#seriously i have a poor sense of smell

[angxlofvenus]

Hii! I saw your requests were open and I thought I'd give you a hc/fic idea:

The brothers (or whoever you'd like to write for) reacting to Mc using their shampoo/ soap in the shower for whatever reason ^^

I hope this makes sense to you lol, anyways I hope you're having a wonderful day/night, don't push yourself too hard, and drink water!! You can also take any creative liberties you seem fit, or if you decide you don't want to write it I won't be offended ^^

°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

Thank you so much for the request!! This is absolutely adorable, I hope everything is to your liking, Have a great rest of your day/night !! Genre: fluff Ship: Reader x brothers + Diavolo (individual headcanons) TW: clingy demons, minimal cussing, no use of readers' pronouns, second-person pov

When You Use Their Shampoo

Stepping into the shower, You were greeted with the nice hot/cool water raining from above, Going to start your routine, You reached for your shampoo bottle only to find it empty! Looking around you spotted his shampoo and conditioner, surely he wouldn’t mind… right?

Lucifer

100% smells it on you no matter how little you used

Won’t tease you in public but as soon as ya’ll are alone? Ho ho, he’ll never shut up about it

Smug, the definition of smug

You had to go and inflate the ego of The Lord of Pride even more

Very possessive afterwards

Congrats, You know have a scary guard dog demon!

Mammon

He probably wouldn’t even really notice at first

He’d probably compliment how good you smell, Then would slowly realize…

Great, Now he's yelling gibberish while his face slowly gets redder and redder

“You’re gonna give me a heart attack, don’t do that to me!” But will become very clingy

If you say his shampoo smells good, he may lose his mind.

“Well of course ya wanted to smell Like the great Mammon!” 

Levi

Poor awkward nerd

He never saw this coming

I think he would realize you used his shampoo but won’t say anything

Flustered to the max

You have broken him

Levi.404 has stopped working, please reset.

After like the third day, You’re gonna have to bring it up

Secretly really likes it, Won’t tell you that though

Satan

I think he is very picky about scents so he knows as soon as you walk into the room

A little bit of a tease, asking if you were trying out a new shampoo

Smug 2.0 

He would tease you a little bit around the others but not bad

He would flood you with compliments, You using his shampoo would make him very lovey-dovey

Expect him to ask for ya’ll to just use the same stuff from now on

Asmo

Oh honey, he knows.

He knew before you even got out of the shower.

But that doesn't mean he's any less excited!

Better plug your ears because he will let out the loudest squeal known to mankind

Seriously, Lucifer may come and check on ya’ll helicopter mom

Asks what you do and don’t like about it

He just wants you to feel as fantastic as he does when using it

Everyone will know you used his shampoo, He brings it up in every conversation

Would also 100% ask you to use his bath products 24/7

Beel

Now Beel has never been really into insane products like Asmo or Luci

So he may not really recognize it at first

If you decide to tell him, This man will become a happy demon puddle

He’ll give you a big smile and tell you you’re free to use any of his stuff at anytime

We don’t deserve Beel

Will bury his face into your hair and just stay there

Takes you out to Hell’s kitchen that night just because he loves you so much

Belphie

Oh this little shit

Tease! He won’t quit bragging!!

Smug 3.0

Such a brat about it too, He won’t let anybody near you, Well of course he’d let Beel, but who wouldn't?

He has practically locked you up in the attic with him

Why go outside when ya’ll can cuddle? 

Diavolo

Has really expensive products 

He may even have a custom scent

If so, He’ll know instantly that you’ve used his shampoo

He’ll bring it up with a large grin on his face

When you confirm his suspicions, he’ll just laugh

He’s so happy ya’ll are close enough to share things like that, You have no idea!

He may make a sly comment to Barbatos or Lucifer just because he’s a little possessive

Will follow you around like a lost puppy, Now Barbatos is mad at you because even less of his work is done

He can’t help it! He just loves you!

Will be the third on my list to offer ya’ll to just share bath products

[ohmygraves]

Hello! I've got a little writing idea if you want to do it. Reader and the rest of 141 are at a bar and reader keeps getting hit on throughout the night. Ghost/Soap getting jealous and feeling protective/possessive over reader and intervene. Just a little bit of a guard dog trope really. Scary man privileges. Hope this sounds a little interesting to do, have a good day :)

hello!!! thank you sm for the idea 💖🫶🏻 please enjoy this humble writing, i love the idea 💛 i wasn't sure if i want to do it with ghost or soap so i did both lol have a good day yourself!

scary dog privilege — ghost/reader/soap

warnings: creepy guy being pushy, alcohol mention, swearing

your little outing at the bar tonight seems to be quite unsuccessful.

actually, no, someone else would argue that you had a very successful day at the bar, since you're currently being hit on left and right by the other patrons. that's the purpose of a bar, right? to maybe find someone to kiss or hook up with one night, and hopefully not catch anything along the way.

but no, you're actually getting quite annoyed right now, as you want nothing more than to sit back, relax, and just get a few drinks with your friends from work. that's all. you want nothing to do with these people who want to get into your pants, or even ask you what's under it.

after a job well done, your captain had wanted to treat the team a few drinks to celebrate. this gets everyone excited, especially because he's not giving any price limits, and he's quite generous. besides, who would miss out on getting free drinks?

maybe you, because you're actually thinking if it was better if you'd just stayed behind, maybe read a book or watch some movies. hell, you could've even spent time at the shooting range, which you actually hated! (because ghost would nitpick at every single thing you did wrong when shooting, and he won't leave you alone until you get it right)

poor you, being such a people pleaser, not wanting to offend the person trying to hit on you, giving them a chance to speak and you'd listen attentively before turning them down because you're not here to hook up, you're here for some drinks and maybe to catch up with your friends. work has been so awful lately that the five of you haven't had the chance to even speak about anything other than mission, work, training... it's slowly getting annoying.

unfortunately, it seems like the others are not so interested in catching up, seemingly leaving to do their own thing. gaz went to the bathroom after downing a few pints, captain went out for a smoke as it is a non-smoking bar, and ghost and soap were somewhere near the billiard table, competing for something stupid again likely. and you? you're left alone in the booth the team always sat in, alone, taking sips of your drink waiting for kyle to come back from his pee break.

you've turned down two men so far, who fortunately was smart enough to sense that you're uninterested in their idea of a good time. you have to admit, you felt quite bad turning them down, especially since they seem to be quite courteous.

this fucking bloke, however...

he was very drunk, very pushy when talking to you. you could literally smell the alcohol off of his breath, it was a surprise that no one has tried to kick him out yet. he kept pestering you, trying to sit beside you and touching you, and your politeness is growing thin everytime he tried to get you to drink with him. you tried to tell him you're not interested, but he was too drunk to even register a "no", apparently.

seriously, where the hell is kyle? why does he need to piss out his two pints of beer immediately after drinking them?

you cursed at kyle, wondering which bathroom he went to for his pee break. did he go to the bathroom in the fucking philippines or something, what's taking him so long?

quickly, someone else scooted over beside you, leaning against your shoulder. soap.

"aye, this lad bothering yer, hen?" he asked you, arms slung behind your shoulder. you thanked whatever gods sent him your way.

the man who tried to hit on you seemed offended, was about to give soap a piece of his mind, before he was yanked out of the way by ghost, thrown aside down on the floor. it made a huge commotion, people were now looking at you.

ghost sat down quietly in front of you — where the man just sat after he tried to touch you, "reckon we should give him 'piece o' our mind, johnny?" he asked the scot.

"mmmaybe. what yer think, lt?"

now the man was fuming, being humiliated in front of the bar when he was trying to flirt with someone?

to make matters worse, now soap decided to kiss you!

he gently held your face, pressing his lips against yours, and to make it believable, even slipped his tongue in-between your lips, his eyes glaring at the drunk bloke. the man who tried to flirt with you was dumbfounded, too surprised to even say anything.

soap pulled away from you for a moment, letting you catch your breath. but before you could say anything, ghost pulled you over the table, his hands gripping your collar as he kissed you too, following what soap did, but much more intense. you didn't even see him pulling his mask up.

"see? lass's taken. shoo." soap held you close after you kissed ghost, basically telling the guy to fuck off. somehow, he left, still fuming though at the two guys who claimed you just like that.

you? you were a little dazed. confused. whatever. your two work mates kissed you after saving you from a random bloke who did not know what no means because he was too drunk off his arse. and strangely enough you didn't mind, they were the best kisses you've ever gotten in your life.

"why'd you two kiss me?" you asked, somehow. you felt stupid right after asking, clearly the answer was to help you get away from that creep!

ghost let out a sigh, taking a sip of his own glass of bourbon. "think we did ya a favor there, love."

you thanked both of them, but you still feel soap's hand squeezing your size, pulling you close to him.

"ye see, lass, can't have 'nother blether hittin' on ye."

you didn't seem to mind, you were getting tired and too drunk to even care. at least you're safe with them.

soap lets you lay your head on his shoulder, talking to ghost about something as you three waited for price and gaz to return.

[the-kr8tor]

Hi! I hope you're well! I've got a bit of a request (maybe? idk can be whatever u want it to be:D) So- R recently has had their wisdom tooth removed, and I think you've seen how people get so loopy afterwards. I think it'd be hilarious writing Hobie trying to keep a straight face and talk to R rambling on about some random things in the most serious manner he can muster lol

Thank you for requesting! Muah 😘 ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, TW blood, Fluff.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Hobie's nervous for no reason, he knows you're alright behind the tooth shaped door but the sound of the drill’s muffled whirring has his spidey senses going haywire. He thinks it's the weird smell of the dentist's office and the stark white of the walls that adds to his anxiety. His leg nervously bounces to the beat of the crappy music that the dentist's assistant keeps playing on loop (torturing him basically.)

He kneads at his temple to get the scraping sound out of his ears, due to his enhanced senses that includes super hearing, he can hear every pull and tug of your tooth, unfortunately. But he thinks you have it worse since you're the one who feels every tug and pull. Or maybe he just hates it when you get hurt, especially if he can't help you or even see you. He curses the tooth shaped door for hiding you from his view. Seriously, who makes a door shaped like that?

With a sigh, the toothy door finally opens, and out you roll out of it in a squeaky wheelchair. Hobie stands up lightning quick to get to your side. The dentist smiles at him with her perfect teeth, hands guiding you out of the sterile room.

“She’s good, don't worry.” The dentist senses Hobie's worry, or she just sees it etched on his face. “Your girl's a bit loopy because of the meds but it'll wear off in a few minutes.”

Hobie kneels down to face you. He almost laughs loudly at your swollen cheek that makes you look like a squirrel that's hiding its nuts inside its mouth. He rubs your knee softly to wake your foggy self based on how glossy your eyes are. Drool drips from the cotton in your mouth and he swears he almost loses it right there and then.

“Hi, love, ready to come home?” Hobie smiles softly like he usually does when he finds you endearing. Despite all the bloody saliva dripping out of your mouth.

“Hat?” You ask, voice murmured by the cotton. Hobie guesses you said ‘what?’ instead of asking for his invisible hat.

Raising your hand to his face, you give him a good pat on his cheek, you then let out a giggle that sounded more like a cackle. It all makes him raise an eyebrow.

“You gave her the good stuff huh, doc?” He asks, never leaving his eyes off your disoriented self.

The dentist chuckles, “just give her paracetamol for the pain and don't let her eat or drink anything for an hour or two if she can help it.”

“Thanks, doc.” Hobie gives her a polite smile while standing back up to his feet. “Ready to walk with me?”

You narrow your eyes at him, eyebrows knitted, hands balling at your soft pants. You dressed for the occasion, or rather, dressed down for it. You had the foresight to know that you'll be bleeding all over your clothes right after. Like how you are right now with one of Hobie's old band shirts. He clearly doesn't mind since he owns a hundred like them. But he won't miss the opportunity to tease you about it once you're sober and well awake.

You look at him like he told you the copper you gave him is in a poor state. “I hab boyfriend.”

“I know you do, it's me.” He sees the dentist crack a smile. “Get up, love, you'll kick my arse if we miss your episode.”

“Episode?” You once again ask with wonderment.

“Yeah, that dragon show you like so much. Up you go.”

“Dragons?!” Your voice echoes out in the room, like he just told you dragons are real. You stand up quicker than he thought you could. “Really?” Your question cements what he thinks. “They're dragons right? Not wyverns, they're different creatures y’know.” He tamps down a laugh.

Holding you by your biceps, Hobie flicks his eyes behind you and over to the dentist who just shrugs with a grin. “Her tooth was stubborn. Sorry, I could've given her the lighter stuff but she would've felt it.”

“That's alright, doc, this is how she usually is.” He jokes, which you chortle at. Well at least you recognize humour amidst the fog of whatever concoction the dentist gave you. “Thanks again.” He waves goodbye whilst he guides you out of the clinic.

“Why are you so pretty?” You look at him with sparkling eyes like you're about to cry from his sheer beauty. Tapping his chin, cheek squished against his shoulder, you don't look at where you're walking as you continue to admire him in the sun. “So p-pretty…like a-an angel.”

Hobie does all the walking for you, his arms are looped around your waist, effortlessly lifting you off the pavement. The tips of your shoes grazes the concrete as you squish his cheeks in your hand, making him pout from your cuteness overload.

“An angel? Just last night you called me a dick for eating your mango.” How could he know you were trying to save it inside the fridge?

You giggle, “mmm, mango.”

“I'll buy you a hundred more if you continue to dote on me.” You two finally make it to the van, he thanks his abilities for not getting winded out by the trek.

You lean back dramatically, making Hobie catch you in his arms. You both look like a cover from a romance novel.

“I can't! I have a boyfriend.” You say with your whole heart, and as serious as you can with your mouth full of cotton.

“Fuckin' hell.” He laughs, lifting you back up before someone in the street sees. “I'll buy you some ice cream if you get in the car. Mango or chocolate flavour?”

“I will,” you poke his chest, “not be,” poke “bribed by you–you stranger!” You poke him several times.

Hobie catches your finger mid poke. Leaning closer to your face, he smells the iron from your mouth. You sniff, moving your head away from him with a pout.

“Love,” he says sweetly, catching the back of your head before it falls further back. Laying his forehead against yours, he gives you a minute to recognize him from his warmth alone. He'd give you forever if he can. Holding your hand, he raises it to his chest, letting you feel the familiar thump of his heart. He remembers that you do it whenever he gets home from patrol. “It's me, yeah?”

Hobie doesn't realize the tears brimming in your eyes. He stands up straight at the sound of your quiet sobbing.

“We're gonna miss the dragons.” Fat tears roll down your cheeks, the cotton in your mouth threatens to fall out as you weep in the parking lot with him trying his best to wipe the tears while he coos softly at you.

Hobie definitely has his work cut out for him, now to get you home without crying about dragons or acting like he's kidnapping you. Yet, he'd gladly do it all over again if it's you.

[whorediaries-09]

every time that we realized it's crazy 🎵

sirius x reader with bondage amd breeding????????????

bondage and breeding? both? are you trying to kill me?

house of balloons/glass table girls;

pairing- sirius black x reader warning(s)- 18+ content. (let me know if i should add more) a/n- this song has been stuck in my fucking head.

ps- we going to hell with this one 🗣️

little train 700 follower celebration post.

' so don't blame it on me that you didn't call your home so don't blame it on me, girl, 'cause you wanted to have fun. '

the sweet air hangs around sirius. he watches your head fall on your shoulder, drool slipping out your tongue. your legs appear to be lifeless, yet he has them tied together. he waits for your eyes to open, to show him the beauty of fear within your irises.

he's seen the sadness, the madness and the happiness. now he wants to see the fear, wants to observe it as it passes through every inch of your body, wrecking you apart. he wants to see how your body comes alive when he touches you, when he feels you.

so, when you open your eyes, he feels the blood rushing down his cock. it's beautiful, the color of your eyes, visible through the dimly lit bulb that hangs from the ceiling. it's as if he can smell the fear, through your body.

but it's not just fear he senses. he senses the arousal, the lust, the lore of your hormones rushing through your veins when your eyes fall upon him. so, he smiles, walking towards you.

'hello, little birdy,' with the utmost rage that you can portray from just your voice, you shout.

'who the fuck are you? where the fuck am i?'

'no one will come if you scream birdy. it's just you and me in this room. alone,' he says. he circles around your tied form, his gray eyes piercing through your helpless form.

'what kind of a fucking joke is this!' you scream, tired of the heavy silence that weighs upon your back.

'ah, i guessed you'd say that. perhaps, you think this is some kind of a joke or a prank. you might wonder why you're here. you might wonder think this is a terrible mistake, a strange hallucination dawned by the last margarita that flowed to be just one too many. or perhaps, you think it's one of those strange dreams that you write about in your journal. where you dream a tall, handsome stranger whisks you away to an unknown location, having his so wicked way with you.'

he swipes his tongue on his upper row of teeth, watching your throat bob as you swallow.

'but,' he continues, his palm now cradling your cheek, thumb stroking the skin, 'i'm afraid, some dreams are more real than you think. reality could be so much stranger, than the dreams your mind could ever conjure,' you stare at him letting the words infiltrate the thick coat of fear your mind wears. tears well into your eyes.

'please,' you beg, 'what do you want?' he knits his eyebrows together, his fingernail stroking your cheek.

'i don't think,' he sighs, 'you're taking me seriously. i think you- you believe that this is some elaborate prank.'

his eyes wander to the back your chair, where the chains he used to tie you up are connected to the wall. your eyes follow his and you crane your back, trying to see what he's observing.

'you see those chains little birdy? they're heavier than you think.' he looks at your wrists, swollen and chafed. 'you should know better than me, given how chafed your poor wrists are,'

'do you want to guess who i am?' he says, lowering down and sitting on his knees. he takes out a key from his pocket, unlocking the chains from your feet. he massages them slowly. you're sensible enough to know this man's stronger than he appears, and you better not kick your feet. when you stay silent he, insists you.

'come on, take a guess,' his hand slip between your thighs, his long slender finger rubbing soft circle on your clit. unconsciously you arch your back seeking for friction. he smiles devilishly watching you squirm as he rubs you through your underwear. 'take a guess, birdy, i dare you,' he breathes, feeling your slick soak through your underwear and wet his fingers.

'please,' you beg. he raises an eyebrow, increasing the pace. he tears apart the fabric of your skirt with a pocketknife, smiling at the fear that clouds your vision.

'hmm, not quite,' he teases, lowering his jaw to put on the flesh of your thighs. 'i'll give you a hint. mary adams, kelly whitlock, catherine stephens,'

recent murders.

he pulls down your underwear, watching you down at realization.

's-sirius black? the mass murderer?' he smiles,

'yes, very good. so much information in that pretty little brain of yours,' he praises, flicking his tongue on your clit. he watches your eyes roll at the sudden contact. he smiles against your cunt. his hand grip the flesh of your thighs. he spreads them apart, pulling you closer to his mouth by the legs of the chair. he puts your legs on his shoulder.

his tongue finds home on your clit, as he sucks on it. the anklet scratches his shoulder, bleeding out a wound. it soaks through the sheer vest he wears.

he plays with your folds before pushing in two fingers at once, providing you a delicious stretch of your walls. his tongue lurks around your clit, as he curls his finger into you, quickly finding your sweet spot. he laps up into you like a starved man.

'oh- oh god-' you scream, trying to push him away but bound by the heavy chains. you hear the metal clink against the dusty floor, but to no avail.

when the euphoria rushes into your nerves, the hotness creeps into your stomach, filling you up with an insatiable pleasure that makes you curl your toes, bestow moans from your lips. you chant his name, paired with a string of curses.

it's pure madness, when you feel the tight coil in your stomach unravel, your sweet juices coating his tongue. he arises from between your shaking thighs, his chin coated with your orgasm. he lets his thumb crawl on the flesh of your thighs, watching the madness of pleasure paired with fear in your eyes. he watches your chest heave.

'please, just tell me what you wa-' your sentence remains unsaid as he finds your mouth with his, slipping his tongue into yours, clashing his teeth with yours as he lets you feel the taste of your cunt and his saliva linger on your tongue.

his hands rip apart your flimsy blouse, releasing your breasts. the cold air hits them. his cool and wet fingers draw circles around your nipples, feeling them harden and erect, as hard as his cock.

he lifts you up as if you're a toy, making you sit on his lap. your legs fall on the either side of his waist, your back against his face. he shimmies down his pant, freeing his painfully hard cock. he teases your slit with the tip of cock, sliding through your wet folds. you squirm, too sensitive for the feeling. his fingernail digs deep into the skin of your waist, as he pushes you down.

the burn seeps through you, a painful ecstasy crawling underneath your skin as his cock stretches into your cunt, burning down the banners of sinful pleasure.

'f-fuck,' you manage to breathe out as he rubs his temple on your spine. his finger attaches to your clit. it's as if he has your body memorized, as if he knows everything which brings you pleasure, which leaves you aching for more.

'come on birdy,' he says, parting your lips with his other hand. he stuffs your slick underwear into your mouth. he arches his hip, pulling himself out all the way. it produces a sound that echoes through the empty room.

'p-please,' you say, voice muffled, your core already burning and aching for the pleasure. it's a storm within the cages of your lust, which burns you up. he fits into you like a puzzle, fitting every crevice of your body.

'please what, birdy?' he mocks, as he increases the pace of pushing and pulling into you. his hand wraps around your throat, another hand drawing circles on your stimulated clit. the tension and nerves build up into a familiar yet stronger coil, urging to snap out any moment.

your head falls on your side as the exhaustion of ecstasy and pleasure grips every inch of your body. it's maddening, the pace of his cock as he rims into you so perfectly, stretching you out so deliciously. it makes your toes curl, thighs shake, eyes roll and core burn.

'you, you fucking belong to me. so fun isn't it birdy?' he says, ramming into you, enjoying the bliss of your moans and screams as they pass, muffled through the fabric of your underwear. still you manage an incoherent yes.

'yes, so fun. i'm gonna fill you up to the brink, breed you with my little babies. you'll look so cute with your your belly so full with my little ones. when your tummy starts swelling, i'll fuck you each and every way, have my wicked way with you.' he promises, as he feels you clench around him at each word.

he bites your shoulder, letting his teeth sink into the skin, as your body releases the coil building into your senses. you close your eyes, muttering something which makes sirius slow down his pace before he releases himself into you, filling you up, as promised.

************************************

when you open your eyes the next morning, the sunlight filters through the window and the flowing curtain. you're not in the cold empty room you were last night. the familiar strong hands are wrapped around you and you feel fresh and relaxed. you try to squirm around to free yourself without waking the one who held you.

your efforts bare no fruit.

he's awake, holding onto you tighter. he rests his chin on your shoulder.

'hi, baby,' he mutters, his voice morning fresh and raspy.

'hi, sirius,' you whisper back. you turn around to face him.

'did you enjoy, you know last night?' he smirks. heat crawls to your cheeks as you nod.

'i did,'

'i stopped because you said your safe-word. i wasn't too sure i heard you correctly because of the- uh- you know, but i stopped anyway. did you mean it?'

'yes i did. and before you start, it was because i got exhausted and not because you hurt me or anything.' he rubs his temple on yours.

'are you sure?'

'yes.'

he smiles, pushing his chin into the crook of your neck. his stubble tickles you and you giggle as he breathes out a 'we should do this more often,'

he's not wrong. roleplaying as a damsel in distress captured by a deranged murderer was fun. more fun than expected.

*************************************

taglist - @reggieisfit @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @jamespottergf @eternallybipanicking @fictional-magic @iamgayforyourmom1510

(if you want to be tagged please send a request through my inbox. specify whether you want to be tagged in just the series or all my upcoming works.)

****************************************

[maxwapan]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁✰ You do it to yourself

Title from Just by Radiohead

summary: Giving Leon a shower blowjob right after the events of the gaming situation.

¡This is a continuation of this!

you don’t have to read it but this will make no sense otherwise LOL

cw: Reader has male body parts and is referred to as he/him, smut but no penetration, praise/degradation, Leon is a little condescending, porn and very little plot lol, blowjobs, shower sex?, weird set up, set friendship/relationship.

wc: 3,377

note: Leon and Reader have a rather odd relationship sooo,,, LOL don’t take it too seriously. There’s more of a focus on actions than dialogue, but that’s just because I get lost in the scene. No one asked for this except for that one person on ao3 so this is for you random person that I now love :33

You almost slip on your way to the bathroom, heart lurching out of your chest in the process. Leon laughed, of course he did. “Careful there, sweetheart.” he smirks, all arrogance and teasing. Christ, never fails to get a pout out of you.

“Shut up, asshole.” You grumble in return, though it’s lighthearted. Kinda. You’re all bark and no bite. Someone steps on your tail and the only response you’ll give is a bitchy whine. Leon likes that, a lot. Maybe too much.

He keeps a hand on your arm the whole way, to which you try to ignore. Really, you’re preening under all this attention; you can’t help but stare at Leon. His bulging muscles that flex at the slightest movement, his chest that you just wanna motorboat, those fucking thighs that could crush your head like a watermelon.

He has you wrapped around his finger. As do you to him. Inseparable. Finally reaching the bathroom door, you slap Leon’s hand away when he tries to open it. Cause you’ve gotta do it. No reason to it. Just friendly competition. Of what? Who the fuck knows.

Ignoring his glare, you smirk to yourself cheekily. The smell of jasmine and eucalyptus bombards your nostrils, making you let out a soft hum of delight. Gotta love those Glade air fresheners.

The both of you are practically dying to get into the shower. Dried cum sticking to your inner thighs making your pants feel stuffy and moist is gross and uncomfortable. Gives off a musty scent that makes your nose scrunch up. You’re practically fucking waddling like a penguin, sensory issues all around.

You want to get in first, but being the nice person you are, you gesture to the shower lazily and nod towards it. “Hurry up,” you huff in mock irritation. Leon only raises a brow, already in the process of undressing.

“What?” he mumbles as his arms stretch to pull off his shirt, lovely pecs and chiseled abs making your pupils dilate. “We’re showering together. I thought that was clear?” he says that last part mockingly. Makes you wanna bite him.

“Fuck off. There’s no way we’re gonna fit in my tiny ass shower.” You scowl, crossing your arms over your chest defiantly. Leon rolls his eyes. Typical. You’re a stubborn one, aren’t you? Should shut you up with a cock shoved deep in your throat. Would be a fucking wonder to his ears.

“We’re showering together wether you like it or not. Suck it up,” he frowns. The bastard has the balls to put his hands on you, forcibly yanking your clothing off your body and ignoring your squawks of protest. You have to hold onto his shoulders when he gets to your pants, considering how you almost end up flailing over.

“Besides, it saves water *and* time.” He grinned, as if he cared about *your* damn water bills. It’s not like he’s the one paying them anyways, right? Finally regaining some sort of control, you swat his hands away, wanting to do the rest of the undressing by yourself.

“Fine fine, whatever. Just don’t blame me when you slip and bust your ass.” You grumble, stepping out of your pants which were bunched up at your knees due to Leon’s poor and rather reckless attempts to get them off. Reaching up, your hands pause at the elastic of your boxers, butterflies pooling in your tummy.

Leon notices this and openly stares in amusement, “What? Getting cold feet?” he taunts, making you shoot him a dirty look. “Shut up, just feels weird.” You retort somewhat meekly, unable to maintain eye contact for long.

“Weird?” He parrots, confusion painting his face. “What’s so weird? We just finished humping each other and busting our loads in our pants.” he states crudely, no shards of shame in this man. Absolutely none. He just loves to fluster you, knows it gets to you real good. Fucking funny.

“Jesus, don’t be such a freak,” you scowl. Makes you look cute, that little mad expression on your face. Makes Leon wanna pinch your cheeks and be mean to you some more. It’s like pushing a puppy around. “What? Scared of the truth?” he scoffed. “Just whip it out already.”

“Fuck’s sake, alright alright!” You finally relent, though with some last slivers of hesitation. You decide to bite the bullet, yanking your boxers off in one sloppy motion and kicking out of them. So now you’re just standing there like an idiot, cock and balls out and about.

And Leon’s just fucking staring like the perv he is. He’s doing it on purpose, a smirk on his face and his hands on his hips as if he were examining some enigmatic museum painting. It makes your hands shoot down to cover up, an action that has Leon almost burst out laughing. “Ah, get a hold of yourself. My junk and your junk aren’t so different.” he teases, before fucking finally walking towards the shower to turn it on.

Now you’re the one staring. Of course you are. His ass looks nice, got some pretty cocoa colored birth marks on it. Your hands itch to reach out and just start groping and squeezing to your hearts content. Also, he’s a fucking liar. His dick is way bigger than yours; thicker too. It’s got a mushroom head, uncut, and god does it look tasty.

He’s also hard.

You can tell due to the way his cock stands at attention proudly, twitching against his lower tummy, precum beading at the rosy tip. Would you be able to take that up your ass? Probably not. Doesn’t stop you from craving it though.

Now you’re hard too. And you hate it. Because you know Leon’s gonna say some stupid shit and taunt you. So while he tries to tame the water temperature to be something handleable, you desperately try to tame your cock down.

How? You don’t even know. Maybe thinking of something that would turn you off? Like your mom or… fuck, that just made shit weird. Groaning internally, you try to think of something else, but everything fails. Because Leon’s stupid face keeps popping into your mind unwarranted.

“Someone’s happy to see me,” Leon’s voice suddenly drawled out, the smugness in his tone palpable. God, fucking damn. You’re mortified, almost near flinched. Somehow, getting caught with a hard on makes your cock twitch with need, precum starting to pool at your own tip.

“Fuck off, it’s just… it just happened.” You try to save yourself, but there’s no doubt at what’s happening here. You’re both turned on by each other, and the tension is as fucking weird as it is sexy. Before Leon can say anything, you step forward, pulling the rest of the shower curtain aside so you could fit in, “Just get in already.”

Leon chuckles lightly, “mhm,” he hums with that cheeky smirk still on his face. He joins you in the shower, and immediately you two are pressed up against one another. You weren’t lying when you said the space was small. Leon doesn’t seem to mind. No siree. Not one bit. In fact, this is the best day of his life.

Staring down at you, he practically towers over you, casting an ominous shadow over your frame. Your brows twitch, curving into a frown. “Hurry up before it gets cold.” you huff, lips pouty and head dipping shyly. It’s a natural submission, one that you don’t even notice. He thrives off of that.

Without another word, he took a white rag and a bar of soap from the shower caddy, lathering up the cloth until it gained suds and a eucalyptus scent. Made your nose twitch and the tension ease out of your body. You’re a sucker for some good scents.

Somehow, this feels strangely intimate. Leon feels it too. It’s enough to get the both of you to cut the teasing and taunting bullshit for now. Your eyes flutter shut, humming delightedly as the warm spray of water cascaded down your back, dowsing the both of you in a cozy glow.

A shudder goes down your spine when Leon starts to run the soapy rag down your body, rubbing it along your arms, neck, back and so forth. Every part of you. “Feel good?” he murmured, his usual cocky expression gone in favor of a much softer one. It felt odd, considering how you two were just friends, but were doing something lovers usually did. Lovers. That word felt foreign to you. Scary, even.

“Mhm,” you hum quietly in response, leaning into the soothing touches. Leon smiles. He scrubs you good, making you feel squeaky clean. Makes sure to get that clumped up mess of cum between your thighs too, subtly smirking when you stiffened slightly.

Placing the cloth down and the bar of soap back into their places, he retrieved the shampoo that laid in the caddy. Gaining some of that viscous liquid in the palm of his hand, he brushed it through your hair, lathering it up until it felt foamy and puffy. Only then did he wash it out. Honestly, the whole process felt like a blur to you. It just felt too good, to be cared for like this.

Almost fell asleep. Once he was done pampering you with delicate touches and massages, your eyes fluttered open. Reciprocation was craved. “You don’t have to,” he mumbled, “I want to.” you said. And you did. Using the same soapy rag, you took care of him. Your fingers occasionally traced over scars and patches of bruised skin, lovingly grazing dotted marks like constellations. You’re enraptured.

You shampoo his hair too, running your fingers through those blonde locks that feel silky and smooth to the touch. Leon shuts his eyes, his shoulders drooping into a state of relaxation. He feels the same. God, he’s usually such a worrywart. It feels nice to let go like this. To be touched and appreciated. Worshipped.

He sighed, letting the stream of warm water wash away remaining suds and scented foam. He doesn’t want to leave. Not yet. Hunching over a little, he buried his face into the crook of your neck, shifting modestly to be able to properly face you in such a cramped space.

His lips ghosted your skin, arms wrapping around your waist to pull you flush against his chest. It’s suffocating in the best way possible. You wrap your arms around him too, holding him as if he were your lifeline. “You smell good,” he mumbled, kisses becoming more frequent along the sensitive row of flesh that belonged to your throat.

You don’t have anything snarky to say. The thought is there, but you don’t want to. Not worth it. Not at all. “Uh huh,” you let out a shaky breath, rewarding him with a mewl when those kisses turn into gentle suckles. Your cock twitches against your lower abdomen, and his presses against it. Slowly, he starts to rut into you.

Cocks rubbing together, he continues to lather you in affection, hands gliding up and down your back, occasionally squeezing your ass or rubbing your shoulders. You moan softly, nestling closer. Any longer in this shower and you’ll start to prune, but damn does this feel good.

Unable to properly peer up at him due to the continuous fall of water, you settle in for nuzzling your face into the column of his neck, tentatively sharing lovely kisses of your own. He parts from your throat, cupping your cheek in his hand to pull your head up. You don’t get a chance to speak before he mashed his lips against yours, tongue slipping in to dance.

You whine into the kiss when you felt his freehand snake down to grasp onto your dick, starting to slowly pump it up and down. “Leon,” you whimpered against his lips, hips involuntarily bucking forward. God, your water bill is going to kill you.

“Shh,” Leon cooed, reluctantly parting from the lip locking, “Just enjoy it.” his thumb occasionally found purchase on your rosy tip, rubbing vertical lines onto the tiny slit to coax out precious drops of precum. Fuck, that felt good. Made you louder, Leon noted.

He does too much for you, you think. You wanna touch him too. Wanna taste him. “Leon,” you mew softly, eyes big and pleading once you manage to gaze up at him through the relentless spray of water. Drops of it clump up your eyelashes, but you don’t care. “Can I suck you off? Please?” you beg prettily, and Leon just can’t bring himself to say no to you.

“Fuck, yeah, you wanna?” he groans, cock twitching excitedly at the thought. “Uh huh, yeah, I wanna,” you whine. Shit, how can you go from stubborn boy to whiny bitch in mere seconds? Hell if he knows. You don’t wait for a response, instantly getting on your knees. The hard floor makes your bones hurt, flesh turning rosy, but that’s okay. Yes, that’s perfect.

His cock aligns with your face, and you just have to kiss it; so you do. Your pillowy lips plant against the heated tip, hot tongue darting out to kitten lick away the milky precum. You don’t mean to tease, you’re just completely lost in the sensation. It’s new to you, sucking a dude’s cock. Leon can tell. So he doesn’t rush you, but damn. He needs more than just cute licks.

“Fuck yeah, keep going,” he encourages, hips tilting forward in a silent plea for more. You comply, mouth parting to take the head in first. You start sucking on that, like a baby with a pacifier. You look stupid. He loves that. His hand cups the back of your head, practically fucking begging you to just take his fat cock into your mouth already.

Finally, you do. It’s not quick, but you slowly slide the rest of his meat into your mouth. Gagging instantly due to his size, he grunts when your throat squeezes around him. Whining, you try to get used to the feeling. It’s not everyday you get a cock in your mouth. Especially one that belongs to your best friend.

Slowly, so fucking slowly, you start to bob your head up and down, feeling the veins and ridges of his shaft tickle your insides. It’s weird, an almost alien feeling. But fuck, it’s amazing. Addicting. Your cock agrees, considering how it continues to twitch and throb pathetically.

Cute, Leon thinks. Getting a sloppy blowjob from his best friend while in the shower was not something he expected. His skin is already starting to prune. He focuses on the pleasure he’s feeling, biting his bottom lip to keep a particular moan from spilling. You’re progressively getting better, learning from the noises he makes and the slight twitch his thighs give when you do something that he likes.

Your tongue swirls around him, lips suctioning and swelling. You’re drooling all over him, making a hot, sloppy mess on his dick. Not to mention how embarrassingly loud you’re being, slurping as if you were starving. Maybe you were. “Mmngg,” you whimper and grunt around him, voice sending vibrations throughout his entire being that made his toes curl and his eyes squeeze shut.

“Fuck, fuck, so good,” he hissed through his teeth, unable to keep himself from abruptly thrusting into your mouth. He shoots you an apologetic glance when you gag and his tip hits the back of your throat, but god, he can’t help himself. Can’t wait anymore.

So he gives in, starting to gently thrust into your mouth. He can feel that coil tightening up, the telltale signs of an orgasm approaching, and fast. You take as much as you can, even as you gag and choke. Somehow, that makes it so much better. Makes you start to move your hips too, only you’re humping air instead of someone’s face.

Poor thing. So needy. Fucking the air like a goddamn dog in heat. Makes Leon pity you. His thrusts become heavier, balls starting to slap against your chin. “Shit. Fuck. Gonna cum soon,” he panted softly, “Love your mouth, gonna cum all over it. Y’gonna swallow?” he huffed out his breaths, keeping one hand on the back of your head. The other one was splayed against the slippery shower wall to ground himself.

You do your best to respond, letting out a pathetic ‘mhm!’ in between muffled mewls and whimpers. You can feel yourself about to cum from just this. From just Leon fucking your face. “Good boy,” Leon hummed, satisfaction playing across his features. Snapping his hips forward, he ignores your wet gagging and pleading whines for mercy.

“Fuck, i’m cumming. Swallow it all,” He demands. Not like he needs to. He knows you’d do it regardless. You do as told, eagerly swallowing as much cum as you can as soon as he starts to shoot his load in between grunts and moans. Even as your cheeks start to puff up due to holding so much in your mouth and some spills out. You’re trying your best, and that’s all that matters, right? Right.

It’s all so much. So much that you can’t take anymore. With a loud whimper, you bust your own load, heavy cum spewing from your twitching cock in thick ropes. One, two, and then three. It all immediately gets washed away by the water spewing from the shower head. How the water hasn’t gone cold yet is beyond you.

Finally, Leon’s cock starts to soften in your mouth and he slips out with a wet pop noise. His chest heaved with every breath he took, muscles starting to relax. “Atta boy,” he murmured soothingly, looking down at your dazed and flushed expression with a smile on his face. Pulling you up carefully by the arm, he held you against his chest, rubbing comforting circles against your back with his palm.

Your knees hurt like hell, but you’re too content to think about it. Leon notices and winces, crooning sympathetically, “shit, sorry.” he mumbled sheepishly, attempting to stabilize your wobbling form. You chuckle tiredly, “it’s okay,” yeah, more than okay. “Kiss me please?” you plead, glancing up at him with a small pout. God, since when did you start asking for this willingly?

Leon hesitated, a bit taken aback by your request. It’s sweet, seeing how needy you are. Some part of him feels guilty, but the warmth that seeps into him from your pleading tone is enough to make him relent. “Alright,” he mumbled, taking claim of your lips once more. It’s sweeter than the first time. Saliva and tongue exchanged. It’s like your melting in his mouth, being all syrupy and cute like this.

He sucks on your lips, and then your tongue, making you whine. Another minute and he finally parts. His heart flutters in his chest and it feels strange. Like butterflies are swarming his belly. Can’t tell if he likes it or not. He doesn’t want to break the spell you both seem to be in, but he does eventually.

Lightly chuckling, he ignores your eyes, “We should step out now. We’re getting all pruny.” it’s a lame and rather awkward attempt, but it seems to work considering the halfhearted glare you shot his way. Much better. Hesitantly, you reach past him to turn the shower handles, cutting the heavy stream of water off. Ugh, bad idea. The cold air made you shudder, goosebumps forming along your skin.

“Alright alright, c’mon,” you huff, stepping out of the shower on slightly wobbly legs. Leon follows, much more steadier than you. Back to your regularly scheduled program of teasing and playful jabs, you suppose. You grab a towel for yourself from underneath the sink cabinet, and another one for Leon. Only you throw it at him lazily.

He manages to catch it before it hit the ground, “rude,” he huffed in feigned indignation. You only roll your eyes, “Oh, shut up.”

Doesn’t hide the smile that played at your lips. But it’s a good try. Drying your hair off with the rough towel, you’re both quiet, with only the sound of fabric rubbing on skin present. You’re both lost in thought. Processing things.

“You’re paying my water bill.”

“Absolutely not.”

[moonshine-dan]

Personal Headcanons:

Sakusa Kiyoomi

This is mostly to provide context for fics I write with him and how I interpret his character. I might add to this at random! NSFW below cut.

He's not an asshole for fun- he's brusque with people because he respects their time and wants them to respect his.

Similar to above- he's not an OCD germaphobe, he's just tidy and dislikes unnecessary mess where it's avoidable. He's got standards. And he doesn't like being sick! Is basic hygiene such a high bar???

It's really just high anxiety but he'd never admit to it

Not a 'dry' texter but he's not writing more than he needs to.

Was told once as a teenager that he was a shitty boyfriend and he took that personally. He spent a month reading magazines and internet articles on how to be a better partner & now has a brain lobe dedicated to Cosmo and Buzzfeed advice that comes in varying degrees of handy at random times

He has hypermobile wrists; I think he does get the associated body and joint pain associated with them. He's not in agony, but he's dealing with low to midgrade pain almost constantly.

Part of why he's got a reputation for being short with people is that he's often kind of tired or in pain and is band at recognizing or expressing it. He wants to go HOME.

He's a goofball but in Strange and Offputting ways, not fun and endearing ways. Has his own sense of humor.

If he's being silly with you, he trusts you. If he's putting your stuff in his bag 'on accident' or pulling 'too slow' high five shit with you, you've fucking made it into his heart.

I don't think he's very experienced in sexual relations! He takes dating seriously & doesn't rush. Not many have stayed with him long enough for him to feel like sex is on the table.

Does not have a very high sex drive and is not super curious about exploring much about himself on his own- but he's more than happy to indulge your sexual fantasies if you ask.

Not huge on PDA but not shy at all about telling people you are together. Arm holder, not hand holder.

He runs warm and is always in shorts and short sleeves if he can help it.

Moles all over. Got a mole next to his dick. Self conscious about it even though it's irrational bc he's very pale and they stick out :(

Addicted to tiger balm and camphor spray. Huffs it like glue when putting them on.

Secretly thinks laundry soap and dishwashing powder smell good. Sniffs them every time he uses them.

While not a fan of PDA, he's on more than one occasion shown up to a date with a gift unprompted. He'd buy you one of those embarrassing and Huge stuffed animals and carry it for you.

He has very strong opinions on the use of sesame oil as a condiment. "It's overused. And it smells so strong. And they always put so much in."

He's not a hard top only dom. He's actually very happy to be the sub- he CAN switch, but he enjoys following the lead and reacting to your wants.

Bro is ALWAYS OUT ON A RUN. Morning? Running before breakfast. Lunch? Has a circuit by the river. At night? On a jog before dinner. He WILL ask you to join him once a week.

He knows how to cook but only the blandest meals known to man. He cannot handle spice at all and gets bright fucking red, it's lame as hell and he hates it

Average sensitivity in general, except for his sides and waist. He gets jumpy if you touch them. it's cute :)

He's also very tenderheaded. poor thang :(

There is nothing in the WORLD more erotic to him than a massage. Work the knots out of his shoulder and he'll fuck you till you pass tf OUT

Does not like used condom smell. at all. He's genuinely considered a vasectomy so he can hit it raw without consequence

[joshym]

Le Morte d'Arthur: Chapter 2

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader, Sam Kiszka x f!Reader (oops)

Summary: It all began with a passion for literature. What was once a dream to walk the halls of the University of Michigan is now a reality.

You thought you were prepared for everything.

A new town, a new school, a new way of life,

but what you were not prepared for…

was meeting the enigma that is Jake Kiszka.

Word Count: 13.5k+

Warnings: (for this chapter) please proceed with caution if you find any of the following to be triggering: poor body image, body dysmorphia, mentions of a past eating disorder, an ill parent, (this will include descriptions of struggling to breathe due to illness & mentions of an oxygen mask) drinking, cussing, Jake is jealous? 18+ ONLY: some pretty heavy making out, (but it's not with who you think it is hehe), mentions of an erection, slight nudity, mentions of being turned on. (please let me know if i missed anything. there are a few heavy topics mentioned, & the last thing i want is for anyone to begin reading without a proper warning.)

a/n: i am so sorry this chapter took so long. i truly hope you love it & as always, please don't hesitate to let me know what you think! i love hearing from you guys. 🤍

also, huge thank you to @jakeyt for being the best editor & being my right hand in helping create this. i seriously couldn't have done it without you. love you SO much. you're the best sister i could ever ask for.

Le Morte d’Arthur Masterlist

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

Your morning drives to school are your absolute favorite part of the day. They serve as your singular moment of complete peace to counteract the chaos that can be expected once the day truly gets started. The serenity of the morning air calms your spirit and prepares you for whatever the day may bring. 

You’ve managed to find an alternate route to campus, one that keeps you far away from the heavy morning traffic. It adds nearly twenty minutes to your journey, but the cost of waking a little earlier each day is worth the promise of a few spare moments of quiet solitude.

The new path you’ve found leads you straight to school, and the best part– it’s an image right out of a fairy-tale. 

Trees line the unpaved road, their leaves in early autumnal splendor. Hues of orange and red greet you in their forenoon charm, catching the rays of the waking sun as they glow in bright iridescence. 

This morning, there’s a light rain shower leaving tiny droplets on your windshield. The sun still dares to peek through the gray clouds, illuminating the glittering raindrops as they gently fall to the ground. 

You’ve yet to be met with another morning traveler since you discovered this road only days ago. It feels as though you’ve found some secret passageway— a hidden spot with no name, set aside just for you.

Pure tranquility washes over your body as your foot rests on the gas pedal. 

It’s the moments like these that remind you of the beauty that still exists around you— that no matter what downfall you suffer, the earth will always be there to offer you her tiny bits of wonder to keep your feet planted firmly against her soil.

Your Firebird putters into the university parking lot, amongst the slew of shining, new vehicles with hardly an imperfection to be seen on any of them. You used to be embarrassed of your old clunker, but as time goes on you’ve learned to be grateful for it and all the places it has taken you. 

Your new staff parking spot is awaiting you, of which you are entirely grateful. After your first day, you found that the parking lots fill up rather quickly with commuter students, so having a designated spot just for you everyday has saved you a lot of grief in the mornings. Yet another wonderful perk of being an employee of the university.

The smell of roasting espresso penetrates your senses as you waltz through the doors of the campus coffee shop. You and Natalia had agreed to meet this morning before your classes to study a bit for your course on influential women in literature.

Carmen, your favorite barista greets you as you walk up to the counter. Her sincere smile is always such a pleasant addition to your mornings.

She’s the most lovely vision; her loose curls always tied in a perfect ponytail, her bangs framing the contours of her face beautifully. Her black browline glasses sitting atop her freckled nose that push up past her eyebrows when she smiles, showcasing her sweet dimples.

You’ve made the coffee shop part of your morning routine everyday, so you’re not surprised when she knows your order without you having to say anything more than “Good morning, friend!”

“Large cold brew with oat milk and extra vanilla?” she asks, already writing it on the cup with a Sharpie. 

You smile broadly. “You’re amazing, Carmen!” You hand her a ten and a five, insisting that she keep the change. She fights you a bit but realizes she’s already lost the battle.

She hands you your drink and you thank her, telling her you’ll see her tomorrow at the same time.

You choose a table close to a window so as to have a view of the gloomy, morning sky. 

Watching the raindrops race each other to the bottom of the window seal, leaving their trail as the others merge to quickly join behind them— it gives you a sense of nostalgia that takes you back to a time when things were simply…easier. 

One thing about growing up in Oklahoma— it was always raining. And much to your mom’s discontent, you were sure to be found outside right in the middle of it. 

It probably explains why you were almost always sick as a child. Frequent head colds were the norm for you. It never stopped you, though. The rain brought forth a sense of clarity for you—feeling the cold drops hitting your face was the mental reset your mind needed, and it still is to this day.

You’d always been fascinated with weather— but specifically the rain. A poem you’d fawned over in your childhood spoke of rain carrying the ghosts of the past— a sentiment you’ve held onto dearly ever since. 

That very poem is the reason you love literature. It’s the reason you’re here, to study the thing that brings you the most comfort. 

Each time it rains, you’re flooded with lovely memories…memories of the ghosts that still linger from your youth.

This is the first rain shower you’ve experienced thus far in your new home; it feels as though the earth is trying to tell you it’ll all be just fine. She’s telling you that you do belong here, that you’re right where you need to be. 

“Daydreaming much?” Natalia pulls out the chair opposite of you, sitting her usual hazelnut latte down as she takes her seat.

“Guess you could say that,” you say through a smile. “I just adore the rain.”

You each pull out your laptops and Charlotte Brontë books, catching up on your weekends with one another.

“You’ll never believe what I agreed to on Friday,” you say.

She looks at you with a smirk splayed across her glossed lips, her rose colored cheeks still wet from having just walked through the rain. 

To your surprise, she asks, “Does it have anything to do with a little medieval film project?”

“How in the hell do you know about that?” 

“My brother,” she responds. “He’s helping Josh with it. Doing set designs, costuming— it’s quite impressive, honestly. Those costumes are some of the most beautiful I’ve ever seen, and I’ve done theatre my entire life.” She blows air on her coffee to cool it down a bit before taking a sip, wincing from the heat as she pulls the cup away from her lips. “I knew they were searching high and low for a Guiniverre— guess I should’ve known it’d be you.” Her long, butterfly lashes flutter with a wink as she giggles.

You’re not entirely sure what to make of her last statement. You just chose to ignore it.

“He said it’ll be killing two birds with one stone— that we’ll be helping out his brother for his film class, while also having something for our project in Movack’s class.” You pause to take a deep breath, “But I am no actress. And if it’s all truly that impressive, I may prove to be a bit of a disappointment.” Your hands fall into your lap as you stare down at yourself— your body comfortably covered with your usual oversized sweater and leggings, feeling a rush of insecurities as you imagine yourself being filmed. “I’m more of a behind-the-camera type of gal, anyways.” 

You’ve fought this inner battle for as long as you can fathom— your appearance is a topic you tend to avoid. You hide behind people for photos, or offer to be the one taking them to get out of being in it altogether.

Disordered eating had been a side effect of the severe dysmorphic thoughts. But thankfully, after years of receiving help, you’re finally in a stable place in your recovery.

The thing that still lingers, though; the harsh way in which you view yourself. Specifically, your appearance. 

“You said you’ve done theatre your whole life— why aren’t you playing Guiniverre?” you ask her. “I can’t imagine they haven’t thought of you.” 

Natalia is far more fitting for this film. She carries the beauty required to take on such a role; the beauty of a lust worthy queen. Just as well, she clearly has the experience you so greatly lack. 

She scoffs as she sets down her coffee and crosses her arms. “I was not about to kiss Sam. Nope. No way. That boy is a pain in my entire ass.”

Sam?… Kissing? 

This is the first you’ve heard of any of this. 

“Wait— what?” Your reaction seems to have caught her by surprise. Her eyes become wide and her lips part as she takes in your obvious confusion. 

“Jake…didn’t tell you about that? Did he tell you anything?” She leans in closer to you, a slight look of irritation present in her honey eyes. 

“He only gave me a vague synopsis— just about the infidelity in Arthur and Guinevere's marriage.” 

You suddenly come to a harsh realization that you hadn’t even thought about until now. 

Adultery and infidelity— forbidden romance. An entire film all about said romance, of which you are a main component. Of course there will be kissing in this film, perhaps even more. 

Your stomach drops at the prospect, and you're silently cursing Jake for leaving this little tidbit out.

Of course, it isn’t entirely his fault. You should’ve guessed when he told you the focus of the film.

You’ve already agreed, and backing out now would mean you’re back to square one with a project for Movacks class. 

All you can do now— beg to be anyone but Guiniverre. 

“First off,” you question, “who on earth is Sam?”

“Sammy? He’s their baby brother. He also takes classes here— well, when he decides to show up, that is. He lives with the twins.”

You pick up your coffee, taking a large gulp to keep the caffeine running through your system. “And why do I have to kiss him again?” 

“I can’t believe he didn’t tell you,” she says, huffing a laugh under her breath. “Josh has…plans.”

You cock an eyebrow at her, having a pretty good inclination about what these plans entail. You nod your head to let her know to continue.

“There will be a few…intimate scenes, between you and Sam. He’ll be playing the knight of romance and chivalry himself, our beloved Sir Lancelot.” She follows suit in taking a few swigs of her coffee now that it's cooled down a bit. “You and Sam will really get to know each other. And from what I’ve gathered about this film, the emphasis will be on Guin and Lance’s love. Arthur will have a different love interest— I think they’ve already casted her? Anyways, I doubt you and Jake will have many, if any, scenes together. At least no saucy ones. Which I’m sure you’re glad to hear.” 

You were not prepared in the slightest for intimacy. Intimacy in front of a camera— with someone you don’t know, all for the sake of someone you hardly know. Someone who’s been a massive dick to you, no less. 

But her last statement— about not having any special scenes with Jake. She’s right, mostly. It would be incredibly uncomfortable to have any scenes like that with him…right? 

But, if you're being fully honest, a small part of you is a bit…disappointed. 

You shove that thought down fast. “Uh, yeah. I’m more than thrilled to hear that. That would be awkward as fuck.” You’re doing your best to be sure she doesn’t see right through you. 

“But seriously, y/n. Those costumes…” She smiles widely, shaking her head back and forth. “ My brother did a great job finding those. They’re going to accentuate you in all the right ways.”

That is exactly what you’re afraid of. 

With your elbows on the table, you throw your face into your open palms with such force that you nearly knock your cold brew to the floor.

“Nat, I– I don’t think I can do this.”

She lightly takes your wrist in her hand, jolting you a little so you’ll lift your face. “Hey, what’s wrong? It’s just acting, love. It’s not that serious, I promise.” Her voice is so sweet and gentle, her eyes have softened and are full of quiet concern.

“I know it’s not that serious,” Out of instinct, you pull your sleeves over your hands and take your hair out from behind your ears, hiding yourself as best as you can. “I just don’t like…this,” Your hands motion to your body covered with the security of your baggy clothes. “I’ve never liked this. I mean, just how much will these costumes… accentuate me?” The thought of baring yourself even in the slightest has your stomach tumbling with somersaults. 

“Listen— I know Josh, and he will never let you do something you’re not comfortable with,” she assures, her honest smile making an appearance. “His mind is wide open and his soul is in all the right places. If there’s something you don’t like, just tell him and he’ll fix it.”

You’re racking your brain with the thought of his twin being as wonderful as she described. How could someone who shares the same DNA profile with Jake truly be that amazing?

“And stop worrying about the costumes. I can promise you, y/n, you will look sexy as hell.”

She’s doing her best to reassure you— though it’s not totally working, you act as though it is to change the subject and get started on your studies.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

You frustratedly close the lid to your laptop after having nearly failed your quiz. You had set aside plenty of time this weekend to study, but with how distracted you are right now from your conversation with Natalia this morning, all the time in the world for studying wouldn’t have mattered.

And of course, it’s Movack’s class— the one you most want to excel in, the one you share with Jake. 

He closes his laptop only seconds after you. 

It’s not a fucking race, Jake.

Movack stated at the beginning of class that once you finish your quiz, you’re free to leave. You quickly pack up your things, trying to make a hasty escape before Jake to avoid any possible conversation with him. 

You’re halfway down the hall and as you’re about to turn the corner to safety, you hear, “Hey, y/n! I need to ask you something.”

Fucking hell.

You pause for a moment, dramatically rolling your eyes before you turn around to see Jake walking towards you.

He takes his sunglasses off and places them in the breast pocket of his shirt. He makes eye contact with you, a rarity for him, before he asks “Are you free on Saturday afternoon? Around 4:30?”

…what?

That is the very last thing you’d ever expect to come from his lips. 

His gaze has yet to break as he awaits your response. His deep set amber eyes are piercing right into yours. He has an almost desperate look about him— as if he’s anxious for you to reply.

Is he…asking you out? 

Your intuition tells you there’s no way, but…why else would he be asking you this?

Suddenly, your body begins to tingle. The butterflies in your tummy begin swarming. 

You don’t know what changed— perhaps agreeing to the film? Maybe he’s finally seeing you as more than a scholarly competition, maybe he’s finally seeing you. Whatever it may be, you’re not questioning it any longer. 

You’ve decided you’re completely infatuated with him, and getting to know him even better outside of this classroom sounds…wonderful.  

“Y-yeah! I don’t have anything going on. I’m totally free!” With a full toothed grin on display and perhaps a bit too much eagerness, you follow with, “Why? What did you have in mind?”

His brows then become furrowed, his slight look of desperation transforming into one that says he’s now… confused. 

“Um… okay,” His voice sounds unsure, his inflection coming off as more of a question than a statement. “I’m only asking because my brother wants to go over a read through of some of the script on Saturday…you know, for the film project.”

Oh. My. God. 

You’re mentally smacking yourself across the forehead. You want to crawl inside the deepest fucking hole on this planet and stay there with your shame. 

What is wrong with you? It’s as though you’ve completely forgotten you have a project to do with him— that that would be the only logical reason he’d ask if you were free. Obviously.

That’s why he looked desperate. Not because he wanted you to agree to some date— because he needs your help with this stupid fucking project you regretfully agreed to.

Your face (noticeably, you're sure) drops. You’re so humiliated at your response. No wonder he looked so damned confused. 

“Sure, yeah. I can do that.” You revert back to your initial irritated tone, refusing to look him in the eye now, hoping that he’ll somehow forget you were any other way. 

“He also needs you to try on the costumes, too. Make sure they’re the right size.”

The costumes. 

This couldn’t get any fucking worse. But you can’t turn him down now, given you were so quick to tell him you’re free on Saturday. 

You simply say “okay,” as you nod your head in agreement.

He takes out his notebook, writing down his address before ripping the sheet of paper out and handing it to you.

You tuck it away in your bag, bidding him a quick adieu before turning to walk far away from him.

Tears threaten to fall from your eyes. Not out of sadness, but out of mortification. Out of irritation.

Irritation with yourself, with him. And it’s not even his fault. You’re the one that jumped to ridiculous conclusions— jumped the highest you possibly could.

You feel utterly stupid. 

So fucking stupid.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

Your mom looks at you in shock as you walk inside your apartment. Ridding yourself of your bags with a swift toss to the floor, you slump down next to her on the couch.

“What are you doing home so early? I thought you had class until later this afternoon,” she probed.

“Just a little tired,” you say. “Thought I’d give myself some time to rest before work.”

“This isn’t like you, y/n. What’s wrong, sweetie?”

She’s right— this isn’t like you. You normally wouldn’t even think of skipping class, your education being the most important thing to you. But, you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it today.

“Kind of a long day, I guess. And I’m a little stressed out with my classes.”

She then turns the television off and glares at you with the eyes of a worried mother.

“Talk to me, y/n. I know there’s more.” 

You should know by now that you can’t hide anything from her. She knows you too damn well.

You can’t hold it back any longer as you begin to spill it all. 

“It’s… stupid Jake. I thought he was asking me out today, but he most definitely was not. And I made an idiot out of myself because I misunderstood and—”

She stops you mid sentence, “And who is Jake?” she questions. 

You haven’t told her a single thing about him, about your project, anything. It’s not that you were trying to hide it from her, you just really didn’t want to talk about it.  

With a heavy sigh, you say, “He’s my partner for this huge semester project in my King Arthur class. We’re doing an Arthurian film with his brother,” you put a palm to your face. Looking up at her with a sarcastic smile, you add. “Oh, and Jake is a major dick.”

“Do you like him?” she asks with a smirk curling at the corner of her lips.

“Absolutely not!” you exclaim— rather loudly, at that. 

Even you don’t believe the words that came out of your mouth, so why would she?

She just chuckles at your response, knowing better than that but deciding to not ask you about it any further, switching the topic to your project. “Tell me about this film you're doing,” she says.

“You won’t believe this but, I’m actually acting in it.”

“You? Acting? Okay, who are you and what have you done with my daughter?” she jokes, forcing a smile out of you.  

“Just wait. It gets better,” you say. “I’m actually playing Guiniverre and Jake will be Arthur. It’s all about their adulterous marriage, and the focus will be on them cheating on each other. Quite romantic, huh?” 

She begins to laugh again, trying not to wear out her weak lungs, but it doesn’t work. She gets caught up in a huge coughing fit, struggling to catch her breath. 

This always happens; she can’t even laugh without her lungs giving her trouble. It shatters your heart. She’s always had the most contagious, obnoxious laugh. You miss the pure, unpunctured sound of it so much. 

You reach for her oxygen mask and gently place it over her mouth. “Just breathe, mom. It’s okay, I’m here. Just breathe for me, in and out…”

As much as it scares you whenever this happens, it scares her even more. The look in her eyes makes you want to cry. It’s a look that says “please make this stop.” 

You wish more than anything that you could.

It’s the moments like these that you want to curse your dad for leaving, for leaving his wife of almost twenty years like this.

She begins to calm down, her breathing slowing as she’s able to take full breaths again. 

“You okay?” you ask.

She moves your hand and lifts the mask from her face. “Just fine, sweetie. Sorry about that.” Her voice sounds so frail, like she’s just run a marathon. 

“Don’t apologize, Mom,” you lay a hand on your skinny thigh, squeezing reassuringly. “Please.”

She nods, then requests. “Tell me more.”

She doesn’t like to dwell on these things when they happen, so you start talking about the film and Jake some more. 

“He’s got a younger brother named Sam, who’ll be playing Lancelot. Apparently, there are a few scenes between him and I in the script that are a bit… sensual, you could say.” 

“Well, is he as cute as Jake?” she snickers.

“Mom! I never said Jake was cute.”

“Didn’t have to,” she says. “You think he is, I can tell.” Her grin says she can see right through you, and she’s not wrong. She never is. 

“I haven’t met his brother yet, so I have no idea.” 

You continue telling her more about the film, telling her about Natalia, but the conversation ends up taking a turn to being mostly (completely, actually) about Jake. 

“He’s just intimidated by you, y/n. That’s why he acts the way he does, so you don’t know his true feelings.”

You just shrug it off, knowing she’s obligated by blood to tell you that. She’s just trying to make you feel better.

“Just wait,” she says. “He’ll come around.”

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

You look at your phone to check the time. 

3:45 am. Ugh. 

You’ve been in bed for hours desperately trying to sleep but your body just won’t relax.

You hated seeing your mom like that tonight. Watching her struggle to breathe… it's traumatizing every time it happens. And the episodes are becoming more and more frequent. 

You just want her to be healthy again. You want to be able to have a normal conversation with her without worrying about making her laugh. It’s tearing you down, watching her wither away like this. It’s not fair. 

You just wish there was more you could do. 

Along with the stress of that, you also keep hearing Jake's voice on a loop in your head; “I’m only asking because my brother wants to go over a read through some of the script on Saturday…you know, for the film project.”

“I’m only asking…”

It’s the way he said ‘only,’ as if to say ‘don’t get your hopes up, that’s not what this is.”

Him posing that question (before you knew the true intent behind it) made you realize that— as much as you wish you weren’t— you’re somehow on the cusp of having feelings for him. And your conversation with your mom made that fact even more abundantly clear. 

It’s most definitely not because of his winning personality. 

No; it’s much different than that.

He brings about an air of mystery everywhere he goes. Every step he takes adds yet another layer to your curiosity about him. 

And the way he acted when he asked you to be a part of his brother's film, how his face lit up in a whole new light. There’s a genuine man beneath his exterior— you can sense it. You just wish that were the Jake you’ve come face to face with nearly everyday since classes began a few weeks ago. That’s the side of him (if it is truly there and you’re not just making things up) that you want to discover.

He’s just… different. And you're annoyingly drawn to it. You're completely drawn to it. 

You’ve never met anyone like him— let alone anyone that looks like him. As much as you hate to admit it, he is the personification of the female gaze. And his ridiculous attire, complete with his open shirts that display his necklaces on top of his bare chest— and yes, even his sunglasses that you try (but fail) to hate— all make it incredibly difficult to not find him attractive. 

He’s beginning to consume your every thought, and you’re so mad at yourself for it. 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

Saturday.

You’ve spent the entire week dreading today, contemplating backing out more times than you can count. Jake has been increasingly rude to you since your encounter with him on Monday. He’s spoken one or two words to you throughout the course of the week, but that’s about it. 

Again, you're wondering why the hell you agreed to do him any favors. 

If it wasn’t for this fucking project in fucking Movack’s class…

Without the consistent convincing from Natalia, you would have backed out. No question about it.

“Just make it through Saturday, y/n,” she said. “And if you still feel this way, tell him you want to do something else for your project. He’ll have to understand.” 

You told her you’d do it, but only if she agreed to go with you. Thankfully, it didn’t take much convincing on your part and she happily accepted your terms.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

You bring your fist up to knock and wait a moment; nothing. 

You feel as though you’ve given it ample time, so you knock yet again. 

Finally, the handle on the door twists and is opened by, of course, Jake. 

You embarrassingly stare a few seconds too long, not able to find words.

Unenthusiastically, he breaks the silence, “Welcome to our humble abode.”

He holds the door open as you and Natalia walk through the threshold together. Immediately upon seeing the place, you’re in a state of pure shock. 

You’re not sure what you expected of Jake's home, but a two story, industrial loft apartment— massive loft apartment— right in the heart of downtown Detroit, was most surely not the first thing on your list. Natalia told you it was nice, but you weren’t prepared for this. 

How do three college students manage to afford this? 

The ever plaguing mystery continues.

It’s like walking into a photoshoot for a prestigious interior design magazine. This place doesn’t even look real. 

Your eye is instantly caught by the decor. A tasteful mix of bohemian and modern rustic. The red brick walls lead to tall ceilings covered with exposed steel piping, adding so much unique character to the place. Trailing vines line the huge windows, casting the living room in an almost sage glow.

Jake ignores you, (shocker) as he heads into the kitchen and opens the refrigerator. “Well that’s just great,” he says, taking out a can of Miller Lite and turning to face Natalia. “The least your brother could do is restock our beer when he takes the last one.” 

She just snickers in response. 

Suddenly a loud bang comes from a room up the long staircase, followed by a pair of animated giggles.

Jake turns his head slightly in the direction of the commotion, mumbling “fucking imbeciles” quietly to himself, but loud enough that you heard it.

“What the hell was that?” Natalia asks.

“Our moronic brothers,” Jake grumbles.

Then, a man with a set of wild, messy curls on top of his head jogs down the stairs, giggling while struggling to keep his footing. 

“What were you doing up there?” Jake demands. 

“Do you really want to know?” the curly haired one says, wiping his shiny lips with the sleeve of his shirt before smoothing down his disarrayed mustache. 

“Nope. Not one fucking bit,” Jake scoffs.

Jake then nods his head in your direction, letting him know that you and Natalia have arrived.

“Well hello, my dear Natalia!” he says, pulling her into a hug. 

Then, he catches your eye.

“Ah hah!” he shouts, giving you a long look. “You must be our queen! Lovely to meet you, m’lady,” He grabs your hand and kisses it before making a dramatic display of bowing before you. “If I may be so bold, the name is Josh. Sir Josh of the Frankenmuth, Michigan sector— at your service.” 

This is Josh? The other half of Jake? 

There’s no way. Sure, they have the same face. Well, besides the addition of a mustache and goatee to Joshs, but still. Clearly they’re identical, but so starkly different from one another.

You look over to Jake, noting a slight irritated look from him. Ignoring it, you meet Josh in a hug.

“It’s so nice to meet you!” You throw a little extra emphasis on ‘so’, looking at Jake once more and picking up on his eye roll— even from behind his sunglasses. 

You’re remembering your first encounter with Jake—how it was so vastly different from right now as you’re meeting his twin for the first time.

You instantly felt welcomed with Josh, while with Jake, you felt like a major inconvenience. (And admittedly, you still do.)

How can they be so different, yet look the exact same? 

He’s even dressed like the perfect contrast of Jake.

Jake is clad in his usual monochromatic look—sunglasses, black button down and all. (How many of these fucking shirts does the man own, for godsake?) 

But Josh, on the other hand— he’s wearing a stark white sweatshirt and skin tight khaki pants, pulled together aesthetically with high top tennis shoes that mimic the brightness of his top. 

They are the personification of yin and yang standing before your very eyes.

“Would you like a drink?” Josh offers. “We have beer, wine—”

Jake interrupts him, yelling, “There’s no more beer!” as he takes a long sip out of his can.

“Okay then, no beer.” Josh chuckles. “Well we have water, of course. But that’s far too boring. I'd be happy to mix you one of my world-famous cocktails if you’d like.”

“Take it from me— if you don’t want to end up sloshed, do not let him make you a cocktail.” Another man makes his way down the stairs, stopping once he gets to Josh. He towers over him, being at least six inches taller. He’s awfully handsome, with the same kind, honey toned eyes that mimic those of your lovely friend standing beside you.

“My sweet, sweet Malachi. It’s okay to just admit that I make the most pristine drinks known to man.” Josh grabs his waist and tugs him close in an embrace.

“This would be my brother,” Natalia says.

“This is y/n?” He greets you with a hug, nearly lifting you off your feet. “It’s so great to meet you! You’re so kind to help with this.”

“I’m glad to help! I’m a huge Arthurian nerd, so this is right up my alley,” you say to him. “I just hope I can do Guinevere some justice. I’ve never really acted before.”

“I have no doubt in my mind that you’ll be great!” Josh chimes, “If you’re ready, I’ve got one of your costumes set up in Jake's room. Last door, straight down at the very end of the hall.” 

Jake’s room?

“Okay! Sounds great. I’m really excited to see these. Nat told me they’re amazing,” you say, heading in the direction Josh told you his room is in. 

Josh watches you leave, holding his hands up in a makeshift camera. “Yep. You’re the perfect vision for our Guin. Very pretty,” He playfully nudges Jake with his elbow, “You were right, my brother.”

What does that mean?

Jake’s cheeks become encompassed in a pink hue as he chokes on the beer he’d just taken a sip of.

“Why thank you, Sir Joshua,” you say as you turn around towards him to curtesy.

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎

You were nervous enough about being in his home, but his room? That is an entirely different story.

A person's room is the most personal, intimate space. The space that holds all their innermost secrets. Walking in feels like the ultimate intrusion.

Your stomach tightens as you turn the knob on his bedroom door.

Immediately, you're struck with the same scent he carries with him. 

His whole room smells like it— like him. 

You turn to shut the door behind you to have some privacy, catching a canvas portrait on the back depicting an iconic Edgar Allan Poe quote: “Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality.”

The room is dimly lit, with blackout curtains hanging over the windows—only a single lamp in the corner next to the bed illuminates the space. 

The walls are lined with medieval artwork. Depictions of Ophelia and The Lady of Shalott, with a few famous pieces by the great Edmund Blair Leighton that you’d recognize anywhere. And, of course, no medieval artwork collection is complete without the classic portrait of Morgan Le Fey. She’s illustrated in her quintessential colorful attire, looking as enchanting as ever. A favorite or yours.

Your curiosity is certainly piqued as you notice a few books sitting upon his bedside table. 

The Lord of the Rings series. A Tolkien fan— you’re not surprised in the least.

The Two Towers is splayed open to page 316 with the corners very gently dog eared. 

Next to the book lies an opened notebook donned with scribbled detailings of what he’d read. Little footnotes and observations, brief analyses of chapters.

A smile dares to creep across the corner of your mouth— finding it incredibly nerdy, yet all at once completely endearing that he places so much care in what he reads. 

You know next to nothing about this man, but one thing you do know— he loves literature. And you’d bet he loves it almost as much (if not slightly more) than you do. That truly says something. 

On top of the table on the opposite side of the bed sits a small record player, the record sitting under the stilled needle— Electric Ladyland by Jimi Hendrix. 

You skim a few other album titles placed on the shelf next to it, seeing the likes of Stevie Ray Vaughan, Eric Clapton, Janis Joplin; he’s a blues kind of guy. 

You grew up on that very same music, all thanks to your mom. She made sure you were well versed on music from a very young age. 

A dark red Gibson SG is perched on its stand right next to the table holding the record player. The scratches engraved on its body indicate heavy use— you can tell this thing is quite loved.

He’s… a guitarist? 

God. The mystery surrounding this man is never ending. There’s so much you don’t know, so much you wish you did know.  

Feeling as though you’ve explored far too much of his room, you decide to focus your attention on the garment bag laid out across the black velvet duvet across Jake’s bed.

You unzip it, your nerves exuding through your shaky hands at whatever you’ll discover inside.

You lift the dress out of the bag high above your head as the length reaches clear to the floor. 

Holy shit.

When Natalia told you these costumes were amazing, she was understating to the highest degree. 

Golden hand sewn lace embroiders the deep burgundy corset bodice. The square neckline is garnished with gold and red gems in the most intricate pattern, with the same jeweled design present on the cuffs of the long sleeves. The skirt, the same shade as the bodice, is silken and heavy and adorned with a similar gold design cascading all the way down to the hem.

Truly fit for a queen.

You can’t help but wonder where they possibly found this. It’s the most gorgeous gown you’ve ever seen— and you get to wear it. 

Undressing yourself in Jake's room feels…strange. You feel vulnerable and exposed, but the butterflies in your belly are swarming at the thought— the thought of being only in your bra and panties in Jake’s bedroom.

Taking another look at the corset, you quickly learn that a bra is simply not an option for this dress. You remove it, feeling particularly risqué now being half nude in his room.

You lay the dress on the floor and step into the skirt one foot at time, lifting it up and carefully putting your arms through the sleeves. 

You try tightening the laces of the corset, but without being able to see, it’s proving to be rather difficult. You know there’s not a chance you can get this situated yourself. 

You decide to text Natalia to come help you, but as you go to look for your phone, you remember you left it sitting on the coffee table in the living room. 

“Fuck,” you whisper to yourself. 

You open the door and marginally peak your head out, calling for her to come lend you a hand with the dress. 

“Sorry— should’ve warned you about that,” you hear Josh yell from across the apartment. 

“You rang?” Natalia jokes as she makes her way down the hallway to you. 

“This is fucking impossible to get on,” you huff, closing the door as she walks in the room. 

She chuckles as she shoves your hands out of the way to take over tying the corset. “You’ve really got yourself in quite the mess here.”

She sinches it as tight as it will go, forcing the breath out of your lungs in one final tug of the laces. 

“Jesus, Nat!”

“Oh you’re fine. God, you literature people are so dramatic.” 

“You’re one of us too, you know,” you quip back.

She secures the ribbon tightly with a bow before she says, “I think you’re in. Turn around, let's see what we’re working with.”

You run your hands down your torso and up to your chest, feeling the constriction present against your breasts as you turn your body to face her.

“Holy fucking shit, y/n. That’s what you’ve been hiding under those giant ass sweaters?” she marvels with arched eyebrows and wide unblinking eyes. 

You haven't seen yourself yet, and judging by how snug the top of this dress is hugging you, you’re not exactly sure you’re ready to.

Pointing to the mirror leaned against the wall, she tells you, “Get your ass over there, you have got to see this.”

Years of body dysmorphia have set you up to hate everything you put on if it isn’t something that hides you. Tight fitting garments are your worst nightmare. You feel safe in things that conceal your figure, and being in something that doesn’t do that is forcing you to come face to face with the thing that terrifies you the most. 

With a reluctant sigh, you slowly walk over to the large wooden oval floor mirror standing next to the matching dresser. 

The first thing you notice upon lifting your eyes to meet your reflection— your breasts. From feeling them moments ago, you knew they were on full display, but you didn’t realize they’d be this exposed. One slightly questionable movement, and it’s all over.

The sleeves sit off your shoulders, leaving them exposed with the rest of your chest. 

Your eyes trail down to your waist that is being held tightly by the corset, your figure finally being exposed. 

“O-oh god…” you quietly stammer. “I look…”

“Insanely hot.” Natalia interrupts. 

“…I look fucking ridiculous.” 

“What the hell are you talking about, y/n?” she demands.

“This isn’t flattering…not in the slightest.” You bring your arms up to fold them over your chest. You can’t hide as easily as you would like to in this get up— and the thought of being filmed in this has your stomach in a nauseous hold. 

She walks closer to you and gently brushes your arms, motioning for you to put them down— to stop hiding.“You’ve got to be kidding me, y/n. This dress was made for you.” She adjusts your right sleeve a bit, smoothing down a few wrinkles. With a tender voice, she asks, “What could you possibly not like about this?”

“I’m not you, Nat. I can’t pull this off like you could.” 

“Do not start that shit with me, girl.” She sounds more stern this time. “Just because you don’t look like me, does not mean you aren’t fucking beautiful. If I have to spend all night convincing you that you’re gorgeous, I will.” 

Natalia is the kind of person you’ve needed in your life, your whole life. She just gets you, and she always has the right thing to say at any given moment. 

Not wanting to make this moment any more about yourself than you already have, you simply say, “Thank you, Nat.” 

You reach for a hug and she pulls you in, saying “You’re welcome. Now, get yourself out there. I can’t wait to see the look on these boys’ faces.”

Just in time, a knock sounds against the bedroom door. “Uh ladies? Time is of the essence!” Josh jokingly yells from the hallway, snapping being heard through the wall. 

You’re standing completely still, fear keeping you frozen on your feet. She notices and motions for you to move. 

“You first,” you tell her.

She playfully rolls her eyes and agrees. Opening the door, she says, “Let’s go, your highness. Your kingdom awaits your arrival.” 

You follow her down the hallway, hiking the skirt of your dress up as it’s far too long for you. You're so anxious to let Jake (and the other guys— but mostly Jake) see you like this. Petrified, really.

You’re afraid of his reaction, that it won’t be what you want it to be— that he’ll act disgusted. 

But all the same, you want him to see. Maybe this will change his mind. Maybe he’ll think you look as good as Natalia says. 

You can only hope, anyways.

Natalia pulls out all the dramatic stops to introduce you. “Gentlemen, I present to you, your queen.”  

She stands to the side as you walk forward into the living room. Josh is sitting on the couch next to Malachi, both of them with large smiles across their faces at the sight of you. They each fawn over you, telling you how immaculate you look. Josh praises Malachi over and over for managing to get them the perfect gown, “The sizing is impeccable!” he tells him. Then he winks at Natalia. “Thanks for getting her sizes for us, Natty!”

You hear them, but you’re hardly paying them any attention as you’re stuck scanning the room for Jake, but to no avail. He’s nowhere to be seen. To say the very least, you’re full of disappointment. 

“Well, fuck me,” you hear a voice say, one that you’re not quite so familiar with.

You snap your head in the direction of the voice to see a man— who looks a little like Jake?— leaning up against the floor to ceiling window in the dining room. 

“Seriously, Sam?” Natalia snaps, “Where the hell are you manners?”

Sam— the Sam. The one you’ll be sharing the screen with the most.

It makes sense why he’d be chosen to play ever-romantic Lancelot. He’s a major flirt, quite fitting for the role. And— he’s fucking beautiful. Something you were not anticipating. (And something you hadn’t even thought about, with your mind being so overloaded with thoughts of Jake.)

While he doesn’t share the same similarities with Jake as Josh does, (they’re twins, so, obviously) you most definitely can’t deny the fact that they’re brothers.

Sam is a bit taller than the twins, his body shaped completely differently to accommodate his longer frame. His facial hair is quite similar to Joshs’, with his hair more the likes of Jakes'. 

“Sorry, I can’t help myself when I see a pretty girl,” Sam blurts. “You sure you’re at the right place? Seems you should be galavanting in Hollywood looking like that.” 

A heat rises to your cheeks at his compliment. You’re sure your face is nearly the color of the gown you’re in. He’s awfully bold— and you kind of like it. 

His eyes stay fixed on you as he begins walking in your direction.

“I take it you’re y/n?” he asks, taking your hand and giving your knuckles a quick peck. “I’d say Jake made a good choice for our queen.” He looks into your eyes as he gives the back of your hand yet another kiss— this one a bit more involved. 

You smile at the feeling of his mustache ticking your hand as he grins against the skin. “Thank you, Sam. I’m quite flattered,” you say, still giggling like a fucking school girl with a brand new crush.

“Oh Jesus Christ,” Nat quips with a stark roll of her eyes. 

“This…THIS!” Josh shouts as he stands from the couch, trotting over to you and Sam. “The exact chemistry I was hoping for. You two just naturally have it— you exude it.” He grabs you both by the shoulders and pulls you both into a three-way embrace. “Sam, go put on your costume. We should run through a quick scene. I just have to see how this will play out.” 

Josh is so giddy about it all that he plants a wet kiss to your cheek, saying with a sincere smile, “You really do look wonderful, you know.”

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ 

Josh led you all down a little pathway behind their apartment building that leads to a shrine of towering beautiful, old trees. The sun just barely breaks through the colorful leaves on their full branches, illuminating the mossy ground in a soft and subtle golden glow. 

His vision for this particular scene with Lancelot and Guinevere is to take place in a forest setting, a “secret hiding place tucked away in the depths of nature's wonder,” as he put it.  

You look around in awe; it’s though you’ve walked through the pages of an old story book. An enchanted forest, right in the middle of the hustle and bustle of the busy city. You would have never guessed this was hiding here. The perfect spot for a film– more importantly, it’s the perfect spot for lovers to enjoy their inconspicuous love affair. 

“The lighting right now is unmatched,” Josh exclaims, taking note of the time so he knows when to come out when you’re ready to actually start filming. It’s just after 5:30, and with autumn nearly in full swing, it’s right at the beginning of golden hour. With the way the trees are shading the sun, it makes for the most beautiful, soft scene— almost lucent. 

It reminds you so much of the serene road you’ve found for your morning treks to school each day. You feel the same way here as you do on that secret road; this will surely be a new favorite place of yours. 

You’ve got the script in your hands, skimming through the scene Josh has highlighted for you. 

Guinevere is sending Lancelot off to a jousting match, giving him her red scarf in secret to tie around his arm as a token. He must wear it during the game for good luck, and he’s meant to return it to her once he wins. A common medieval practice amongst lovers. 

It ends with her wrapping her arms around him, enveloping him in a “deep, heated kiss to bid a farewell,” according to the script. 

Oh god.

You read ahead a little. Apparently, this will be what gives their little love affair away. Arthur will recognize the scarf around Lancelot's arm as his wife’s, and the rest will be left to history. Angsty– wonderfully so. 

“Right here,” Josh says. “This is perfect.” 

He positions you and Sam in a spot that’s right in the middle of a circle of trees. 

Sam's skin is glowing beautifully in this light, his dark eyes now several shades lighter as the sun catches them just right. 

You can’t help but stare at him. He’s just so handsome, and he looks particularly regal in his costume. A white velvet, high collar top with white pants that are hugging him in all the right places, and a deep red cape draped over his broad shoulders— the same shade as your dress. 

Is it historically accurate? Absolutely not. But it is most definitely serving its purpose of making him appealing to the eye, or making him lust worthy— which is exactly what Malachi was going for when he chose this get up. 

His cape is meant to match your dress, symbolizing their affection for one another. 

It’s brilliant, honestly. 

Josh puts his hand on your shoulder, his perfectly round eyes meeting yours while he quietly says, “If you’re not comfortable with this, please don’t be afraid to tell me or Sam. Promise me you’ll say something.”

Sam looks at you with the same eyes as Josh, wanting to make sure you’re comfortable enough with everything before you start.

You smile at them both, patting Josh's hand that’s still resting gently on you. “I promise.”

“Okay, great. You guys ready?” Josh asks. 

“I think so,” Sam says, looking down at you with heavy eyes and a sweet smile. “You ready, y/n?”

As you’d walked the path down here, Josh mentioned that Jake left to go get more beer while you were getting dressed. And… he’s still not back yet. 

A part of you doesn’t want to do this without him here. Why? You wish you knew. It just doesn't feel right for some reason.

You look around at everyone once more to see if maybe he’s shown up and you just didn’t realize it.

You see Josh, Malachi and Natalia all standing around you— but no Jake. 

Oh well…

Matching Sam's smile, you say, “Yep. I’m ready.”

Neither of you have your lines memorized just yet, so you both read directly from the script.

Sam begins the scene:

“My love. I accept this token and will wear it as I carry you with me, that with it wrapped around my arm, so as you are wrapped even tighter around my heart.”

Then you:

“With it carries the promise you will return to me, unmarked and whole. Again will you lie with me, again will you hold me as tightly as my token holds you.”

You know Sam is acting, but the way he’s looking at you as you say your line— he looks like he’s madly in love. It’s catching you off guard, making your knees weak as your voice trembles with the next line.

“Seal your promise of returning to me with your lips, my love. Kiss me and tell me it’s true that you will hold me again.”

With that, Sam drops his script to his feet. He lifts his hands to cup your face, holding it gently as his thumbs lightly sweep across your cheekbones. Your breath hitches, and you too, drop your script. 

This… this suddenly doesn't feel like acting anymore. 

He leans in slowly, his lips just beginning to brush over yours. You grip his shoulders, leaning in the rest of the way until, finally, your lips collide with his. 

A kiss so sweet and tender. Not too deep, yet a far cry from a friendly peck. 

He pulls away from you delicately, the sound of his lips breaking from yours the only one you can hear as silence lingers in the air around you.

As you look into his eyes, you notice something different, something real. Like he’s wanted to do that since he first laid eyes on you just a short while ago. 

“Wow, y/n’s got some serious acting chops after all,” you hear Natalia say, slowly clapping.

But it’s abruptly interrupted by someone speaking.

“What— what the fuck is going on?” That voice… you know that voice without even looking away from Sam. 

Jake. He’s back. 

“Bravo, bravo!” Josh shouts while clapping his hands. “God. Beautifully done, you guys. I’d like to run through it just once more. Give me a little more passion this time.”

You finally look away from Sam, seeing Jake standing next to his twin with a bewildered look upon his face. 

In his all black outfit, he really stands out amongst everyone, amongst the golden sun rays that shine down upon him.

He’s not wearing his sunglasses, and you’re once again spellbound by his eyes. Their amber tone heightened in the light.

He just looks so fucking good. 

Sam is beautiful, but he’s just not Jake. 

“Hello? Is anyone going to fill me in on this?” Jake asks again, motioning his arms toward you and Sam.

“We’re rehearsing a scene, Jake.” Josh retorts. 

“Yeah? And what scene might that be?” Jake sounds quite unhappy, much to your confusion.

Josh picks up the script at Sam's feet, holding it open to the page you’re currently working on. “This one,” he says. “The one where she gives Lancelot her token. I wrote this weeks ago, Jake. Why are you acting like you’ve never seen it?”

Jake hastily takes the script from him and reads over the scene in question. “I swear I’ve never read this before.” He continues flipping the pages, going back and finding more scenes that will be shared between you and Sam. “Why the hell do they have so many of these scenes together? When did you decide on all of this?”

“Seriously, Jake?” Josh scoffs. “These scenes have always been there—,” he growls, using his hands to help communicate the emotions in his next words. “You clearly haven't read a word of the fucking script. Guinevere and Lancelot’s affair is the main focus, with some on Arthur’s affair with the maiden. We literally talked about this. Multiple fucking times.” 

Jake gives the script back to Josh, fiercely rubbing his chin as he does so.

“Why are you so upset, Jake?” Josh asks. 

“I’m literally not, Josh.” 

“Uh, yes you are. You only rub your chin like that when you’re pissed.” 

With a flair of his nostrils, Jake says, “Just get on with your goddamn rehearsal.”

“Just ignore them. They do this shit all the time,” Sam quietly says to you. “Ready to do this again?” he asks.

With your attention back on Sam, you smile and nod your head.

You do the scene again, much the same as you had before. But this time, with the watchful eyes of Jake, you feel a bit more… inspired. 

“Kiss me and tell me it’s true that you will hold me again.”

Sam once again takes your face in his hands, leaning in close to you. 

This time, instead of grabbing his shoulders, you opt to run your fingers through his hair. 

Locking eyes with Jake, who’s standing perfectly in your view, you lift your face to crash your lips with Sam— much harder this time. 

Josh wanted more passion, and he’s getting exactly that.

You push your tongue past Sam's plush lips, eliciting a soft grumble from deep in his throat. 

His hands suddenly move from your face to your neck, his fingertips tracing the skin while leaving goosebumps in their wake. He then reaches down to your waist, pulling you tightly against his body.

This is no Guiniverre and Lancelot sharing a secret kiss in the middle of a hidden forest; this is you and Sam enjoying the hell out of each other. 

But even as your mouth is fully enveloped with Sams, even with your tongues fighting for dominance with one another— your only thought… is Jake. Fucking Jake.

You situate your face just so, where you’re again able to look Jake in the eyes. He intensely glares as he watches you in a moment of pure desire with his brother— and he doesn’t look happy.

Incidentally, it's only adding fuel to your fire as your lips continue furiously attacking Sams. 

You wrap your hands even tighter around his soft locks as his tongue is dancing with yours. 

More beautiful, hushed moans escape Sam’s mouth straight into yours as you echo them right back to him. 

He tastes like heaven mixed with a delicious honey sweet bourbon, he’s fucking delectable. 

With a little hesitancy, (especially on Sam's part) the kiss breaks as you are forced to come back up for air. 

Sam is still holding you close, so close that you can feel his enthusiasm between your bodies that’s thankfully being covered by the skirt of your dress.

“You’ve uh, got me in a bit of a predicament here,” he whispers, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

You look him in the eyes, biting your kiss swollen bottom lip. “I can tell. Pretty big predicament, huh.” Your new found bravery has taken even you by surprise. 

Sam just smirks at you while everyone is left stunned at your performance. 

“I… am so fucking pissed,” Josh says. 

“Why, babe?” Malachi asks him.

“Because I didn’t bring my fucking camera. You two… you two were made to do this together. I really hope you can do that again. Holy shit. Bra-fucking-vo.”

“What do you think, y/n? Think we could do that again?” Sam asks you. Although it’s clear he isn’t referring to the film. 

Looking at Jake, his jaw clenched and his fists tight, you say, “Yeah.” You tear your eyes away from Jake, looking at Josh to finish. “I think we could do that again.” 

⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⛨ ⚔︎ 

A few weeks have gone by, and most things are going very well with the production. 

Josh is a fantastic director (albeit, a little too bossy at times). Their sweet friend Daniel wound up being a great cameraman, getting shots of you that didn’t make you completely cringe at first glance. Then there was Malachi, who is consistently helpful, just like his sister. Sam, the perfect scene partner— so attentive and great at checking in with you between takes. 

And Nat, ever the loyal friend, has still been coming to rehearsals with you. She hasn’t missed a single one, and her support has meant the world to you. Each time you feel a rush of insecurity washing over you, she’s there to talk you through it and be the encouragement you need.

The only part of these rehearsals that’s getting extremely old is how much Jake inserts his “constructive creative criticism.” 

On more than one occasion, you’d shoot daggers in his direction and remind him that he’s not the director and to leave it to his brother. To which he’d respond with a scoff, palms planted, strong on his hips, and turn to leave the room in a huff. 

Then there are the arguments between the twins… which have been growing in intensity. Some days production ends because the two of them just refuse to see eye to eye, making it impossible to get through a single scene. 

You have to admit— these two are rather passionate about their work.

You just wish they’d stop arguing long enough to showcase their talents. 

The most memorable day on set as of yet was the day Jake's costume had finally arrived. 

He’d been taking far too long to get dressed in his attire, causing Josh to succumb to a near full meltdown. The sun was setting and Josh was adamant about getting at least one scene with Arthur shot outside. 

Jake, however, was extremely unhappy with the costume that was chosen for him. He refused to walk out in it, claiming it was nothing like what he had pictured for the character. “This isn’t Arthur,” he said. “This is a goddamn see-through crop top.”

And that had instantly piqued your attention. You’d walked around the corner of the hallway, Natalia leading the way. Thankfully— because she did not need to be privy to the fact that you were so curious. 

Then, you saw him. Clad in his film outfit that was a cut off chainmail top, with its short, tight sleeves putting his muscular biceps on full display. 

His pecks, (which you’ve caught yourself admiring a time or two before) looked particularly perked and rounded. 

You also loved how sheer the top was, giving you a fantastic view of his skin underneath. 

Jake clearly wasn’t happy about it, but you most definitely were. 

“Goddamn…” you whispered to yourself, watching the way his arms flexed each time he adjusted his shirt. You couldn’t help it. He just looked so fucking sexy. 

“I’m not wearing this, Josh.” Jake asserted. “Nope. This is ridiculous.”

“Yes you are, Jake. It’s only for a few scenes, then you can wear the outfit you chose.” Josh blurted. “And I told you we’d get you a black cloak to wear. Will that make you feel better?” You noted a bit of sarcasm in his voice.

“Fuck no,” Jake said. “And why the hell does Sam get to have my sword for so many of his scenes?”

The argument continued on, and almost an hour later, Jake finally gave in. But, it was too late. The sun had gone down, and you were all ready to call it quits for the night. 

“Well, a fucking wasted day. Thanks an awful lot, Jake.” Josh shouted as he stomped up the stairs.

They were able to shoot that scene the very next day, and as usual, they acted as if nothing had happened. 

It’s pure whiplash with these two. One minute they’re cussing each other out, on the verge of throwing fists; the next, they’re making each other laugh so hard they’re nearly rolling on the floor. 

Outside of filming, Jake has remained stoic– ignorant to your existence. 

At school, he acts as though you don’t exist– only acknowledging you if he absolutely has to. For instance, before you can even try to get a word in before or after class, he’s already shooting up out of his seat before you have time to even think about standing up.

And similarly, at rehearsals, your conversations are limited to one or two words here and there, besides the incessant critiques he tosses around after your scenes. 

Sam, however, has given you nothing but praise after praise. His flirting hasn’t let up— and you’ve been dishing it right back any chance you get. 

You had ultimately decided if Jake wouldn't give you the time of day, you’d give it to someone who will. Who just so happens to be Sam.

Although, it lends more material for Jake’s reproval. The comments he’d make about it were aggravating at best.

“Can you show us all some fucking respect, please?”

“We’re trying to get work done.”

“Do you want us all to have failed projects because you two can’t stay fuckin’ focused?”

And, to every response, Josh shut him down, scolding him for being an asshole. 

“You’re going to chase away my muse, Jake. Please, cut the shit,” he’d roll his eyes, messing with the sides of his hair, fluffing it, cutting a glance at his twin. “I’m tired of you acting like a child. You’re the one causing us to lag with the ridiculous comments.”

The comments did distract you a little from the scenes you knew were coming up rather quickly on the filming schedule… but his remarks also added unnecessary anxiety to the overall atmosphere for you. In which case, Sam would be the one to make you feel better, bringing you right back to him.

The particular scene that’s hurtling towards you is happening later this week. You’re filming a brand new scene with Sam that will be far more intimate than anything you’ve filmed thus far. 

Josh wanted to give you time to adjust to everything and feel completely comfortable before he introduced this part of the film.

You’re still nervous about it, but your eagerness to see the film through has you ready to give it a go. 

The day before the filming of the scene, you go about things like normal. You have so much fun rehearsing with Sam; Nat and Malachi watch in awe as the scene flows flawlessly between the two of you, like it normally does. 

And today, it’s easier because Jake had been strangely absent. But, it hadn’t been better. Because no matter him being so irritating, you had sort of missed looking up at him, mid-scene with Sam. It had become oddly normal to find his eyes while meeting Sam’s lips.

After finishing a rather long rehearsal, Josh reminds you in passing that you’ll be wearing a brand new costume for tomorrow’s shoot.

And you figured today was as good a day as any to give it a peek.

Walking to Jake’s room to locate it, you sent Nat a quick text that you were heading there. She’d slipped away with Malachi to discuss costumes, but you knew if you ended up trying the costume on that you’d need her there to help (or at the very least, encourage). 

Jake’s room has become designated for your costumes, of which he has expressed ample irritation about. Just one more thing for the twins to fight about.

You’re actually starting to believe that Josh made it that way just to spite Jake. 

Once you make it there, the stark red garment bag is hanging on the closet door, awaiting you. It’s the other one that had been laid out on Jake's bed that first day you came over. 

That day had slipped away from all of you with Josh’s insistence that you and Sam re-rehearse the kiss, over and over. So, you never got the chance to try it on. 

You had hesitated looking at it since that day, though, because Nat forewarned you that this costume was much more revealing than the last, and knowing that, you haven’t really been in any hurry to try it on. 

Lifting up on your tiptoes the slightest bit, you grab the garment bag that holds the brand new, different costume that Malachi has specially picked for you.

Nat had fortunately gotten the text and had made it in time to help you remove the corset dress, carefully placing it back in its garment bag. 

Left in your black thong, lacking a bra from your prior costume, you look at the other bag, now laying on the bed. Your stomach sinks to your knees at the possibility of what’s hiding beneath the red canvas.

“Just how bad is it, Nat?” 

The anxiety you faced trying on the first dress weeks ago is now creeping its way back in. You’re scared stiff for a moment, staring down at the costume still hidden beneath the red fabric.

“You’re overthinking it, y/n,” she says. “Just open it and find out. All I can tell you is you’re going to look unreal.”

Not wanting to draw this out any longer, you start unzipping the bag, slowly revealing the black lace that was tucked away inside.

You pull on the hanger to take it out of the bag fully. 

A long black gown of intricate lace and chiffon— a lavish, luxurious piece of… lingerie. The gown exposes skin, hiding just beyond the cloth. Tight at the bust and waist, and flowing out at your hips. 

The neckline is completely open and plunges down to the waist. The mesh material decorated with an elaborate floral design— is utterly see-through. The front of the gown is held together with only a black satin ribbon tied in a bow.

“Holy shit, y/n,” she gasps, admiring every piece of your body she can see. “You look like a piece of fucking artwork. Utterly gorgeous, honey.”

“God, Nat…” You hold it up to your body, running your fingers over the long, bell sleeve. “I really don’t know about this.”

“Josh told you if you don’t like it, they’ll find you something else. But you should at least try it on, see what you think,” she says. 

You’re scared of putting it on and absolutely despising your body; you’ll be forced once again to face all of the things you don’t love about it— you won’t be able to hide in this. Not at all. 

But, you promised Josh and Malachi you’d try it. And Nat is right— they have assured you over and over again that if you’re not happy with something, they’ll fix it. No questions asked. Josh asks you every single day if you’re comfortable with everything, and he’s made it abundantly clear over the course of the production that you must tell him if there’s anything you don’t like.

Clearing your mind of any more thought, (because you’ll overthink yourself to the death if you don’t) you untie the sash, placing the gown over your body. 

As you suspected, there's nothing left to the imagination. 

The lace just barely covers your breasts, laying completely open down to your belly button— and you’ve suddenly become hyper aware of the fact that your nipples are peeking through the sheer fabric. 

“Please tell me they have pasties for me, because this,” you grumble, pointing to your chest, “is not going to work for me.”

Initially you’re talking about your nipples that you can see through the sheer fabric, but you figure there’s no use in hiding what’s on your chest from Nat. Something you would also like to be covered from eyes that you can’t fully trust yet. So, you lift your breast the slightest bit to also expose the red ink lying beneath the supple flesh.

Redrum, in dark red ink etched along the curve underneath your right breast. 

Your best kept secret is no longer hidden with the likes of this dress.

“Is that…. a tattoo?” 

You had decided on an impulse one night (after a few too many drinks) that you wanted a tattoo. It had been a hard week of treatments for your mom, while also simultaneously being the week that you found out about your acceptance to U of M. And you had figured you might as well do something for you— both to celebrate and distract yourself from the sad reality of your mother’s decline. 

No one knows about it (save for Natalia now). Not even your mom. It was gotten with the intent to be something special for you and only you. A part of your body that you could find comfort in despite your dislike for your build— something about yourself to be comfortable with.

And being the massive Stephen King and Kubrick fan that you are, you decided on a tattoo that solidifies your love for The Shining. Both the book and the film have carried through some incredibly tough times in your life, so you can’t really say you regret the permanent decision. But, you like that it’s something sacred for just you. 

“Yeah,” you say, tracing your finger along the flesh like you do nearly everyday. Just to ground yourself. “Important to me for several reasons. No one knows about it. You’re the first to know I have it actually.”

She nods in approval. “I’m honored,” she says, a sweet grin highlighting her features. “And I’m totally here for it.”

You really weren’t ready for everyone to see it yet, though. 

“Do you think there’s something that we could cover it up with?”

She is already walking to the door as you ask, ready to help however she can. 

“I’m going to check with Malachi,” she says, one foot out the door. Then she steps back inside the room, shutting the door to a crack before she whispers. “I won’t tell anyone about it. I’ll just say I wanna snoop through Josh’s Ben Nye.”

“You’re the best Nat,” you feel tears well in your eyes. 

You’ve never had a friend as wonderful as Natalia, and with every small thing she did to help, it solidifies how grateful you are for her. 

When the door closes behind her, you decide to bite the bullet and look at yourself once more.

Your thoughts begin to torment you, but you combat them with Natalia’s words. 

“You look like a piece of fucking artwork. Utterly gorgeous, honey.”

You wish so badly you could eternally shut the thoughts off long enough to see yourself the way others see you, especially in these stunning costumes that you should feel beautiful in. 

Someone as lovely as Nat— inside and out— complimenting you in the way she has, you should feel inclined to believe her; she’s not just telling you what she thinks you want to hear. She’s the most genuine person you’ve yet to meet and the last person to ever bullshit you. 

A few heavier tears have begun to form, threatening to fall at any moment as you take in your image in the mirror.

You do look beautiful.

For the first time in god knows how long, you can see your beauty reflecting back to you, effectively telling your ever intrusive thoughts to ‘fuck off’ once and for all.  And it’s not just in your body, it’s in you. The beauty within yourself that fully encompasses who you’ve grown to become as a woman.

You’ve been through some tough ass shit— had to go through things that you wish you hadn’t had to… and you’re still standing here to speak of it. That, in and of itself, is an accomplishment that shows some sort of beauty and resilience flowing from inside of you. 

It doesn’t feel right acknowledging these things. You’re not used to it. But at this moment, it feels okay. Feels good. You let yourself have it for now.

You normally wouldn’t dare be caught in something like this (let alone allow yourself to be on camera) but now, you’re actually excited. You never would have guessed you had a passion for acting, for playing a character so vastly different from who you are in real life. You’re glad to have somehow stumbled upon this whole thing; it’s helped you find the confidence in yourself that you’ve been desperately searching for your entire life. 

Moving the material covering your thighs the slightest bit, you reveal your leg, flexing it and admiring the taut flesh there. The feminine way your body is built complimenting the lean muscle that’s been built from hard work over time— working your ass off to get to where you wanted to be. Then, you poke your ass out, turning the slightest bit, you see the plush skin of your ass through the thin, dark material. You take the briefest second to appreciate the way it looks, round and full at the top of your thighs. Usually you would hate acknowledging that—hate. it.—but right now? It’s something sort of… sexy, seeing it. It’s hidden away beneath the flowing material, but wholly visible as well. 

It’s mysterious and you like it. The gown acknowledges parts of your body, without putting it on full display and it’s honestly everything you needed. It helps you to accept the curves you usually curl your lip at. 

Just then, as you stand there with your leg completely out of the slit, you hear the handle on the door turn and the door slowly creak as it’s being opened from the other side. 

Nat must’ve found the makeup for your little secret. You hold your breast in preparation to cover the ink, but don’t immediately turn around towards the door. Part of you, wanting her to see this new found confidence you’ve discovered within the confines of this gown. 

“I am so fucking glad you talked me into trying this on. I would have never if it weren’t for you— “

The sound of a throat being cleared of tension is made, interrupting you before you’re able to get the rest of your words out.

With a slight cock of your head in the direction of the door, your hair waving around your shoulders in the process, you realize… it’s not Nat standing on the threshold. 

Stunned, frozen solid in your position that exposes your leg all the way up to the round flesh of your ass peeking through, you realize that standing where Nat should be… is Jake. 

He’s as still as you, with one hand still on the doorknob and the other tightly gripping the frame on the other side. 

You half expected him to shut the door immediately upon seeing you, but he didn’t. He’s just standing there, eyes trailing your barely clothed figure. 

You should say something. You should tell him to get the fuck out and give you some privacy. But as you attempt to open your mouth to do so, nothing comes out. 

His eyes linger on your face for a time, but eventually, they start trailing from your feet, up your legs, over your hips and taut stomach. You’re hardly breathing, but your chest is still heaving short breaths… 

It becomes obvious to you that you like how his eyes feel on you. How he’s observing every inch of your body that you’re feeling brave inside for once… 

You want him to see, to see you exactly like this. 

Suddenly, your nipples harden when his dark, whiskey colored eyes (sans sunglasses, thank fucking god) find your shapely breasts outlined by the fabric just barely hiding them. The hand covering the round flesh tightens in an attempt to conceal the tattoo, but you’re longing to release the hand and show him all of you. 

But you know better. So your hand stays firm, but you let your erect nipple peek through the fingers splayed across your chest. 

You hear footsteps quickly stomping down the hall, becoming louder as they get close to Jake’s room.

“Jake! What the fuck are you doing?” Nat’s hand reaches out from nowhere, takes his arm and shoves him clear of your sight. Successfully breaking your lust ridden trance. “Give her some fucking privacy, godammit!”

And as you stood there, Nat giving Jake a piece of her mind, you can’t ignore how hot and bothered you’d become. You rub your thighs together, searching for a hint of friction from whatever had just transpired between you and Jake, longing for more of it. 

Your friend finally comes in, adamantly running her mouth about how irritated she is by Jake’s intrusion, but you don’t hear her words. 

Because you feel the complete opposite of her. In fact, you want to push her out of the room and bring Jake back to finish what had just barely begun. 

“God, he’s a fucking idiot. I’m sorry about that,” she says as she begins rubbing the stage makeup on the skin of your tattoo, you imagine briefly that her fingers are Jake’s… 

Then, feeling your nipples begin to harden from the thought, you clear your throat. Fuck. Too far.

Cover, cover, cover… 

She can’t know. 

“Damn,” you shake your head, your cheeks hot. “Why do they always keep it so cold in here?”

Thankfully, she doesn’t seem to notice a shift in dynamic as she laughs.

“I know, girl,” she snorts, a curl falling in front of her eye that she blows away. The breath makes your skin prickle with goosebumps. “Malachi is always giving Josh shit about it.”

She finishes blending out the makeup, adding a little powder on top to set it. 

“I’d say we’ve got you pretty well covered. Take a look, tell me what you think.”

You turn back to face yourself in the mirror, and right before you’re able to look at your reflection, a picture sitting on the dresser catches your eye. 

It’s of the three brothers— Josh, Sam, and Jake… their arms around each other as they smile wide.

But you can only look at Jake’s face, his smile so beautiful and bright in the image. 

“Yeah, it looks great,” you say, eyes fixed on Jake’s handsome face, smiling back at you. “Looks really good.”

a/n: any thoughts as to why Jake is being so horrible during this film production? 🤔

buckle up, we've only just begun. ;)

if you'd like to be tagged, follow this link or let me know & i'll be sure to add you. 🤍

love you all so much.

taglist:

@jakeyt @alwaysonthemend @sacredjake @jakesgrapejuice @misshunnybee @reesetrippingthelight @way-to-go-lad @iffypanic @sinarainbows @klarxtr @brinlygvf @stardustjake @gretavanbear @gvfmelbourne @sinsofstardust @literal-dead-leaf @livkiszka @gvf-ficreads @jaaakeeey @capturethechaos @neptune2324 @jaketlove @thetroublegetssoloud71 @myleftsock @sanguinebats @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface  @joshskittytickler @violet-hayes @aflame4goinghome@heckingfrick @fitalich @starshine-gvf @audgeppp @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @nina-23-45 @torniturntomyarrow @beautifulcrayola @writingcold @welllauragvf @loveisonaroll @itsafullmoon

I’m fairly certain I’ve included everyone but if I’ve forgotten you, please let me know! (& i sincerely apologize)

[pinesfamilyguidetotheweird]

Gravity Falls Headcanon: Feral Ford

Okay, so...I like this idea because there is some sense to it.

Ford had been traversing different dimensions for 30 years. I have very little doubt that he has picked up at least a few odd quirks depending how long he spent in a specific dimension.

One that I did have in mind was that he pretty much gained an iron stomach of sorts, or is unbothered to eat strange looking foods, what with him likely eating strange (otherworldly) foods in order to survive.

The main quirk I want to talk about is him gaining some animalistic behavior along the way. Regardless of what you believe in (coming from a non-denominational Christian), humans are animals. What separates us from the rest of the animal kingdom is our higher mental capacity and emotional intelligence.

Despite this, humans are capable of delving into a primitive mindset if given the right circumstances and there are alleged cases of this, usually in the form of feral children, but I digress.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

And Ford did what he had to do to survive. Seriously, what was his first year in the multiverse like? When he got sucked in, he was on the verge of insanity and likely suffered from sleep deprivation due to Bill's influence. What was the first dimension like and how did he survive it?

Regardless for now, what if Ford spent a long time on a planet lacking lifeforms of emotional intelligence, which resulted in him adopting behaviors from the animals on that planet. Not only that, but most of his senses are heightened to help him survive, maybe even garnering a sixth sense of sorts, mostly that of sensing danger seconds before it happens.

Once he is able to leave this planet, he slowly, but surely, regains most of his composure, but those instincts still remain and once he returns to his home dimension, those instincts are both a fascination to behold but also a worrisome perk depending on the situation.

He purrs when content/relaxed enough or having a peaceful sleep...the latter which is unfortunately not very common for the poor man (damn you, Bill). He can't handle a lot of smells and can actually pick up the smell of blood due to those heightened senses.

Possible PTSD aside, Ford usually has a handle on his more animalistic instincts. But all rational thought can be thrown out the window when he feels that he and/or his family was threatened to the highest he could handle. He'll sneer, snarl and growl, bare his teeth, and poise himself to either attack (either with a weapon or his own hands) or protect his family.

Like a wolf protecting his pups. His pack.

He's not exactly proud of this, finding it shameful for him to act in such a way in a civilized world, even though it was a means of survival and the others don't hold it against him.

Mabel especially loves his purring, finding it relaxing, and Dipper is fascinated by his heightened senses.

I have read multiple fics of Feral Ford on AO3 and they are a nice read. I'll make link posts to them when I have the time.

[ryuichirou]

So here's the thing, imagine the twisted boys at the beach, living their best lives until they get stung by a jellyfish. The only way to ease the pain is by getting peed on, no magical cures. Which ones would rather enduring the pain than asking someone to help them? Who would they trust to pee on them? Also, the other way round, which ones would be willing to pee on others? Does anyone have a secret piss kink? Sebek is the one I'm most curious about, like if there was a mysterious and dangerous enough jellyfish to cause pain to Malleus, would he enthusiastically offer his services? Would he adamantly refuse to do such an offensive act despite the pain Malleus is suffering? So much to ponder…

This ask made me so unreasonably happy, this is so stupid and so NRC style lol Oh to be Sebek in such a troublesome situation! A dilemma! A conundrum!

Jokes aside, I think it’s important to note that no one should pee on a jellyfish sting because it actually makes it worse… But who out of the NRC boys is even aware of that? 🤔

Your ask also reminded us of this video, and honestly it feels like a very 1styears thing to do. In this particular video I can imagine every 1st year in every “role” and somehow it still makes sense lol They really would do stupid shit like this.

Still! Let’s go through the list and think about it.

Riddle – he didn’t even know people had this “peeing on someone” idea in their heads! Why would they do that?! Why is everyone taking their dicks out?! Wait- stop it immediately! (Too late… I’m sorry, Riddle)

Ace – he is the first one to volunteer. He would pee on anyone, he doesn’t mind. That being said, if he himself was stung, he wouldn’t want to ask others to pee on him… he’ll try to pee on himself, but that wouldn’t work, so he’ll have to ask others for help. Begrudgingly… He’ll ask Deuce, of course. He’ll take him somewhere private first, too.

Deuce – he isn’t as eager to pee on others as Ace, but he would help a friend out if he has to. Even if this is embarrassing and gross! What if his friend dies?? He has to pee on him! What kind of friend is he otherwise! Ace would egg him on… Deuce would also get peed on by every 1st year and some of the 2nd years…

Trey – he also knows that you shouldn’t pee on jellyfish sting, but he won’t stop the boys in time… how did he miss it? How did this happen to Riddle? He’ll help him to clean himself, but somewhere deep into his heart Trey kind of curses his own knowledge and sense of responsibility because doing something so gross sounds as horrible as it is kind of hot. Wait, what was that thought?

Cater – he isn’t aware that you shouldn’t pee on a jellyfish sting. He is the one who suggested it the moment someone got stung. He wouldn’t participate himself, but he would pull his phone out almost unconsciously and reflexively, because this imagery is unforgettable. If he got stung himself though, he would yell that he doesn’t want to get peed on. Too bad, Cater, this is a pee fest now.

Leona – how did you even manage to get stung, loser? Anyways, he’d better run before the rest of Savanaclaw gets eager to help him out because if there is anyone in NRC that is eager to pee everywhere but in the appropriate places, it’s the Savanaclaw students. In any other situation, Leona would suggest peeing on a jellyfish sting sarcastically, but everyone would take it seriously.

Ruggie – he’ll pee for money. And knowing his luck, he’ll manage to get paid somehow. I don’t know who the poor victim is, but they just bought Ruggie’s precious medicinal pee lol If Ruggie gets stung himself though, he’ll crawl away as fast as he could – he doesn’t trust these fuckers.

Jack – he gets very aggravated and nervous because of the unfamiliar pee smell, so even if it wasn’t dangerous to pee on a jellyfish sting, he would get very angry, anxious and a bit aggressive, so please let’s not give Jack any golden showers lol He also wouldn’t want to participate in peeing on someone else, but he isn’t impossible to convince…

Azul – absolutely no! Even if it were a legitimate remedy, Azul wouldn’t want anyone near himself. Put your dicks away, or he will chop them off! He also won’t participate in it himself. Too gross. He doesn’t understand why others get so eager to pee on each other.

Jade – oh he is aware that the pee would only make it worse, but he’ll still pee on a person just for funsies. He might even suggest that a merman’s pee pH-balance is perfect for this type of injury. It is a lie, of course…

Floyd – same, he’ll pee just for fun. He is tired of everyone arguing about it, it’s not a big deal. He’ll be especially excited if he gets to pee on poor Riddle… I think Floyd might have discovered a kink. Skedaddle, everyone! If any of the tweels get stung though, they’ll go straight to Azul to ask him to heal them. Even if it doesn’t work, there is no way they’re letting others pee on them, they know it’ll hurt like a bitch…

Kalim – surprisingly, he knows that you shouldn’t pee on a jellyfish sting. Everyone would get shocked by hearing an actual piece of advice from Kalim, but then they’ll know that he learned it the hard way… Poor little Jamil…

Jamil - … yeah, poor little Jamil. But also, knowing Jamil’s luck, knowing that one shouldn’t pee on a jellyfish sting probably wouldn’t save him from people around him getting way too excited and eager to help him out. He is one of the guys that gets peed on by an entire crowd…

Vil – are you people out of your mind? This is the last time Vil hangs out at a public beach. He’ll try to stop some of the first years from peeing on Epel and get a little bit sprayed himself… well NOW they should really skedaddle.

Rook – I don’t trust this man. Of course he knows that you shouldn’t pee on a jellyfish sting, but a part of him gets excited by the idea of someone hurt and vulnerable getting this kind of help from their friends. Such an awkward and embarrassing but strong bonding experience! He might not stop it if he sees it. But right after that he’ll interfere and help. If either he or Vil gets stung, he’ll also suggest it playfully and get smacked.

Epel – a disaster. It’s as bad as Deuce’s situation, maybe even worse. Even if he doesn’t think this is a good idea, he’ll get peer pressured easily, and if this isn’t him who got stung, he’ll be the more eager one. He’ll yell while doing it to fight his embarrassment. And if he gets stung and isn’t miraculously jumped by everyone around him instantly, he’ll probably crawl to Rook to super awkwardly ask him for help, almost on a verge of crying. Rook’s heart wouldn’t survive this.

Idia – he is so sick of this trope! This is stupid, and Idia believes that this myth was created by a lobby of golden shower lovers or something like that. He’ll cry of embarrassment if he gets peed on by someone else, especially publically, especially if this is an entire squad of people… But he might also be taken away by the Tweels (or even just Jade) to do it in private. Or maybe Lilia… He just said that he didn’t want to do it at all..!

Ortho – he knows that he should stop others from harming themselves and being stupid, but he actually really likes this trope because of how embarrassing and cringeworthy it is to watch (Idia always reacts in a funny way when it happens in media!). So he’ll suggest it himself… and watch. He is so sad he can’t also pee on poor guy… he should upgrade his beach gear.

Lilia – oh he is so sure it’ll work. He can actually argue with facts on this one because this isn’t the first time he pees on someone, and it always gets better instantly! He wasn’t born yesterday, you know? In fact, he was born too many years ago... So yeah, he might pee on someone even if they are aware that this isn’t the way to go lol And if poor peepaw gets stung himself, he’ll get annoyed and moody, but ask Silver to help… And Silver won’t hesitate to help because he wants his father to be safe.

Silver – if he lived near the beach, he would’ve been aware that this doesn’t work, but… Unfortunately, we have on our hands a boy who would go “understood” and do it if asked. And if Silver gets stung himself and someone drops an idea of peeing as a remedy on him, he might even bow and ask people around him to do it… oh no, Silver, no no no please don’t Silver, please-

Sebek – the star of the post lol Blame the first years, they are the ones who made him think that it works!! And the chaos was so insane that he didn’t even get to see or hear that it doesn’t in fact work! So if right after that he saw Malleus getting stung, his heart would drop and he would feel both cold and hot at the same time. Even if he manages to suggest his help, even if he manages to explain what kind of help it is, even if Malleus goes “oho? I haven’t heard of this kind of remedy, go ahead”… Sebek wouldn’t be able to pee on him. Because he would get hard-

Malleus – I kind of lied in the previous one, he probably knows about this thing from Lilia who has too many stories to tell. So while the previously mentioned scenario is possible, he might also suggest peeing himself in a teasing way, like would you dare to do it? Kind of way. But in that case he is way more interested in Sebek’s reaction… and Sebek surprised him a lot. He expected him to run away or even do it, but not this. Wow. In any other scenario, I don’t think Malleus would be too bothered by a jellyfish sting. Sebek shouldn’t have been worried in the first place.

[1d1195]

Protection II

This is mostly the getting to know the reader and part. I hope you enjoy. 7.5k+

This is where I'll put the rest of the series: Protection

P.S. Sorry, I have some bad daddy issues that are going to be addressed in this series.

“Okay,” she nodded in promise. “Thank you,” she said seriously. She honestly hoped he sensed the authenticity of her gratitude. Harry was the first person to treat her like a human. Even if she gave him a hard time more often than not.

If she wasn’t careful, she was really going to fall in love with him.

There was just over three weeks between the end of her summer course and the fall semester. She planned on spending almost the entire time she wasn’t working either out in the sun reading or sleeping. Her final year was going to be difficult to say the least and she needed to be rested for the first days of the semester.

Her friends didn’t really chat with her during these weeks. She was used to it. Part of her believed they didn’t really want her to be around during their regularly scheduled class times either. It was why she fought so vehemently with her detail. There was so much drama surrounding her with just the presence of her security following her around.

The poor thing couldn’t sleep in all that much due to her constantly spinning mind and busy schedule with work and other obligations she put upon herself. Waking up at 8AM was about as late as she could stand it. At that time, and to beat the humidity, she hurried to shove her feet in sneakers and twist her hair up and off the back of her neck. She jogged a bit, stopping way more than she should have to walk at a clipped pace. Harry was warned of this and came prepared following behind her with so much ease. If weren’t for the heat, she was convinced he wouldn’t have broken a sweat. He didn’t speak to her while she listened to her music and didn’t make any comments about her need to walk so frequently, which she thought was kind. She imagined the rest of the detail thought she shouldn’t have had pizza on any regular schedule or said she was out of shape.

After a good head clearing, she would head back to shower and relax her muscles. It was the most calming time she had without any reminder of her detail’s presence. The one and only place they let her be alone completely. Coming back out to the living room she found Harry, ever present seated at his laptop situated on her dining table. Her hair was damp from being towel-dried and her skin felt fresh. She flopped onto the couch. Harry was silent, paying no focused attention to her. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him. Harry per usual, didn’t appear all that sweaty, but she couldn’t imagine having to sit in his sweat all day long while watching her and it was particularly hot and humid this morning. Especially when she had the luxury of hosing herself down. “Do you want to shower?” She asked.

He glanced at her. It wasn’t a terrible request. He hated to feel the thin sheen of sweat over his body—he didn’t think he smelled bad, but he thought he might smell like sweat. It seemed entirely unprofessional—it wasn’t covered in his training that he couldn’t shower at her apartment, but it seemed like something he should steer clear of. He could always call another agent while he headed back to his place—just ten minutes from hers. He could be back on the inside of an hour. “Uh...yeah, if y’don’t mind. I’ll jus’ call some—”

“You can shower here,” she shrugged setting up a playlist to play through her TV speaker. “I have more than one towel, obviously.”

Harry thought her sarcastic bite was funny and not dreadful like the rest of the team made it out to be. He smirked. “Uh...I don’t really want t’leave—”

She rolled her eyes and picked up her book. “I pinky promise, cross my heart, swear on my mother’s grave I won’t leave this apartment until you’re dressed and able to chase me efficiently,” she mumbled flipping to the bookmarked page. “Honestly might fall right back to sleep anyway,” she muttered. “Towels are in the linen closet,” her tone was dismissive. The ball was in Harry’s court.

Harry didn’t really want to piss her off; part of him thought that if she remained happy maybe she wouldn’t give him such a hard time. He wasn’t kidding when he told her he hated paperwork and despite how...different she seemed than the stories he heard, he wasn’t going to take his chances. Closing his laptop and he made his way by the couch toward the hall to the bathroom. He stopped in the threshold briefly and gazed at the girl snuggled on the couch who didn’t look like she’d be moving for hours. “Please,” he eyed her cautiously. “Don’t leave,” he said it gently, the slight begging tone in his voice.

She glanced up at his serious, pleading expression. Part of her forgot he was all but her enemy. His voice, his face, his body... he was so lovely. He was adorable. But she couldn’t let him know she thought that. She instead returned her gaze to her book, unable to comprehend the words fully in her brain to make sense due to the depth of green she was seeing in Harry’s eyes. She briefly pressed two fingers to her temple and saluted him without meeting his eyes. “Sure thing, boss.”

Harry still took the fastest shower he’d ever taken, still a bit worried about her leaving. However, when he returned to the main room, there she was reading. Snuggled up cutely on her sofa and listening to the gentle music playing as she did. She really wasn’t as bad as they made her out to be. Or maybe he just hadn’t really seen that side of her yet. But either way, he was glad she was kind for now.

*

“How’s it going?” Niall asked on Harry’s first day off in over a week. While they really didn’t speak a whole lot, he actually felt a little bad not seeing her. So much so, he left her a note saying to just text him if she needed something���and to not give the relief detail a too much of a fight.

“She’s not that bad,” Harry shrugged.

“No way,” Niall was in disbelief. He actually paused mid sip, spitting his drink back into the glass. “I can’t believe the close in age thing worked,” he shook his head. “I should have thought of this years ago.”

Harry shrugged again. “All she does is sleep,” it was true. She slept a good eight hours each day over the last week. In addition, he only glanced up from his computer when her book fell to the ground, and she was fast asleep in her mid-afternoon nap. Harry found his job quite cushy. Especially because he thought she was quite cute when she slept.

“She doesn’t escape?”

“If she did, she’s a lot better than anyone told me she would be. I’ve never noticed. So, I don’t think so. I caught her the first day trying t’sneak t’meet her friends at the pub. S’only because the detail outside saw her on the fire escape. Think they were honestly hazing me a bit,” he shrugged. “M’first day and all...but she hasn’t tried anything since.”

The surprise was still evident from Niall. “You like her?” He asked; he was incredulous.

Harry shrugged once more then nodded. “Yeah...she’s...fun,” he shrugged. “She’s really polite.”

“I don’t think anyone has ever said that about her.”

Harry found he was a bit irritated with his friend. Niall wasn’t one to talk poorly of someone else almost ever so his sudden remarks of the girl made him annoyed. So why was he so negative about her? “Have y’ever even met her, Niall?” Harry asked. The bite in his tone rivaled the one that she would give Harry.

He shook his head. “No, but I’ve seen the paperwork,” he whistled almost in appreciation. “She’s...”

“She’s actually really smart. Funny. Kind,” Harry interrupted.

Niall blinked surprised by Harry’s defense for the girl. “Sorry, Harry. I didn’t mean to...I’m sorry. Just...you hear some stories.”

Harry tried to push the girl from his mind. Maybe it would be different when she was back in school. Maybe it wouldn’t. But regardless, he didn’t think it was very nice of the entire department to write her off. He focused on Niall and their lunch at a local restaurant.

His phone vibrated with a message from her. He waited until Niall was engrossed in the game on the screen above their table. Never thought I’d say this about one of my bodyguards...but I can’t wait for you to be back. These people are awful to me :(

It was hard to ignore the flutter of his heart. Treat them with kindness, love. He reminded her.

Feel like they should be kind to me first...

:( He sort of agreed with her. Even if she was a pain in his butt in her own special way, he didn’t think she deserved unkindness. It was about a half hour without a response message from her and Harry realized he was a bit...anxious waiting for her name to flash across the screen. It was dicey of him—it was also silly of him to expect a message in response to a frowny face. Maybe the deepest part of his subconscious knew before the rest of him that he shouldn’t be sending her messages for a very specific reason—especially ones regarding her hatred of the other members of her security detail.

Still...he was the only one she seemed to like...and he was The Department’s last hope.

I’ll be back tomorrow, love. He said finally. He wanted to chat with her more. Six days in a row with her and he was already aching for more time with her.

Thank God. Her answer was immediate. Followed by a second one. Can we get burritos?

Sure thing :)

*

She still drove him insane. She was practically mindless as she marched down the road ahead of him when she ran errands. Nearly stumbling into traffic. It was almost as if she had a death wish.

“For the love of God, would you jus’ tell me,” he snapped at her when she once more forgot to tell him where she was going...even if it was just to get the package she ordered from the main lobby but she left without a word. Caught him a bit off-guard as he jumped up from his typical seat at her dining table, rushing to catch her before she got too far.

Honestly, he couldn’t imagine telling all but a stranger his every movement. It had to be difficult for her. But it still pissed him off. Especially when she smirked at him when he snapped at her. Like a child in trouble who knew she was in trouble. It really infuriated him when she did that.

When she met with her friends, Harry sat by the bar nursing a glass of water. He flashed his credentials to the bartender who gave him a stiff nod, not worrying about his lack of alcohol or why he was intently watching the girl across the room. Harry had to strain to hear anything of importance but for the most part it was harmless.

Boys would come talk to her and Harry couldn’t help but think they were so out of their league. The confidence they exuded was hilariously misplaced, so he thought. She was pretty. Even if she was annoying. He couldn’t help but notice how nice she looked when she twirled her hair into a pretty style, or the way her lips seemed to shine with the gloss she put on but never seemed to come off even when she sipped her drink. Of course, she was intelligent, a biochemist didn’t get to this stage in her academic career without being intelligent.

The boys, however, had one thing on their mind (make that two things) when she wore a pretty blue top with jeans cropped at her ankle. Her hair was twirled to the side making her look like some casual Rapunzel and Harry wished he didn’t think like that. But he was thinking like that. Because despite how annoying she could be, she was really beautiful. Effortlessly, it seemed.

Harry never intervened when the boys chatted with her for way longer than they should have. They didn’t seem to have a clue who she was or that Harry was a mere ten meters away eyeing their every movement. Rarely did she dismiss any of them. Ever polite, which he found interesting. The more time he spent watching her, the more fascinated he became by her.

It was only when he heard them say they were into politics that her face immediately soured, and her attention returned to her drink. At that point, her girlfriend who was essentially a second bodyguard on Harry’s detail (especially when it came to guys) came to her rescue shooing the guy away and they’d find another bar to repeat the process all over again.

The two girls linked their arms while Harry walked several paces behind them. He didn’t eavesdrop on their conversation, but he did want to know what made her laugh so hard just because he hadn’t heard her careless laughter like that before. It made her seem so at ease. He wished she was like that all the time.

Right as they started to enter the next place, a boy snagged her about the waist. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked. She blinked in surprise and Harry settled against the wall one business down from her spot at the entrance of the bar. He never found the guys in her company malicious or harmful. They were dumb and drunk most often. “I’ve never seen you here before.”

She pulled from him giving her friend a knowing look. With a gentle smile she grinned at the guy. Harry felt something in his chest warm over. It made him...jealous.

Oh, that’s not good. He thought to himself. But he shoved the emotion to the side. He would deal with it later. He missed the introduction the guy gave so he didn’t get to hear his name. Which meant he would have to wrangle it out of her later when he did a background check on him. “Let me take you home,” he said.

“I’m with my friend,” she nodded toward the girl. The forwardness took her friend for a loop, she was hovering closer to Harry than she had been in the last few places.

“Tell her you’re leaving,” he shrugged.

Her smile was tight. Harry could see it from where he stood. He inched a bit closer toward her friend. Even she was looking on nervously. Harry was twitching to punch him already. Especially if he didn’t leave her alone. “No, thank you,” she said reaching for the door to get inside. He slapped it shut. This time, Harry saw the way she straightened. If she was dog or a cat, he imagined she would have raised hackles. Harry pressed a finger to his ear.

“Stand by,” he mumbled to the receiver attached to him. Despite the noise of the busy street, he could hear the distinct sound of one of the department registered SUV’s engine turning over.

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” he smiled. The alcohol must have made him more confident. She wasn’t having it.

“I said no,” she was firm. There wasn’t room for argument. Harry felt a bit...proud of how she confidently sized herself up against him. Of course, she had scared an entire division anywhere from ten to thirty years older than her. Surely, she could take on a guy her own age.

“At least give me a chance to turn it into a yes,” he said snagging her hand. She pulled it from his grip, turning toward her friend. She caught Harry’s eye as she did. He was now almost beside her friend, and he swore he saw a sparkle in her eye as if she had only just realized Harry was actually there.

“Baby, what are you doing here!?” She said excitedly, running toward Harry as if she truly had no idea, he was right there all this time. She threw herself against him, arms looping around his neck as she clung to him. Harry felt stunned, one arm wrapping back around her waist. Her exposed skin was warm despite the reminder it was the end of August and evening air was getting cool. But she was like holding the embodiment of summer in his arms.

This was definitely not part of his training. As an agent, he was typically observant and could usually predict different outcomes or make sense of the scene and situation around him. He could figure out what most people were going to do before they did it.

Her sudden stunt left him a bit dazed.

“Thought you didn’t get out of work till later,” she smiled up at him as she pulled away, batting her eyelashes at him. “Can you take us home?” She jutted out her lower lip gazing at him with...adoration? That couldn’t be right. Even if it was for show, she was good at it. Harry didn’t know she was capable of acting. Especially acting as if she was in love.

“Uh...yeah,” Harry cleared his throat. “Got out early,” he mumbled following her lead. He could hear the laughter in the earpiece as she wrapped her arm around his waist. She grabbed her friend’s hand, and they headed off the way they came.

“He’s staring at my ass,” she whispered to her friend. “I can feel it.”

“I mean it’s a nice ass,” she shrugged with a smile.

The girl kept hold of Harry and rolled her eyes. “Creepy,” but Harry didn’t miss how he felt her arm tighten around his waist. He would break the guy’s arm for her if she asked. Harry had the right mind to kill him just for being so forward and annoying to her. Not taking no for an answer the first time she said it. When they turned the corner, she released him immediately. Harry couldn’t help how he felt cold without her embrace. And he hated how easy it was to slip into the mindset that it felt good with her wrapped around him.

Fortunately, she and her friend took off running down the block for the next bar so Harry once more had to put that notion to the side.

*

Harry entered her apartment on September first surprised to find the array of pink peonies and carnations that had adorned her walls the last three weeks were replaced by sunflowers. It was…enlightening. To say the least. Harry wasn’t even in a bad mood, but he was overwhelmed with happiness as he settled his stuff onto the dining room table. “Do you do this every month?” He asked, making his way toward her. She was on a step stool, draping more sunflower vines along the walls.

“No,” she smirked. “I’ll keep these up until December first,” she explained. “I do add some Halloween colors in next month though...and then I take those down to put up leaves for November.”

He loved her place. It was as adorable as she was. Even if he shouldn’t think that way. He enjoyed coming to work. Even if she was going to make him crazy. The flowers were pretty. It made the place utterly welcoming. More of the side of the personality he never really heard about from The Department on display. “What do y’do for the winter?” He asked grabbing the vine that dangled out of her reach and helped her put it up. With her on the stepstool she was a head taller than Harry.

It was not the time to think such things. Plus, she had never thought anything about any of her security detail before of course, but obviously Harry was much closer in age to her than anyone else before him. She couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was and now she was eye level with him. He didn’t question her. Didn’t yell at her for balancing precariously on the step stool, he didn’t care that she had hundreds of flowers to put up. He followed her around the apartment all afternoon chatting with her about her interior design vision.

“I feel like I need something to balance out poinsettias though,” she shrugged as they moved to her bedroom. Harry helped her more and she accepted it, surprisingly. He listened to her rant and rave about flowers and didn’t seem to mind at all that he was being paid to decorate with her. “Most winter flowers are red,” she explained. “I like red, but it’s overwhelming, you know? I think winterberries are beautiful, but I love petals,” she continued.

“Well, what ‘bout snowdrop?” Harry asked.

She paused her movements, tilted her head at him. “I don’t know that one,” she admitted. He quickly reached for his phone, tapped it several times then handed it to her.

“These?” He suggested. The screen showed the pretty little white flowers, and she glanced back at Harry. “They’d look pretty with winterberry or poinsettias,” he murmured.

Harry liked flowers. How fascinating. She assumed, like most of the other agents before him, Harry probably knew every detail of her life. Maybe better than she did sometimes. But of course, Harry was quite tight-lipped. She knew some of his food and drink tastes, but she didn’t know much about his home life, why he came to America, or how he ended up on her detail.

But he liked flowers enough to know the names of them. Enough to show an interest in something she cared about. Even if it was just a bunch of wall décor. Handing the phone back to him, she smirked at him. “I think I’ll order some fake ones on Amazon. Thank you,” she smiled.

Harry smiled back at her. “Happy t’help,” he mumbled and held his hand out for her to get off the step stool. “Any plans for today?”

Her plan was to torture Harry now that they were in single digit days until classes restarted. But his kindness ruined that. She sort of hated that he was so nice to her even when she was a bitch. He was really ruining all the hard work she put into terrifying a division of special agents. “Just work and movies probably.”

He nodded. “Sure, I’ll be here,” he smirked and found his seat at the dining table.

“You could sit over here if you want. That chair can’t be comfy all day,” she said.

He shrugged. “S’not bad,” he said gathering his stuff and moving to the opposite sofa she was on. He settled in as she scrolled through different titles on Netflix.

“Do you have any recommendations?” She asked. “I suck at picking movies.”

“I can recommend a rom-com if s’your thing,” he shrugged. “I haven’t watched it yet. Someone else recommended it t'me.”

She adored the idea that her intimidating, closed-lipped bodyguard liked rom-coms. She put it on immediately. If it was formulaic, she didn’t care. She liked knowing what to expect. Watching a movie with Harry was also relaxing. The first time neither of them spoke or acted tensely about her whereabouts. They both chuckled at the same time at different parts and pointed out funny things to rewind ten seconds that the other had missed in the background.

Of all the time she had spent with her bodyguards over the last seven years, this was one of the best afternoons she ever had.

*

The worst of his job started about a week after her classes started. She was out with friends and Harry deemed the drunk college men harmless and gave her more space at the bar where she and her friends danced.

He could see where Niall was coming from, but he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing she was getting to him. Harry was a bit competitive and didn’t want The Department to know he was feeling bested by her too.

But he couldn’t help but be annoyed that it happened much more frequently throughout the month of September and October, becoming routine. Monday through Thursday and Sunday she spent in class, studying, or working in her sitting room and still somehow managing to get one of her jogs in before sunset almost daily. Fridays and Saturdays were spent all but torturing Harry. He had to be much more ready for her attempted escapes.

The first weekend that her classes started, she literally climbed out the bathroom window of the bar. The only reason he caught her was because one of the loudmouth guys she was with was watching a video her friend had sent of her crawling out the window and he was laughing at the hysterics of it. When Harry caught up to her at the corner of the road, she hurled several insults at him that he hadn’t once heard fall from her lips.

“I’m a grown fucking woman,” she snapped. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“S’protocol,” he shrugged. Even if he liked her, he was there to do a job.

The time after that, she simply tried outrunning him, but his legs allowed for much longer strides than her, so she didn’t get too far from him. That time she threw her shoe at him, narrowly avoiding his head. She limped awkwardly to the SUV where she sulked. Harry picked up her shoe and placed it at her feet before he drove her back to her place, where she slammed the door to her room but didn’t come back out once. Since he caught her that time, no paperwork was required.

The following week she was making out with someone in the bathroom hallway and while the idea was disgusting because she deserved far better accommodations than a bathroom hall in a messy bar in a college town, this wasn’t even that bad as far as his job went. But it did make his chest hot with jealousy.

So, he let her make out with the stupid guy while he drank his water at the bar.

The next time she hopped into a car with a stranger. Fortunately, her friend was with her so Harry didn’t worry about her well-being too much. But once he followed her to his place of residence she screamed some more while Harry just watched her have her temper tantrum. Her friend seemed entirely used to these outbursts. She ushered the guys they had met upstairs while she slunk back to the SUV once more. Grumbling and cursing at Harry under her breath.

That event required a huge, detailed report and a grumbly talking to from one of the higher ups. It made Harry irritable but found it hard to stay completely mad at her because she made brownies the following day and told him to help himself—like a peace offering.

Despite the insults and the cursing, Harry would attend meetings and debriefings where they would ask Harry if he wanted out. “Would you like to be reassigned?” They sounded tired. Like they were already anticipating who they would get to replace him.

“Did she ask for someone new?” He asked.

His supervisory blinked at him. “No...but...don’t you want out? It’s been almost a month and a half.”

He frowned. “Er...with all do respect. If she doesn’t mind me, then I’ll stay.”

Harry wasn’t going to back down from a challenge.

*

The worst however was her escape from the concert. There were simply too many variables. Even with a team of ten, Harry still felt outnumbered by her and her friend. To be fair, they told Harry ahead of the concert it was a lost cause. There was no way she wouldn’t escape. It was her best chance.

She was getting ready for the night in her bathroom. Harry was vigilant as ever in the dining area.  She came out to the living room to check on her phone charging on the side table. She looked comfy and adorable. Jeans, converse, a tanktop that fit loosely so it showed off...her assets in a tasteful way. Harry thought she was pretty as always. “Y’look nice,” he mumbled.

She glanced at him curiously and her cheeks warmed at his compliment. “Thank you,” she responded kindly. He closed his laptop and he sighed.

“Look,” he said. Immediately, her kindness disappeared from her face.

“Harry,” she sighed not feeling like fighting.

“I know you’re going to escape,” he told her. “Whatever, s’jus’ more paperwork, right?” He asked with a weak smile. She frowned knowing that he already anticipated her idea for the night. “Please,” he said. “Can y’jus’ send me your location?” He pleaded. “Please," he repeated. "I won’t tell anyone, I won’t make it a big deal. I...jus’ want t’know you’re safe,” he explained. Biting the inside of her cheek she opened her message thread with Harry looking away from his intense gaze. She shared her location for the next twenty-four hours with him. “Thank you,” he said appreciatively getting the alert on his phone. “If y’get into trouble or y’feel unsafe, please jus’ call,” he continued. “I won’t make a big deal of that either.”

He seemed so genuine. Like he really cared about her safety beyond the protocol of his job.

“Okay,” she nodded in promise. “Thank you,” she said seriously. She honestly hoped he sensed the authenticity of her gratitude. Harry was the first person to treat her like a human. Even if she gave him a hard time more often than not.

If she wasn’t careful, she was really going to fall in love with him.

*

It was a shame that her willingness to help Harry out didn’t pan out the way he hoped. When the concert had ended, he thought he had actually done a good job. He kept an eye on her little marker the entire time; she was in place at her seat the duration of the concert. He even got to enjoy a bit of the indie band she was seeing—he heard her play the music on while she worked or read but never really noticed how much he actually liked it. They even put on a good show.

But when most had filed out of her section, he came to the conclusion that she was no longer present. With a groan he headed down to her section, finding not a trace of her behind. But her phone still said she was here. He started searching beneath the seats, dodging sticky soda and alcohol along with popcorn strewn about.

He found an array of jewelry and a condom packet. He even found a wallet that he would bring by to lost and found. But it was her phone that he found that made his body warm with more rage. The flower phone case he was used to seeing around her apartment mocked him. She tricked him. After all that.

The idea of paperwork didn’t compare to the hurt he felt over her betraying deceit.

*

She was enjoying a drink with her friends at one of their favorite spots. For the first time in months, she felt so carefree. They were discussing their latest exams and how nice the concert was. A round of drinks sat empty in front of them while they sipped on the second. Harry was giving her ample space. But that should have been her first clue.

Her arm was yanked out of the booth, and she nearly lost her footing as Harry grabbed onto her but continued to hold her upright.

“Are you fucking serious?” He snapped. Everyone turned to look at him. She scrambled to stand upright. She was ready to scream at him for tugging her out of the booth like that. In front of all her friends. Everyone was silent as she opened her mouth to yell. But then she saw it.

Harry was pissed.

Instantly, she wavered. Her face contorting from anger to worry, sadness. She looked upset. Remorseful even. “Harry,” she started.

“I don’t know what your problem is with me—”

“I didn’t—”

“—but I didn’t do anything t’warrant this!” He shouted, holding her phone up. She instinctively felt for her pocket and realized her mistake. Oh...he was going to kill her.

But still, he was currently embarrassing her.

She wanted to scream right back at him. But she knew he was mad. She knew why he was mad. He asked for hardly anything at all tonight—knowing she was going to leave. It was kind of him to give her so much grace and freedom when no one on that team had ever done so. Even though she left without a word, she truly thought her phone was in her bag. She hadn’t even thought to look for it because she never lost her phone.

“I know y’think s’a big joke. But I take m’job seriously. I take protocol seriously. Jus’ because you want t’pout and cry like a bratty little girl, doesn’t mean y’going t’ruin my life. My career.”

Her eyes narrowed. She hated to be yelled at. Belittled. It made her extremely angry. Regardless of how much she actually liked him. Despite the fact she felt bad she accidentally betrayed his trust. But he was embarrassing her in front of friends and calling her names that everyone else in the department used daily, pissed her off beyond belief.

She glared at him, set her jaw firmly. She could feel frustrated tears lining her vision and she grabbed her purse out of the booth violently. She made no eye contact with the group of her silent friends. She marched right outside to the SUV he had double-parked. Slamming the door shut behind her, she waited until Harry was in the car as well.

“I didn’t know I didn’t have it,” she seethed.

He scoffed. “Bullshit.”

She closed her eyes tightly. So tightly she saw red dancing in her vision. “Believe what you want. I didn’t know,” she snapped. “You were so embarrassing in there. I’m sorry I pissed you off. Again, I really didn’t mean it. But you didn’t have to embarrass me in front of my friends like that.”

“If you’re going to act like a brat—”

She shook her head slowly balling her fists in her lap. “If you call me a brat one more time, I’m going to punch you in the throat,” it was a promise. Harry didn’t think she would cause all that much damage, but he didn’t think it would be wise to take a punch to the throat while he was driving her.

They were silent for five minutes while he drove her back to her place. “You really didn’t know?” He asked, his voice a hair softer.

She glared out the window with a silent shake of her head. “M’sorry,” she murmured.

He sighed and listened to the sound of the tires thrumming against the road for a bit.

“M’sorry I called y’a brat in front of your friends... Can y’please...try t’be...I don’t know...good for me? I like t’think m’not that bad of a guy. M’not that bad at m’job...that I give y’enough space...that we’re...okay.”

More silence until they parked. “You’re the best bodyguard I ever had,” she admitted quietly. “I didn’t mean to do that to you.”

He nodded. “Okay...I accept your apology. Can y’try t’be more mindful?”

She nodded in return. “I’ll try.”

“Call me next time, okay?”

“I don’t know your phone number,” she rolled her eyes.

“Well memorize it,” he sighed a touch of agitation in his tone. She should memorize it for emergencies. “And y’need a failsafe.”

“A what?”

“A failsafe. Assurance that if everything goes—”

“I know what a failsafe is, you ass. What do you mean I need one?”

He ignored her name calling. She deserved one after he called her a brat. “If...something happens t’you. Y’need a way t’get in touch with me. But something that no one else knows. Not even me. But s’got t’be easy enough for me t’figure out. We can go over some of them if y’want that others have used in the past so y’have some ideas t’work with,” he tapped on the steering wheel. “I know I said this was a job, but I do actually care about y’safety.”

She was silent for a few more moments. “If you yell at me like that in front of everyone again, I’ll kill you,” she promised opening her door to head back up to her apartment. He smirked.

“Maybe y’don’t need a failsafe; I pity the person that tries t’take you on.”

*

As frustrating as she could be, she was equally, if not more, lovely in that it made him forget all the paperwork and all the annoyance she caused him. They were on a Target run; she was wandering the aisles casually meandering at her leisure. Harry was eyeing her surroundings, assuring himself there was nothing that would put her in danger.

Honestly, some days he could see why she didn’t want a detail. She didn’t do anything that warranted protection and it didn’t seem like anyone was after her. Not once had he heard from or met with The Secretary of State. While he was grateful for a cushy job, he could see why she was always grumpy about it.

She was scanning new book titles on the shelf and placed two of them in her basket when she suddenly took off without warning. Harry followed after her, caught off guard by her quick pace mildly irritated him once more she evaded him. What he expected of her was never what happened.

She entered the dressing room area, making Harry more irritated that he couldn’t follow her immediately into the women’s section. He wanted to know what he missed, that had her running through the dressing room so fast that she dropped her basket full of mismatching items outside as she hurried back out almost as quickly as she went in.

“You didn’t see her, did you?” She asked Harry before he could ask her what the problem was.

He grabbed her basket that she left behind as she took off once more. He followed after her as she hurried through the other sections of the store.

“See who?” He asked almost running to keep up with her alert pace.

“Seriously?” She asked behind her. “You didn’t hear the frantic mother looking for her child? Aren’t you supposed to be watching for these things?”

He felt his mouth twitch to snap back at her, but she looked genuinely alarmed. Almost as alarmed as the employees in red shirts running around almost as quickly as she was. Despite the sympathetic pang he felt for the upset woman calling a little girl’s name out around the aisles, it wasn’t their problem. It especially wasn’t Harry’s problem who was assigned to watch the 24-year-old—so no, he didn’t really pay attention to the worry in the department store.

“M’sure she’s fine, love,” Harry said trying to assuage her worries. He felt bad, she was so worried. He even felt...awe for her. Her . But she wasn’t giving up it seemed, as she made a quick stop through the clearance section nearly causing Harry to twist an ankle at her sudden turn. She didn’t respond to Harry’s calming voice.

“Someone could have just walked off with her,” she remarked nervously.

Harry could see the fierceness in her eyes. She was resolute: they weren’t leaving the store until this girl was found. Sighing, Harry kept one eye on the girl he was paid to follow and another on the lookout for a small little one that was probably terrified.

Harry tried to tell her something about hideouts and the like, but it was unhelpful. They gleaned they were looking for an eight-year-old. “We’re not thinking like eight-year-olds,” she muttered suddenly and nearly left Harry in the dust as she all but sprinted toward the back of the store once more.

Harry found her crouched in the middle of the aisle, talking to the Halloween costumes on a rack. “Hey, cutie pie, whatcha looking for?” Her voice was soft and gentle.

“I lost my mommy,” the little voice whispered from the rack.

Harry found himself sighing with relief dropping her basket of things by her side. The little girl looked up at Harry suspiciously. She was hidden behind a dog costume and the tule of a tutu beside it. “That’s really scary,” the girl nodded. “I hate losing my mommy,” she said. The little one was still staring at Harry with nervousness.

“This is Harry,” she told her. “He’s tall, huh?” She smiled gently. “Can we help you find your mommy?”

“Mommy said no strangers,” she shook her head pressing herself firmly against the rack, her eyes watery. “I’m scared.”

The girl nodded, sitting on the floor, cross-legged. “Well, I think that’s really smart of you. Mommy would be really proud of you,” she had a comforting smile on her lips. “How about we stay here, and Harry will go get your mommy?”

Harry looked disgruntled as he made a noise in the back of his throat. He couldn’t leave her alone...even for the sake of a child. Even if they were just in a target. “Love,” he started.

She turned her head to Harry. “They are running around the store just to find someone,” she hissed under her breath before turning her gentle façade back to the little girl. “Whatcha got there?” She asked. “Halloween book?” She wondered.

The little one nodded, stepping cautiously off the display of costumes. Tentatively, she sat next to the woman that drove Harry up a wall most days. But right now, she was so gentle, so sweet. Harry felt nothing but pure adoration for her and her kindness to the little one. “Please?” She asked, turning back to Harry as the little one opened the book up and started showing her the pictures in the middle of the floor. Her expression was kind, warm, pleading.

Begrudgingly, Harry headed toward the front of the store in search of the terrified mother.

*

There was a bit of fanfare—especially after realization of who the woman was that found the little one and was reading a picture book on the dusty store floor. She paid no mind to it, said it was her pleasure to help.

After paying for her things, Harry opened the door for her to the SUV and she climbed inside. He felt a bit awestruck. Sure, she was the daughter of a top political official, but that fame didn’t really mean anything to Harry. He was more impressed with her gentle nature. Her kindness. She was cute with kids and had a fiercely protective streak of her own.

She didn’t even mention it; moreover, thought nothing of it, just scrolled through her phone. “Can we get coffee?” She asked.

He thought she might be his hero. Pain in the ass she was. “Course, love,” he murmured. Heroes needed a reward for their efforts. Even if they didn’t see it that way. “You drink an awful lot of coffee.”

“Biochemistry will do that to you,” she muttered, irritated by his remark. It clearly had been said to her before. Somehow, in that moment, Harry realized that she was also fiercely protective of herself. Maybe she had to be given how The Department talked about her behind her back. Maybe because everyone looked at her as if she didn’t know anything as a woman in a science major that Harry could hardly pronounce half the words for when he saw her notes on the coffee table.

“That was really cool of you,” he mumbled pulling into traffic toward the coffee shop. “The way y’helped that little girl.”

She turned to look at Harry. “She was scared,” she sounded defensive. Like Harry was mocking her.

“I know,” he said seriously. “Y’calmed her down and y’helped her. Was really nice,” he shrugged one shoulder hoping he sounded more sincere so she wouldn’t yell again.

She turned to the window. “I got lost at the store once with my dad,” she explained. “I was six. I was terrified. He didn’t even know I was lost until he drove home,” she mumbled. “It was the most terrified I’ve ever felt in my whole life.”

He pulled into the parking lot and she hurried out before Harry could say another word. He watched her intently as she stood in line, ordered, and returned with tea for Harry without even asking him if he wanted some. She was always very thoughtful toward him. Whether she annoyed him beyond belief or not.

For every moment of irritation, anxiety, and annoyance she had put him through thus far on this assignment, it all was swept clean as he thought about what she said. Her dad asking for a protection detail made no sense. Who loses their six-year-old without noticing? Was the protection detail some deep-seated need to fix his mistake all those years ago? What kind of political official could hold office with a straight face knowing his daughter had that kind of dirt on him? How could she not shout it from rooftops?

Harry was right. She had to be fiercely protective of herself because no one else was.

He hoped that eventually she would let him protect her just as much; maybe even stop her frustrating fleeing. Because despite the irritation she often caused, he was really starting to like the many sides of her.

--

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @youdontcaredoyou @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

Protection taglist: @youcouldstartacult @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @luxiorchive @ameerakane20 @daphnesutton @kathb59 @be-with-me-so-happily

[red-riding-wood]

Hi darling, I have a request for a drabble if you feel inspired. ❛ people like us don’t get to decide when we’re done. ❜ from the prompt list with Arthur Shelby.

People Like Us

Pairing: Arthur Shelby x F!Reader

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Warnings: graphic depiction of suicide attempts, blood and cutting, angst, comfort

WC: 1848

Definitely not just a drabble, got a bit carried away with this one. I'm sorry this is so late, Lee! Getting back on track with writing.

You’d thought everyone had left. But Arthur had remained; he always did, for at least a few minutes after, to make sure you were safe. He stood outside your door, watching the coppers stationed in the darkened alleys, occasionally knocking one’s teeth out when he didn’t think they were taking their watch over you seriously. Sometimes, when the night was most quiet, and the voices of those he’d damned did not plague his mind, he thought about admitting things to you – feelings, that you likely did not reciprocate.

Tonight, your bathroom light had been on, and your screeching pierced the walls of the residence and filled the night air of Birmingham like some sort of banshee.

Your eyes were foggy when the door swung open and the man nearly slipped making his way to you, a bruised hand clasping around the porcelain of the tub and a few locks of hair wisping over his eyes before the same hand was wrapping around you, pulling you up. Crimson streaked your vision as it dribbled down your wrist, pooling around you, staining the bathwater a pale, sickening shade of red. For one dreadful moment, you feared you might never escape it, that you would drown with the tang of bitter iron on your tongue and the blood-water would swallow your eyes, your throat, your ears.

But Arthur’s palm in yours was strong, and warm; it pumped a new life in your veins and sent shivers along your numb, tingling flesh, and heaved you from the waters of death in one dizzying sweep. Head rolling back, long fingers caught you, cradling you against the heat of his chest, the palpitations of his wild heart coming to you in shockwaves. Yours were frighteningly faint in comparison to his. 

You shivered in his arms – cold, suddenly, past the heat of the adrenaline – as your bare flesh met the biting air, curling in on yourself like a child. Everything took a second or two to register, maybe more – did time even exist? It must have; it must have, because you were fading fast. And Arthur was holding you, and your wet, metallic lips buried themselves in the soft fabric of his chest, desperate to hear the sound of his heartbeat drown out yours. Desperate to cling to the living.

“D – don’t let it take me,” you mumbled into his chest. He smelled like blood, bullets and sweat. He smelled like aftershave and cigarettes. He smelled like the lavender oil you’d given him to help him sleep among his demons. He smelled like home.

A thumb stroked lovingly over your drenched scalp. How could the same hands that had strangled a poor man to death last week be so gentle to you?

“No one’s takin’ you, love.” His hot breath sent another shiver through you, down the nape of your neck. But his words quivered. “Not as long as there is breath in me goddamn breast.”

The remnants of the red tide clung to your bare skin, ringlets of drenched hair clinging to your neck, threatening to choke the life from you. In the pitch black of your mind, it frothed at the seams, spilling into the void that seemed to span wider, and wider, until you were lost in the middle of an ocean.

“Arth… Ar…” Delirious, spinning – everything was spinning. Your nails dug into his skin, fabric bunching in your shaking fist, and you gasped, aftershave and blood and lavender all flooding your senses before blackness came to you in a staccato rhythm, once and twice and once and twice and twice and once and thrice…

---

Your blood was starting to dry on Arthur’s shirt when he came inside to see you. He’d injured two men when they tried taking you from him during your blood transfusion, and he’d nearly killed another as he’d been dragged to the alleyway behind the hospital. There, he kicked at brick walls ‘til the leather of shoes peeled, and punched ‘til his shoulders screamed in their sockets and his knuckles split open. Cursed that damned god of his for letting this happen to you, threatened that if he did not return you to him, he would bring Hell down on the heavens.

His neck still burned with an inflamed red mark where he’d torn the chain of the cross from his neck, the metal now stained with your blood, too. Everything, everything was painted in it, everywhere he looked, and his own bloodied knuckles clenched around the cross tightly.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Shelby. I didn’t know – “

“Just lemme see ‘er,” Arthur told the nurse, the gruff of his voice nearly cracking from his wailing and screaming in the alley. The only reason they had let him in was because of the name he bore, and once he knew you were okay he’d personally see to it that each one of them understood the repercussions of denying a Shelby.

Like a mouse under the stare of a mad dog, the nurse scurried off, doors shutting and leaving the room quiet save for the steady beeping, and the creak of the floor beneath Arthur’s torn shoes.

Watery eyes took in your half-conscious form, curled up in the hospital bed just as you’d been curled in his arms, a light gown draped over you. You were still shivering.

While relief settled in the pit of his twisting stomach, grief still knotted his throat, and as much as he tried to hold the tears back, he tasted both salt and blood on his tongue as he lowered himself beside you, bloodied and ringed fingers ghosting across your arms, as if fearful that he would hurt you. 

A sliver of white light tore along the blackness, and your eyes squinted shut, a pain throbbing in your skull. Every thread of sinew and marrow seemed to ache, deep inside your body where you didn’t even know pain could exist, and the red tide lapped at the blurred edges of your mind as you lay flat on your little island in the middle of the sea. The rock beneath you was soft as you rolled your head over, a clean, unfamiliar scent seeming to send your mind into turmoil, shifting your reality between the light and dark, like a pendulum that swung across the white of the heavens, an eclipse that brought you pain and light one moment, darkness and cold the next.

The soft touch of the angel was warm along your arms as the light shattered the black sky, and you gasped. Its touch waned, and you arched your back to sit up, hand reaching feebly for it in the unknown. “Angel…” you thought you breathed. “Angel… don’t go. Don’t leave me here.”

Don’t leave me here to be swallowed by the red tide.

Your fingers grasped something tangible, something soft and warm, a fire burning beneath softness. Flesh, hot against your palms. Lavender and iron called to you, and finally, strong hands wrapped around you to pull you close.  

“I ain’t no angel,” a familiar, lulling voice spoke as light cleaved the darkness in two and tore it, strip by strip, from your starry gaze. “But I ain’t goin’ anywhere, love.”

“Arthur.” You smiled around the name, lashes fluttering as you blinked against his blurry visage. Messy strands of hair flopped over his winter-blue eyes, and you clung to the collar of his shirt, dizzy but supported by his hands on your spine, rough and worn against your skin where the hospital gown split.

The pendulum swung against your skull, and your gut roiled with nausea. Your eyes wandered to the wrists that had been bandaged, the red tide seeping into the white. Something beside you beeped to the swing of the pendulum, but broke its rhythm suddenly. Your heart leapt to your throat.

“Shhh,” Arthur said, thumb making little circles over your spine. “We’re gonna get you home, love.”

The red tide began to seep into the corners of your vision as images hurtled towards you in the wide, never-ending ocean. The bullets strewn across your end table, each etched with a name that would haunt your dreams as those before them had. The porcelain of a bathtub, as pallid as the boy’s face who’d taken shrapnel to his chest not twenty feet before your eyes. The heat of the blood-water, like the heat of the fire that had devoured the Garrison the night your innocence had been lost.

“I don’t want to go back,” you pleaded with him, panicking as you found yourself attached to a thin, red tube.

Your fists pummeled his chest weakly and your knees kicked against his leg, and your frail body writhed beneath his grasp, but despite his heart breaking, he did not release you. The burn of the chain he’d snapped from his neck reminded him of the rope that he’d tied years ago, and he could feel a chasm opening beneath his boots as his legs had kicked from under him like yours did now.

And as you finally began to settle, wracked by soft sobs, he cupped your cheek in his bloodied hand, and he looked into the same eyes that had saved him, as he repeated your own words back to you, the words that still echoed in his mind whenever he thought of pulling the trigger on the trouble in his head or tying another noose,

“People like us don’t get to decide when we’re done.”

God damn him, damn his selfish soul for the look in those eyes that had once been so strong, for the way your jaw trembled against his hand. His lip curled, quivering, another tear streaking across his face as he tried desperately to keep the last, frayed threads of his sanity from snapping. Tried to hold himself together so that he could save you.

Because as much as it broke his heart to see you like this, and as much as he cursed his brother but mostly himself for dragging you into this life, he could not lose you.

“You hear me?” Arthur’s voice rose as his fingers dug into your jaw, his gentleness overcome by desperation as the noose tightened round his neck. The hinges of the bed creaked as the wooden stool had, and you watched as his face flushed red. He was going to break.

You shimmied forward, wading through the red tide, finding the water to be shallow here as you crawled onto his lap and buried your face in the crook of his neck. Hugging him so tight that you kept the shattered pieces of him together. That you snapped the rope on his noose and he gasped for air against the lavender and blood of your scalp.

“I hear you,” you murmured into the warmth of his neck, and when you shut your eyes, you stood ashore from the red tide. The sweat and tears against his flesh still smelled of the sea, and though these waters thrashed, they ran clear. And you knew that your angel would guide you through them.

MASTERLIST • REQUEST

Please let me know if you would like to be added/removed to any of my taglists and notified of new works!

Taglist: @emotionalcadaver @evita-shelby @minaethrym @shelbydelrey @zablife

[merbear25]

It's for the one hundred followers event (the add to my previous ask😅)

I know it probably sounded a bit silly to ask for clarification, but the seven threw me off a bit 😂 But thank you for the request!

I went with some headcanons and a drabble since I felt inspired. I hope you like it 🥰

Vampire AU with Germany x reader

He'd probably live in a quaint cottage in the mountains.

He'd have dogs to help ease the lonely nights, seeing as he can't form normal relationships. Unfortunately, he's had this issue long before being cursed with immortality.

Prefers the serenity of being surrounded by nature and only goes into town to buy things for general upkeep around the property and for his dogs.

Would do his best to refrain from drinking from people; it wouldn't necessarily be out of a sense of morality but more to do with not knowing where they'd been. He'd take the risk of contracting diseases very seriously.

He'd come to terms with the fact that he'd live out his immortal life in solitude. Whenever he went to the shops, he'd see couples every now and then, as well as groups of friends enjoying their night out together.

Standing under the street light, watching them exchange laughs, he looked up at the snow beginning to drift from the sullen clouds. He knew deep down that he was lying to himself—he wanted companionship.

He arrived home just as the snow storm was rolling in. Being greeted by his German Shepards always brought on some warmth to his still heart, but they could only give him so much in their short-lived exsistance.

The knocks at the front door caused him to shoot up. He was yet again caught off guard when the knocking persisted—their urgency rising.

Swinging it open, he glared at his unwelcomed visitor. When you were too slow to state your purpose, he curtly asked, "What is it?"

Feeling a wave of fear suddenly wash over you, you finally managed to choke out, "My car broke down and I can't get any service."

When he didn't react to this, you decided to continue explaining your reasoning for disturbing him, "Could I please use your phone? I'll be quick. I promise!"

Stepping aside to let you enter, the smell of your blood permeated the room. You looked around but couldn't find any sign of a phone, "Sorry, but where's your phone?" When you turned around, chills ran down your spine. Menace loomed from behind his eyes; he closed the door without taking them off of you.

"There's one in the other room. I'll show you to it."

Unsure of how to properly evade any danger, you thought it'd be best to remain calm. Muttering a prayer to whomever may be listening, you trailed behind him.

As soon as you entered the room, he had you in a trance; suddenly the murderous intention he'd been giving off was being replaced by a craving for him.

Clinging your body to his, he overpowered you easily, consequently making you collapse beneath his weight.

Gripping at your neck, he was careful not to startle you any further. Looking into your eyes, he saw how they darted trying to comprehend his intentions. Gently, he laid each finger on the front of your throat, tracing your pulse under his finger tips—debating whether or not to give into temptation. A poor soul like you who was unfortunate enough to have troubles leading you to his front door should be easy pickings for him.

Moving in closer, his hypnosis was sedating you. Your eyes rolled back, letting him lick at the intended point of trauma. Feeling your fists, which were gripping at his biceps tightly, release their grasp only increased his uncertainty of following through with it.

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝓣𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓒𝓪𝓻𝓮. [Teaser]

Jungkook loves his job, his life, his coworkers. He loves the smell of rain, loves the coolness of his bedsheets when he comes home and falls into his bed after a long day, loves the sometimes angry drunk people he's got to deal with, and loves the quiet children he takes care of when they've got into trouble. But you? That's gonna be a whole different level of love.

Tags/Warnings: Hospital/Medical AU, Doctor!Jungkook, slightly aged up!Jungkook, Hybrid!Reader, Dog Hybrid!Reader, another slightly heavy one but the comfort is strong with this hurt, angst, fluff, romance, strangers to lovers, blood, medical stuff, mentions of domestic (physical and mental) abuse, corruption, more TBA

Length: story is currently split into 5 parts, but could end up longer if you guys want.

-> Masterlist

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

Jungkook has given an oath to protect life, and he's aware of that- but he hopes whoever's up there above makes an exception for him when he has to commit a murder in the next few minutes.

"You better have a real good reason to ping me out of my bed at 3 in the fucking morning.!" Jungkook growls under his breath, walking into the staff room where Namjoon seems to have already been waiting. "The ER is empty- so is my bed, when I should be in it! Why am I here?" He whines, changing out of his clothes and into his scrubs- his shift is gonna start at 5 anyways, so it won't really be smart to go back home after whatever is going on that needs his attention so badly is done.

"Trust me, I hate ringing you out of your sleep." Namjoon sighs, as he slides a clipboard towards the young doctor, who slips on his shoes before he takes it to read over it. "Take a good look at it, and tell me what's fishy about it." He asks, and Jungkook adjusts his glasses, reading through all the medical jargon written down in handwriting he used to be unable to read.

"Are you trying to test me here?" Jungkook asks annoyed, though he keeps his attention mostly on the clipboard, moving page after page to find what his friend and coworker seems to be hinting at.

"No, I'm serious." Namjoon questions, crossing his arms.

The seriousness in his voice makes Jungkook focus a bit more, looking through everything when he flips a page back and forth. "Wait, that doesn't make sense.." He mumbles to himself, and Namjoon seems relieved that his best friend has seemingly found the issue as well. "How the hell does one get stabbed three times 'on accident'?" Jungkook questions, shaking his head. "On the thigh, too?" He wonders, looking at Namjoon in front of him.

"Owner said the patient had 'moved around' while he tried to remove the butter knife, forcing it back in twice." Namjoon offers, and Jungkook scoffs.

"Come on, stabbing someone with something as dull as a butter knife is already pretty impossible to achieve." The young doctor questions. "But really? And anyone believed him?" He wonders, looking through the vitals once more.

"Read the name again. The owner's, not the patient's." He asks, and Jungkook's eyes widen.

"Jo Dongsun? So that's why they're just gonna shrug it off?" He asks. "Cause he's an actor?"

"Probably." Namjoon sighs, walking back to take a sip from his cold coffee on the table. "But that's not.. entirely why I pinged you." He says, peaking Jungkook's interest as he's finally awake and alert enough, fully back in work-mode. "The patient- poor thing is refusing any up-close treatment, has to be put on local anesthetics, and you know that's not ideal." The young doctor says, walking out the door with his friend at his side, walking back into the ER. "And you've got a hand for things like that. Maybe you can try and make her feel more comfortable so we won't have to medicate her this much?" He asks, and Jungkook nods.

Hybrids are pretty sensitive to most human medications- their bodies still being studied, many side effects still being explored and explained. But until they're understood to the degree that the world understands the human body, they have to work with that they have- and adjust everything else. It's why people like Jungkook are so vital to today's medical system- he's talented in creating solutions for problems no one else would think of, keeps his studies up to date, and is most of all compassionate and kind even to the wildest of patients.

He's also got a certified degree proving his top knowledge when it comes to hybrid care specifically. It's why Namjoon had even proposed the idea to everyone to move you into Jungkook's care instead, though some aren't really on board with it, considering his rather.. wild attitude so to speak. He won't back into whatever the man will try and tell him happened- he will try and get to the bottom of this, no matter how much impact that guy has.

If he has to ruin a career to save a life, he will.

"I'll do my best. If it's a domestic abuse case she's probably pretty terrified." Jungkook mumbles more or less to himself, before he seems to arrive at the corner you're hidden in, curtains giving you some privacy. He doesn't know what to expect, really- even though he's read all of your data, everything he needs to know about your physical and mental state- he still won't know what he's dealing with until he goes behind that curtain.

And nothing in the world could've prepared him for what's behind that said curtain, as he pulls it back and catches his first glimpse of you.

[braineater444]

To Be a Princess

Chapter 4

Last/Next

fem!reader x kokonoi/bonten

TW: Disordered eating, Mass murder, Depersonalization, Poor proofreading

A/N: This is pretty heavy because I've been in a rough place recently. Read with discretion.

The last two months have effectively blurred into each other. It’s been all the same. You wake up, Hajime dresses you, and you go nowhere. He leaves and if you’re lucky, Haruchiyo is forced to watch you. If you’re unlucky, you’re cuffed to the bed and stuck in your room all day. 

“Eat this and we can go.” Hajime slides you a decently sized pork cutlet sandwich and you get to work on it without a second thought. 

It hurts your stomach to eat so much after such a long time of eating so little. Your throat is even rejecting it a little. It takes more energy to chew and swallow than you’d anticipated. You definitely should be taking it slower, but you need to get out of this place. You’ve been going stir-crazy. 

At least it’s a really good sandwich. Even if it pains you to eat and give him what he wants, you can appreciate a good piece of meat.

When you’re done, you slide the plate to him, and he kisses your forehead.

“Thank you.” He smiles.

✮✮✮

It’s good that Hajime is letting you tag along today because you’ve started to eat the stuffing in your pillow. Not a lot. Maybe a fistful. A decent fistful every day for about a week. He hasn’t noticed, or if he has, he’s kept his mouth shut. But you try your best to hide it. You re-fluff the pillow you keep pulling down out of and flip it, so the torn side isn’t showing. If you eat any more feathers, you might get sick though, and that’s not ideal. You should be sick, right? If you are, you haven’t noticed.

“So, do you like Haruchiyo?” Hajime asks, not taking his eyes off of the road.

“He’s alright. Weird. But he smells good. I think his teeth are fake.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” It’s a lot to explain. You realized it once when the Haitanis were over. Rindou has charmingly, somewhat crooked teeth and Ran’s teeth are perfect. Sanzu’s teeth are good at passing for real when you don’t look too hard or have anything to compare them to. 

“Not all of them are fake.” Hajime says matter-of-factly.

“How do you know?” You rest your head against the window.

“I took him to go get the implants.”

“What? What happened?”

“Ran knocked three of them out. All in the front of his mouth.”

“That doesn’t make sense. What do you mean?”

“He does a lot of drugs. His teeth were on their way out, anyway.” Hajime smiles at the thought. “I didn’t want to see him missing so many teeth, though, so I took him to start getting them fixed the next day.”

“Yeah, but why did Ran hit him?”

Hajime shrugs. “There could be several reasons. I think he needed it either way.” He thinks for a second. “I just remember that Haruchiyo came to me with his teeth in his hand and he told me Ran did it. There was so much blood, he kept choking on it when he cried.”

Hajime seems amused by recalling it. He tries to suppress smiles and keep seriousness in his tone, but here and there it sounds like he’s telling you a pleasant dream he had. 

“Why don’t you like him?” You prod. It’s not your business, but in the past months you’ve developed quite the attachment to Haru and while you can see tons of reasons for someone not to like him, Hajime seems deeper than the surface level.

He goes quiet in thought and then starts. 

“He’s a jackass. I know I’m far from being a good person myself, but he takes it to a whole different level. His personality is grating. He doesn’t listen. And while he’s second in charge, it’s only for show. His bullshit falls on me all the time and I’m stuck with work I don’t want.” He clenches his jaw, and his hands tighten around the steering wheel. He seethes, “If being second in command was as simple as sucking Mikey’s dick, anyone could do it.”

“Wow.”

“Don’t get me wrong, it’d be easier to not hate him if he was incompetent. Okay? But he’s not. He’s very smart, and that’s what gets on my nerves. It’s like he does dumb shit on purpose, and I always have to fix it.”

“Must suck.”

“It does, but it’s fine. I’m going to outlive him.”

✮✮✮

A black-haired man slides up to your open window and starts talking before you can process who he is or what he’s saying. 

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Oh, uh, they’re in his glove box. The cigarettes. I just need one.” He’s a very polite man. Very handsome too. Even with the scar marking a solid quarter of his face. 

You’ve met him before, right? At the club? Had to be.

“Here.” You hand him the cigarette.

He starts to walk away but stops in his tracks. “You don’t want to get out?”

He’s opening your door and offering you his hand before you can think about it. You take it. How could you not?

“It’s weird that he left you in the car when it’s so hot.” He guides you to where a group of people are standing and talking.

For the first time in the fifteen minutes that you’ve been here, you realize that you’re in the middle of an empty shipping yard.

You look around at all the faces and then turn around to take in the entire scene. A bunch of well-dressed men in an empty shipping yard? What the fuck is going on?

“Calm down.” A friendly voice cuts through all the noise.

Rin. Why?

He checks his phone. “Kakucho, Mikey needs you. Keep your phone on you.” He says to the man that guided you here.

Kakucho walks away.

Something’s not right. Where’s Koko? Why are you here?

“Rin, I want to go home.”

He looks at you as if he’s considering helping you. Your eyes dart around, and you see Takeomi laughing with a man who has severe eyebrows and a goatee. You’ve seen him before. Other men are laughing too, but you’re not acquainted. You should leave.

“Let’s go over here,” Rindou says as he leads you to the side of his SUV where no one can see you.

“What is going on?” You ask plainly. “Why are we here?”

He scratches his head. “We have to kill a couple of people.”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

The sun feels hotter. Your palms feel sweatier even through your sheer black gloves. You want to run, but you can’t in these heels, so you walk. Or so you start to walk. Rindou grabs your arm and pushes you right back against the door.

“I can’t. I can’t. Please.” Your nose tingles at the onset of tears. 

“You will be fine.”

“No. I won’t. Rin. Please.”

“Stop fucking crying.” He forces out, irritated. “Do you want something to make you calm down a little? I might be able to find a pill.”

You shake your head.

“Then calm down.”

You try. Your hands smooth over the cotton fabric of your minidress. Once. Twice. Three times. Again, and again and again. But the tears don’t stop. Your head falls to your chest. 

“Fuck.” He grunts. There is a split second where he’s all but throwing you into the backseat. You can feel your dress ride up and you know you flash him and when you’re situated, he looks at his watch as says, “You have about fifteen minutes to cry and then you have to be out there.” Before slamming the door.

You beat at the headrest in front of you and sob. He stands with his back to the door as if nothing is happening. This is why Hajime didn’t put any makeup on you. He saw this coming.

You scream into your hands and the fabric of those sheer polyester gloves burns when it rubs against your eyes. 

You’d give everything not to be you.

The rest of the tears are silent. You lay your head back and just let them fall with the occasional hiccup here and there. There’s no more relief in screaming after it starts to hurt and it never got you anywhere, anyway.

✮✮✮

It’s more people than you’d expected. You count all the way up to twenty-five. Twenty-two grown men in their underwear, heads bowed in shame and their knees pressed to the shipping yard dirt and gravel. One woman and her two kids are in the same position but wearing the clothes they’d go about their daily lives in. Elementary school uniforms and nursing scrubs.

The two kids cry. They’ve done nothing wrong, and they can’t understand what’s going on. 

At least one hundred people are standing around watching this, and you are the only one who seems to feel anything. Rindou has his arm resting over your shoulders and when you look at his face, it’s blank. Ran’s too. 

Kakucho brings in a last man. He’s been beaten. Some of his nails are missing. He limps when he walks. Rindou and his brother titter. Of course they find this is funny. How long has it been since they’ve been full people?

The man bows to the detained before turning his back to them and getting on his knees. There’s a moment of breathlessness before the kids run to be at his side, hugging his half-naked body. They’re screaming and crying and begging their dad to tell them what’s happening. He stays silent. Everyone does.

Twenty-six people in total will die.

Mikey, Haruchiyo and Hajime appear. You can hear every one of their footsteps.

“Apologize to the team you let down.” Hajime isn’t yelling, yet his voice is strikingly clear.

The man yells. “I’m sorry for steering you all wrong and now you have to die because of my mistakes.” He’s shaking. Despite his confident voice, every inch of him is wrought with fear. There’s no denying it.

“Now apologize to them individually,” Hajime commands. The warm wind lifts his hair, and he almost looks like God. Mikey stands silently beside him and Sanzu stalks back and forth between the rows of men with a gun in his hand. You can tell he’s eager to do this. He’s more dressed up than you’ve ever seen him. Everyone is.

“Nakamura Touma!” There’s a loud wail at the sound of the name. “I’m sorry!”

Haruchiyo is quick. There’s the sound of a gun being fired, the woman’s scream, and grown men crying.

It’s real. You see the brain matter splatter on to the people nearest to Touma. You watch everyone flinch at the sound. The kids cower into their father. The woman folds in on herself to sob.

You stand in shock.

“Maekawa Yuichi! I’m sorry!”

It’s nothing for Haruchiyo to kill again. It’s just as fast as the last time. He executes the man with a smile. There are no second thoughts or regrets. He just lines his gun up and pulls the trigger.

This time, you’re not frozen in fear. You turn away at the sound of another namel. You’re faced with Ran’s chest and there’s a scuffle between you and both brothers. They force you to turn around.

It’s just in time for Haruchiyo to locate the man and put him to death. 

“Don’t you ever turn your back. It’s bad manners.” Rindou jeers into your ear. 

Your head falls as you start to cry again. Rindou’s hand comes to your hair to force your head back up. You’re met with an unreadable glance from Hajime. 

The bodies fall name after name. Some men pee on themself before being done away with. It’s too cruel for you. You’ve never wanted to live in a world like this.

The numbers whittle down until the man is left with his wife and kids. 

“Say sorry to your family.” Hajime sounds actually angry. The man doesn’t speak. It seems like the impact comes before the actual kick to the head Hajime delivers. The kids scurry away as Koko yells.

“Tell your wife you’re sorry!” He leans into the man’s ear. “Are you deaf?”

“Emiko!” He projects over the shrill screams of his children. “I’m sorry. Our financial troubles are my fault and I should have told you what was going on. I did this behind your back and it’s my fault—“

The sound of Sanzu’s gun going off is its own sick timer. He’s killed the wife before her husband can fully apologize.

Hajime is stoic. Unbothered. The kids’ screaming explodes into something worse. Something indescribable. They’re the type of screeches that claw at your insides and assure you’ll never be well again. 

“Dead or orphaned?” Sanzu shouts to the man. It’s a question that’s impossible to answer.

✮✮✮

The screams have died. Non-executive members clear out. The Haitanis stay right next to you. Your feet are cemented into the earth. They gather around you as if you’re leading them.

Mikey speaks.

“Mochi, find someone to clean this up by tonight.” His voice is low, the wind is louder. He speaks calmly and precisely. “Rindou. Ran. Find the oldest son and ex wife. Kill them.”

They don’t object. They just nod. 

“I’m going home.” Is the last thing he says before turning away. Haruchiyo trails after him.

They all disperse like nothing happened

Ran pets your head before heading to his car. Rindou bumps you with his elbow before leaving, too. 

It’s like nothing happened.

Blood, piss, the salt of your tears, cologne. You can smell it in the air as you’re dragged back into the car. 

Your stomach churns and your mouth feels like it’s full of slime. There’s spit filling your mouth and in place of crying, you vomit. 

It’s stomach acid and that sandwich. You cough and then more stomach acid comes up. Hajime rubs your back as you lean over. All stomach acid comes up the next time. 

You hyperventilate, trying to catch your breath. Spit drips off of your lips. You start to shake and you’re finally able to make a noise for the first time in minutes. 

You let out a caterwaul. It rips itself through your vocal cords and punches out all the air in your body. 

“It’s okay. You’re okay.” Hajime helps you into the passenger seat as you howl. It’s agony.

When he takes his seat you try to speak, but all you can do is let out tortured noises. 

Your hands reach out to grab him and you bawl into his chest. When his hands come up in an effort to comfort you, something snaps.

You’re swinging without thought, and you don’t stop. You hit everything, but you know you mean to hit him. You punch and slap him over and over. Even the steering wheel is a victim of your fury.

For a moment, Hajime is letting you have this. Then there’s a switch where he’s on top of you with his hands around your neck and your heeled feet flailing to kick him.

It’s cramped, and every sound feels as loud as Haruchiyo’s gun.

“Stop.” He speaks gently as he strangles you.

You manage a sound resembling “why?” but you don’t know what you’re asking it for.

What?

His hair drapes like a beautiful curtain around you. You’re running out of air and your fingers are gripping at his wrists. Your dress is up your back. You can’t calm down.

“I said stop.”

You quit flailing. He lets you go. You hack and sit up as he returns to the driver’s seat.

You sob the entire way home.

✮✮✮

“There’s vomit on your dress.” He speaks softly as he unzips you and drops the new dress to the floor.

He slides your gloves off and takes a chance to feel at each of your hands. Next, your bra. He gropes your breasts with fervor. He hasn’t been this rough before a bath, ever.

You can only let it happen. You can see yourself from above as it happens. Your hair is messed up and you’re slouched over like a broken animatronic. You don’t move.

From above, you see him drop to his knees and kiss your stomach. You hear his voice like it’s being played on a shitty speaker.

“I couldn’t think of another way of showing you how well I protect you.”

You see yourself nod.

“You’ve been difficult lately, and I wanted to- I don’t know.” His hands grip at your hips. He puts his forehead against your stomach. “There’s people like that man that would’ve killed you.” He says, muffled.

He looks back up at you with teary eyes. “I’m just trying to keep you safe and I want to take care of you, but—” He searches for the words. “I don’t know how to show you that you’re better here with me.”

Your body nods.

“Please forgive me. I’m sorry.”

He hugs your waist with his face to your stomach.

You stand frozen as you return to your body. 

[fanficsfreeideas]

soulmates

Chapter 2: pregnancy test

Alastor slumped against the counter, his complexion becoming pale and clammy. The room whirled around him, and he had barely registered Angel Dust's presence until the demon's voice pierced through the fog in his brain. "Smiles; you don't look so hot," Angel stated. "You look like me after I had to screw some poor sap for Val that smelled like trash." Despite the surge of illness that tried to overwhelm him, Alastor tensed and forced himself to stand erect. He'd been unwell for weeks, but he'd managed to keep it hidden from everyone at the hotel until now. His red eyes narrowed as he flashed Angel a false smile. "My feminine fellow, I'm feeling great, so why don't you leave the kitchen?"

Angel arched an eyebrow, obviously unconvinced. He wasn't blind; he'd witnessed Smiles hugging the toilet, tears streaming down his cheeks as he wept into it. He chuckled under his breath at the memory. It would be humorous if Smiles was pregnant, but it would imply he had sex, and everyone knew the powerful Radio Demon didn't have sex. Alastor growled, trying to bring out his usual voice, but it sounded weak and shaky. "Angel, get out of my kitchen," he commanded.

Before Angel could react, Alastor doubled over and started vomiting on the floor. When the sound of retching filled the room, Angel's usual smile was replaced by genuine concern. Before Alastor could collapse, he was held upright with unexpected care. "Okay, Smiles, I got you," Angel responded, as he raised the demon with ease. "Up you go. Smiles, you need to gain some weight—you're so light! Alastor's head spun, and his surroundings became blurry. He had only wanted to prepare something to eat to settle his stomach, but now he could barely keep his eyes open. "Hey, Smiles, are you listening to me?" Angel asked, his voice filled with concern. With a feeble murmur, Alastor replied and fell asleep moments later.

Silently cursing, Angel clenched his hold on the demon. "All right, I'm taking you to Charlie," decided Angel. "She will know what to do. If it were a hangover, I could handle it, but you're sick." As Angel took Alastor from the kitchen into Charlie's chambers, Alastor muttered something incoherent. Angel Dust's normally flirtatious and seductive manner gave way to genuine worry as he ran down the dimly lighted hallway, gently cradling Alastor's unconscious body. Despite his typical imposing appearance, the Radio Demon appeared helpless and feeble in Angel's embrace.

Husk's sharp eyes widened in surprise as he noticed Angel rushing by with Alastor. "What happened?" he questioned, a rare emotion bursting through his customary stoicism. "Something's seriously wrong with Smiles," Angel said, anxiety creeping into his voice. "I need your help." Husk crossed his arms, his frown growing deeper. "I'm not a doctor, Angel." What are you expecting me to do? "Please accompany me. "I'm taking him to Charlie," Angel replied frantically, rushing towards Charlie's room. Husk banged on the door to Charlie's room for Angel. "Charlie! It's urgent; open up!" Angel continued, his tone intense and begging. Even Husk was concerned due of the overwhelming sense of gravity surrounding this situation.

When Charlie opened the door and saw Alastor being carried by Angel as Husk trailed after, her eyes grew wide with shock and concern. "What happened?" she exclaimed. "I found him in the kitchen, looking like death had warmed over," Angel explained as he carefully placed Alastor down. "He had been sick for weeks but was attempting to hide it. I suppose it caught up with him. Charlie's expression darkened with concern as she brushed a strand of hair off Alastor's damp forehead, her fingertips lingering on his skin. "He never shows anyone his vulnerability. "This is serious. Vaggie, who had been nearby, joined them with a bleak expression.

"The asshole is too proud to seek assistance, even when he is in dire need. But this goes beyond his pride." The room fell silent for a while as everyone turned to Alastor, wondering how long he had been suffering in silence. An anxious look disturbed Angel's face, and his lips pressed together. "I know it sounds insane, but what if Alastor is... pregnant?" Charlie's eyes widened in disbelief. "It's impossible, Angel. Alastor isn't the type..." Husk's eyes widen. "I think Angel might be right. I smelt Lucifer and Adam on him two months. It was as though they had claimed him for themselves."

Vaggie spoke up in disbelief. "What? That is not even funny! "They despise one another!" Husk shrugged awkwardly, avoiding Charlie and Vaggie's surprised looks. " There has been a growing friendship between them, and one day I smelled them on Boss—all over him. It was as if they had submerged him in it, claiming him as their own. Then I observed small things, like when they would sing close to him or occasionally brush up against him, which always caused him to snap at them and walk away. Boss began smelling like your father and Adam; they'd been courting him for months." And will Boss must have given them a chance then.

Charlie and Vaggie both made horrified looks at the idea. Angel chuckled as if amused by the revelation. "C'mon, It's a little kinky. Charlie seems shocked at the idea of her father engaging in such acts. "I didn't need to know that about my dad." Vaggie scowled at Husk. "That's just disgusting." Husk, however, just grinned at the couple's response. "Hey, the boss gave them a chance, and they took it.

"So what happens now?" Charlie inquired, her attention shifted to Alastor with concern. "Will he be alright?" Husk's lips curved into a smile. "He'll live, Unfortunately, it appears that he suffers from morning sickness." However, it is important to get a pregnancy test so that the boss cannot ignore the proof in front of him. "If you want, I can go get you a pregnancy test," Husk said. "When he wakes up, he can use it." Vaggie chimed in, her tone stern. "No, I will get the test. Angel, please go to the kitchen and make something for the 'asshole' to eat. Husk, returns to tending the bar. In case Adam and Lucifer arrive. "While Charlie and I handle this." As Vaggie left to get the test, Angel sent Charlie a glance. "So, are you okay with your dad and all of this?"

Charlie released an uneasy chuckle. "I'll be delighted for both them and Adam. I don't want to hear Husk comment about Alastor's smell." Charlie felt nauseous at the prospect of Husk recounting how they drowned Alastor with their' scent'. Angel laughed as he left to follow Vaggie's directions. Meanwhile, Charlie sat next to Alastor and softly stroked his hair as he slept soundly on her lap. She couldn't help but feel a surge of warmth and affection for her friend.

Alastor woke up from his sleep, a beautiful melody echoing in his head like a dream. As he gently opened his eyes, he felt a smooth hand glide through his hair, which was curiously reassuring and relaxing. His confusion and discomfort gave way to worry as he realized he was lying in Charlie's lap. "Charlie, dear, what is going on?" Alastor asked, his voice sluggish and weak as he attempted to make sense of his unexpected situation. Charlie's face shone with relief and delight as she shouted, "Oh, you're finally awake!" Her nervousness caused her to speak a little louder than she had planned. "You have been sleeping for an hour! Al, you scared us all. When Angel brought you to me, I was deeply worried. Please never conceal your illness from me again. I never want to experience that type of fear again.

As she talked, tears welled up in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. Charlie began crying, her tears dropping on Alastor's face. "My dear," Alastor said, striving to rise to console her but feeling a wave of dizziness rush over him. Vaggie pushed him back down quickly before he could respond. "Alright, dumbass, stay still," Vaggie demanded, her voice keen with alarm. "I don't need you puking all over the carpet or my girlfriend." Charlie fought a laugh through her tears at Vaggie's outburst.

"Al, please don't puke on me. Angel had to clean up the kitchen before he could prepare you soup." Alastor was overcome with embarrassment as recollections of what had happened in the kitchen returned to him. "My dear, I apologize for having to put you and the others through such a sight," he remarked in an apologetic and somber tone. "Hey, moron," Vaggie interrupted, her tone lowering slightly. "You are a member of this dysfunctional family we have here. We genuinely care about you. So, Mr. Great and Powerful Radio Demon, as soon as you're able to stand, march your scrawny ass into that bathroom and take this pregnancy test. She grinned slyly.

"Oh, Alastor, we know you slept with Charlie's father and Adam, so don't even think about lying. Husk smelled them all over you. Alastor's cheeks flushed scarlet, his normally cool composure cracking beneath the weight of Vaggie's remarks. They'd discovered his one nightstand. He was going to object when a knock on the door cut him off. Knock, knock. I received a text that our Sleeping Beauty had awoken, and I brought some food to help you feel better." Angel entered the room, carrying a dish of steaming soup, crackers, and tea. He smiles cheerfully at Alastor, yet his eyes are filled with genuine concern.

While Angel was saying, "Oh, look who's awake," Alastor could tell that he was truly worried. Don't ever frighten me like that again, smiles. I had to catch you before you collapsed in your puke, and you then passed out on me." He leaned in closer and asked teasingly, "Do you need help eating?" Alastor attempted to protest, but before he could say anything, Vaggie came by his side. She gently helped him up and propped pillows behind his back. Vaggie placed the tray on Alastor's lap as he sank into the pillows. "Here you go, eat up," she remarked, her usually harsh tone unexpectedly warm.

Alastor gazed at the bowl of soup for a while, inhaling its comforting scent. He hesitated for a moment before taking up the spoon. As he took a timid mouthful, his eyes opened in amazement at the warmth and comfort it brought to his exhausted body. He lost himself in the momentary pleasure of a delicious meal, forgetting he was sick. As Alastor ate his lunch, the rest of the group crowded together, their voices barely above a whisper. The tension in the air was apparent, and Vaggie couldn't help but steal looks at Alastor, who appeared strangely calm despite the news they had just given him. Charlie nodded in agreement, her voice still low.

"I believe he's exhausted to comprehend everything completely. It might be for the better." She gave Alastor a cautious glance because she was aware of how challenging he could be in his prime.Angel leaned in, his words barely audible. When I was heading up here, Lucifer and Adam came back. They were heading towards Husk. Should I go deal with it, or should I just text Husk?Charlie's thoughts raced with options as she pondered Angel's question. "No, I will tell Husk not to say anything just yet. We need Alastor to take his test before unleashing him on Dad and Adam."As Vaggie considered the impending conflict, a smirk pulled at her lips.

"Dad should have paid more attention to Al while he had the chance," Charlie murmured, her eyes mischievously gleaming. The group exchanged knowing looks, anticipating an explosive confrontation between Alastor and the two men who knocked him up. It was destined to be a spectacular performance.As the talk progressed, Vaggie's words pierced the silence like a sharp razor. "Hey, shitass, are you ready to pee on a stick for us?" Her words hung in the air, filled with anticipation and anxiety. With a look of resignation, Alastor arched an eyebrow. "I would prefer to do anything other than urinate on that stick, but it seems I have no choice in the matter." He delicately pushed the tray aside and slowly rose, his movements careful and graceful. "Do you need any assistance, Smiles?" With a playful yet sincere tone, Angel enquired. Taking the pregnancy test from Vaggie's outstretched hand, Alastor gave him a sardonic glance and said, "I can manage to urinate on a stick by myself; thank you."The group laughed as he headed toward the restroom, echoing behind him until the door clicked shut.

Its closing was accompanied by heavy silence that settled over the room like a thick fog. Charlie nervously twisted her hands in her lap, her thoughts racing as she awaited the outcome. Vaggie folded her arms tightly across her chest, her normally rough appearance softened by the worry in her gaze. Meanwhile, Angel fiddled with his phone, taking brief peeks toward the bathroom door every few seconds. The minutes passed at an agonizing rate. After what seemed like a lifetime, the bathroom door cracked open. Alastor stepped out, his expression unchanged as he clutched the test in his hand. As they waited for him to speak, the group tensed and held their breath. After saying calmly, "Charlie dear, if you'll excuse me, I need to murder your father and the first man," Alastor turned on his heel and left the room without saying anything else.

Angel glanced at both Charlie and Vaggie, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "So, should we follow him, or just wait to hear the screams?"

Charlie grinned, her eyes sparkling with a mix of excitement and satisfaction. "Let them start screaming first," she replied, her tone light yet firm.

Vaggie raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "Wow, babe, I didn't know you had that in you," she said with a grin.

Charlie laughed a sense of vindication in her voice. "It'll make my dad think twice before knocking up one of my friends. He could have at least checked on how Al was doing." Her smile faded slightly, replaced by a hint of frustration. "But no, he kept on disappearing and left us to find out."

Vaggie placed a reassuring hand on Charlie's shoulder. "Don't worry, babe. Alastor's going to give them hell, and they deserve every bit of it."

Charlie nodded, her expression softening. "You're right. They won’t know what hit them." She paused, a hint of affection in her voice as she added, "But I still can't believe my dad didn't even bother to check on him."

Angel chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. "Well, they’re about to get a very loud reminder." He glanced at the door Alastor had stormed out of, a wicked grin on his face. "I’m almost tempted to grab some popcorn."

[thezombieprostitute]

Mace + 38?

...because they're running out of time.

Ask is based on this post.

A/N: My brain went a little weird on this one. I've never written this kind of fantasy setting before. Feedback would be greatly appreciated!

Word Count: < 1k

Warnings: Mild violence. Please let me know if I missed any!

Mace was always a bit of an oddball in his village. While his people were naturally afraid of the rough seas and violent tides, he found them calming. When others had the sense of mind to stay away from the shores and piers, he was walking along them, breathing deep and enjoying sounds, smells, feel of the wind and sea creating their chaos.

He couldn't explain why enjoyed it so he never bothered to try. Some people would whisper that there was selkie blood in his family history. That his great-grandfather had caught himself a selkie and Mace had inherited some of her wild nature. Mace never cared for those rumors. Every selkie story he'd ever heard involved a poor soul being trapped by a human and never allowed freedom. His memories of his great-grandparents were scarce but by all accounts they had a happy marriage.

So he refused to give them credence, refused to let the rumors get to him, and just let himself enjoy the things he enjoyed. No need to overthink it or let others affect the calm he felt during these times.

One evening Mace went walking further than usual. He'd gotten into an argument with the town elders, trying to convince them of the need to incorporate greenhouses to keep a steady food supply for their growing village. They kept arguing that current preparation and reliance on fishing was enough. When they refused to listen to the data he'd collected he lost his temper and ended up punching one of them.

Thankfully the walk and the waves were helping. And then he heard the giggling, laughing screams. Mace knew there were no other villages nearby and no one else in his own village would be out here. Curious, he walked carefully towards the sounds.

That's how he found the three women, naked, swimming in the rough waters and laughing. As his shock fades, he finds himself smiling, mesmerized by the women and their laughter. It takes a while for him to realize his presence might scare them so he turns to walk away but trips over something.

He looks at his feet and is dumbfounded to see three sealskins. Certain that it couldn't be what he thought, Mace ran and hid. He needed to make sure. He watched and waited for the women to leave, to not grab the sealskins. So as not to be caught, he hid himself behind the trees so he would only be able to hear them. Occasionally peeking out to see confirm they were still swimming.

As the sun was reaching the horizon, he heard footsteps approaching. Carefully peering out from behind the tree he saw Harvey, another man from his village who was a strong candidate for leadership in the village. Thinking he was looking for him, Mace headed towards Harvey but stopped short when he saw Harvey pick up one of the sealskins and grin.

“Harvey? What are you doing?”

The other man turned in surprise and tried to run but Mace was too fast. He caught him and pulled him into a hold.

“Again, what are you doing, Harvey?”

“They're selkies,” Harvey confessed. “My grandfather told me about this beach. Said it's how he got himself a wife. Figured I'd do the same.”

“You can't be serious,” Mace scoffed.

“It's true! I know it sounds crazy but they're actually selkies!”

“No,” Mace scolded. “You can't seriously expect me to believe this is how you want to get yourself a wife!”

“What? It's not like they're real people,” Harvey scoffed. “Are you upset because you're one of them? Well guess what, I'm descended from them, too! It's okay!”

Mace adjusts his hold so that he's choking Harvey. “Drop the sealskin. Go home. And never come to this beach again.”

“You don't have the right! I've got the pull of the entire village. If I tell them you've threatened me, you'll be kicked out.”

“At least I won't be a monster,” Mace growled. He tightened his grip until Harvey finally dropped the skin. When he did, Mace practically threw the man in the direction of the village. “I'll be watching you,” he vowed, his voice tight with menace. Harvey gave him a sneer but ran back to the village.

Behind him he hears, “well that was very brave of you.” He turns around and sees one of the women he'd been watching. As a show of good faith he steps away from the sealskin. She quickly grabs it up, “I only have a minute to get this on before the sun goes down.” Grabbing the front of Mace's shirt she pulls him towards her and gives him a deep kiss. “Next time we'll talk.”

She turns and runs back to the water, joining the other two and quickly putting on her sealskin. The three seals swim away from the beach as the sun sets and Mace knows his life has changed forever.

Tagging @alicedopey; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @ronearoundblindly