weekend. When Y/N stepped foot onto the street she now lived on a few years before, she fell in love. Seeing the little Italian and French flags in the windows and potted plants with a view of the sea had been so endearing to her.

She was drawn to the bookshop and had chatted up the old French woman who ran it. The woman had reminded Y/N of someone but she couldn’t quite place her finger on it. It was strange for her because she often found these connections with older people, she felt like she had known this woman her whole life. Y/N went back into the store the next two days she was there to talk to the woman again, Marie, she had learned. Before she left the little town she left her number with Marie and kept in some contact with her. After about a year though, their communication fell off. Y/N was sad but understood that life can be busy for people and that she obviously wasn’t the most important woman in the little border town bookkeeper’s life. Or so she thought. In the middle of the summer after she graduated college, Y/N was backpacking through Iceland and got a call from who she assumed was Marie. She was ecstatic and answered the call immediately. Sadly, it wasn’t Marie, instead a friend who had been given her will to execute. In her will she had left Y/N the bookshop. Her reasoning was similar to why Y/N had liked Marie so much, she said that Y/N had reminded her of her sister who had died unexpectedly in her teenage years. Being so far from home at the time and completely consumed with love and loss, Y/N had agreed to take over the shop without any hesitation.

She got home and informed her parents of her choice and moved to the little border town as soon as she could. She lived in the little area above the shop that Marie had also gifted to her and she tended the shop downstairs. The living area hadn’t really been cleaned out and Y/N had found an old collection of vinyls in the corner of the bedroom. As much as she wanted to keep them to herself, she thought it would be a good addition to the shop and had made a section for records in memory of Marie. She loved France and the coast, she bought a little car and would drive to Nice every so often or to the more sandy beaches along the French coast. It was quiet and different from the life she had maybe expected, but taking over a bookshop because a kind stranger had gifted it to you as one of their dying wishes wasn’t something Y/N could ever turn down. Her soul was too sweet. At least it was for most people, not for her neighbor though.

Her neighbor was the shoemaker, Harry. Their shops lived against one another even though he was on the Italian side and she was on the French. They were located exactly at the split between France and Italy. With less than a foot between the buildings, they saw a lot of each other. On their first interaction, Y/N had seen too much of her neighbor, meaning she had seen all of him. Their shops were similar to track homes, meaning they were built completely the same only mirrored. This meant that the windows of their bedrooms matched up exactly, she wondered who had thought that was a good idea after her first night. When Y/N had first moved in it was August, she left her window open and without the shade down to let as much fresh cool air in as possible. With her jet lag, she had found herself wide awake at about three am. Pacing around her room in the pink silk tank dress she had decided to sleep in, her eyes froze on her window - or rather, who she saw through her window. The light from her room and the moon were strong enough to illuminate the tanned and tattooed skin of the naked man in the room next to her. He held a bowl in his large hands that he seemed to be spooning cereal into his mouth from.

His half-lidded eyes flickered to the light coming from the place next door. The bookshop had been closed all summer and no one had been living in the upper area for a little longer than that so he had gotten into the habit of leaving his window open. He was half drunk after stumbling his way home from the tiny bar down the street. He had decided a naked cereal run would be a good idea to tide over his cravings. But upon seeing the girl wearing lingerie a mere two feet away from him, separated by the screens on their open windows, he realized that wasn’t actually true. His eyes widened only slightly as he saw her, his drunkenness allowing him to keep his blushing to a minimum. His drunken confidence kept him from covering himself as he lifted a single brow and made a salute with his spoon hand before going back to his bed.

She stayed at the window for a moment after the naked man disappeared and then quickly ran back to her bed. She shut off her light and tried not to think about everything she had seen. She tried to not think about his toned arms that flexed as he moved around his food, or the tattoos that lined every part of his body (the tiger and ferns seared into her mind specifically), or his tousled chestnut hair, or his searing green eyes, or the full mustache that held a little milk from his cereal. She tried, she really did. But how was she supposed to face her neighbor ever again after that. Maybe he wasn’t her neighbor, she reasoned, maybe he was an acquaintance her neighbor had just spent the night with. That wouldn’t be better! Her hands grabbed her other pillow and shoved it over her face trying to force herself to go to bed.

The next day, she had been working out front of the bookshop, beginning to repaint the windowsills of the shop with some navy paint she had found in the back to give it an updated look. It was early and she hadn’t expected to see anyone at all. Her jet lag still ailed her and caused her to be up bright and early. This was her second run in with the shoemaker, this time though, both to her dismay and joy, he was fully clothed. He wasn’t watching where he was going and almost toppled the both of them over as he left his store front, locked the door behind him, and then set off down the street. His large body, covered in short black running shorts and a mesh grey tank top, bumped into her almost immediately. He was still fiddling with his music on his phone as he began his run. She jumped back and dropped the paintbrush from her hand. She yelped as his body collided with hers and he stopped in his tracks. His eyes scanned her and took in the light wash cuffed jeans and moss ribbed tank top she was wearing. They widened when he recognized her face, the expression of shock similar to that of last night when she had seen him in his bedroom. He smirked and took out one of his earbuds. She grabbed her paintbrush from the ground as he extended his hand to her.

“I’m Harry,” his hand is greeted with hers. He speaks to her in English and she decides it’s probably best to follow along with whatever someone else began with. She worried that she’d run into a lot of Italians who didn’t know French or English and she’d have some trouble. His eyes flicker to the bits of blue already littered on her hands and in her hair.

“Y/N.” She nods, avoiding eye contact with the man she had already seen too much of. At least he’s not your neighbor’s lover, he’s just your neighbor. She also notices how he doesn’t apologize for running into her.

“You were spying on me last night,” his hand returns to his side and his smile quirks up again as he watches her face flush. His nicely groomed mustache twitches, trying to contain his laughter.

“I was not!” She finally looks up at the taller man and takes in his tanned face that is even more attractive in the morning light and up so close. The hat he wears is funny, a blue trucker’s hat that read “If you ain’t a fisherman, you ain’t shit!”, and she would laugh if she couldn’t already tell he was going to be extremely annoying.

His smirk continues and he barks out a laugh. He removes his sunglasses to really look at her now. “It’s alright, I work hard for this,” he gestures to his body, “glad someone appreciates it. Just means I’ll need to be installing a shade now, I guess.”

“You don’t have a shade and you walk around your room naked?” She ignores his first bit of conversation. She can’t think about his body or how it had looked last night. She sets down her paintbrush and folds her arms across her chest, trying to figure the man in front of her out.

“No… but it’s not all my fault. You had your shade open too! Who’s willingly up at that time of night anyway? I was just fixing myself a snack after the pub.” He raises his brows triumphantly at her, feeling confident that he has gotten the upperhand in the conversation.

She narrows her eyes at him as she finally registers that his accent isn’t Italian or French. He’s British and she wonders what he’s done to get himself in this little border town. He also seems to own the shop beside her since he locked the door behind him. He was peculiar, but she couldn’t dwell on what she thought about him since he had just accused her of being a peeping tom.

“Someone is up at that hour because she just moved and has terrible jet lag and can’t sleep. The place has been completely closed up for months and I needed to get as much cool air in as possible before the hot day. That’s why I was up and that’s why my shade wasn’t down.” She stands up straighter and rolls her eyes at him, muttering something in French to herself about annoying men. She smiles to herself when Harry doesn’t seem to understand. He obviously can tell she said something, but he doesn’t know exactly what. He could understand a good bit of French and he could speak some, but if someone spoke quickly and quietly, like she had just done, he wouldn’t be able to make it out. He figured it was something rude, though, with the way she sounds and begins to turn from him.

“Are you here to stay?”

“Yes.”

“Well, welcome to the best place in the world. It was so nice, two countries couldn’t decide who got to keep it and decided to split it.”

His arm sweeps out around him, gesturing to the street around him. She smiles up at him before following his arms movement. His arm had more tattoos than she had realized from her eyeful last night. She noticed the intricacies of all the black ink and again she had a million questions that she had to keep to herself. He was arrogant, conceited, impatient and a little bit odd and she knew all of this after barely one conversation. At least they could agree on one thing, they loved this town.

He looked back at her after scanning the street and saw her smiling in wonderment at everything around her. This brought a fleeting genuine smile to his face, knowing she was happy to be there. He had known Marie and was sad to see her go less than a year after his great uncle. He had always thought that Marie and Joe were both secretly pining over each other. Constantly stopping into each other’s shops and waving from their windows at each other, but Joe had always shaken his head at Harry when he mentioned it.

His smile faded when her eyes came back to his fac face face. Her smile disappeared as well. “Right, so, see you around…?” He said, already forgetting her name. She scoffs when she realizes what happened and then repeats her name. He nods curtly before replacing his sunglasses and single airpod and starts running again. She calls after him, “Thanks for the apology!” and then mutters to herself, “le con” knowing she shouldn’t shout that down the street where other people speak French. He doesn’t hear any part of it, his music up high enough to drown out the sounds of the world.

-

Y/N settled into the bookshop fairly easily, but she never failed to mention how unhelpful Harry had been:

“Yes, well, it’s been going pretty good...except for this one man. Well, I’d hardly call him a man -  a boy. My neighbor, actually, he owns the shoe shop...no, nevermind that, he practically made it his mission to make my move the hardest thing in the world...Harry -- yes, that’s his name, Mama… well I don’t know, It’s just Harry. - it doesn’t matter! He’s been in my way at every turn… yes, both physically and metaphorically...I’m not kidding! And I’m not being dramatic… Well, It was nice talking to you. Love you, talk soon.”

That was her first telephone conversation with her mother since arriving in the little town. Maybe ten days after she arrived. Naturally, she had it in the downstairs area of her home, the bookstore. And naturally, Harry had wandered in, to discuss one of their shared planters, and overheard her entire side of the conversation and gathered the rest from his own imagination. When she had laid eyes on him after setting down her phone, she rolled her eyes at the smirking Chesire cat look on his face.

“You would be the kind of man to eavesdrop, hm?” She restacked a group of books that were already in order.

“Thought I was a boy?” his smirk remained on his face. He strided closer to the counter she stood behind.

“Like I said...What can I help you with?” Her voice drips with venom as she finally turns her eyes to look at Harry. His smirk still remains on his face now that she is making eye contact with him. He’s clad in a t-shirt that has some baseball team on it with burgundy corduroy flared jeans. She notices the strain of the shirt over his chest and biceps and avoids the scoff of how vain he must be to keep himself in that good of shape for tending a shoe store in the South of France, or rather Northern Italy…

“Right, Thought I’d pop in and tell you that one of our planters is shared. So you’ll have to talk to me before replanting anything. I noticed you coming in with tulips the other day.”

“The ones on the front of the street?” He nods as her head turns to glance out the front window. “Why the hell do we share a planter?”

“Because, my late great Uncle Joe and Marie fancied each other.” Her eyes went wide at his words, trying to think of Marie having a crush on someone. “They were never together, never admitted the fancying, but they always did the planters together. They each had one of their own and then bought the third together, said it made sense to make the shops look nice...I know it was just so they had more to tend to - together.”

She hums, taking in everything that he said and how his eyes shine slightly just at the mention of his uncle. His voice had perked at the story he had just spun for her and she smiles thinking about the idea of love and loving someone so much that you’re content with simply planting flowers together. It seemed really old-fashioned to her, but it also brought even more charm to the town she now called home. Romance was still alive here, or so she hoped.

“Okay, I’ll make sure to let you know when I’ve decided what flowers I want to put in there.” She turns around, assuming the end of the conversation and getting back to work. She doesn’t really find a reason to entertain Harry anymore than necessary. Like she told her mother, he was constantly in her way or being naked in his room, something she had chosen to leave out of her conversation with her mom.

“You’ve misunderstood me. Maybe my English is getting rusty, I rarely speak it since everyone else knows Italian.” She flips around at his rude comment, eyes alight with fire once again. “If you want to replant anything, which I don’t understand why you would, the flowers I put are wonderful, we’ll have to discuss it. It’s not you just telling me you’ll be doing it. We own it equally and I won’t let you bulldoze my hard work.”

“On a planter?!”

She sticks on a sickly sweet smile as she tries to refrain from laughing. “I guess the countryside really can make some people enjoy the simpler things in life…” With that she walks to the back of the shop, leaving the stunned Harry to see himself out of it. When the little bell rings, her stifled laughter can be heard among the books.

-

It doesn’t matter what it is, Harry and Y/N are able to make a fuss about anything and the whole street, if not the whole town, had quickly figured that out. No one had a problem with Y/N, they welcomed her with open arms. Marie had told the entire French side and a good amount of the Italian side how wonderful and tenacious she was. How Y/N reminded Marie of her sister and upon meeting her, many agreed. But the first time Harry and Y/N had a public row, at the bakery in the center of town, on the French side, everyone was quick to realize that there was bound to be trouble between the two. It was a stark contrast to the loving comments and endearing looks the previous owners had always engaged in when they were still alive. This fight was maybe a few days after the planter business and Y/N had tried in the following days to get him to change the planters to no avail so she was in an especially pissed off mood towards Harry.

“Could you be taking any longer?” Y/N rolled her eyes as she stood behind her tall neighbor, her foot impatiently tapping a beat against the stone floor.

Harry stood hunched in front of the display case, scanning for exactly what he wanted and desperately trying to remember what he had come here for. He was a bit more dressed up that day, his mother had been coming to visit him for the first time in a while and he wanted to look nice and have a special treat for her when she arrived. His trousers were a deep navy that matched the navy of the stripes on his sweater vest, the blue pinstripes of the button down underneath was a slightly lighter shade, but blue nonetheless. He had rolled up his sleeves past his elbows, showing off his various tattoos and sinewy arms. As his eyes scanned over the case again, he ran through his mental list and bit at his lip, knowing he was forgetting something. He barely even heard her drawl out her insult, the tapping of her foot eventually getting his attention due to its faltering.

She straightened upright from her hip jutted position when he didn’t even bite at her unkind words. Her foot stopping its melody. As she was about to give another go, Harry turned around and she gave him her full look of displeasure.

“Country life requires a bit of patience. I doubt you’ve ever had to wait your turn in your life, but you’ll have to get used to it here.”

Her eyes roll instinctively. She noticed that they seemed to do it just at the mention of his name or the sound of his voice. She had always thought herself a lover of the British accent, citing Downton Abbey and various famous musicians - Freddie Mercury, George Harrison, Elton John, etc. - as members of that little island who were formative to her identity, loving them for their talents as well as their accent. Yet with Harry’s deep meandering British voice, she found herself wishing to be anywhere but in its presence. She found that he took so long to ever get out an actual full thought and when he did it was barely coherent. He also never failed to let his sarcasm or smugness drip into his tone, causing her to audibly be aware of the smirk on his face even if she couldn’t see it. The image flashing across her mind no matter what.

“You’ll have to let me know when you’ll be here again…” His eyebrows quirk at her odd response and it’s her turn to smirk up at him. She’s already satisfied with her quip even though she’s only gotten half of it out. His mouth opens to question her, but she finishes her thought. “That is, so I can plan around you. If I have to alot a whole day to the boulangerie just waiting for you… I’ll never get settled.”  

Harry scoffs and a fleeting expression of actual offense flashes across his features before turning around to finish his order. The others in line and the worker are all equally wide eyed and she hears some hushed whispering behind her, but it’s in Italian so she can’t make it out. The worker eyes Y/N as she rings up the rest of Harry’s chosen items. The worker smiles softly at Harry, feeling for the man she had known long enough to know that he wasn’t as rude as he was being with Y/N. She was also taken aback at Y/N’s response, but hadn’t seen her be rude otherwise so she had to assume it simply had something to do with the man.

When Harry is all set, he turns to leave and pass Y/N again. His eyes narrow and his words once again are turned nasty. “I wouldn’t mind if you never got settled,” he said before muttering something in Italian under his breath and leaving the store. She assumed it to be nasty as she eyed the couple behind her giggling, before walking to talk with the worker.

She shook her head trying to rid herself of her cold exterior that she kept having to conjure up for Harry. Now smiling, she asks for her items in French, happy to be speaking the language that brought her so much joy rather than English which seemed to be reserved only for Harry now. She hadn’t gone to the Italian side very much yet and the people she had met over there so far had spoken French to her once she had introduced herself.

As the worker finished with Y/N’s order, she asked in a hushed tone, in French, “How do you know Mr. Styles?”

“Harry?” Y/N guessed, not actually knowing Harry’s last name until now. The girl behind the counter smiles quickly before nodding. “Mon voison” she sighs and contains the accompanying eye roll when she sees the girl blush at the idea of being neighbors with Harry. “He’s a brat,” she continues and the girl laughs lightly before saying, “I think he’s rather sweet… not bad to look at either.” She looks out the window of the shop wistfully, like Harry’s still there and Y/N whips her head around, afraid he knew that she was talking about him. Thankfully, he was gone and Y/N laughs to herself when she feels the anxiety that had gripped her for a moment dissipates. Shaking her head at the girl, she grabs her items and change from her before making a break for the door.

It was soon after that incident that Harry and Y/N’s squabbles became notorious throughout the little town. Drama wasn’t common there and any sort of excitement was the talk of the town. It made sense that this was snapped up by the gossipers from the French and Italian sides alike.

Anne, Harry’s mother, was stopped the next day, when she was out for coffee and Harry was still at the shop, and was asked why her son was so angry at the new bookshop owner. She thought it made sense for her to drop into the bookshop next to her son’s shop after hearing that. Walking into the shop, she was greeted with the smell of lavender and the sweet melody of a love song. She immediately smiled at the charm of the bookstore, feeling like there was a bit more life in it then there had been the last time she had come in. Harry had told her that Marie had passed, but not that someone new had taken over and she was eager to meet them, especially now that she had been told about the town gossip.

A messy haired, but bright eyed Y/N came trotting out of the bookshelves at the sound of the door opening. A smile beamed on her face when she saw the mature brunette woman standing just inside the doorway. “Bonjour! Bienvenue!” She greets as she smooths some of her unkempt hair. Y/N had been digging around the back shelves of the store searching for a specific book one of her other customers had asked about yesterday. And much to her dismay, she wasn’t being very successful. When the woman only says “Bonjour” and makes no inclination that she plans to speak more French, Y/N believes it’s safe to assume she’s a tourist and switches to English. “Can I help you?”

Anne laughs happily to hear English and walks over to the counter that Y/N had walked behind. “Yes, Hi! My son lives here and I’ve just come to visit him. He didn’t tell me someone had taken over Marie’s shop.” Y/N perks at the name of Marie and she smiles sincerely at the woman now. Not quite a tourist, yet not quite a local, she noted for herself.

“Yeah, I’m Y/N. I was a friend of Marie’s, so to say, and she left me the place.” Pausing, Y/N turns over the vinyl that had just finished side A, and then returns to her place at the counter. “I’m still really new, but it’s a small town. I don’t know of many other people who weren’t born here who live here, though, who’s your son?” She rests her elbows on the counter and leans on them while staring at the kind woman. She had noticed the British accent, but hadn’t connected the dots yet. It wasn’t uncommon for people to have a British accent when they spoke English so it didn’t necessarily mean she was from England. But maybe Y/N should have noticed the light eyes and brown hair, maybe that should have been an indicator as well. Or the way she had said ‘my son’ and nodded in the way of the shoe shop. But no matter what, it came as a shock when the woman with the coffee in hand said what she said next.

“My son is your neighbor! He runs the shoe repair shop. His great uncle, my ex-husband’s uncle, left it to him a couple years ago.”  Y/N’s eyes widen so much so that she has to blink a few times to assure herself they haven’t popped out of her head.

“Harry...is your son?” She speaks slowly and Anne smiles at the girl. She nods and Y/N nods back, taking the news in. He has a mother...she guessed she should have expected that. It had been unlikely that her theory of him being sent straight from hell to make her life just like it was accurate.

“Here you are mum! What are you doin’ in here?” Harry rushes through the door when he sees his mother inside from the window. Y/N rolls her eyes on cue, but still notices the soft adoring look on his face while he gazes at his mother. She supposes she can concede that he isn’t the spawn of satan now. His look hardens when he turns to Y/N, who has straightened up to her full height upon his arrival.

“I was just meeting the new bookshop owner, Y/N!” She looks between Harry and Y/N. “What’s this about you being angry with her?” She asks more to Harry, but Y/N hears easily. Harry’s eyes flash at Y/N and her eyes widen once again, but shrugs to Harry, having no idea where his mother had gotten that idea.

“What did you say-”

“I didn’t say anything! I’d just realized she was your mother right before you walked in!”

“It’s true. Someone said something about it to me at the coffee shop. Of course, I didn’t even know the book shop even had a new owner, so I decided to come by.”

“It’s nothing, mum,” Harry insists.

“Harry and I...we just don’t exactly see eye to eye. But, I’m sure we’ll warm up to each other eventually,” she easily lies through her teeth, knowing she really couldn’t see herself ever being friends with this prick. “Feel free to look around the shop, it’s not exactly to my liking yet, but then again, I am just getting settled. Otherwise, you two should enjoy your time together. I’m sure it’s not often you can make the time to journey all the way out here.” She smiles sweetly at Anne, choosing to ignore Harry completely.

“Thank you, Y/N. Harry can be an acquired taste for some, but just below that exterior of his, he’s a giant softy.” Harry groans at his words, Y/N’s smile only grew.

“Au revoir! Good Day!” She calls when they leave the shop rather swiftly. It seemed to her that Harry was desperate to get his mother out of the shop as soon as possible, while Anne was happy to browse and look at what had been changed in the shop.  

-

Their early unhappy encounters were now months ago. But encounters of a similar caliber happened at least once a week. It’s hard to avoid a neighbor who you seem to find anything they do to be an annoyance, even their existence. They saw each other around town and at their shops and in their bedrooms. Even though they didn’t particularly like each other, hated was actually the correct word, the drawing of the shades was a near impossible task with the heat that plagued the little town between August and Mid-October.

They had fought over who could leave their shade open and who couldn’t because Harry believed only one of them had to close it to maintain privacy but then he wouldn’t settle on an agreement on taking turns closing shades. Y/N argued that they could both leave them open if he would agree to stop walking around his room naked all the time, but he refused that as well, at first. He conceded after a week of having his shade drawn that he would wear boxers. Therefore, practically every night, Y/N and Harry would see each other before bed since they actually seemed to have the same sleep habits. Sometimes she would have to yell at him to close his window if he came home with a guest and he would yell at her to turn off her light if she was reading or watching television in bed too late.

Thankfully, it was approaching the end of October and the weather would begin to change. There wouldn’t be a reason to have the window or shade open and they at least wouldn’t have to see each other right before bed.

This morning, Y/N is up early, she found it amazing to wake up early here, something she had never done before this little border town. It was teaching her new things about herself and changing her, but she liked it. In deep forest green flared pants and a long sleeved rainbow striped shirt, Y/N is watering the planters in front of her shop as well as the little ones attached below the windows. It was always a little cool in the mornings, but she had checked her weather app and seen that it was actually going to be the first cold day of the season. The first cold day since she had arrived actually. As much as she liked the sun, she also loved fall and winter, so she was excited to experience them for the first time in the little border town.

She smiles to herself as she moves around gracefully. In her back pocket, her music plays softly, Paul Simon sings lovingly to her. She hums along and moves to deal with the planter at the edge of the sidewalk. But she’s foiled by a man she seems to think about far too much for how much she says she dislikes him. Harry jogs back a half step upon realizing he has run into her yet again. One would assume that one of them would either change their routine or know to step out of the way or really just be a little bit more aware of their surroundings with how many times this has happened since Y/N’s arrival. Of course, their stubborn personalities actually require them to be unrelenting in this area of their lives as well. Much like the shade debate, the who was in the way of who debate is still majorly undecided.

“Oi!” He looks down at his shirt and it has a substantial wet spot on it. She had spilled some of the watering can’s contents.

“Excuse you!” She says simultaneously, not realizing she’d gotten water on him.

“I’m not the one who just threw water on someone.”

“Neither am I. You ran into me, it’s not my fault you never look where you’re going.”

“You’re just always in my way. This has been my route for ages, I’m not going to change it just because you moved in next door.” His hands fly around in annoyance and anger.

“You’re unbelievable!”

“Well! I can’t stand you!

“Clearly!” “Cleary.” They’re both huffing out insults that don’t seem to really be going anywhere. Harry has straightened his posture for once and she actually finds his true height slightly intimidating. They both breath for a moment, finding no other words to fill the tranquil morning silence that they had just disturbed.

“Are we ever going to have a conversation where we’re not at each other’s throats?” She sighs, feeling upset that the nice Fall day was suddenly ruined for the rest of time just because of this.The bickering with Harry was tedious and she couldn’t keep going like this. Being in a completely new place and running a small business was hard enough as it is. Something snapped in her just then, hoping to squash a part of her life that is causing her stress and exhaustion.

Harry’s expression falters, his eyes losing that glint of angered passion for a moment, he wasn’t expecting that response. It wasn’t necessarily mean, it was more like she was resigned. Simply done with the conversation. He felt his anger and annoyance slip away rather quickly at her question. She sees his mustache twitch, which she realized happened when he was either amused or confused. She didn’t think what she said was funny so she presumed he wasn’t sure what to make of what she had just said. Her head tilts to the side and waits for his response. Her watering can falls to her side now, making herself a little more comfortable and leaving only a small amount of air between her and Harry.

“Tired out already? Thought you were more of a competitor than that.” He mirrors her by tilting his head as well.

“I didn’t realize we were in any sort of competition.” She stepped forward and straightened her posture a little, feeling challenged by the tone he had taken. She may have a kind and soft exterior for most, but she was nothing if not fierce in her core. She was an Aries afterall. She wondered what Harry might be, she wasn’t super into astrology, but she was sure that he wasn’t an Aries. Aries were fiery and passionate and were very unwilling to admit defeat, so he had just hit the exact right note to keep her from squashing their now long-standing quarrel.

“We’re not. I just thought I had met my match, guess I was wrong.”

He looks off in the distance to be nonchalant, like he wasn’t trying to bait her even if that’s exactly what he was going for. Sure, he found her annoying, for whatever reason. But he had realized when she had posed the question, that he hadn’t had this much excitement in a while. Nothing and no one really challenged him in the little border town, his work was easy enough, money wasn’t tight, friends were easily made, and partners for the night were easy to find. He didn’t dislike any of those facts, truly, he counted himself lucky and was overjoyed that he lived there. But the verbal sparring he engaged in with Y/N fulfilled a need he hadn’t realized was going unsatisfied. He would never admit it, but she was often a highlight of his day. Getting into a little quarrel with her brought a smile to his face when he recalled it later. The bird she had started to flip him before bed made him genuinely laugh. He liked it, so when she seemed to want it to end, he did what he knew would make her change her mind. Tease her.

“I see...bonne journée, cul.” She decided to bid him farewell, knowing he didn’t plan on apologizing any time soon. She turned her body from him and Harry understood enough French that she had ended the conversation with a “good day”. He also knew that she had called him an “ass” as well. His brows raised for a moment at the insult before giving a flicked salute in her direction and jogging off for his morning run.

For some reason, after a moment of knowing Harry had gone she glanced up in his direction and watched his retreating figure. And for some reason she found herself looking back down at the flowers and smiling to herself. Somewhere inside her she was glad Harry hadn’t given into her veiled request to stop fighting. It was a strange sensation because as tiring it was to bicker with him, she feared if they stopped then they would stop talking at all and her heart panged at the thought. She didn’t know why and she didn’t care to know why either.

-

The bell of the book shop chimes and Y/N pops up from behind the counter. She had been crouched out of sight trying to organize the books of notes on customers Marie had left that Y/N had only just found. She hadn’t realized the cabinet existed in the counter so when she accidentally slid it open she was a little taken aback. Still, she was quickly distracted by the new customer. Her cream collared shirt was unbuttoned to where her collarbone and decalotage were on display, some gold medallions hanging around her neck today. Her worn light wash blue jeans were barely visible behind the counter due to her height. In her hair was a classic red bandana, pulling back her hair out of her face save for the strands that worked themselves free on their own accord.

Her smile was wide, happy to see the first customer of the day as she pinched at her shirt to make sure it was in place. Her posture slumped immediately when she realized that her first customer wasn’t a likely customer at all, instead who else but Harry. A mischievous glint in his eyes as he strolled in and right up to the counter. He leaned his large body down to rest his head in his hands and look up at her. He crossed one ankle over his other, getting comfortable as he stared wickedly up at her.

She wet her lips and took a step back. It was her first look at him today, apparently missing him on his morning run. Maybe she should have thought something of that after their encounter yesterday, but she didn’t. Like most days, his trousers were high waisted, Gucci likely - how he afforded them, she had no clue - and his usual shirt had now been accompanied with a striped red, black, and yellow open cardigan. His hair looked wet like he had just taken a shower, most of it was pushed up but a few strands fell over his large forehead. His mustache looked freshly trimmed and the rest of his facial hair had yet to leave any shadow after his obvious shave.

“Harry.” She says definitively, regarding him with even contempt.

“Ice Queen.” He levels, eyes narrowing.

She scoffs immediately. “At least give me something original...or accurate maybe. I may not like you, but ice queen? Hardly.”

He genuinely chuckles at her quick response and nods, agreeing easily with her for once. “You’re right. It was weak, I’ll admit. Feel like you need a nickname though, thought something really rude might upset you.” He smirks cheekily. His agreement doesn’t make her feel like she’s won at all, unsurprisingly.

She rolls her eyes at his comment. “Care to let me know why you’re gracing me with your presence today, Mr. Styles?” Moving around the counter, she begins to walk to the back of the shop, assuming Harry would follow her if he needed to. He apparently did and walked after her after realizing she wasn’t coming back.

He gives a half-laugh, “Yeah, I came in for a new record. I saw you decided to restock them...thought I’d pop in. It’s easier to get them here than order online...Curtain-hater.” He adds the name as an afterthought.

She glances at him from the bookcase she’s standing at, her eyes shifting to meet his. A smile fades into her features as she can’t contain the giggle at his new attempt at a nickname. She then wrinkles her nose, “That isn’t good either, but proficient try, I guess.” She gives him points for actually relating the name to her in some way, but it still doesn’t incite any anger in her which she knows is what he is going for. She probably should question herself why she’s helping Harry to nickname her something rude, but alas, she doesn’t. He nods solemnly, knowing she’s right again. He needs to find a nickname for her and he doesn’t know why, but he’s glad she seems alright with him giving her one, so long as it is fitting.

Her body shifts from the bookcase over to the boxes she had gotten to hold the vinyls. She had a small collection since the place was small overall, but Marie’s old collection had sold successfully so she had restocked afterwards, this time choosing some of her personal favorites.

“I’m not sure of your taste...I know you bought Marie’s Ella Fitzgerald album last time.” She sifts through the records, trying to find something she thought he might want. Like she said, she didn’t know what he liked, but she prided herself on knowing music and as an owner helping a customer, she wanted to please Harry. She knew he liked Ella from his previous purchase and she knew he liked Marvin Gaye in the evenings when he had guests - how very cliche she would add. “I mostly got in 70’s/80’s rock...Elton, Queen -”

“Got any Paul Simon?” Harry cuts her off and she looks at him surprised. Her fingers stopped when she looked up at him, their tips placed on the peaks of the albums covers. “Thought I heard it here the other day?”  

Her face perks up at the mention, she loved Paul Simon. “That was on my phone, but I do actually. Well, it’s Simon & Garkunkel. I can order something from just Paul Simon whenever I have to order again if you want?” Their gazes are holding each other’s, her fingers still rubbing over the pointed edges of the two albums she had between her hands. Harry’s watching her and leaning against the table the boxes sit on.

He nods after a moment. “That’d be great.”

“You’ll have to tell me which records of his you already have so I can order something new for you.” She grabs the Simon & Garfunkel album and flips it to Harry so he can look it over.

He regards the Parsley, Sage, Rosemary & Thyme cover reading over the fine print with all the tracks listed on the bottom right. “Thanks,” he mutters out after another moment of silence. It was rarely this quiet between these two, so it was different. “I’ll take it, Shrimp.”

“Oh my god!” She gasps before bursting into a fit of laughter. He had actually made her laugh and his eyes widen at the sound, almost confused that she hadn’t scoffed. Her laughter was far louder now then the half-hearted chuckle she had given earlier, which really was probably just another scoff. This laugh was loud and unbridled, but melodic and fun. In the back of Harry’s mind, he noted that he liked it. The first bullet point on a list that was likely to grow.  “That works, just the perfect amount of rude. I love and hate it at the same time.” She finishes before walking back to the front. Harry saunters after her, pleased with himself.  

“I’d like to say I wasn’t looking for your approval, but I guess I sorta was,” he ponders out loud as she takes the record back from him to type in the correct spelling into her relatively new computerized system. She twists her mouth to the side of her face to refrain from smiling anymore and then hums. Her eyes flit back up to Harry’s triumphant smile and for once she doesn’t want to slap it off of him.

“People-pleaser…” She prods him easily. His smile falters only slightly, not out of unhappiness, but of borderline jealousy.

“How do you come up with that so easily? It just rolls off the tongue,” He asks seriously, confused by the woman before him. This time she laughs as she hands him back the record and a copy of his receipt.

“I’m well read, that usually helps, but maybe it’s just my intrinsic wit that gives me an edge,” she raises her brows slightly, before beginning to walk off now that their exchange is done. She’s surprised she doesn’t want to rip her hair out after that encounter, but she figures she should simply count her blessings. “Au revoir, trouser-boy!”

He rolls his eyes as he turns on his heel and exits the shop, amused rather than annoyed with the bookkeeper.

-

enjoy! lmk what you thought :) part 2

[hero-boy]

the duality of a storm.

so! this is not the first work im posting here but it has been a long while since i posted original work here! i'd suggest listening to Sweater Weather by The Neighbourhood, because the song was the main source of inspiration and the suppressed emotions that Deserves its Spot At The Basement.

i was meaning to write from Adler's perspective and i'm not quite sure if i matched his character right but here goes nothing :>

reader is female; this was originally supposed to be an interaction between my oc and Adler.

word count: 850~

warnings: light angst, mentions of past manipulation

 ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎

‎‎‎‎the duality of a storm ;

It was her little smirk which greeted him first, followed by the usual drawl. "I thought you hated beaches."

‎‎‎‎‎

‎

‎‎

"I do." Adler scoffed softly, watching the flicker of flames from his worn out zippo, before the familiar burnt taste and smell filled his senses, eyes hazed momentarily by the thick cloud of cigarette smoke which expelled from his lips.

‎

The smirk persisted upon hearing his answer, though really it resembled more of a quirk, a smile than a smug curl of lips.

‎

"Then? What has brought you here, soldat?"

"You know the answer."

‎

He pried the thin roll from his chapped, scarred lips. Eyes warily surveying his companion for any change in expression but drawing a blank conclusion. Unreadable; amiable, yet there was just something he could not lay a finger on. She merely chuckled, piercing green eyes fixated on his. As if reading him back.

‎

"Da, soldat. That I do."

‎

Silence.

‎

"How's the arm?"

‎

"Getting better."

‎

"Mhm."

‎

She smiled, he noticed through the peripherals of the dark filter of his shades; the sad type that always lingered whenever he saw it. The unmistakable, piercing stab of guilt whenever his eyes fleeted to her eyes during those smiles was nearly suffocating. Again, it was not a terrible emotion to feel in their relationship, neither was it ever her fault for the scars that she so tried to mask and conceal away. But the scars were crystal clear evidences of his handiwork; his name marked on every inch of the tainted soul she called her own. Like an intrusion, trespassing, violation of a soul to another's.

‎

He felt that lump in his throat. Adam's apple quivering as he swallowed spit in attempt to coax the knotted lump down. The dryness of the smoke served to constrict his throat further.

‎

There was the urge. The impending tide of self-disgust, mingled with the burning curiosity, to find out why on Earth she continued smiling at him. Why she chuckled at his words. Why she stood there without a flinch as he stood closer to her by a fraction of an inch each day, despite his unsubtle attempts (to speak, to chat), which all backfired by the last-minute hesitation that braked his whole being before a twelve car pile-up occurred.

‎

He knew he didn't deserve where he stood now.

‎

Yet it was the selfishness in man to yearn.

‎

Greed.

‎

The greed of a man.

‎

Her chuckle (gods, that light, giddying sound) blurred the lines between thoughts and reality. "I didn't think you'd sulk just because you're at a beach..."

‎

And the more he stared back at those piercing icy green eyes, as much as he hated to admit it, it calmed. The rise of emotions falling like how an ocean would calm upon the end of a superficial storm. The roaring of blood in his ears akin raging winds nestling down and taming to a steady (yet still, rather fast paced) beat of his heart.

‎

Calm. Tamed.

‎

Tamed. A funny word to describe their queer little relationship. Was he not once considered her handler? The man who had held the reins, and her who came in like a wild animal, thrashing and resisting power. He who was called successful for the little science project he so, so inhumanely started without much thought, the project that chipped away at the rock bottom of his own conscientious.

‎

And now here she was. Standing before him as he found himself permitting to fall, into the whirlwind that grounded his mind in that very moment, knowing fully well she was the cause of it all. His dearest ruiner, as he was hers. Yet insanity, mania, delusions of his maddening, stifling conscientious only fell silent, tamed under her soft yet resonant presence.

‎

He had his suspicions. But it was only then when the realisation dawned upon his mind. Grimly, like a daunting truth. Daunting. The type of daunting that sprung from the depths of anxiety; from the uncertainty of not knowing what was to come in the future. The jittery type, where hands felt weak from each and every encounter, not quite knowing where to place them. Adler didn't quite like not knowing. He didn't like uncertainty. Uncertainty, to a man like him, meant the risks and dangers that were hiding right under his nose with only their sly, dirty presence thrumming alongside each undertone. Yet...

‎

"...At least the wind's nice."

‎

Her joking, teasing tone as her words came to a halt.

‎

He watched her, and the little unwavering smirk of hers. Hand falling limp beside him, dropping the cigarette, stubbing it out. It felt intrusive, in this very situation. It wasn't quite right. Head tilted at an angle, watching the gentle roll of waves against the dull beige sand and greying skies. A slight pause, before his answer came:

‎

"The wind's nice."

‎

He had never realised how beautiful the sight was.

‎

‎

a/n: hope you enjoyed it ! a more touchy-feely than actual action type of story 😶

[queenjunoking]

Wolf Taming pt 39

CW: Noncon - Shock Collar - Pain - Petplay

Mimi

I knocked at the door and waited for a response. Miss Eos had decided to take a nap after her late night phone call and told me to wake her up once Callidora was about to reach her final mile. Jude had sent me an alert on my tablet and I hurried as fast as I was capable of to Miss Eos’s room to wake her.

After a few rounds of knocking I decided I needed to risk punishment and just enter the room. The punishment for failing to follow through on her orders would be much worse than the one I might get for entering her room without permission.

“Miss Eos?” I hobbled across the room and lightly touched her shoulder.

She sat up, took a deep breath, and glared at me. “Whatever happened to knocking, Mimi?”

“I-I I’m sorry, Miss Eos.” I tried my best to stay strong. Miss Eos always seemed to have a soft spot for me despite everything she did to me. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t afraid of her getting angry at me. “I tried knocking but you didn’t respond. You said to wake you when Callidora reached her last mile. I-I didn’t want you to miss it.”

She picked up her phone, probably to check the time. It was three in the morning. She was on her final mile in little over six hours. Not a marathon pace under normal circumstances, but given her circumstances it was fairly impressive. Most ponies tended to start collapsing early on and their shoes actively worked against them. I knew that feeling better than anyone, the only thing worse than the hoof boots were the ballet boots I was locked in.

She stood up, went behind a screen, and began to get changed into her formal riding gear. It was important to reinforce Callidora’s place. Miss Eos was a rider and Callidora was a pony. “Did she require the harness to finish her run?”

I scrolled through my tablet to check Jude’s logs. “Yes, Miss Eos. Though fairly late. Over 97 percent of our new ponies require the harness set up to keep them on their feet by the fifteenth mile. Callidora managed to make it to mile 22 before she collapsed the first time. It puts her in our racehorse category.”

“And Z was going to waste this potential by making her a puppy.” Miss Eos laughed as she came out from behind the changing screen.

“It seems especially impressive given the speed increase you ordered around mile sixteen. Even after the harness cables were attached to keep her up, Jude kept the treadmill going at three miles over the standard speed.” I stood at attention as Miss Eos passed me and went into the hallway. I tried my best to follow her, but even after all this time I couldn’t move fast enough to keep up with other people and soon lost sight of her.

I sighed and decided to do some of my maid duties. I wanted to see what was going to happen, but walking in late would just make things weird. I’d probably see Callidora doing training in the yard soon enough anyway.

Hopefully Callidora would put Miss Eos in a good mood. It had been awhile since we had a real winner and if Callidora played her cards right she would be cared for very well. Her own spacious stall, good food, and attention. The best ponies got a personal stablehand to take care of them. It was nicer than most slaves would ever get, myself included.

I couldn’t imagine anyone willingly jeopardizing such luxury.

Eos

I quietly walked into the barn, passing stablehands that stopped what they were doing to bow as I was passing. I couldn’t help but smile at the obedience on display. I was once told the idea of using slaves as stablehands was a bad idea. Giving slaves such an important job was a bad idea. They’d sabotage the operations. They’d try to escape or rebel if I let them congregate.

But I did it anyway and it allowed my operation to expand quickly. The stablehands were given an amount of freedom but more or less had a gun to their head. Any mistake or signs of rebellion were harshly punished. They could be replaced. If they acted out they would most likely find themselves in a worse position. I chose stablehands from slaves not fit to be ponies or cows which gave them limited alternative use. I usually sold them off to one of the families that made them into various useful objects. A combination of drugs and restraints could make anyone something as nice as an artful cup holder or as unfortunate as an urinal. Eitherway, I couldn’t imagine anyone being able to spend the rest of their life like that, it's why I suggested they behave during introductions.

I made my way to the exercise room and knocked on the door quietly before I walked in. The treadmills faced away from the door so Callidora couldn’t see me. I could see her though and it was quite the sight.

Her body glistened in sweat, the evidence of her long hard run. Her ass was still a bright red from being at the end of Jude’s crop the entire night. I could see her legs were shaking. The new pony’s legs always shook like newborn fawns when they were finished with their runs. None of them were ever prepared for a marathon like they had experienced.

I watched her stumble, but the cables attached to her harness from the ceiling caught her. I heard her make an angry noise when the cables went taut. I didn’t want the ponies to rely on the harnesses to keep them up, so when the cables became taut they got a shock so they’d get their weight off of them.

She was breathing hard, but I could still tell that there was determination in her. To prove she couldn’t be controlled she had to show she wasn’t weak. All that did was show us that she was a prize though. It was always amusing to see a slave play right into your hands.

Jude looked up at me and was about to greet me, but I held a finger to my lips. She nodded and turned back to Callidora. I approached her as well, standing to the side of the treadmill. Her blinders didn’t allow her to see me, but she knew someone was standing next to her. She tried to turn her head to look at me and Jude corrected her with a swap from the crop. Ponies needed to keep their minds on the task at hand, not distractions. The blinders were there to help with this, not to make her look around.

Callidora grumbled unhappily from the swat, but kept looking forward. She stumbled one more time and got another shock before she made it to the end. The treadmill slowed to a stop and her legs were shaking non-stop.

“Jude, disconnect the current so Callidora can use the harness to take weight off her legs.” Jude walked to the other end of the room and pushed a few buttons before giving me a thumbs up. “You can rest now, Callidora.”

The mare ignored me and continued to try and stay on her feet. I grabbed her chin and forced her to look up at me. “Hello Callidora. My name is Mistress Eos. I am your new owner. You know longer have to worry about Z and her incompetence. You just completed your first marathon and I am extremely impressed. You’re going to do well here.”

Callidora tried to say something through the gag. She seemed unable to stop running her mouth even when she couldn’t use it. I undid some of the pieces of her tack, allowing for the bit to be removed while leaving the rest of the headpiece on.

“B…” Callidora was breathing hard and stretching out her jaw. Her voice failed her on whatever she was trying to say.

“I’m letting you talk right now. It’s a small gift. Think wisely about what you want to tell me.” I smiled and stroked her hair. It was a nice length, but I was going to want it longer for a much nicer ponytail.

“Bitch.” She spat the word at me, anger in her eyes.

“Adorable.” I grabbed the crop and hit her leg with it. She crumpled, if it wasn’t for the cables she’d have collapsed on the floor. “I’m sure you think you’re very strong. I know you think you can take anything we can dish out after spending time with Z. As much as I hate to admit it, she was very talented at breaking things like you.”

“Is she now?” She spoke between breaths. “She didn’t seem very talented at much aside from pushing a button on a shock collar.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “I like that fiery spirit of yours, Callidora. I think we’d get along very well if you just let yourself enjoy your time here.”

“I think you should go fuck yourself.” She spat the words out again.

“Oh Callidora.” I stroked her hair again as I spoke. “You’re never going to escape from here. You are a slave in the Society. An organization like ours doesn’t stay around for hundreds of years because slaves escape. Z wanted you for a pet. It’s a waste of your talents. You’re a runner. You want challenges. This is the perfect position for you. Tonight was harsh, but its trial by fire. Your daily routines will be easier than this.”

“And if I refuse?”

I couldn’t help but smile at that question. I walked away from Callidora and approached Jude. “Have Callidora taken to one of the bigger stalls. Give her the full works, muscle massage, bath, food and water. Let her get a few hours of sleep.”

“Of course, Miss Eos.” Jude nodded and left the room to go get some more stablehands to assist in transporting Callidora.

I took another look at her just hanging from the ceiling over the treadmill. “You’ll get to see some of the nicer things you’ll get to experience if you work with me. The treatment the best of our racehorses get. Later this afternoon you’ll get to go on a tour of the grounds. You’ll learn then what might happen to you if you refuse. It’s only fair I give you all the information available before you make a decision you’ll regret.”

[sugarmaplewings-fics]

Deep Blue Fantasy Part Three

Pairing: Merman!Tamaki Amajiki x fem!reader

Warnings: Uhh . . . sexual tension? Idk how to describe it. I guess this is the most PG-13 bit of it but there’s nothing too crazy

{Pt. 1}  {Pt. 2}  {Pt. 3}  {Pt. 4}  {Pt. 5}  {Pt. 6}  {Pt. 7}

くコ:彡くコ:彡くコ:彡くコ:彡

You made your way down the familiar rolling hill that led to the ocean, inhaling the briny air. The winds whipped your hair around your face haphazardly, tossing it as they pleased. You scrunched up your nose and tried to spit the stray strands out of your mouth, which proved to be a struggle.

Trying to tame your now spit covered (H/C) hair, you allowed your feet to sink into the black sand. You reveled in the feel of it squishing and shifting between your toes.

Waves noisily crashed over the black rocks, rougher today than they were normally. The wind was stronger than usual, and you expected a storm was on its way, judging by the gray look taking over the sky. You frowned at the wind, wishing it could be a nicer day when something caught your eye.

Pale skin contrasted the black sand it was lying on, dark water crashing around a pair of shoulders.

You knew how dangerous the waters could be, especially on a day like today. It was forbidden to step foot in the ocean; your father never let you or anyone else forget it. But there was clearly something wrong, so you risked coming closer for a better look.

A man roughly your age was lying on his back, partially submerged in the water that curled and fell over him. You realized, to your further shock and horror, that this man was completely naked.

His eyes were shut and you couldn't tell if he was breathing or not. An odd necklace laid against his bare chest, somehow miraculously staying on after the apparent chaos he had been through. What was he doing out here? Was he some castaway washed up on shore? Was he some idiot who had decided to go skinny dipping at a bad time?

You decided none of it mattered as you knelt next to him, finally giving up on trying to keep your skirts out of the water.

You put a finger under his nose, checking for breath. To your relief, a warm cloud collected between you. So he was alive, if only faintly. You tried shaking his shoulder, wondering if you could wake him up. His skin was cold, so cold, just touching it made you shiver.

No matter how hard you shook him, he wouldn't stir, making you worry. Finally you dragged him further out of the water, taking off your jacket and draping it over him, hoping to provide some warmth.

"I'll be right back," you whispered, standing up again in order to race home to find help.

✤✤✤✤✤

Tamaki blinked his eyes open, light bleeding into the crack of his vision. It was too bright, and his head hurt. His whole body throbbed and tingled and something about him felt . . . different.

He was laying on something very soft and wrapped in layers of coverings, which trapped in his heat nicely. Where was he?

His memory suddenly flooded back to him, the necklace, the waves . . . his legs.

Tamaki's eyes snapped the rest of the way open, cringing at the onslaught of light. He was in some kind of room, bathed in afternoon sunlight. It was relatively simple, only holding a bookcase, a wardrobe, and a small vanity table. He had never before seen so many warm shades, marveling at how much yellow could be picked up by his eyes.

He lifted the blanket off of him, cold air rolling over his brand new legs. He was wearing another type of covering over the lower half of his body, these loose-fitting and a light blue color. They obstructed the view of his legs, only showing him his bare feet. Tamaki bunched some of the fabric in his hand, twisting it slightly in curiosity. He then experimentally bent his knee, straightening and bending it again until finally taking his foot into his hand. Tamaki brushed his fingertips over his toes, spreading and curling them. He finally allowed a small smile onto his face. He'd done it. He had legs.

Tamaki suddenly noticed something about his thoughts. They had changed slightly. It was still him thinking them, yet they felt almost foreign. He was thinking in . . . words. That's what they were called. He was used to forming sounds in his mind, but generally he used pictures to think. Now they flowed silently in individual sounds, each one with its own meaning. A new one would appear every now and then, and Tamaki would just sort of know what it meant.

Before he could start unpacking his new mental system, a noise drifted into his ears. It reminded Tamaki of singing, but this was distinctly less musical. Could these be words except . . . spoken? The knob on the door shook, the sound coming from the other side. The door swung open, causing Tamaki's breath to catch in his throat.

You walked in, followed by a woman who appeared to be a few years your senior. You wore a light-colored sundress and a glittering circlet was delicately placed atop your head. Tamaki noticed how your (H/L) (H/C) hair gently bobbed and flowed as you walked. He'd known you were pretty, but he'd never seen you this close before, and he made a point to memorize every feature of your face which until now, he'd only caught glimpses of from afar.

The woman behind you was speaking, her hands wringing her skirt. "—princess, please. This isn't—"

"Oh! You're awake!" You met Tamaki's eyes, your face melting into a heart-stopping smile.

Princess? What's a princess? Tamaki wondered.

Your face suddenly went serious, almost frowning at him. Tamaki fought the urge to shrink back from your gaze, unsure of what he'd done to evoke such an expression. "Brianne, could you give us a moment?" you requested of the woman behind you, your eyes never leaving Tamaki's. "Since my father is away for the week, it is my duty to deal with him."

Brianne sighed, releasing her dress. "Very well, then." She stepped out of the room, closing the door after her.

You crossed the room, bringing yourself a few paces away from Tamaki's bed. You folded your arms in front of your chest, quirking an eyebrow at him. "Do you realize—" you spoke, your voice smooth and even, curiously filling Tamaki's ears in a way he was unaccustomed to, "—that swimming on that beach is forbidden?"

Tamaki frowned, taken aback. The beach?

You must have seen the look of confusion written across his face, because you relaxed slightly. "Sir, are you from this island?"

Tamaki shook his head, answering truthfully.

You uncrossed your arms, resting a hand on your hip. The gentle smile returned to your face, making Tamaki marginally less tense. "So you are a castaway. Your ship must have gotten stuck in another storm." You glanced out the window that was leaking sunlight into the room. "You were out nearly all day. You missed the storm we had over here. But the sun's out now."

Tamaki couldn't take his eyes off you. He wanted to ask you so many things, to tell you how much he admired you, but nothing would take hold in his mind.

You finally looked back to Tamaki, your eyebrows creasing in concern. "You don't talk much. You aren't going into shock, are you?"

You closed the distance between him and yourself, resting a warm hand on his forehead. He stiffened at your touch, explosions of feeling firing off in his chest.

"I did find you half-drowned and naked on my beach. I'm glad you don't feel so cold anymore."

Tamaki frowned at your words, focusing on one which was foreign to him. He decided to experiment with his voice, his throat bobbing as he swallowed nervously.

"N-naked?" he asked, the word finally sliding over his tongue. It felt odd, using his voice like this to communicate, but sound was able to travel differently through air than it did in the water.

You blushed, averting your eyes to the floor. "The wreck must have torn off your clothes or something. We-we gave you some pants." You bit your lip, embarrassed by the subject matter.

Tamaki fiddled with his pants again, the new word bouncing around his brain as he twisted the cloth between his fingers. Now that he thought about it, humans did have a strange obsession with hiding their bodies from each other. The merpeople didn't really practice the custom, although Tamaki knew some of the mermaids liked to wear decorative pieces tied around their chests; anything from shells to seaweed. He'd even seen someone sporting a discarded man-made flag.

"You s-saved me." Tamaki finally said, turning back to you. "I thought I was going to die." His words were coming easier now, formed in his head and then shaped by his tongue. "Thank you."

You smiled. "I didn't really do anything. I just found you." You extended a hand. "I am Princess (F/N) (L/N) of the Islands of Thapia, it's a pleasure to meet you."

There it was again; princess. Tamaki decided not to ask, in case he ended up looking like an idiot. It couldn't be anything too important, although the way you said it almost made him wonder . . . .

"I'm Tamaki Amajiki." I've been watching you for the past two months, and I might be in love.

"Where are you from?"

Tamaki sighed, uncertain of how to answer. "Far away from here."

He vowed to himself to tell you, but now wasn't the time.

Your gaze slipped down to his chest, admiring the necklace that hung from his neck. "I like your necklace. Where did you get it? Is it a family heirloom?"

Tamaki brought his fingers up to it, subconsciously fiddling with the shell. "I'm borrowing from this lady."

"A lady?" Your eyebrow shot up again. "Got someone back home?"

Tamaki jolted at your words, his hand flying from the necklace. "No! It's just me."

"Just you?"

The raven-haired man swallowed and nodded.

"Well," you said, straightening, "since you weren't breaking the safety laws and you clearly aren't from around here, I am making it my personal responsibility to care and provide for you until you are ready to return to your home.

Tamaki blinked. "You'd do that?"

You shrugged. "Where else are you going to stay? Besides, I get lonely here and you seem like a nice person."

You thought he was nice? He might cry at the thought.

"Would you like anything?" you continued. "A meal? More blankets?"

Tamaki bit his lip, suddenly noticing how his stomach clenched around nothing at your words. How had he not noticed how hungry he was? "Some food would be nice. Please."

You smiled and nodded. "I figured as much. I'll get Brianne right on that."

You ducked out of the room and Tamaki waited patiently in his bed, tapping his fingers together when something caught his attention. A dark form had moved from behind the glass of the window. Tamaki had never seen anything like it, wondering how he hadn't noticed the clear panes before. He stared outside, watching as leaves on a tree shook with an invisible breeze, another form darting through the air into his vision again. He now recognized the creature as a bird, however, he was used to the larger, white sea birds that he would always find when he came up to the surface. This one was so dark and compact, and Tamaki found himself finding it cute.

He watched it intently as it fluttered about, poking around in the grass for a stray worm. Its activities intrigued him so much he barely noticed the time passing, jumping when he heard his door swing open.

You strode in, carrying a tray laden with food. "Hi, again. I'm back." You set the tray on Tamaki's lap and grabbed a chair from the other end of the room, pulling it up beside the bed so you could converse.

"Th-thank you," Tamaki said, looking down at the bowl that was before him.

"You're welcome!" you beamed. "You just missed lunch, so we still had some stew left over. Our chef is really nice and he warmed some up for you! I'll have to take you to meet him later." You gasped at a new thought. "I should take you on a tour! I'm sure you'll like it here. I don't get visitors much, it's usually just the same islanders. Aren't you hungry?"

You had noticed Tamaki hadn't touched his food yet.

"Sorry! I was just, um, distracted . . . ." It was the truth, watching you talk was like some kind of dream to him. The way your mouth moved intrigued him, holding your smile through your words. There was something so indescribably enrapturing to him as he watched you. He felt like he could listen to you all day.

Listening to you . . . . That was right. Your voice. Tamaki had to figure out how to ask you to sing for him so he could finally hear it up close, untarnished by distance and wind.

Now wasn't the time, though. Tamaki's stomach painfully reminded him. The only problem was . . . what was he supposed to do? At home, he was used to being able to eat everything with his hands. But this was obviously a liquid, and something told him just shoving his fingers in wasn't the answer.

He swept his gaze over the tray, his eyes landing on a little slice of another foreign item to him. It had a tan crust, with a light, almost fluffy center. He picked it up, throwing multiple glances over to you in case you made a face to signal he was doing something wrong. Tamaki held it to his nose and sniffed. It smelled . . . good. Really good. He dunked it in the stew and brought it back out, lifting it up to his mouth and licking off some of the broth.

Flavors unlike anything he'd ever experienced before exploded in his mouth, and he found himself biting off some of the disc he'd dipped in it. This was another flavor, a little plain with the faintest hints of sweet. Tamaki happily chewed, already trying to figure out how to consume it all as fast as he could.

"You like the bread?" you asked, noticing his overjoyed expression. "I baked it this morning, with some help from Brianne. Brianne's my handmaiden, by the way. You've seen her, right? She was with me when I walked in the first time."

Tamaki looked over and nodded, thinking back to the older, somewhat heavy-set blonde woman from before.

You went on, beginning to explain your nearly perfected technique for baking bread. Tamaki tried to follow what you were saying, but it was difficult when he didn't even know half the terms you were using. Oven? Yeast? Dough? Tamaki could never have imagined how vastly different his world was from yours.

All too soon, he finished his 'bread', or at least, he was pretty sure it was bread. He frowned a little, disappointed, until his eyes alighted on another object on the tray. He picked it up, instantly feeling that it was metal. He used it to scoop up some of the chunks of meat and vegetables, finding them even better than the thick broth he'd been eating before.

He finished the last of what was in his bowl, a new sense of satisfaction settling in his stomach. But something else was tickling the back of his throat. He felt almost dry. He looked over to another bowl-like object on the tray, this one cylindrical and tall. He picked it up, seeing liquid inside.

It was water, it had to be, due to how clear it was. But the memory of seawater gushing into his mouth only a few hours before made him hesitate. He'd hated the salty taste of the ocean. Did humans actually drink that stuff? Tamaki tipped it towards his face, cautiously dipping his tongue into the water. This surprised him; it wasn't salty at all. It was clear and nearly tasteless, but somehow so deliciously satisfying.

He downed the whole thing in a matter of swallows, which you noticed, making you stop in your impromptu bread lecture. "You must be pretty dehydrated," you said sympathetically. "You swallowed a lot of seawater out there. And threw up a lot of seawater too. You're lucky you survived. Our shores alone would be enough to kill you. I can't even imagine floating out at sea." You studied him, a light of what looked almost like respect and intrigue flickering behind your eyes.

Tamaki's cheeks heated, feeling guilty that he was slightly misleading you. He had a month, he told himself. He'd tell you who he was and why he came. He just felt like he could adjust a little more first. Make sure you liked his presence before dumping ancient forbidden secrets upon you. Yeah, that seemed best.

"Are you still thirsty?" you asked Tamaki, jolting him out of his thoughts. "I can get you some more water. In fact, you can come with me if you want! I'll take you on that tour I mentioned. Ooh, I can show you the whole town! Maybe tomorrow, though, it's getting late. Come on." You pulled the now empty tray off his lap and set it on a table beside his bed, next walking to the wardrobe and pulling out another article of clothing. You laid it out on the bed, looking to Tamaki expectantly.

His brain took a moment to catch up, suddenly realizing you wanted him to stand. He'd never done that before. Tamaki squinted down at the floor, wondering why it had to be so far away. Finally he swung his legs over the side of the bed, sliding forward until his feet hit the cold wood below. He quickly pulled them back up, sensitive to the temperature.

You winced. "Sorry about that. I'll try to find you some shoes. Maybe my dad has some that are too small. You can come with me and check."

Shoes? Jeez, for all they did, humans almost seemed fragile. Tamaki lowered his feet back to the floor, now anticipating the gentle cold sting against his bare skin. He slowly raised himself, wobbly balancing on them. He was doing it! He was standing! On land!

Now walking. One in front of the other, right? Tamaki eagerly shifted his weight to one foot, maybe a little too excited. He toppled into you, and you just barely managed to steady him in your arms.

"Woah, there, slow down," you said, suppressing a chuckle at his now beet-red face. "I get it. You probably haven't gotten your land legs back yet. I've met the trading sailors."

His land legs? Sure, that was it. He just needed to develop them.

"Here, you can lean on me," you said. "You've been through a lot, I understand."

Tamaki carefully straightened, gripping your shoulder to steady himself. He tried for another step, this time more careful. You shuffled forward with him, helping as he put weight on his foot.

A step. His first step! Tamaki could flip—or, he would if he were underwater. Trying to do a quick somersault here could only end in disaster. Tamaki went for another step, then another, finding a rhythm to it quickly.

"There you go," you praised, your voice so quiet and genuine as you smiled up at him, gently guiding him around the room. It was only now that Tamaki realized how much taller he was than you. He could probably put his chin on the top of your head if he wanted to. You were so small, it made an odd feeling of wanting to protect you wash over him.

He suddenly realized he had frozen, staring at you. His cheeks warmed yet again and he glanced back down to his new bare feet. You had been staring back, but him breaking the connection of your gaze had jolted you back to reality. A very . . . touchy reality.

You only now realized just how much of his bare side was pressed up against you, and heat rose to your own cheeks. "Uh—shirt. Bed. I put a shirt ON the bed. It's for you." You tried to pull away from the man beside you, but he wasn't prepared and pitched to the side, forcing you to hug him again in order to prevent him from falling. "This is awkward, I'm so sorry," you said, suddenly beginning to trip over your words. "It's my fault. I'll—"

You tried to pull away again, gently this time, until Tamaki seized your hand in his. "It's okay," he said, looking into your eyes with sincerity. "I don't mind."

You swallowed, really wishing he was wearing that shirt right about now. Only because, a small part of you was glad he wasn't. You had to physically restrain your eyes from roving over him more than you already had.

Stop it. This is foolish, you chided yourself. The mind of a future queen of the Thapian Isles has no business in gutters like these.

And yet, the way your chest was squished against his, the way his pants were slung so low on his hips . . . the sudden memories of how he'd looked, sprawled out on that beach—

"Um, Princess?"

You hadn't even heard the door click open—maybe you hadn't shut it all the way—but the voice of your handmaiden made both you and Tamaki jolt.

"Brianne!" you said, your voice embarrassingly squeaky as you let go of your grip on Tamaki's hand and waist, jumping away from him.

He instinctively threw out his arms, balancing himself on his own.

You walked back to the bed, yanking the white linen shirt off its hanger and going back to thrust the article into Tamaki's arms.

"What were you two—"

"We were about to go get a drink!" you said, turning so you missed the deeply confused expression Tamaki gave the shirt as he held it up to examine it. "Then I was thinking I could show him around the chateau. You know, since he's going to be here for . . . a while I guess. How long until the boats back to the mainland get here?"

"It'll be another month or two," Brianne said, still looking between you and Tamaki suspiciously.

"Yep," you said, turning to find Tamaki holding the shirt upside down. "Here," you said, taking it from him. "These darn buttons always get me—" Your voice raced a mile a minute as you began to fumble with the buttons, still flustered from your interruption in such a position. "The traders just left last week," you explained, keeping your eyes glued to the shirt as you busied your fingers. "You just missed them. We're stuck here until they come back, so you'll have to deal with me until then, I guess."

The final button came free and the shirt fell open. You gave it a quick shake for good measure and offered an armhole to Tamaki. He stared at it for a moment before hesitantly putting his arm in the sleeve, letting you pull it around behind him. He shrugged it the rest of the way on, unused to the feeling of being wrapped in so much fabric.

He left it open before you frustratedly sighed, still shaken from earlier. You began to button the shirt closed, nimble fingers directing them into their respective slots with practiced ease. Tamaki watched, trying to memorize your movements so he might recreate them later.

"Alright, you ready?" you asked him. Brianne still stood in the doorway, watching your every move.

Tamaki nodded.

"Then come on! I want you to meet everyone!"

You grabbed his hand, spinning around to pull him out the door, forgetting his leg issues. A weight crashed into you from behind and the two of you toppled to the floor, Tamaki now sprawled on top of you.

"Princess . . . ." Brianne shook her head, grinning. She finally uncrossed her arms and departed from the doorway, leaving the two of you alone to right yourselves.

...

To be continued . . . .

くコ:彡くコ:彡くコ:彡くコ:彡

[Part Four]

Author's Note:

Finally! Our Tamibaby is on land! This chapter was so much fun to write. I tried to figure out how to work in some se—uh, tension in here, some ROMANTIC tEnSiOn (If you get that reference, then five stars for you). I hope it got a giggle out of you. It's been a while since I've really been able to stretch my author muscles. Tamaki is a bean as always and I love writing for him. I'm also enjoying this version of y/n. I think she's turning out really well.

Anyway, it's 3 AM and I need to go to bed. In case you were wondering, I totally did not have a quick crisis on how to spell the word 'busied'. And I also most certainly did not accidentally type 'Tamale' instead of 'Tamaki' and then spent five minutes laughing about it.

Yeah, I'm sleepy, so I'm gonna go.

Good night/morning/afternoon,

-Sugar

Taglist: 

@inumorph​​ @engel-hageshii​​ @pansexual-potterhead​​ @ure-a-sunflower​​ @xeina​​ @kingtamakimurder​​ @basicaegyo​​ @iiminibattlehero​​ @pyrofanatic​​​ @sokkasangel​​ @xoxopam4​​

[howfarethestars]

I wrote this months ago and published it as part of a 5+1 fic on AO3, but I wanted to post some of it here. This bit is probably my favorite out of the bunch, so enjoy! It’s set sometime in between TDW & AOU. I didn’t write it as anything romantic, but if you want to read it that way that’s fine :)

The Widow was missing. It was concerning, if not uncommon. The Avengers hadn’t been sent in to look for her yet—it had only been a few days since she’d gone off the grid—but that hadn’t stopped them from worrying. (It also hadn’t stopped Clint from going after her.)

The mood of the common room was dreary. The crackling fireplace, the silly framed pictures lining the walls, and the Hallmark movie on the TV did nothing to boost morale. Steve sat, slumped back in his chair, staring through the TV. Bruce tapped on his computer, “coding”, he’d claimed. Tony, usually so energetic, could only sit and stare at wall, tapping anxious fingers against the arm of the couch.

Thor, however, paced by the window. Moving helped him think, and right now, he desperately needed to think. His blue eyes watched the sky grow cloudy as his mood grew even worse. The fact that he’d been the last one Natasha had talked to was not helping his mood either. He thought back on their last conversation, digging for clues that could lead him to her.

They’d been talking about something innocent, favorite breakfast cereals or the last movie they’d watched. But, she’d disappeared only an hour later, and he couldn’t help but think there was something more to their conversation.

Thunder shook the windows, and the team jumped. Thor just kept staring at the storm brewing outside, trying and failing to get it tamed.

“Thor...you’re not going to find her by flooding Manhattan,” Tony sighed, slinging an arm over the back of the couch and giving him a sympathetic look.

Thor groaned and dragged his hands over his face. Tearing his eyes away from the skyline, he looked back at the team. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I just can’t help but think she left a clue or something.”

“Natasha is a trained spy,” Steve said, “If she wanted to be found, she would’ve been found. And since she hasn’t been found, she doesn’t want to be.”

Thor rolled his eyes. “Wonderful,” he grumbled, “What if she’s at gunpoint right now, and you think she doesn’t want to be—“

The elevator dinged.

Everyone flew from their spots to rush to the corridor where the elevators let out, Thor leading the charge. They huddled around the doors, holding a collective breath. The doors slid open, revealing Natasha.

Her auburn hair was long and straight when before it had been short and curled, her makeup (which she normally kept simple) exaggerated her features and brought out her colored contacts. She started, stepping back from the crowd that greeted her with wide eyes.

“Uh, hey,” she said, her brows furrowed. She wrapped her black pea coat around her arms. “Can you move?”

The boys shuffled like a herd of sheep out of her way, and she stepped into the corridor. Four pairs of eyes locked on the spy as she casually made her way into the common room. She tossed a cross body onto the couch, kicked off snow boots, and slid her coat off. Just like she was coming home any other day.

“Stop crowding me,” she muttered, pulling up a stool to sit at the bar in the kitchen. She tousled her hair, and leaned back with folded arms. “I guess you’re all wondering where I went?”

“You could say that,” Bruce huffed, standing at the end of the line of concerned superheroes.

Natasha looked each one of them in the eyes before taking a slow breath. “I was fine, that’s all you need to know.”

And she wasn’t telling them anything more than that, or at least, that’s what she’d claimed before stalking up to her floor without another word. Thor, still a little shaken and concerned, wandered up to her a few hours later. He found her sitting on the floor her ballet studio, the one with the floor to ceiling windows.

She’d pulled her hair up in a bun and changed into a black tank top and tulle skirt. She didn’t seem to be dancing, so Thor crept in and sat beside her without a word.

Natasha’s lips pursed, and her eyes (blue once more) shimmered with unshed tears. “I’m sorry if I scared you guys,” she whispered, nodding to the view of the city. The lights of New York bathed them both in a flickering glow. “I saw the storm.”

“I just wanted to know you were safe,” Thor said gently. He took a breath. “Where did you go?”

Natasha’s eyes flickered down to her hands, folded delicately in her lap. They cupped something Thor hadn’t noticed before. She unfurled her fists and revealed a crumpled photograph. A man and a woman, the latter with bright red hair. Thor knew it immediately; her parents.

A single tear rolled down Natasha’s cheek, like raindrops down a window. “They’re dead, like I thought,” she choked out, her voice no longer wanting to work.

Thor didn’t hesitate, wrapping her tight in his arms. A broken sob worked its way from her throat, the first of many. The dam broke, spilling all over Thor. His hands rubbed her back in slow, soothing circles.

“Why am I sad?” she asked him. He was older, surely that made him wiser? “I knew they were dead. I’ve always known.”

Thor shrugged. “Knowing and believing are two different things,” he explained, “When my mother died, I watched it happen. I knew she was gone, but it was weeks before I believed it.”

Natasha leaned back just enough for her head to rest on Thor’s shoulder. “You never talk about that,” she prompted, clearly wanting to steer the conversation back to him.

Thor understood, so, as hard as it was to talk about, he gave her that distraction. He took a shaky breath. He hadn’t had the heart or maybe the guts to say it out loud yet. “I’m the reason she’s dead.”

Natasha pulled back, immediately shaking her head. “That’s not true.”

Thor nodded, his face growing hot. “I didn’t figure out Malekith’s plan quickly enough,” he insisted, “I was too late to save her. I should’ve gone straight to her, not the prison.”

“You didn’t know,” Natasha gripped Thor’s wrist, her brows folded. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Thor swallowed the lump in his throat. “I wish that were true,” he murmured.

Natasha didn’t try any more to convince him. Self hatred was an old friend, one she knew well. It would take more than her words to shake it loose of Thor. “We’re a pretty messed up bunch, aren’t we?” she asked.

“Me and you?”

“Us,” she repeated, “The Avengers.”

“You think of us as family, do you?” Thor asked, a bemused smirk on his lips. “The elusive Black Widow, part of a family.”

Natasha laughed once. She turned her eyes back to the city. “Well, if I’m part of a family, I’m glad it’s this one,” she said. There was a beat. Her words settled over the two of them, their implications growing roots. “It’s nice.”

Thor nodded. “New York is indeed very nice,” he agreed, looking out over the city.

“No, our family. It’s nice.”

Thor patted the soft tulle that covered Natasha's knee. “It is.”

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day One Hundred Ninety-Two: Cooperation ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Uzumaki Naruto, Haruno Sakura, Hatake Kakashi, Aburame Shino, Inuzuka Kiba, Yūhi Kurenai ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: A Light Amongst Shadows ] [ AO3 Link ]

Genin missions have been so boring lately.

While Sasuke expected there to be some learning curve...he wasn’t assuming it would be this bad. Dog walking, yard weeding, cat fetching...these aren’t shinobi tasks! Nothing about them utilize what they learned in the Academy, or during the training sessions they’ve had thus far with Kakashi. These are things any civilian could do! Why tasks like these are being afforded to shinobi - even if they are genin - is beyond his understanding.

Needless to say, it’s made the little Uchiha irritated. He’s supposed to be gaining experience, learning new jutsu, building up both his knowledge and his strength...and these assignments aren’t cutting it. He’d even dare to call them an insult. He has no time to waste on menial tasks when his brother is out there, still breathing, and far beyond Sasuke’s current skill level. How can he even begin to compete with - let alone kill - his elder brother if all he’s being given to do are stupid chores and pointless exercizes?!

“So, I’ve got a little something different for you three today.”

Meeting as always atop the little bridge that roughly sits in the middle of their homes, the trio of genin look up as Kakashi finally arrives. While Naruto and Sakura take to their usual berating of the man, Sasuke just leans coolly against the railing. There’s no point to it by now...their teacher will never be on time, no matter their fussing.

“So, what’s the mission? Huh? Huh?” Naruto demands, practically dancing around with anticipation. “C’mon, you gotta tell us!”

“Well, it’s another D-rank,” Kakashi begins, pausing as his team all wilt. “...is that a problem?”

“Man, these missions are lame,” the Uzumaki mutters.

“We all have to go through them,” Kakashi assures him, giving his infamous one-eyed smile. “You’ll outgrow them soon enough...but first, you need an introduction to missions and the system before we start sending you on something more...advanced.”

“You’ve been saying that for months,” Sasuke retorts, arms loosely folded over his chest.

“And you’re still not ready, even after all that time.”

Dark eyes narrow, but Sasuke withholds any other quips. It’s just a waste of time.

“Now...barring any more interruptions...we’ve got a two-squadron mission on our hands.”

The genin blink. “...wait, what?” Naruto demands. “Y’mean we gotta team up with more genin?”

“Precisely,” Kakashi chirps. “Today you’ll be working with team eight.” After a pause, he clarifies, “Aburame Shino, Inuzuka Kiba, and Hyūga Hinata. Currently under the tutelage of one Yūhi Kurenai. They’ve been denoted as a bit of a tracker team, what with the kikaichu, ninken, and Byakugan at their disposal. And you three are to be more of the...beef in this little mix.”

“...meaning?” Sasuke asks.

“You and Naruto are pretty heavy hitters, and Sakura is clever. Working with team eight’s abilities to find your target, you’ll then head in to capture it.”

“If it’s another cat, I’m gonna holler!” Naruto...hollers.

“No, not a cat this time,” Kakashi assures him with another smile. “This is a bit more...feisty.”

All three genin furrow brows at that. “...what’s feistier than a cat?” Sakura muses mostly to herself.

“You’ll just have to come find out! We’re to meet your temporary teammates at the gate.”

Exchanging glances, team seven makes to follow as Kakashi about-faces and heads to the main village entrance.

True to his word, Kurenai’s team is already there. “Kakashi,” she greets, hands on her hips.

“Ready to go?”

“Are you going to explain what we’re looking for?” Sakura cuts in, folding her arms with a hint of impatience.

“Yes yes,” Kakashi replies. “You see, we recently had a new batch of messenger hawks start training yesterday! But unfortunately...they weren’t quite tame enough, and flew off. It’s up to you six to locate the missing hawks, and safely return them to the village aviary.”

“...we’re after birds?” Naruto clarifies, squinting.

“Important birds. Konoha’s message system has to be foolproof,” Kurenai offers. “Important, encoded information is often sent by hawk. If we don’t have enough of them, or those we have aren’t trained properly, we could lose intel to our enemies.”

The implication perks the younger group.

“So, you’ll be working in pairs,” Kakashi goes on. “One member of each team: team eight will do the tracking, and team seven will work on retrieval.”

“How are we supposed to catch them? Especially without harming them?” Sakura inquires with a frown.

“With these,” Kurenai offers, holding up a bag, within which are several weighted nets. “We’ve also got some bait to try to lure them in, but we have to find them first.”

“That won’t be a problem!” Kiba insists, dashing a thumb at his nose with a grin. “Team eight’s the best trackers from our class!”

“We will do our best,” is Shino’s contribution, Hinata nodding.

“All right...Sakura, you’ll be with Kiba. Naruto, you’re with Shino. And Sasuke, you’ll team up with Hinata. Ready?”

Arming themselves with nets and bait, the pairs scatter.

Sasuke and Hinata head north along the wall, Hinata quickly activating her Byakugan and scanning their surroundings.

He gives her a glance. They very rarely speak, so...in all honesty, he really doesn’t know her that well. Sasuke kept to himself and his studies in the Academy, and she was such a wallflower he often forgot she existed. But her being a Hyūga is interesting, given their supposed shared roots. “...see anything?”

“Not, um...not yet,” she reports, still gazing ahead.

“...how are we supposed to tell them from wild hawks?”

“Kurenai-sensei said they have little metal bands around their left legs. The aviary reported five missing birds last night.”

“And you can see those bands?”

A nod. “Yes. At least...so long as it’s within my range. Right now, I can see about f-fifty meters in any direction.”

Dark brows lift a hair. “...and the Byakugan...it can see through things, right?”

“Yes, most things. Some jutsu can - can warp or distort it. But I haven’t...encountered any of those yet.”

Huh...color him impressed.

They wander for about twenty minutes before Hinata holds out a hand, squinting. “...there. T-twenty meters, ten o���clock.”

He can’t see it, but...Sasuke trusts her. “All right...I’ll set some bait, see if we can lure it out.” A potent dead rat is laid among some leaf litter on the forest floor, Sasuke hiding up in a tree. Hinata takes a nearby branch, watching.

“...here it comes!” she whispers.

With a flutter, the hawk lands nearby, tempted by the smell. Waddling a few paces with outstretched wings, it makes to inspect the carcass.

Timing a leap, Sasuke closes much of the distance as he can before the bird reacts, tossing the net the rest of the way. With weighted edges quickly dragging it down, it gives a fierce cry, fighting against the fibers with sharp talons.

Both genin stand nearby. “Should...should we try to pick it up…?” Hinata asks, stance a bit wary. “I’m not sure that would be, um...that would be safe.”

“I think I can get it.” Approaching carefully, Sasuke ignores the bird’s struggling, managing to get a careful grip on its legs, cradling the rest in his arms. “There…”

“Wow, good job!”

There’s a small warmth at the praise, but Sasuke keeps his expression neutral. “Well...guess we better take it back to free up the net.”

Kakashi and Kurenai look up as they make their way back. “Well well, good job you two!” Kurenai praises.

“Has anyone else found a hawk yet?”

“Not yet,” Kakashi confirms.

“What should we do with this one…?”

Answering with action, Kakashi accepts the upset avian, putting a blinding cap over its eyes and a tether around its legs. It quickly calms, occasionally fluttering and giving a soft rasp.

“Well, back to it!” he then chirps.

They manage to find one more, Kiba and Sakura bringing in three. Naruto and Shino...find none.

“Man, that was totally lame!” Naruto complains, arms folded as the two sensei handle the birds while they trek to the aviary. “How were we supposed to do this?”

Shino adjusts his glasses. “I tracked them just fine...but you were too loud and scared them off…”

“Sounds like Naruto all right,” Sakura agrees with a sigh.

The aviary team gratefully accepts the returned messengers, assuring the teams they’ll be paid well.

“So, that was a pretty good exercise in cooperation between squads,” Kakashi then observes, hands in his pockets. “I think you guys make a pretty good combined team!”

Sakura and Kiba beam, while Shino and Naruto give cool side eye looks. Glancing to Hinata, Sasuke manages a hint of a smile, which she returns.

“Well, that’s all for today. You all head home, and we’ll turn in the reports,” Kurenai offers. “We’ll be sure to get you your pay shares tomorrow morning.”

With that, the group disperses, Sasuke deciding to get a few hours of training in before making his way home.

“Um…”

Catching Hinata’s voice, he pauses as the rest leave them behind. Posture shy as always, Hinata ducks her head. “It...it was nice working with you today, Sasuke-kun.”

Eyebrows lift just a hair. “...yeah. You too. Maybe we’ll get to do that again sometime. Nice change of pace from yard work…”

To his surprise, she giggles into a hand. “You guys do that sort of thing too?”

“Ugh, yeah...all the time.”

“Have you, um...have you had to catch Tora?”

“So many times, I’ve lost count.”

“Yeah, us too! I hope we get more missions like this one...o-or at least, you know...something different. It can get a little...f-frustrating. But I guess genin get stuck with all the b-boring jobs no one else wants, huh?”

“Seems that way.”

...silence blooms.

“Well, um...I guess I’ll see you around?”

���Yeah, probably. Later, Hyūga.”

Hinata gives a short, bobbing bow as the pair part ways. Hands in his pockets, Sasuke mulls the mission over. It was a nice change of pace. Hopefully Kakashi finds more like it. And while he didn’t get to see how Shino or Kiba worked, Hinata did really well. He’ll admit...he’s a bit curious about the Byakugan now. Maybe they can spar sometime so he can learn more about how it works...seeing through objects would be exceedingly handy.

But, for now...time to do a little training on his own, then head home for the day.

                                                             .oOo.

     Tiiired...and headache...blegh lol      Anywayyy, just some random genin shenanigans. Been having a lot of muse for this era in RP, so...I thought it'd work well for a drabble entry! I really wish these teams interacted more in canon...but, I guess that's what fics like this are for!      But yeah, I'm gonna go crawl into bed! Thanks for reading n_n

[amidalasmistress]

All Hell Breaks Loose || Chapter Four:

{cr}

warnings; swearing

a/n; I’ve got a little surprise coming in the next chapter. ;)

-

Waking to the blinding sunlight swallowing into a white-walled abyss, Y/N tried to blink to return her vision. Only making out non-geometrical shapes floating around from the light hitting her eyes. Quickly placing her hand to shield her eyes from the light that was now squeezing at her eyes. It was then she noticed Cordelia sitting in front of her with a cup of coffee. Noticing how she was slumped down in the chair uncomfortably, Y/N sat up. Trying to stretch out the aching pains that cracked along her back and neck.

“You’re awake, finally,” Cordelia said once she noticed movement coming from the girl. “You were unconscious. We tried to wake you. Do you remember anything? From last night?”

Y/N scrunched her face in thought, trying to remember what could’ve happened that caused her to black out. She recollected the visions Mallory had, accidentally, given her. The revelation of the beautiful, haunting man’s name. Michael Langdon. Y/N’s heart smiled at the mental image of him. Y/N came back to reality once she heard Cordelia take a loud sip from her coffee mug.

“I can remember everything until you saying that Michael was the Antichrist,” Y/N shook her head, trying to shake the unconsciousness from her mind. “That’s all I can recall.”

“What about what I had told you about your brother,” Cordelia swallowed. Her tone soft once again. “It’s important that you know, Y/N. And that you don’t run.”

“Why would I-,” Y/N interrupted herself as Cordelia’s words echoed in her mind ‘It’s Devan. Your brother, Devan, is the new antichrist.’ Y/N felt sick all over again. Her head feeling exceedingly heavy yet, immensely light. Y/N looked around for a bucket or something to vomit in before Cordelia kicked a trash bin over to her. It slid to her feet so smoothly, Y/N was convinced it was magic. Leaning over to pick it up, Y/N cradled it to her chest as she began to hurled into it. Wiping her mouth on the sleeve of her sweater, she straightened herself back up. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry it had to be this way, Y/N,” Cordelia set down the coffee. “I know this disclosure mustn’t be easy to process.”

“Believe me,” Y/N shook her head to try and prevent more vomit from coming up. She was already embarrassed enough that she had thrown up at all. “It’s not.”

Just before Cordelia could speak, Queenie had entered the room. Her eyes instantly looking towards Y/N. Y/N has yet to officially meet Queenie but, given how close she was to Cordelia, she figured that she wasn’t someone to worry about. Y/N painted a smile on her face to try to hide the fact that she was fighting the urge to pass out once again. She failed.

“Oh,” Queenie put a hand to her chest. “I’m sorry if this is a bad time, Cordelia but, Misty’s here.”

Cordelia instantly rose to her feet, “Y/N, come with me. You must meet my dear friend.”

Looking from her jellied legs and back to the Supreme, Y/N wondered how the hell she would be able to walk. Especially, walking down stairs. Cordelia got the hint and went to help the girl up from the chair she had been in for, what seemed like, countless hours. She wobbled as she stood. Stretching out more aches that crippled her spine. Cordelia followed Queen down the stairs, helping Y/N walk the entire way. Y/N didn’t even bother telling the woman that she had been all right to walk on her own once they reached the top of the stairs. When they entered the kitchen and dining area, there stood a woman at the counter, biting into an apple. Her hair was blonde just like Cordelia’s, but longer, wavier, and not really tamed. She wore a dress that hung loose on her. Y/N thought this woman lived out in the wilderness somewhere.

“Y/N,” Cordelia spoke, causing the woman to turn her head in their direction, eyes wide. “This is my dear, dear friend, Misty Day. She’s here to help us help you.”

“Oh my word,” Misty rushed over to hug Y/N. “I have been waiting so long to meet you, Y/N. Well, a few years but, who’s countin’?”

“Nice to meet you,” Y/N smiled at her, once again failing to hide how she numb she was feeling.

“Oh yeah,” Misty nodded with a smirk as if she had just discovered something, looking to Cordelia. “I can feel it in her. With her training, the devil himself couldn’t touch her.”

-

Six weeks of vigorous training, Y/N had become untouchable. She would’ve been remarkable at only two to three weeks of training. To make sure, Cordelia had her train longer than needed. Within those weeks, Y/N had also matured beyond her years. She could really pass for a grown woman. It made Cordelia tear up when she looked back on how much Y/N has grown maturely within a short amount of time. As if she had raised Y/N from infant hood to the beautiful woman she was now. It almost made her fear for the outcome of their mission to save the world.

Zoe was teaching the current class Y/N was in. Cordelia stood in the doorway to watch the girl practice a spell. She knew Y/N had it in the bag. That’s how talented she had become. Zoe had given each of the girls a dead butterfly. The wings of each butterfly were black.

“Now,” Zoe folded her hands in front of her, quickly glancing to Cordelia. “I want each of you to imagine your butterflies with color on their wings. I want you to focus, really concentrate on bringing that color to the butterfly.”

Each of the girls began to go into deep focus. Squeezing their eyes tight in concentration. Even Y/N. Zoe walked over to Cordelia to watch the girls perform their given tasks. A few girls brought color to their butterfly’s wings. Blue, red, orange, pink.

“Watch her,” Zoe nodded in the direction of Y/N.

Cordelia had already been watching her. Y/N took her time to come up with a color for the butterfly but, once she found it, the butterfly instantly changed color. From black to a golden white. Cordelia smiled to see her choose a color unlike the rest of the girls. Only a few seconds later, the butterfly had begin to flutter its wings. Usually, it took some sort of spell to bring something back from the dead. Even something as small as a butterfly. Yet, Y/N did it with just a thought in her mind. Cordelia was amazed at the sight of the butterfly taking flight. She let out a gasp of air as the insect made its way in their direction. Saying that Cordelia was proud of Y/N was an understatement. The girl was now reaching past the Supreme’s level of power. And Cordelia had shown no sign of weakness.

“I’ll set it free,” Zoe reached up for the butterfly to land on her index finger. “This little guy has another chance to spread his wings.”

“Y/N,” Cordelia got Y/N’s attention. The other girls gasping at what they had just witnessed, some rolling their eyes. “May I have a word?”

Y/N stood and made her way to her Supreme. Following her as she began to walk into the main living area. Cordelia gestured for Y/N to take a seat and she did without hesitation. Cordelia followed suit, taking the seat across from her student.

“I tried following directions, Miss Cordelia,” Y/N bit her lip. “But I just thought of what the butterfly would look like if it were healthy and flying. I didn’t mean to-“

“You did great,” Cordelia reassured her, lightly laughing at how Y/N thought she were in trouble. “I wanted to speak with you on an entirely different matter. I think it’s time for you to visit with your parents.”

“No,” Y/N said instantly. The thought of facing them now made her stomach tighten. After Cordelia and Mallory had explained that her sole purpose of even existing was to defeat her brother. Her brother. Someone she had been very close to. Someone she had loved very deeply. Y/N needed to distance herself from her family life. She needed to prepare herself for that task. She did, however, cook up some sort of plan to stop her brother without having to kill him. Whether it’d work or not, she didn’t know but, she wasn’t too keen on killing her best friend in the entire world. “I can’t see them. Not now.”

“Y/N,” Cordelia leaned forward in her seat. “They miss you. They want to see you. You made us all promise that you’d still be able to see them from time to time.”

“That was before I learned all of this,” Y/N threw her hands up in the air, motioning at the air around her. “How can I face them with what I know now? How can I casually face my brother?”

“Devan is gone,” Cordelia sighed. “Those believers went with him. No one knows where. He just…disappeared.”

Y/N’s heart sank to her stomach at the sound of her brother going off to God knows where with those lunatics. Y/N never really liked Anton or his disciples. They always brought Y/N a sickening feeling to her stomach. Devan, however, saw them as family. Welcoming them into the games she and her brother had already been playing. Urging Y/N to sit in during one of Anton’s lectures. Y/N gladly passed on the option. Nevertheless, her brother did. Now she knew why.

“I think I should wait a bit longer before seeing them at least,” Y/N folded her hands in her lap. “As much as I miss them, I’m not emotionally ready to visit them.”

“That’s perfectly fine,” Cordelia nodded, a smile on her face. “On another note, I think it’s time to test the limits of your power.”

“What do you mean?” Y/N asked. Confused because she had thought she had already explored all of the required limits.

Cordelia didn’t want to risk the life of her young pupil but, she knew the threat they were facing. They needed to quicken their pace since the Antichrist was now on the loose. She no longer had eyes on him. Therefore, making him far more dangerous. Who knew what he was doing out there? All Cordelia knew was that they needed to move and move fast.

“Descensum,” Cordelia’s tone was cold.

With just that word, Y/N’s bones chilled. She knew what her Supreme meant. Y/N was going to Hell.

-

“The woman has lost her mind,” Queenie raised her voice to Zoe as they argued in the main hall. “Do you know who rules Hell? The Devil. The fucking Devil. Do you really think he’s going to let Y/N just walk in and out of his kingdom? Nope.”

Cordelia was speaking with Misty away from Queenie and Zoe’s conversation. Misty trying desperately to change Cordelia’s mind. Offering to go down to Hell herself. Now knowing better than to fall into the hold of her own torment. Meanwhile, Y/N sat on the nearby couch. Watching this all unfold before her as she prepared herself to descend into the unholiest of places. The thought of the place scared her. But, she knew she could probably conquer this test or her powers. She was fearful of the Devil not letting her leave. But, again, she felt like she’d be able to get in and out without him interfering with her mission.

From what Y/N knew, she was going down there to retrieve one of the Coven’s fellow witches. Madison Montgomery. Michael had killed her just before the time jump and Mallory had killed Michael before he had the chance to bring her back. It’s all very confusing for Y/N to wrap her head around the time jumps but, she knew what must be done.

“Cordelia made a deal with Papa Legba,” Zoe tried to reduce her volume but, Y/N could still hear. “He can grant her a safe passage into Hell and back out.”

“Hell no,” Queenie waved her hand in the air. “Please tell me you aren’t that dumb to believe the promise of Papa fucking Legba. The man can’t be trusted.”

“Enough,” Y/N rose to her feet, silencing the ongoing arguments. “I’ll go. I’ll retrieve Madison. I’ll descend into Hell. Just stop the damn arguing.”

It was then when Mallory entered the room. Everyone’s attention turning towards her. She stood in the doorway with a sorrowful look on her face. Staring directly at Y/N. Mallory knew that they were preparing Y/N to go down into Hell for her first time.

“I’m sorry,” Mallory spoke. “I was just hoping that I could be present when she descends.”

Mallory had distanced herself from Y/N and the training process. She felt that it was all her fault that Y/N was now preparing to take down her own brother. She wasn’t certain whether Y/N had blamed her or not. Even though Mallory had every intention on ending the Antichrist when she had killed Michael, it still weighed heavily on her conscious. Nevertheless, she wanted to see Y/N rise to her full potential. She knew deep down that Y/N could complete the task at hand.

“Look who finally decided to show herself,” Queenie had every hint of annoyance in her tone.

“Please, Y/N,” Mallory pleaded, taking a few more steps into the room. “I understand if you don’t want me here but, I just need you to say it.”

Y/N looked to Cordelia who was giving her a puzzled look. She looked for any sign that she shouldn’t let Mallory witness her entering into Hell. Part of Y/N wanted to hate Mallory for being so foolish as to think that she could end the Antichrist’s legacy by murdering a six year-old boy. A child. But, she didn’t blame Mallory for what was now happening. Mallory chose the easiest way to “defeat” him.

“Why not,” Y/N shrugged. “I’m going to Hell anyways.”

Mallory quickly ran to embrace Y/N. Repeating a low apology in Y/N’s ear then, went over to join Cordelia and Misty. Since Queenie wasn’t too fond of Mallory’s presence now. Y/N brought herself down onto the ground. Sitting straight with her legs stretching together in front of her. Still bracing herself to go down into the pits of blazing fire.

“You know the words, right,” Cordelia knelt down beside her, making sure Y/N was prepared to descend.

Y/N only nodded. Giving Cordelia enough reassurance that she returned back to Misty and Mallory’s side. Misty gripping onto her arm as she stood. Cordelia gripped back. Preparing to watch her pupil perform this new endeavor. With a deep exhale, Y/N dropped her back down flat against the wooden floor.

"Spiritu duce, in me est. Deduce me in tenebris vita ad extremum, ut salutaret inferi,” Y/N incanted, her heart racing as she did so. “Descensum!”

With that, the ground had swallowed her whole.

[lady-olive-oil]

Distraction Ch.1

Chapter 1

A/N: AYE!!!!!! Here we go ya’ll, here we go! its a longer than i anticipated for the first chapter but it’s something. The title has been changed, mainly because i love Kehlani but still has the vibes of the last title I had. Each chapter will have a different picture, either both of them together or one of each for the characters in their point of view. I have a tag list squad, so if you’d like to be in it, let me know. Alright here we go!

Word count: 1,631

Words in Swahili: Kubeba [bear], Ni habari gani [whats the news?]

Song: Legend Has It by Run The Jewels

{Back to Winston Duke/M’Baku List}

Tag Squad: @itsmegarabitch || @curbedcharybdis [if i forgot your name let me know!!!

enjoy!

-Amina’s POV-

Another day, another dollar. No time for slacking, no time for errors. You can take the girl out of the fashion world, but you can’t take the fashion out of the girl. Being a fashion designer, there was never a dull moment. Just like being the owner of your own boutique. You heard that right, I own The Jungle Boutique, Manhattan. Not too far from where I live, which is Brooklyn. With fashion week being over, I managed to get some random sketches done for fun, whenever I have free time. I do have a little following going on, which isn’t too bad if I do say so myself. WiI had my black Beats headphones in my ears, shielding the world around me, as I sketched a few designs in my book. Bobbing my head to the music, getting a feel of the rhythm of the graphite strokes on the paper. The prismacolors molded against the intricate lines, shaping the garments effortlessly as i went on.

“Amina.” the faint noise of something or someone wasn’t very far.

“Hear what I say, we are the business today, Fuck shit is finished today RT & J, we the new PB & J We dropped a classic today. We did a tablet of acid today, Did joints with the masses and ashes away SKRRRT! We dash away, Donner and Dixon, the pistol is blastin’ away”

“Amina.” there voice spoke again, in the distance that spoke calmly and easily.

“Doctors of death, Curing our patients of breath. We oughta pay you the trust, Crooked at work Cookin’ up curses and slurs Smokin’ my brain into mush. I became famous for blamin’ you fucks Maimin’ my way through the brush. There is no training or taming of me and my bruh, Look like a man, but I’m animal raw”

“Amina!” The voice yelled this time as i kept on sketching, nodding my head to Legend Has It by Run The Jewels. That was until my right earbud was yanked out my ear, forcing me to draw my elbow back, and send an angry glare at the culprit at hand. Yet i was caught, looking up at a very amused Winston.

“Winston! You know damn well you can’t just yank someone’s headphones out!” My thick and heavy accent had shone through, like many times before when I was either tired or distraught. His laughter was something else. Laughing at my pain in the process, one of his hands rested on my shoulder while holding his stomach with the other.

“Oh come on Mimi. It was just a friendly little getsure, don’t take it to heart. Plus, your receptionist Janice, let me up before she left to switch with some guy named Jonah.” There goes that nickname. It never left the 4th grade. He tried to calm his laughter but it was to no avail, sadly enough. Janice and Jonah, my receptionists and old college friends, never ceased to amaze me. Lord knows i’ll have a fille day with them two asking me questions tomorrow.

With a roll of my sweet chocolate brown eyes, closing my book in the process and leaning back in my chair, I gave him a look. Why was he here exactly? Not that I didn’t mind at all, it was nice to see an old friend, especially him. He was the best friend anyone could possibly ask for in any crises. That’s why I called him bear, when we were kids. Now he’s this big star doing extraordinary things with his career, that makes me proud to be from Brooklyn. Making it seems like anything was possible, and that it can be done.

“OK, i have to ask. Why are you here kubeba? Shouldn’t you be at auditions?” I asked him curiously as i watched him pace around the room with excitement, something must be good.

“Well bunny, kind of. You ready for it?”

What was this boy up to? Whatever it was, it must’ve been a good thing to  make him so giddy.

“As I’ll ever be, oh great one. Release your good news upon the village people.” The look on his face was priceless when it was my turn to laugh. It was do deadpanned that even roadkill was jealous, yet he joined in. Doubling over this time, I clutched my stomach and caught my breath.

He was always a tough one to crack, when it came to jokes. I got him to laugh every time, regardless if it was bad or not. I’d like to see one of his little girlfriends do that, without being all up on him like a starfish. You could say I’m a little protective over the women he chooses to date. OK maybe not a little but you get my drift. None of them liked me anyway, because he’d always ask me to check them out for him, or help to get rid of them like that one movie What’s Your Number. Yeah it never ended well for him or I to be honest. They’d all think i was his girl in the end, and that was not the case by any means. Many a times I have thought about being with him, but then I’d think about our friendship in the end. In school I’d be the one getting picked on because of how darkly pigmented my skin was, different from my brothers. Being Afro-Latina in my way, was a gift as my mother would say. Yes i’ve grown into my head and my body curved itself out but what can you do? Plus, i grew my hair out more and it’s literally larger than life. Snapping back into reality, I grabbed his hand that was waving in my face.

“Earth to madame Jakande. You ok?” His concerned voice was soft and gentle, yet worried.

“Yeah. yeah I’m fine. Just uh, daydreaming again. So uh what’s this grandiose news you have for me, ye old one?” I had to get my mind back in the right state of mind, so i gathered my belongings and headed for the elevator for the day.

“I am older than you, yes, so respect your elders.” He poked my side and caused me to yelp, as he followed in tow.

“You’re only older than me by 10 days, ya goofball. Anyway, ni habari gani?” the anticipation was killing me as to what he had in store, as we both descended down the elevator down to the main floor. Manhattan was always busy, no matter what time of day it was. It was however, currently noon on a brisk Sunday afternoon.

“Well since you spoke in Swahili, it is one of the many languages my character in The Black Panther knows. In fact, I’m also the leader of a tribe.” He smiled brightly at me with soft chuckle. At that moment i stopped us both in front of my boutique store front window, giving him a shocked look with a huge grin.

I gave him a once over one good time before saying anything. He had told me that he had gotten a huge role in a movie that would break possible barriers but never told me what it was. I even looked all over the internet and found nothing despite my search. I grew up reading comic books at a young age, because of my parents and older brother, so i knew a little bit. Once he said Black Panther, I had to think for a bit and then I got it.

“Wait, wait. You’re a huge guy so I can only think of one character for you to be. The great M’Baku, leader of the Jabari tribe!” i squealed way too loud as I gave him a congratulatory hug on his huge accomplishment. His strong arms enveloped me in return, laughing himself.

“Someone knows their stuff! Look at you nzuri! Listen as great gesture for being my right hand girl, how about we do lunch? I pay, you pick the place” Releasing himself from our heart warming embrace, he looked at me with hopeful eyes. Damn him for being 6’4.

“Ugh, deal. You drive a hard bargain, oh great leader. I wonder how your girl, Ashanti is gonna take this.” with a sweet wink and a chuckle, we walked side by side towards Del Posto, to discuss his future.

“About her, we broke up actually. Because she got tired of me working more hours.” The look of defeat fell upon his chiseled features as he explained it, but a smile bounced back.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that Winston. Listen, you need to stop serial dating and look for a woman to settle down with, you know? You’re in your early 30’s, I think it’s time.” He rolled his eyes at me this time and smiled graciously, as I let out a sweet laugh. If only he knew.

“Yeah, yeah. When the time is right, I will. Now let’s eat and discuss my wardrobe for this premier. You are styling me right?” He offered me his hand to do the Wakandan salute that I know from the trailers, and we both did it.

“Oh hell yeah. You know i am. What kind of friend would i be if i didn’t use skills for good instead of evil?” walking inside the restaurant, we were greeted by an aroma of multiple things and sat at our usual table by the window.

“To us. Two best friends, living their dreams in the city and conquering everything. But, not losing sight of themselves.” he made a little speech before we clinked our wine glasses together.

Oh yeah, this was going to be an interesting year for him, and also me as well.

[insomniac-arrest]

Babina Steals a House

genre: original, humor, fairytale

words: 2k

summary:  A young woman steals Baba Yaga's house for tax evasion purposes. The witch is not happy

Like Howl’s Moving castle but with somehow more scoundrels and the same amount of angry witches

Babina Lisitsyn walked into a merchant’s shop, well, she didn’t so much walk as stride in with the confidence of someone hiding a gun up their skirts. Said gun had fallen out at least three paces ago but we give Babina the grace of her own confidence at this point.

“Shopkeep,” Babina put her finger authoritatively in the air, “drop what you’re doing.” Allen the elf was not doing anything, he looks up anyway and regards a very small woman with her curly hair tied up in a red handkerchief. She was pointing at him.

Allen stood behind his counter and regretted not installing that panic button under his desk after the last time he was robbed and they took his good soup spoons. This woman had the same look in her eye. He raised his eyebrows sharply and pushed his more expensive orbs to the side.

“Can I help you?” The words were not said in the tone of someone who wanted to help you.

Babina Lisitsyn was not paying attention to his intonation, she was thinking about whether that thing on the shelf next to the man was a magic wand or a dildo. Regardless of the fact it was both, Babina took a piece of paper out of her pocket and shoved into the air, “is this you?”

Allen gave her a second cool look to top the first one, “from the paper’s classifieds, yes.”

Babina turned the newspaper clipping around and cleared her throat, “Nelaeryn Thoticus of the golden woods?” That was not his name.

“Yes.” She continued reading, “Who provides services in fortune telling, magic bartering, horoscopes, wedding officiating, horse taming, erectile dysfunction-” “That’s my ad, yes.” “And document apostilling.” Babina raises her chin, “right?”

Allen momentarily wishes he was being robbed, “How can I be of service?”

Babina whipped out a second piece of paper, “I need someone to authorize this.” She pushes a yellowing paper across the table, it had a very uneven looking font and some ink splotches.

Allen raised another eyebrow, he only had two but usually, he wished he had more.

“What’s this?” Babina put her hands on her hips, “I thought the classified said you’d sign stuff. No questions.”

He frowns slowly and looks back up, “100 gold coins.”

“Are you fucking,” she tore at her hair.

Allen waits patiently, “Not at the moment.”

“Look,” Babina put her hands in front of her as if to pause everything, “I’m sort of in a situation.” Babina was in several situations, half of a sham marriage and twice as many incidents of food poisoning in a half a dozen villages she visited.

Allen pushed the piece of paper back toward her, “Does that situation involve a 100 gold coins?” Babina felt the need to flip him off and perhaps dig around for her pistol again, but time was a fickle thing that sped on with or without her permission. It did not grant her the luxury of ‘flipping off’ time.

Babina was making a strangling motion to Allen when the door swung open on its hinges and a large black raven swept in. Allen took a step back, he had a strong phobia of birds since one tried to sell him a faux-gold ring last Christmas. And he bought it.

“Get out.”

“Midnight!” Babina threw her hands up, “thank God, we have to do some of that special sexy bartering we talked about.” Allen decided that might be the best time to lean over and read exactly what it is she wanted him to authorize.

He lifted both eyebrows, “Is this a housing agreement?” Babina turns around in place, her large brown skirts fanning out around her, “now you see how serious this is.” Allen narrowed his eyes, “some of this is written in crayon.” “And some blood.” She added brightly. “Alright…”

“Not mine, don’t worry.”

Allen thinks maybe he’ll get that panic button, instead he looks between the two of them, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” He started to shoo them, he had to pretend to be an orthopedist at 2 so this was eating up his googling time. “Paying customers only.” Babina made another face at him, “Nelly,” he looked both ways to see who she was talking to, “of the orange woods-” “Golden,” he was actually from San Jose.

“Imma need you to me a big favor,” she jabbed the paper, “And sign this right here. Just on the dotted line, so all our asses are not grass.” “Grass,” he massaged his temple.

“Blasted grass! Grass blasted glass pass.” She shook her fist, “We’re gonna be pounded!” Allen looked at her evenly, “I’m really going to have to ask you to leave.” “That might be hard,” Allen jumps as third voice answers, a hooded dour young man now stood where the raven had once been, Allen grabs at his chest, “Ah!”

The brooding young man had shockingly black hair, a sharp nose, and the air of someone who looked tired enough to easily trade his blood in for expresso, “ma’am,” he nods at the young woman in the handkerchief, “she’s just outside of town.” Babina stuck her bottom lip out, “Soon?” “Three minute give or take.” Babina groaned deeply, “Fiiiiiine.” She picked up her contract, “we’ll blow this joint.” She waves at him, “Sorry your shop might get wrecked, you seem like an asshole, but still.” Babina shrugs and turns toward the door.

Allen’s face goes pale, “Who? Who’s coming?” He looked both ways as his shutters start to bang from a gust of wind. The hairs on Allen’s arm stand on end.

His eyes go wide as he looks back at the girl, “Who’re you?”

Babina turned around and winked, “Babina Sampina.” That was not her name.

The young man tugs on her sleeve, “I’m obligated to tell you that you need to get out of here.” The shutters bang open and shut again, a tremor goes through the floorboards, Allen flinches, he comes out from behind his desk. “Who’s house is it?” He points to the document in her hand. Babina waves over her shoulder, “don’t worry about it.” She opened the door, “unless you wanna do that trade.” He looked both ways, “What trade?” “Just like we talked about,” Babina yells with a flourish as they stand just outside the door. “Midnight, get on your knees.”

Midnight’s face doesn’t change, “I don’t think so.” “Okay,” she recovers, “we’ll stop Baba Yaga from wrecking his town if you sign my papers.”

Allen’s fingers shake, “I’m not actually an actuary.” “Nelly,” Babina says seriously as she walks up to him, “I don’t care.” “Ma’am, we have to leave.”

“One sec,” Allen takes out his pen signs the crayon and blood document, “bam!” She runs out the door, “let’s get running.” Allen takes a step outside the door and is almost blown over, some power was surging through the street, he could feel the electricity pulsing. He gulps and wonders why he didn’t buy the health insurance package that included witches.

Babina on the other hand just felt slightly preoccupied with the wand-dildo problem in her head again, she snaps back to when Midnight is pointing toward the west.

“Right!” She snaps her fingers and a house parked right in front of a small Radio Shack starts to shake. Its front lawn had a stark white fence around it and a pair of thin legs stuck out the bottom as it stood up.

“Baba yaga,” Allen was muttering to himself, wiping his palms down on his turquoise pants, “Baba yaga.” “Come on you old bitty!” Babina was yelling into the wind, her house rumbling as two thin chicken legs lifted it up in one shaking heave. “Do your worst!”

“No!” Allen the elf waved his hands in the air, “Nope, no, none of that.” Babina gave him a thumbs up, “have a little faith.” She squared her shoulders, “I’ve been doing this for like, a week now.”

Allen thinks about his 2 O’clock finding his body, it would not be flattering. He heard the wind whistle in his long ears and several people are peaking out their shop windows. Babina waves at them blithely.

“What did you do?” “Some tax stuff,” Babina says simply, “or at least, that’s what I asked for help with.” She pouts, “and boom, bam, ran away with this house thing.” “It was almost impressive,” Midnight says blankly as he stood off to the side, “if it wasn’t fools luck.” He glances at her morosely, “from a fool.” Babina rolled her eyes, “Go get Red Sun! We gotta be a unified front.” Midnight the dark knight, indebted to the holder of the house for the rest of eternity, grunts heavily. He, as a person, would much rather be a nicely warmed cup of tea at any given moment.

His form starts smoking and a heavy black cloud consumes him, leaving a sleek black bird in his place, it caws sharply.

Allen reaches for him as he spreads his wings, “Don’t leave me with her!”

Midnight was flapping away and Babina was climbing up onto her chicken-legged house that belonged the world’s most powerful grandma.

She was bouncing up and down, “Dawn!” She calls, “daybreak!”

A white cat with black paws steps out to greet her, it had a with a bone in its mouth that once belonged to very unstable goblin, but he was mostly stable now. For a couple reasons, most of which were being dead.

Dawn considered it good luck.

The delicate cat folds into itself, unwinding piece by piece as a young woman with soft white hair materializes, she holds a spear in her hands and smiles widely.

“What a nice day it is!” The knight turned around in loose circles.

“Shut it,” Babina said, “Baba is around the corner.” She beat her chest, “battle up!” Dawn just grinned emptily, “did you get that thing signed that I helped you make?” “Right right!” Babina stood on the top of the chickened-legged house and she pushed the sheet out into the air, “Baba Yaga!”

She faced the end of the wide merchant road.

Allen the elf heard himself scream, something surges around a very sharp corner. A woman, a massive woman. She sat in a mortar and peddled through the air like water using a pestle. Long white hair danced around her sunken face like a tangled storm and her eyes were blazing hot coals. Her outfit was a massive black dress that looked like it was almost living as it writhed around her.

A cackle rumbled through the earth and several shopkeepers stuck their heads out and wished they had panic buttons.

“Little fox,” her voice was thick with dust and a dark hiss that filled the air, “this is the end of the line.” Babina, to her credit, didn’t so much as flinch. She was still thinking about that wand as well as where her pistol had fallen to, she holds up her piece of paper.

“Tough shit,” she widens her stance, “I own this place now. Read the fine print!” Allen groans to himself as the almighty being of wrath and splendor read his name on the paper. He creeps back toward his shop so he could grab anything of more value than his life right now.

He heard more cackling, the witch's eyes grew huge and luminous, “you’re going to taste very good in my next stew little fox.”

“Okay,” she says stiltedly, “but this is legal and you have to listen to the law.” Baba Yaga’s smile widened into a wolf’s maw, “I’ll eat you with bell peppers and onions.” She showed all of her sharp white teeth.

Babina had sense enough to gulp deeply, her thoughts being dragged back to the many objects in her new home that were made of human skin. It was an alarming amount.

“Okay,” she gives a little salute, “that’s...that’s cool.” She turns around in place, “I’m just gonna…” She snaps her fingers again. “See you!”

The chicken legs bend in the middle and Allen’s mouth falls open as the house turns around, Baba Yaga makes a loud hiss.

“Wait,” Allen looks both ways as he weighs his options, “my town.” Babina waved, “I won’t let this place be destroyed!” This wouldn’t be the last town that Babina got destroyed.

He’s about to protest when more movement catches his eye.

Allen watches as a black raven comes diving through the air with a red dog blazing just below him, they come up from behind the witch. He waited for her to easily bat them out of the air but the animals dart right by and dodge her pestle.

The dog jumps ten feet in the air as the house starts to extend its skinny legs, the raven is just behind it. The ground begins to shake and air shimmers with tension.

Allen weighed his options.

“Wait,” Allen’s mouth opens and closes as the wind around him started to pick up, “I’ll come with!” He starts to run, “You owe me a hundred gold coins.” The ground begins to open up and swallow the edge of the town, buildings tumbling in with free falling rubble. Allen runs and manages to grab onto a chick leg before it goes into full gallop. He was going to miss his 2 O’Clock.

Babina herself was going to miss her pistol that had been more for show than use, but she appreciates the idea of it. She stands near her shaking bone fence and wonders if the witch would need a proper bank notice before she let up.

But Babina hated banks.

She looks over her shoulder as Baba Yaga slowly falls behind and far too many people start calling their local lawyers about a massive magic earthquake. Some crazy person had apparently stolen a witch's house.