#the orange and grey are still soft but less silky

[mountainbirb]

Current crochet WIP, on pause bc I ran out of blue yarn. It’s a little under halfway done and already a really lovely weight, it’s gonna be like 5 lbs when I’m done.

(Guitar for scale)

[thegengarprincess]

“I always thought you looked beautiful in white..&🤍

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Pairing; (🐶🫶🐱) Jure Maček x Bojan Cvjetićanin

Warning; RPF AS ALWAYS! don’t like, don’t ✨read✨! That is all ;3. (⚠️)

Tags; (👗🚬) cross dressing/ mild angst with a happy ending/ misunderstandings/ dialogue light until paragraph 5 cuz author’s has a terminal case of ✨over explainer✨/ tooth-rotting fluff/ the wedding dress photos have been holding my soul hostage since I saw them N this the product of that 🥲👍/ time skip/ Puppy Love™️/ Bojan is literally just a lovestruck puppy boy at his core and I won’t let anyone forget it/ post- midlife crisis kitty + puppy cuddles/ they have a orange cat N beagle puppy by now who follow the two e v e r y w h e r e/ author still can’t tag 4 shit/ BOJAN GIRLYS/GN! PSPSSPSPS COME GET UR FOOD WERE HAVING POST-SHOWER BOJAN 4 DINNER >XD/ author is desperately starved of BoJure content so they took matters into their own hands (💍)

Word count; (🌹💘)

Summery; After a incredibly tiresome day of blitzing the entirety of their cramped apartment together in an attempt to neaten up the humble abode for the couple’s big move to Logatec, Jure takes it upon himself to tackle their shared wardrobe only to stumble across an item that hadn’t seen the light of day in a long, long time. A wedding dress of all things? Tho to some a wedding dress is just a big, white, poofey gown you’ll only ever wear once then only see in dated photo’s. But to the drummer, it was the very same dress he wore for that photoshoot with his now fiancé of two in a half years shortly before they ended up becoming much more than friends(with benefits). “Wonder if it still fits anymore?…” (🚚)

A/N; (👾🎁) *W E L L*- it’s been almost 2/1 months since the last time I’ve came out my self-induced hibernation EXCEPT THIS TIME I come barring a (belated) bday gift 4 my wonderful, amazing, gorgeous, sweet, talented, cat-coded darling of a moot *THE* ✨@j-restlessgeek✨ (who u should ABSOLUTELY be following btw >:3!) N w us both being normal 2 a certain degree over that photoshoot w Jure in a mfn *WEDDING DRESS*, I sprinted 2 my drafts, beat my writers block w a iron hammer N now I’m left w this ☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️. THO WITHOUT FURTHER ADO! BONE, APPLE, TEETH N CATCH YA ON THE FLIP SIDE~<3

? _ “ . ^ + * ] 🎀 [ + ^ * . _ !

Switching off the running water, droplets from it’s remains began their journey trickling down the ends of Bojan’s drenched hair and back, swiftly snagging two freshly dried, strawberry pink towels from their nest on-top the radiator and wrapping the larger of the two around his soft, yet still that little bit toned waist as a means of hiding the singer’s (admittedly small) dignity then going in with the same process on his semi-soaked hair. Tussling silky, puppy brown locks till they were restored to their fluffy and water-free glory once more.

After shuffling into a pair of spare grey sweats and his favourite (out of the fifty he used to frequently steal from Kris) Beatles tee, threw on some moisturiser combined with the brunette’s much beloved hair products, he strolled down the boldly patterned hall to his and Jure’s shared bedroom to check with the other what movie he decided they’d be watching that night. Which was Bojan’s plan. Until he locked eyes with the sight said bedroom had so unfairly chosen to lay before him….

He swept open the door with a gentle hand, all knowledge of anything other than the figure that also seemed just as lost in their own little bubble as he was, completely stripped away from him in less than a millisecond. If you asked Bojan what the definition of “perfection” was, his answer would simply be the person he saw in that very moment without a single thought.

Investigating every part of themselves in the mirror, unbeknownst to how they had just effortlessly stolen not only his heart, but every word, thought and breath that hadn’t had time to run away from the home they called Bojan’s body. Tho sooner than later, the trance he’d somehow found himself in a whole lifetime ago by now slowly fizzled out, senses flooding back into their designated stations as he drunk in the utterly ethereal scene of his fiancé adorning what seemed to be a wedding dress?

It wasn’t just any wedding dress he’d found Jure clad in either, better yet the exact same one his lover had worn for a photoshoot that got very popular with a certain crowd which made up a (not all that) small corner of their fanbase almost two years ago if his mind wasn’t subconsciously changing how time worked again. And oh if it didn’t make Bojan want to fall straight to his knees right on this very floor he currently stood upon and worship every single minuscule atom that consecutively came together to create the undeniably gorgeous, talented, amazing, intelligent, beautiful, hot, wonderful, sexy, unreal and down right mesmerising human who only he got to the pleasure N divine prestige of calling “his pretty drummer” for how ever long he’d allow him the privilege to, eternally Bojan wishes. (And he would in a heartbeat if only there was somesort of miracle out there that could grant him permanent immortality to do so).

“Uhhh, m-muca….?” The slightly lovestruck singer spoke up meekly. Causing the bubble to burst completely as his fiancé swiftly quirked around to face him, stare’s ping-ponging back and forth in a short attempt at trying to grasp the signals Bojan’s face was sending the older’s way, a melting pot of surprise and shock swirled in blown chestnut pools while waltzing across the rest of his features but so did another feeling he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Regret? “Geez Bojči, You look like you saw a ghost or Sonček when he catches a bug. Is something wrong or-” “No no! I was gonna ask what movie you picked out for later and then I opened the door and saw ya like…that.” Jure glanced down and then, the realisation dawned on him. It’s the dress. He doesn’t like the dress on him.

Splotches of rose waltzed their way onto his cheeks and neck, almost giving off the appearance the sun has had it’s way with him earlier that day as if they weren’t entering early November in a few weeks. Pacing over to both boy’s wardrobe he prised open both doors and vigorously began undoing the laces that tied the gown together, a subtle frown accenting his lips.

‘What was with that face tho? Is he having second thoughts already?’

‘No that can’t be it! Maybe he was just a little surprised, haven’t worn it awhile anyway.’

‘The first words he said to me after leaving the changing room were I always thought you looked beautiful in white so what else could it be?!’

‘Did I do something wrong? Did he finally get tired of waiting and moved o-‘ “Darling wait! what’s up huh?-“ ‘I can’t be losing him now. How would I even explain it to the kids-‘ “Hey hey, I’m sorry if I looked a little mad but it’s not what you think it is I swea-“ ‘God please don’t say he’s-‘ “C’mon muca! just talk to me I’-“ ‘I should’ve left the damn dress where I found it then left it at tha-‘ “Jurček, wait no! don-“ ‘what have I done, what have I done, what have I done, what have I done, what have I do-‘ “Jur-“ ‘I shouldn’t of proposed in the first p-‘ “JURE.”

The blonde felt a tight sensation in his left wrist out of the blue. Like a weight was tugging at it and refused to come off no matter how hard he tried breaking away from it’s crushing, iron grip. And with that, his sudden mid-life crisis came to a careening halt, tweaking the other way to stare down furrowed browns and warm eyes reflecting into his own murky-tear pricked one’s. Now is definitely not the time to mention it of course, but Bojan had never seen a prettier cryer in all his 30 years, 1,565 weeks and 10950 days of being a resident of this planet we know as earth.

“Oh sweetheart~</3” He enveloped an arm around his lover’s nearly naked waist while another slotted in between short, soft, honey gold strands, cradling the older’s head as tenderly as one could. The more barley audible, soft weeps and sniffles poured out of Jure, the more pieces of the shorter boy’s heart shattered. Each break getting louder and louder till his fiancé’s muffled whimpers calmed down with the help of a few comforting back rubs accompanied by gentle whispers of “everything’s alright now” and “I’m here love, you’re safe” into Jure’s skin, long after all his tears gave out.

Still rubbing his eyes periodically and trembling internally, he intertwined his fingers then let Bojan guide them both to their bedside. Flopping down without hands parting a single time and burrowing themselves into eachother’s side, tracing thousands of nonsensical patterns over the drummer’s exposed chest, shifting upwards to carve a lingering kiss on his darling’s forehead with praises of every kind bouncing off those lips Jure never seemed to ever, ever get enough off no matter how many times he’s felt their heavenly touch. “You’re stunning you know that.” Bojan grinned through slurred words, sleep unwavering in its mission to reel him hook, line and sinker. “There’s no one in this world who’d I’d want as my muse not just now, but forever than my pretty drummer boy alright.”

“You’re pretty drummer boy eh?”

“And once again, I am really so sorry about earlier Muca-“

A chorus of paw prints bustled outside their door. Echoes of panicked meows and barks steeping closer and closer, making themselves increasingly known to the couple. “I’ll go let the kids in..” the blonde yawned, a fond twang lacing his speech as he quietly crawled out of his (quite obnoxiously snoring) fiancé’s grasp and nonchalantly turning the knob as both boy’s pets barged inside to shower their dad’s with a multitude of licks, nuzzles, sniffs and paws for attention. Being mindful not to disturb the lull that’s taken over the singer’s being as usual considering it was vastly approaching 5pm.

There was of course, much more work to be done before they could actually move but that’s one of the many task’s tomorrow’s Jure and Bojan will have to face. Their only task’s now consisting of supplying both animals currently huddled in their arms with everlasting pets while simultaneously keeping the other from hogging the covers, shielding them against the spitefulness that Slovenian winter brings year after year. Perhaps a spring wedding would suit them just fine…..~🔔

[merlinsbbeard]

Word Search Tag Game

Thank youu @uncertainwallflower and @annasghosts for tagging me and sorry I took so long to get around to this. Anyways, here goes:

FAMILY

They dropped Cindy off first. She hugged Petunia through the passenger window and waved and blew kisses as they pulled out of her paved drive. James remained in the middle seat, knees less compressed, but shoulder still firmly pressed against Lily’s. By the time they reached All Saints Street, the sun was setting, settling an orange hue all about the front garden. Vernon didn’t come in, he was to attend a family dinner celebrating Marge’s bulldog’s birthday. Petunia waved him off the whole way down the street and finally dropping her hand, spun on her heel and declared, “I need a smoke.” Forget-Me-Not—A Jily summer love story

MISTAKE

“It was a mistake. We were on holiday and I hadn’t seen you in ages. I—” All's Well That Ends Well—Teenage angst eventual-Jily

BROKEN

Lily smiled, lifting her goblet a little closer to her painted lips, eyeing the crowd in front.  Swig.  “Happy birthday, by the way.” She broke the stalemate.  James had felt like a broken record stuck in a loop all day. Thank you, thank you, thank you. His furry mind couldn’t think of anything better to say. “Thank you.”  “Yooou’re welcome.” Ain't No Rest for the Sloshed—Prongs Party 2023 microfic

SIGH

His eyes flicked down to her lips then back to her eyes. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. “May I?” She nodded. His head dipped swiftly down to meet her once more. She heard the handset clack on the cradle, then his hands found her cheeks, her jaw, the soft skin beneath her ear, tilting her up into him. She went willingly, rising up onto her tiptoes. His lips were warm on hers; slow and forgiving. He sighed into her, then took a minuscule step forward, backing her against the wall and deepening the kiss. Forget-Me-Not (again)

And now, for Bella's words:

BACK

Lily and James's eyes met often. His brow would be knit and he would look away quickly. Hers would furrow and she would keep looking. Perhaps if he had looked back once, she would have worked up the courage to go over to him and apologise. What did she even need to apologise for? For asking him not to sit with her after he had spent the early hours of the morning comforting her? A bit. For caring more about what other people thought than what he did? Yeah, a bit of that too. But he never did. So, she never did. All's Well That Ends Well (unpublished snippet)

LIGHT

My chest has been waxed and my body rubbed down with a cream that makes my skin glint like sunlight on still water. I’m dressed in a satin blue-grey suit, it’s belted at my hips with a silky sash that falls to the floor, brushing my polished leather shoe. Above the sash, the jacket gapes. I have no shirt so my chest is entirely exposed. Sex appeal, I think to myself. Finniad: Striking Hearts (unpublished snippet)—Finnick Odair's origin story

QUIET

Dinner passed relatively quietly with scraping plates and clinking cutlery and eyes flitting across the table. Dessert was another matter. The second time Lily and James’s hands bumped while reaching for the same thing, the custard spoon this time—“Oops, sorry, you first.” “No, you.”���Petunia let out a great big sigh. Two pairs of eyes fell on her and Lily asked, “What?” “Just—would you stop eye-fucking over the crumble? Jesus Christ.” Forget-Me-Not (again, again)

REACH

The people around me are beginning to stare. I duck out of the pen and approach the stage that now seems miles away. My heart is in my throat, my feet are clumsy, and my mind is running a million thoughts at once. I look up as I climb the stairs and my own face stares back at me from the screens. I try to conceal the terror in my eyes but I’m unsure how successful I am because I’ve reached Eyre and Alfonso and now I must face the crowd. Finniad: Striking Hearts

Open tag for the following words:

Hasten

Drive

Feel

Flinch

[superbadassnatural]

Bound to Happen

Summary: Sam and Y/N decided to make the most of their time when Dean left the room to get breakfast. Pairing: Sam x Reader Word count: 2,278 Warnings: smut, fingering, lil bit of oral (fem rec), protected sex, getting caught A/N: this was written for “SPN Bi-Weekly Writing Challenge” hosted by @supernatural-jackles​. The prompts are bolded Hope you enjoy it! Oh and the gif is mine :)

Long fingers ghosted over your waist, sending a shiver down your spine as you arouse. His touch descended to your bare thigh, tracing up and down your side. He nuzzled into the curve of your neck.

“Good morning,” his lips curled into a smile against your skin.

“G’ morning,” you beamed.

Eyes fluttering open, you took in the orange-ish hue from the few rays of sunshine that struggled to get past the curtains. You let out a sigh, knowing that eventually, you’d have to get up to go out and ask questions about the missing victims. You were so comfortable like this with his arms wrapped around you. It almost made you forget you were in a motel room and not in your comfy bedroom.

Sam’s hands wandered up your body in a feathery-like touch. His palm cupped your breast, fingers kneading your nipple through the soft fabric of your oversized t-shirt. He nuzzled into the curve of your neck, kissing your skin and pulling your body closer to his. You had to repress a moan when you felt his growing erection against your ass.

“Sam,” you called him in a whisper and he hummed against your skin. “We can’t.”

“Of course we can.”

“Dean’s right there next to us.”

“He’s not here anymore. He’s out for breakfast. ‘Sides, it’s about time for him to start booking another room for himself,” he said. “We have the room just to ourselves until he gets back. Guess we should do something about it, right?”

“Yeah, we definitely should.”

You grinned as you turned to him. His hazel eyes twinkled when they fell on your face. With arms wrapping around his neck, you pulled him even closer to you. Your lips searched their way to his, but you stopped midtrack.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, slightly confused.

“I’ve got morning breath,” you grimaced, crinkling your nose.

“So what? I couldn’t care less about that.”

He captured your lips in a soft, passionate kiss. You hovered above him, straddling his hips. His strong hands gripped your hips firmly as he deepened the kiss. His tongue found its course inside your mouth, delving into it. The demanding press and pull of his lips caused you to moan and buck your hips as a heat started to grow in your stomach.

Once you parted, Sam pulled your grey shirt over your shoulders and hovered you onto your back. His lips crashed on the curve of your neck. Your hands flew to his hair, fingers playing with his silky strands. He planted open-mouthed kisses on your skin, his teeth scraping against it teasingly. His soft lips sucked the skin on your neck hard enough to leave a mark. You whimpered when he released it and placed a kiss over it.

His lips traveled down your collarbone, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses. Goosebumps roused all over your body as you shut your eyes. Sam enveloped your hardened nipple in his mouth whilst his right hand cupped your breast and kneaded the other bud. A low moan made its way past your lips as his tongue circled your nipple, your hands flying to his head. He released it with a loud pop and kept on worshiping your body. His lips brushed every patch of your skin torturously.

The need to have him grew stronger with every passing second. You were sure your underwear was soaked with your arousal. He groaned when you rocked your hips against him, but placed his hand on your hip bone to stop you.

“Stop teasing,” you nearly whined. “I need you.”

“Soon, baby,” he said as he reached for the waistband of your panties. “Soon.”

He pressed his lips to your covered clit and you had to bite down a moan. His finger trailed along the soaked fabric of your lace panties.

“God, you’re so wet right now,” he beamed, pulling your underwear down your legs. “You’re dripping, baby,” he purred at the sight of your glistening cunt.

“Please,” you cried out.

“Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?” Sam chuckled before inserting a finger inside you.

Teasingly, he thrusted one digit only to make you crave for more. His lips planted soft kisses on the inside of your thighs as he dipped another finger inside you. He never picked up his pace. Always the same slow and almost lazy pace. You gasped when his lips met your clit. He kissed it gently. His tongue teased your most sensitive part as his long fingers drove faster inside you.

“Fuck, Sam,” you moaned as his tongue flicked over your bundle of nerves.

“You like the way I flick my tongue?” He purred, glancing up at you. A shiver ran throughout your entire body.

“Yes!”

Sam smirked. His lips locked around your clit, giving it a hard suck. You threw your head back into the pillow, eyes clenched shut as a fire started to pool in your abdomen. Your hands slapped to the back of his head and he groaned. Fingers gripped his silky locks, trying to pull him even closer. He alternated between sucking and flicking his tongue over your throbbing clit. Your legs closed around him as he curled his fingers, hitting your sweet spot with precision.

“Oh, god. Please, Sam,” you said through ragged breaths. “I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna-“

Sam slammed his fingers inside you, squelching noises echoing through the room. His lips sealed around your clit and he sucked for dear life. Your whole body started to tremble as orgasm rippled through you. Your hand flew to your mouth to muffle your screams, but he slapped it away. You cried out his name as your body went still. A different kind of electricity running through your veins.

He lapped at your cunt until you rode out your orgasm. Your walls tightened around his unceasing fingers. Sam let out a groan when you pulled at his hair.

“Fuck,” you gasped as you came down from your high.

Your eyes were still closed when Sam climbed up to meet your face. He smiled, taking in your features. Your lips slightly parted, sucking the air in. Eyes clenched shut under knitted brows. Beads of sweat graced your forehead.

He brushed his glistening fingers over your mouth. Your tongue darted out to meet his skin. Gripping his wrist, you tasted the remains of your release on his slender fingers, circling your tongue around them and sucking slightly. Sam groaned, clenching his eyes shut.

You pulled away from his fingers, eyes fluttering open to meet his face. Lust blown hazel eyes locked in your dazed ones. You captured his lips into a demanding, bruising kiss. Your tongue nearly fucking his mouth. Sam let out a low moan. Before he could pull away, you sucked his bottom lip into your mouth, causing him to thrust his hips against you.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he moaned.

“God, I’m beat,” you sighed.

“Oh, you are?” You nodded playfully, fingers removing the few strands that insisted on sticking to his damped forehead. “That’s too bad, ‘cause I’m not nearly done with you.”

“Well, that’s a good thing,” you chuckled. “So go on, Mr. Fuck-me-into-oblivion.”

“Mr what now?”

“Oh, shut up. I don’t know where that came from either.”

“You are one of a kind, Y/N,” he chuckled, hazel eyes staring back at you lovingly.

“I know, I know,” you scoffed. “So are you gonna fuck me before or after your brother gets back with breakfast?”

“Both?” He smirked.

You rolled your eyes as Sam tugged down his sweatpants along with his boxers. His cock sprung free, the head glistening with precum. Your eyes widened. He was painfully hard. His hands fumbled over the nightstand in search of his wallet. He picked the condom and once he opened the wrapper, he rolled it down his length. He leaned over you, pecking your lips in a sweet kiss. Your hand traveled down between your bodies, reaching for his cock. His tip circled your entrance before entering your channel slowly.

“Shit,” a whimper escaped your lips as he pushed inside you to the hilt. His massive cock stretching your walls to the fullest to fit him.

“Fuck,” he grunted. “So tight.”

He pulled his hips back in a torturous pace, sliding almost completely out of you, but leaving only the tip in your pussy. Sam slammed into you, causing your body to jerk and a squeak to leave your lips. He smiled. He’d never get tired of seeing you react to him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers curling into his hair. The heavenly scent of his body wash filled your nostrils.

Sam drove in and out of you at the same calculated pace. Enough to drive you crazy. Not enough to make you come already. His lips captured every square inch of your skin.

“Please,” you trailed off, not even sure of what you were begging for.

“What is it that you want, baby?” He mumbled against the clammy skin of your chest.

“Faster, Sam,” you cried out. “Please.”

Sam pounded into you and a gasp left your mouth. His hips snapped against yours. The sound of flesh slapping flesh mixed with labored breaths and loud, lust-crazed moans. Your hips bucked, meeting him thrust after thrust. With each slam of his hips against yours, the headboard thumped on the wall. Sam dipped his head to capture one of your nipples into his mouth as his hand traveled to where your bodies met. His thumb circulated your throbbing clit, sending small shocks through your body. He knew you were close.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, forcing him to go even deeper. Sam hit your sweet spot and you cried out. He slammed inside you, the tip of his cock hitting your cervix. His thrusts became sloppy and erratic.

“F-fuck, Sam,” his name left your lips in a broken scream as you raked your nails across his back.

Your body dissolved into pleasure and you shattered beneath him, back arching off the bed. Your orgasm rippled through you. Your vision nearly faded to black as your walls clenched tight around him.

“Oh fuck, Y/N,” he came with a broken cry.

His head nuzzled into the curve of your neck as his hips kept grinding against yours. His cock twitched before he spilled his seed into the condom. Sam’s body went rigid, crashing against yours. Pleasure overflowed his senses.

He laid on top of you as he waited for his breath to even. You ran your fingers through his hair and waited for the same thing. Both of you were worn out and you hadn’t even gotten out of bed yet.

“God, I’m pretty sure I blacked out for a second,” you giggled a little cum-drunk.

“I think I’ve flooded out the condom,” he chuckled.

Your fingers moved to trace up and down his spine. Both of you held each other close. You couldn’t find it in you to let go of him and get out of bed. You were so lost in that bliss that you didn’t even notice the door swing open.

“Good morning, sleepyheads,” Dean strode inside the room. “I’ve brought- oh shit!”

Sam moved fast out of you and threw the blanket over your bodies. Your eyes fell on Dean who had his back turned to you now.

“Get the hell out,” you yelled. Dean got out of the room as fast as he got in.

You glanced at your side to find Sam blushing in embarrassment. A hysterical laugh made its way past your lips and your boyfriend only covered his face with his hands, still processing everything that happened.

“I can’t believe this just happened.”

“Well, I can,” you gushed between giggles and he eyed you. “This was bound to happen, Sam. I’m surprised it took this long.”

“This is so embarrassing.”

“Stop, it isn’t that bad.”

“You’re only saying this because he isn’t your brother,” he said. “God, I can’t believe my brother just saw my naked ass.”

“Well, technically this wasn’t the first time he saw-“

“You’re not helping, you know that?”

“Who do you think that changed your diapers, Sam? Who wiped your ass when you were a kid?” You nearly exclaimed as you tried to make your point. “It surely wasn’t John.”

“I know, I know,” he sighed. “But this still is embarrassing as fuck.”

“I never said it wasn’t.”

“How am I gonna look him in the eye after this?”

“Argh, you’re such a drama queen.” ————

“You guys should have put a sock on the doorknob or something,” Dean grumbled as you climbed on the backseat of the impala.

“Maybe if you start getting your own room, then things like that won’t happen again,” you shrugged.

Sam didn’t say a word. He still was too embarrassed to dare to speak anything and have his brother making fun of him.

“There’s no need for me to do that! We’d only spend more money!”

“The money is fake,” you corrected.

“Sam and I had a code, Y/N,” he said, starting the engine. “If there’s a sock on the doorknob, then you must find somewhere else to sleep.”

“Yeah, ‘cause every time you were going at it, there was a sock on the doorknob,” Sam scoffed.

“C’mon, you were a kid. You don’t even remember that.”

“Unfortunately, I do.”

“Consider that as a payback, Dean,” you beamed. “Oh, and if you don’t start getting your own room from now on, then you’ll wake up to some very loud moans and skin on skin noises,” his eyes widened at the threat. “Trust me, they’ll haunt you for the rest of your life.”

I’d love to know what you think of this one! Please, consider sharing your thoughts with me via reply, reblog or ask!

Sam Babes:

@maya-craziness​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @chrissylexi

[1awyerup]

[Parsley sighs softly as he slowly lowers himself to sit on the couch, a cup of coffee curling steam into the air as it sits likewise on the worn black coffee table. In his favorite mug, a simple red one with a gold rim and handle. He's all suited up and ready for a long day ahead, his watch strapped tight to his wrist like the sensation alone will be enough to remind him he needs to look at it. Right now? Yeah. And he does, relieved to find he still has about 20 minutes before he has to leave his apartment. The lawyer leans to grab his coffee and take a sip, unbothered by the scalding temperature of it. Nice and sweet, just the way he likes it, but... even despite all these things going right for him, he feels weirdly heavy today. Nervous, or maybe anxious would be a better word for it.]

[Weight shifts next to him on the couch, and he visibly startles; looking beside him, she looks back. She seems a little wary too, perhaps because of the way he's reacted. More relief now, though he's not sure what else was to be expected-- what, did he think a murderer had simply sat down beside him? She's far too light for that. The feline blinks big orange eyes at him, and he blinks back. They both settle down, but she doesn't get any closer. Plenty content to sit beside him at some distance. Her fur is sleek, shiny under the light and a deep black. Silky but warm to the touch. Yet her chest and belly, her paws, a bit of her face, are all white like snow. Mostly. She looks a little bit dirty, but well. She was outside before.]

[Parsley smiles, huffing a small laugh as he very carefully lifts his hand to pet her. She always gets barely close enough, but never too far. He moves in a way that's predictable, that's not too fast; they're still getting used to one another, but she's let him pet her before. He can tell she enjoys it on her own terms, she just doesn't want him to know it. Perhaps doesn't want him to know she's got soft spots or weaknesses. (And all of her is soft, actually.) ]

" ... "

[ ... Or maybe, deep down, there's a chance that he's projecting all of this nonsense onto her. The thought causes him to freeze up, briefly, and then he continues on petting her gently down her back. But now it's even slower, far away in that sense. Like it's less about giving her attention and more about the soothing texture of her fur, and the warmth of another living thing he can reach out to. For a while, he directs his gaze out the living room window. A view of the tall, grey-brown buildings in the city and the reflective nature of their too-many-windows. Were he to stand and step close enough, this window too would mirror his face back at him like the sun. He'd squint against it just the same.]

[ You want an excuse, don't you? It's his own thought, he's the one thinking it, but still he wants to turn his head and demand to know who said that. It stings a little, the accusation. You want it to be easy. You want out. ]

[He isn't petting her anymore, and he doesn't look out the window. They just stare at eachother for a long time, and then she hops off of the couch. Still slinking around the place so unsure of herself, but growing more confident by the day that she doesn't have to hide from him or the comforts of this place.]

[-- Maybe you want to get caught. Maybe you don't want to be here, anymore. Maybe you don't belong here, just like she didn't belong out there. And maybe neither of you want to admit it.]

" ... Ugh. "

[Shaky when he stands, grabbing his suitcase as he goes. Checking his watch. The numbers don't lie, not like he does. It's time to go.]

[shiftynightshade]

Cafunѐ

(n.) running your fingers through the hair of someone you love

Humming softly Erwin gently threaded his fingers through Levi’s hair, raven strands silky if not slightly matted under his fingertips.

The moon was at her peak in the sky, stars dotting inky darkness like bits of parchment peeking through spilt ink. Levi’s breathing was even and soft; raven hair fluttering with every breath he took.

Smiling bitterly Erwin stared down at the petite captain’s head of mussed hair, fingers stopping their stroking to rest protectively on his nape, the fuzz of Levi’s undercut tickling the edges of his fingers – scraping softly.

Levi’s neck was bare for once – his well-known cravat folded with precision and lay on the dresser across the room, Erwin’s bolo-tie nestled on top of the pristine white fabric.

Tilting his head down, (and ignoring the slight ache from his chin digging into the hollow of his throat) the commander nosed along his small captains hairline before carefully planting soft kisses into those well-kept raven strands.

They vaguely smelt of lemon and oddly enough – vanilla. Not that Erwin minded, it suited Levi quite well. A sleep thickened grumble erupted from Levi in an all-most a growl of annoyance, eyebrows drawn into a deep crease.

Freezing Erwin held his breath, Levi rarely got a good restful night of sleep, nightmares and demons clawing way to torturous insomnia. Levi settled again with a pained whine, face nuzzling down into the fain blond curls scattered across Erwin’s chest.

Giving a soft sigh, Erwin let his hand trail down from Levi’s undercut to his shoulder, bandages rough under the pads of his fingers, white crawling its way down Levi’s bruise muddled back, scars and lacerations not yet healed decorating the only exposed skin.

The expedition itself was more or less a success, barely any deaths and the legion managed to expand their territory by a few more kilometres, a well-earned victory in the public’s eyes. It was almost a perfect victory in Erwin’s eyes. Almost.

Another small sound from Levi was met with a face filled with regret as Levi’s face briefly gained a pained expression, brows drawn into a deep crease.

Images of a titans rotting teeth clamping down on Levi’s shoulder flashed to the front of his mind, blood spurting into the air like crimson rain. The surprised shrikes of Levi’s squad swiftly followed by furious shouted promises of a painful death. Erwin had silently echoes their sentiment.

Erwin remembered the feeling of dread filling his throat, dripping down into his lungs like poison tar. The phantom sensations of his eyes clamping shut and ordering to push forward, worry beating in his ribcage like a second heart.

They had finally killed all titans in the immediate vicinity of the operation, scouts re-forming into the formation to retrieve any squads that had fallen behind when a purple flare had been launched into the s smoky and staining the sky.

Panic had gripped Erwin’s chest in a vice grip.

Levi.

They had rushed back to where Levi’s squad had been gathered into a tight protective perimeter under the recently fired flare, two sets of swords held to defend.

Petra had been the one to run over to the commander in a strange state of calm panic, voice calm yet stumbling ever so slightly over her words –merely pointing a shaky finger back to the group where Gunther was surrounded by the remaining squad members, hands clasped together and pumping down firmly if not slightly hysterically, mouthing out a repeated cycle of ‘1-2-3’, forehead sheening with perspiration. Whether it was from the steam emanating from the titan’s carcass nearby or from the physical effort of trying to force a heart to continue living Erwin couldn’t tell.

Eld’s fingers lay against Levi’s neck and wrist, desperately searching for a pulse. Oluo still had his swords drawn, a mixed expression of worry and fury as his eyes darted around for signs of looming danger despite the presence of the other scouts.

The grass beneath Levi was stained with a steadily growing pool of blood, the crimson liquid shining in the orange twilight. More repetitions and blood flowed out of multiple wounds freely.

Erwin remembered how the way Levi’s blood had flowed so slowly yet steadily, like tears.

Gunther looked so desperate yet a defeated light had entered his eyes, and Erwin had understood.

Too many repetitions and you run the risk of ruining any other chances of reviving the patient.

Erwin’s insides slowly began to frost over, the feeling of despair and hopelessness he wished he’d never have to feel again began to slowly bubble into his stomach- a poisonous tar that filled his lungs to the point of asphyxiation.

He prepared to order the scouts to ride out, quickly locking the beating heart in his ribcage away to the dark space where he hid the last of his quickly fading humanity.

His heart was protesting vehemently, begging for this to be a mere dream. That when he woke up for Levi to be laying by his side with his never ending scowls and voice berating him for letting dust gather in his fucking office-

Those thoughts were quickly slammed away with an iron bat, The Commander beating Erwin Smith back into his cage.

Suddenly Eld tensed and shouted, “I’ve got a pulse!”

Hange had quickly shoved their way through the crowd of hovering scouts, med kit in hand and Moblit in tow.

Levi had been swaddled in bandages and wrapped in Erwin’s Survey cloak, his fragile form even smaller under the garment. Hange and Gunther had rode in the wagon with the comatose Captain, bodies tense and ready to leap into action at a seconds notice.

Thankfully not a single titan was spotted on the way back, the corps swiftly returning to the safety of Wall Rose.

“What’s the staring for old man? It’s fucking creepy.”

Jerking, Erwin stared down at Levi with wide eyes, blue iris’s dilating in delight.  

“Lee….”

Erwin gave a soft smile, hand coming up to cup the back of Levi’s head. Grey eyes stared sleepily at him, fogged over with sleep and pain.

“…Fuckin’ Pervert.”

Erwin let out an incredulous laugh, hand once again stroking through Levi’s hair.

“I’m glad you okay Lee, now just sleep. You must be tired.”

Staring down at the captain, Erwin let out a small noise of surprise.

Levi was already asleep, hand lightly curled into a gentle fist. Bunched fabric of Erwin’s nightshirt crumpling, small kitten snores slipping from Levi’s lungs.

Chuckling, Erwin pressed a kiss to Levi’s temple.

“Love you Levi.��

[jihyosforehead]

soulmate au where the world is black and white until you fall in love with your soulmate for mihyun please im begging u authornim

THANK U FOR THIS !!! this was v fun to write and i almost got carried away and u have been so so patient im sorry this is so late, i dont even rly have an excuse its just due to who i am as a person 

...

also on ao3

dahyun doesn’t think much of it at first. barely even notices the difference anyway because mina’s hair has always been so dark. 

dahyun’s world had been black and white all her life, she didn’t notice when it had begun to change. 

first, it was mina’s hair. 

it’s pretty impossible to not be looking at mina’s hair all hours of the day, if she’s being honest. 

dahyun watches a row behind in their advanced algorithms lecture. their professor had been going over some data structural problems and was enthusiastically expanding more in-depth about splay trees. or it might have been splay trees. dahyun had zoned out about ten minutes into the lecture. out of her peripheral, she can vaguely see notifications lighting up her phone, every 3 minutes or so. normally she would have picked it up by now and replied to chaeyoung’s snapchat spam and meme-tagging spree.

but, she’s completely distracted by mina’s slender, graceful fingers lazily twirling strands of silky dark hair, head slightly tilted and pen absentmindedly tapping at her chin. probably going over the equations in her head, running them back and forth easily. she’s always been so smart and consistently at the top of their class. mina’s wearing a fitted white sweater that hugs her shoulders just the way dahyun likes and wire-rimmed glasses, sitting almost carelessly at the end of her nose. she still manages to look so soft though. dahyun exhales deeply.

the change was subtle. she almost doesn’t register the way the fluorescent lighting dances on the crown of mina’s head. bending the light back and forth until mina’s hair flashes a colour that’s neither black or white. 

her eyes flicker back to the screen when the lecture slides change over, displaying a long sequence of diagrams lining the wall. she should really be paying more attention, she was barely scraping in this class. her eyes involuntarily wander back to mina again. the lighting plays on mina’s hair, making it almost shine a dark brown? dahyun blinks a few times and forces her eyes to focus. it’s a tone just barely lighter than black. the light plays over it again and dahyun squints.

she’s jolted out of her reverie when their teacher claps their hands and wishes them a good rest of their day. while students move around her, some rising from their seats to bolt out the door, others packing away their things at a more relaxed pace; dahyun removes her glasses and presses the heels of her palms into closed eyes. she really needs to spend less time in front of a screen.

odd, dahyun thinks when she steps into the sunny hallway, feeling the heat tickle her skin. had it always been so bright? 

…

it’s two thirteen. and mina’s late. a highly unusual occurrence. 

dahyun taps at her phone and scrolls through her recent messages. there’s none from mina. she glances around at the courtyard. some students were casually sprawled on the grass, laughing at each other, or eating. others had laptops open, typing furiously at their keyboards. 

her phone begins vibrating in her hands and she fumbles hastily, trying to answer it. mina’s voice is soft and gentle in her ear; apologising for running late but she had run into a lecturer she needed to speak with and then another friend for a quick chat but was now on her way with some food and a powerbank for dahyun’s dying phone. dahyun pictures mina speed walking down the hallways, her voice growing more breathless the longer she talks. pictures silky black hair trailing behind her, tucking her bag more securely across her shoulders while dodging passing students. 

she can’t really bring herself to be annoyed when mina looks so adorably sheepish and apologetic while handing dahyun a homemade lunch. it was neatly packaged in a shiny metal lunchbox. today it was a chicken sandwich, with grapes and pear and apple slices on the side. there was even a bottle of freshly squeezed orange juice, lemon slices cheerfully floating on the top. dahyun feels her heart hammer wildly in her chest.

mina’s always doing cute things like bringing her food while they study because she knows dahyun cuts it close between her classes and doesn’t have time for anything other than a protein bar. sometimes an apple she snags on her way out of her apartment. dahyun would probably be surviving on fruit and protein bars if not for mina. 

mina hands her a tissue and then flashes her a wide, bright grin right before typing something into her calculator, eyebrows furrowed. dahyun carefully sets down her sandwich and dabs the corner of her mouth. the sunlight is reflecting off her laptop and into her eyes. she looks up for a moment and watches as the light weaves itself into mina’s hair, setting it alight into a copper blaze. dahyun blinks, dumbfounded. 

she tilts her head slightly and watches the light move from strand to strand. she moves her head back and forth and side to side, the copper follows when mina adjusts her position. dark hair, with shadows? different shades of black strands? was that even possible? it did look a lot richer, flecked with dark brown and golds. 

dahyun blinks again and chalks it up to a trick of the light. mina gives dahyun a soft, fond smile, her eyes slightly squinting, right before returning to her work. her fingers clacking away at her keyboard and then occasionally scribbling at an open notebook. 

…

it was mina’s eyes next. they were a steady, solid black, that dahyun loves. sparkly and shiny and expressive. bright when she’s excited and duller when she’s sad. 

over the next month or two, far too slow for anyone but dahyun to notice, mina’s eyes acquire the same richer colour as her hair. almost the same shade of lighter black, but not black. it wasn’t just black anymore though. her irises were a warm, shiny dark brown and the pupils, black. they dilate slightly when mina looks up at her. but there isn't an overt difference. 

dahyun thinks likes this colour more. 

...

it was a coat next. 

dahyun had fallen asleep on her notes. she jolts awake and blearily blinks at her surroundings, sleep still weighing heavily on her eyelids. she swats a paper stuck to her cheek and is met with amused, fond eyes. she sits up and realises she’s covered in mina’s thick coat. dahyun blinks down at the heavy material and just stares. 

the fabric is beige on the outside, a tan sort of colour that errs more white than it does brown; but the inside of the coat is lined with a subtle tartan pattern. most notably, there’s red stitching. red. dahyun runs her fingers over the checked print design and blinks dumbly at it. she thinks she’s still coming out of her sleepy haze, but five minutes later when she looks down at the coat again, the stitching is so obviously more than black and white. red lines woven through pattern, sticking out like the obvious thing in the world. mina is happily typing away at her laptop, completely oblivious to dahyun’s realisation.

then it was a sunflower she’d spotted sticking out of chaeyoung’s backpack. a bright, happy, obnoxiously yellow sunflower. loud and cheerful. dahyun had seen sunflowers before, but only ever in light grey. sometimes white. sometimes even black. she was so entranced by it that chaeyoung insisted she keep it. dahyun picks it up and holds it to her chest until she was safely in her apartment. 

that night, she set it in a transparent glass vase on her countertop so she could look at it everyday. 

she learns that sunflowers have a pale green, almost yellow centre. that the colours grow into a gradient of orange and black seeds, surrounded by full yellow leaves. the petals have this faint orange that looks like it’s been carefully, painstakingly painted on each individual leaf. 

the next day, on her way to class she spots a rose growing on a bush. it was a striking deep red, a stark contrast to its vibrant green stem. she sticks it in the vase with her sunflower.

dahyun came home everyday, and stared at her sunflower and her rose over dinner, and wondered who they were for. could they see colours this bright? did they know yellow and red looked this pretty? that sunflowers had oranges painted on the petals? 

mina had gone back home to japan over the christmas holidays to spend some time with her family. she hadn’t seen them in over a year, it made sense for her to go home. but. mina is also one of dahyun’s favourite people; it was perfectly natural to miss her. however, dahyun misses her a lot more than she anticipated. her days seemed to be a lot more empty and dull. 

dahyun finds it difficult not to miss warm brown eyes, and mina’s pretty smile. she misses having lunch with mina after class. she misses turning up unannounced at the other girl’s dorm and planting herself on the couch for an afternoon nap. she misses their dumb, playful arguyments over what take-out they should get for movie night; that almost always end up with mina asleep on dahyun’s shoulder, fifteen minutes into pressing play. 

luckily, there was so much else to see. the bushes growing on the edges of her apartment grounds were a deep green, lush leaves sticking out of thin, woody brown twigs. sometimes there were ladybugs on the leaves. dahyun hadn’t realised their shells were red with tiny black dots. one time she even saw a bee sitting on a flower. she didn’t think she would ever be this delighted over discovering that bees had yellow and black stripes. her downstairs neighbour had a golden retriever. and her fur was as gold as the sun, with a pink lolling tongue and sweet, honey brown eyes. 

the new colours could keep her occupied for so long though. 

the sunflower and rose had long died. leaving only the petals behind. they’d drifted onto her wooden countertop, with the flowers blackened and dead. dahyun missed their colours too. 

who were they for? 

sometimes mina would facetime her while she was out and hold up plushies and toys she thinks dahyun would like. the plushies, were big and colourful but dahyun can’t help but think they look dull next to mina’s flushed cheeks. other times, mina would send her photos of the scenery and her food. dahyun can’t help but wonder what they’d look like in person. 

she finds that she doesn’t ever really stop thinking about mina. it’s starting to become a bit of a problem. 

most of all, she just misses mina. a weird ache in her chest that she doesn’t realise is there, just deepens. 

two weeks later finds dahyun nervously pacing the airport lobby. airport crowds never fail to make her uneasy. but honestly, she’d do anything for mina. 

she spots her from a distance, heart thudding loudly. she feels her pulse quicken, hammering obnoxiously in her eardrums, like clanging cymbals together. the most irritating percussion she’s ever experienced; she’s half convinced that everyone around her can hear it. mina was wearing an oversized sweater, her lips stained rose red. a maroon sweater, with gold stitching on the sleeves wrapping around her wrists. dahyun’s breath catches in her throat. she swallows hard around a lump of clear understanding. 

oh. 

mina. it had always been mina. 

dahyun watches as mina’s head cranes around, carefully searching the crowd. her eyes find dahyun’s, as they always do, and dahyun can feel the fondness wrap around her heart and take firm hold. the ache in her chest deepens, like a dam breaking. the crowd seems to part when mina runs towards her and throws herself at dahyun’s torso, not caring at all about dahyun’s heart, beating wildly out of control. mina’s arms wrap around dahyun’s neck and she buries her face in dahyun’s shoulder, nuzzling into the fabric. dahyun can smell mina’s shampoo, clean and fresh.

they just stand there for a moment, swaying a little as dahyun adjusts her hold around a slender waist, fingers finding its home at the small of her back. she keeps a palm resting there and brings her other hand to the back of mina’s head, massaging the base of mina’s skull. she can feel mina huffing a relieved sigh into the side of her neck, the tip of her nose is cold against her skin.   

she hears mina whisper that she missed her and asks if dahyun had been waiting long. dahyun barely hears it over the almost immediate snap of vivid colour encompassing them. the blues, and oranges and greens and pinks colouring the airport scene and moving outwards. dahyun’s world had transformed completely. 

everything suddenly made sense, slotting itself perfectly in place. 

it was beautiful and bright and brilliant. but dahyun hadn’t noticed it at first because she only had eyes for mina. like always.

mina, whose hair was a deep chestnut brown, with flecks of copper and bronze when the light hits it in the right spots. she must have dyed it while she was away because the gold has disappeared now. mina’s lipstick, red and rich, she can see the ridges where it’s redder in some areas, and more faded in others. mina’s sweater, maroon with gold stitching. mina’s earrings, a deep emerald green, flecked with golden marbling, and wrapped inside a delicate gold circle. 

dahyun blinks rapidly at the change, taking it all in. slowly, the colours swirl around them as everything gradually finds its place. her eyes wander up and down mina’s face and hair and clothes and nose (had the mole on the corner of her mouth always been a dark brown?), finally landing on mina’s eyes. dark brown and sparkly. honey and gold and cinnamon and chestnut and dusky all at once. had mina’s eyes always had those colours? 

mina looks at her softly. fondly. like she always has. the corners of her eyes crinkle when she smiles and mina’s eyes shine even more brightly when the light bounces off them. 

then the colours didn’t really seem to matter anymore. dahyun studies mina’s features closely, glances at the moles that dot her nose and decides that without mina, what did it matter if there was colour or not. without mina, dahyun’s world may as well have remained black and white.

for mina, it was distinct. 

absolute certainty. 

the very first time she ever laid eyes on dahyun, her whole world burst into a million different colors all at once.

[thirsty4theextraordinary]

Everything Burns- Chapter 3

Pairing: Ledger Joker X OC

Warnings: Mild violence, explosions, blood, fire.

Word count: 3,495 Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 |

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

Chapter 3 :Happy Birthday

When she woke in her own bed that morning, she was relieved. After her second encounter with Joker, she wondered if in fact any of it had been real, it was simply too good to be true. The reality of it was jarring but truly exhilarating and she stared up at the ceiling for a while, wondering what the brilliant but psychotic man was up to now.

She knew she had to keep her meetings with him a secret but she didn't exactly want to shout it from the rooftop anyway. Sighing at the strange, terrifying but most of all intoxicatingly addicting turn her life had taken she got up and wandered into the living room.

Something soft and warm brushed up against her leg and she looked down at the soft meowing of her cat, Puddin. She smiled and pulled her kitty up to her chest and the fluffy ball of fur immediately began to purr. She placed him down and gave him some more cat food, before searching through the fridge for something herself.

She gave up on it and simply poured herself some orange juice before slumping down in front of the TV and switching it on. She flipped through the channels not settling for long on anything until lunch came and she pushed herself out of her slump and into the kitchen for something to eat, though she didn't feel hungry and wanted to save her appetite for tonight. 

As an afterthought, she texted Bruce to ask him to pick her up at 8. It wasn’t that Bruce wasn’t her friend, in fact he was her only friend. But that didn’t bother her as much as it would others. She had always found it difficult, people liked her but she didn’t really care for them. Beside after meeting the Joker most people, just seemed rather plain now. After eating a meagre breakfast she decided she would head out shopping for a while, she locked Puddin in and headed off down the road. She lived not far from the mall so decided to walk rather than take her bike.

She wandered aimlessly through the shops looking for anything that took her eye and then she spotted a beautiful black and nude coloured dress, it had a tight-fitting bodice that flared out at the bottom in a beautiful mermaid cut. She went into the shop and looked around. She never usually went into shops like this, they were usually far too expensive but it was her birthday and she had some savings she could spend.

"Hi, can I help you?" said the overly happy sales assistant.

"Oh umm yeah, I like that dress in the window," Scarlett says and the women-only nodded as she led Scarlett to where there were more.

"What size would you like," said the woman.

"Umm I don't really know, I've never been here before" Scarlett admitted.

"Well your quite thin but you have a few assets," said the woman motion to Scarlett's chest. She was clearly flattering Scarlett simply to sell to her before, but Scarlett followed her into the store none the less. 

"I would say a medium would be good, as the bodice laces up so it should fit you like a glove," said the woman pulling the dress off the rack and heading over to the dressing room.

"You head in there and we can see what it looks like," said the woman and Scarlett smiled and took the dress from her.

It was a little snug at first but then like the woman said it fit like a glove, and it looked amazing. It made her feel beautiful and she stepped out of the dressing room to show the woman.

"Wow, that looks amazing and your hair looks great against the nude" she said and Scarlett smiled.

"I really like it and it fits so well and it is my birthday," said Scarlett spinning around to look at herself in the mirror. That's when she caught his reflection, a man stood just outside the doorway of the shop, he wore a hooded top pulled up over his head and so his face was hidden in shadow, but Scarlett swore she saw slither of green hair poke out the side of the hood. Surely not. 

"So do you think? Do you want it? I have a really lovely pair of shoes that will go great" said the woman, pulling Scarlett out of her thoughts and away from the reflection of the man.

"Err yeah I think I'll take it," she stuttered looking back in the mirror but the man was gone and so she shook the thought from her head. She was clearly imagining things.

"How much is it?" Scarlett asked and the woman smiled.

"Six hundred and seven dollars"

Scarlett nearly chocked, there was no way she could afford this, she felt so silly, she was going to dinner with a billionaire that evening and she couldn't cough up $700 for a dress. But she was a nurse and that was hardly the best money around.

"Oh, I'm sorry I can't afford that," said Scarlett and the woman's happy demeanour immediately changed and she practically tore the dress off of Scarlett.

She felt humiliated as she made her way out of the shop and away. She would just have to go somewhere cheaper she was sure that she would find something as nice somewhere else, even if she had slightly fallen in love with that dress.

She made her way over to one of the chain stores and began her search through the racks, eventually, she found something she liked in a light blue spaghetti-strapped silky dress it was pretty and for $30 she could hardly complain, she bought some heels to match and headed home.

She took a bath shaved her leg and painted her nails, the usual and before long it was 7, so she applied her make-up, curled her hair and headed into the living room. Bruce was usually always a little late so she poured herself a drink and called in Puddin. At ten past the doorbell rang.

She stood from her seat and pick up her purse before pulling the door open. Bruce stood there a bunch of flowers in hand.

"Happy Birthday Scar," said Bruce happily and Scarlett smiled and took the flowers from him. Bruce was dressed very smartly and Scarlett couldn't deny he was a very handsome man, but he was a playboy and far too in love with Rachel to pay Scarlett any mind.

She ran the tap and filled a vase before placing the flowers inside.

"Thank you," she said turning back to Bruce and smiling.

"Your welcome, you look beautiful," he said and Scarlett smiled again, she supposed their relationship was more like brother and sister than anything else, but she didn't really mind.

"So where are we off to?" Scarlett asked as she grabbed her bag from the side and pulled on her jacket.

"Criterion," said Bruce and Scarlett smiled, she only been once before it was far too expensive for her, but Bruce owned it and so often told her dinner would be of no cost, but who would she even go with if not Bruce anyway.

The restaurant was heaving as per usual, there were plenty of rich people in Gotham to fill it. It was an unusually warm evening so Bruce escorted her to the private back garden dining area. There were only two other tables out there with people eating but both were on there the last course and so Scarlett assumed within an hour they would be alone in the warm evening air.

Bruce and Scarlett chatted for most of the night, she enjoyed Bruce's company he was a kind man and though she knew they were very different people, she still at times like this felt close to him. He was her only real friend and the closest thing to family she had.

"So do you want dessert," Bruce asked and Scarlett simply nodded smiling gleefully and Bruce chuckled before calling the waiter over.

They both ordered and soon the food came out, Scarlett knew they were getting preferential treatment, but she did love the service at this restaurant. The pair picked up their conversation easily over dessert but as Scarlett was about to speak, there was a loud ringing sound coming for inside Bruce's jacket pocket.

"Sorry," he said pulling the phone out before answering.

"Hello," he said and for a minute he said nothing before, he nodded.

"OK I'll be right there," he said before he hung up the call.

"Scarlett, I am so sorry, but I gotta go it's important, but I promise I will make it up to you, call a taxi put it on my tab, I'll sort it and don't worry about the bill here either," he said standing up and pulling on his coat.

She was bummed but she smiled nonetheless she understood Bruce was a businessman, the head of a business that owned nearly everything in Gotham he was bound to get called away at some point, but she was bummed it had happened on her birthday.

He kissed her cheek before setting off at a brisk pace back through the restaurant. Scarlett sighed before continuing to eat her dessert.

"All alone Jester?" came a voice and Scarlett heartbeat skyrocketed causing her brain to go fuzzy for a second, it was incredible how his voice alone seemed to send shock waves of euphoria through her system. Was it possible to be addicted to another human? Especially after only having met twice before. 

"It's a shame your boyfriend had to leave," he said and she finally looked to him. That red smile and white face were just as she remembered, but he was now dressed in something new. He wore a long purple coat, a blue jacket underneath and purple trousers with a green waistcoat, tie and shirt.

"He's not my boyfriend, just my friend," she said as he jumped over the small wall separating the restaurants garden with the street.

"I'm loving the new look by the way," she said finding her courage as she began to feel that intoxicating warmth. It seemed to radiate off of him, like a nuclear reactor.

"Thanks, you scrub up well too, Jester" said Joker as he sat down heavily in the chair Bruce had just vacated. The other tables had left hours ago and Scarlett suddenly became very aware that she was once again alone with this man. Was this all in her head?

"Happy Birthday, Jester" said Joker poking at Bruce's leftover dessert with a spoon and Scarlett smiled, she dared not ask how he knew it was her birthday.

"Thanks" she muttered and he looked up at her, his dark brown eyes fixing on her greys.

"What happened to that beautiful smile of yours," he asked before he stood and moved around to her side of the table. She didn't know what to say and was frozen to the spot as he leaned over her, his hand coming around to grasp her chin tightly. 

Instinctively Scarlett tried to pull her head back but his grip only tightened. He brought a knife up to her face and her heart rate increased, she was pretty sure she was going to die then and there. Then the feeling that overtook her, was like the most intense orgasm ever. She was not a kinky person, or at least she had never been before, but the cocktail of fear, exhalation, panic and excitement all mixed together was something that truly made her toes curl.

"Oh you kinky girl!" he said laughing wildly as he held her in place, clearly the feeling was showing on her face. This close he smelled of petrol and smoke and she couldn't help the grin that spread over her face.

"There's that smile," he said still holding her in place still, she laughed and he grinned.

"Why aren't you scared," he asked and she laughed again.

"I am, I'm absolutely terrified and it feels amazing. I think it’s you, something about you, you make me feel... alive" she moaned, smiling again.

"I could kill you" he assured her and she nodded, the blade millimetres away from her skin.

"I know, but when you feel this alive, death is not a concern," she explained and he cackled into hysterics.

"You're weird. I like it" he said smiling that yellow grin.

He pulled the knife away catching her on the retreat and causing a small gash along her jaw bone. She lifted a hand to her cheek and pulled it away only to stare at the blood it left there.

"Jester you're bleeding," he exclaimed, reaching forward and touching her cut, causing her to wince slightly. A look of worry past over his face for less than a split second and he pulled a tissue from his pocket and held it out to her. She smiled and took it from him.

"Thank you," she said and his face softened and for the first time since she had met him, he looked as though he was showing a real emotion. She held the tissue to her face and Joker seemed suddenly uneasy and little nervous.

"You're..." he began his face still soft but then he cut himself off and his usual grin filled his face.

"Come on Jester let's go have some fun," he said grabbing her hand and laughing crazily as he pulled her over the wall of the restaurant and down the street. She was having trouble keeping up and her dress kept wrapping its self around her ankles but she couldn't stop as the Joker continued to pull her down the street his speed constant. She couldn't keep the grin off her face, she hadn't felt like this ever in her life and she wondered if this was what true happiness really was.

He stopped suddenly in front of a large fountain of three prancing horses there was no one around and he turned to look at her before pulling a grenade from his pocket.

"Here," he said placing it in her hands. "Throw it at the fountain," he giggled smiling at her before he pulled the pin from the grenade and without much thought or question Scarlett launched the object it hit the middle horse and bounced into the water. Joker pulled her away quickly.

"5,4,3" The Joker chimed, just as the fountain exploded The Joker cackled and so did Scarlett.

"ah I love it when a plan goes wrong," he said cackling like the mad man he was.

"What do you wanna do now Jester, after all, it is your birthday," he said and Scarlett thought, and the images of the burning house and the screams came to her mind.

"I'd like to burn something down," she said warily, she hadn't lived out her desires for a long time.

"Oh I like your style," he said grabbing her hand again and taking off back down the street as sirens made there way towards the scene of the explosion.

He led her to the docks where the rich and the mob kept their expensive yachts. He let her choose one before throwing a flare at it and watching as it set ablaze.

She sat and watched the flames licking into the sky as the yacht began to sink and she smiled. The Joker stood next to her throwing more flares at more yacht and laughing all the time.

"So, you like fire huh," said The Joker as he sat down heavily next to her and she nodded her eyes not leaving the flames ahead.

"Care to explain?" he asked and she finally turned to look at him.

"It's hard to explain," she said and he shook his head.

"Tell me anyway."

She turned back to the flames. Though she had never told anyone before, she would tell him it was the least she could do after the night he had given her.

"I killed my father and step-mother when I was 18 by burning the house down with them inside, I barred up the doors and locked the windows and let them fry," she said before she turned to look at him and he seemed almost shocked.

"You're not as innocent as I thought," he said and she simply shook her head.

"He was a con artist and a drug baron, basically in control of all the heroin in Gotham and London. My mother was a good person and she went to the police to hand in evidence about him when I was a child and we were living in Gotham. My father was imprisoned. My mother and my mother’s friend were killed in front of me with a chainsaw, by a man my father paid to get revenge. 

I was 4 years old and they chopped her up in front of me and left me in that shipping container for 2 days, covered in her blood, before the police found me. And when they did I was given to my father who had got out prison early with good behaviour, he took me back to England. I didn't remember what happened to my mother at all, and I didn't know it had been my father.

Not until I was 18, I overheard him talking with my stepmother one night, about how to plan things for the inside. That's when he admitted to planning and paying for my mother to be killed. After that I remembered everything, it all came flooding back to me. I could see the blood, I could hear the screams and I could smell the petrol of the chainsaw. So with them still both upstairs, I pulled the gas lead out the back of the oven and let it fill the house before I threw a match and watched it burn. I lived in foster care for a short while after that. The inheritance money was enough to put me through my nursing degree and buy my flat. After the fire, I never really thought about my mum. Not until the other day, when we met, something about that girl dying on me brought it all back again." Scarlett admitted her eyes back on the fire again, The Joker stared at her a strange look on his face.

"You did the right thing, I killed my father too when he killed my mom in front of me," said The Joker and Scarlett turned to him and smiled.

"Seems we have quite a bit in common don't we," said Scarlett and the Joker grinned.

"So how old are you now then, Jester?" he asked standing up and pulling a large plastic bag from his pocket, it was screwed up into a tight ball.

"A gentleman never asks a lady her age" Scarlett laughed and the Joker cackled.

"I never claimed to be a gentleman" he laughed and Scarlett grinned.

"28, you?" she replied finally and he grinned.

"30," he said and she nodded. There was silence for a second then he held the bag out to her and she took it warily. He looked nervous but it was only for a split second and as he sat back down a little further away from her than before, the look was gone.

She opened the bag and gasped, there, in a screw-up mess but completely undamaged other than the dirty fingerprints was the dress she had tried on in the shop. She pulled it out the bag and stood up, holding it against herself.

"How?" she asked and he giggled.

"I saw you try it on, and I overheard it was your birthday, and that you couldn't afford it. So I went back when they were shut and got it for you," he said simply not really looking at her, instead, he fiddled with his knife. 

"Oh you are so wonderful, thank you" she sighed sitting back down next to him and placing a kiss on his cheek. He looked up but she was admiring her dress and didn't see his smile.

"You're really beautiful," he said looking at the woman sat next to him the flames framing her face and midnight hair beautifully.

Scarlett looked over and smiled. "Thank you handsome" she replied and he grinned. Scarlett was sure that if anyone had ever seen this side of The Joker before it was a long time ago, and she felt honoured he was showing it to her.

The moment was abruptly distorted as he cackled loudly. 

"Well I gotta run gorgeous, but I'll see you around," he told her, jumping up from where he was sitting before taking off without another word. She knew it wouldn't last but she felt sad as she watched his retreating form disappear from sight. Yet she had a smile the whole way home.

[cbyauthor]

Ch 6: At Your Side Clear Space For Me

Read Here on AO3!

The dirt from the pavilion stones had worked its way under Wei Wuxian's fingers. There wasn't much he could do about it, since he'd already clipped his nails so short the pink of his skin felt raw, and there was only so much scrubbing he could handle without his already chafed and blistered skin fell off.

That was just his lot in life for now, he supposed. Nothing wrong with being a labourer, but like any job, it carried a price.

That didn't make him any less conscious of the state of his hands as he knocked on Lan Zhan's door.

It was stupid. He'd done this every day for the past three days, and a few times before that, but this felt different, because before, he'd been working. Now, he had no reason to be here with his dirty hands, other than the fact that he wanted to see Lan Zhan.

And he didn't think he was imagining that Lan Zhan wanted him, too.

So when no one answered, he tried not to be disappointed. He just knocked again. And called out, just in case Lan Zhan's sensitive ears somehow hadn't heard.

I should go, he thought after knocking for a third time. There was no point in staying if Lan Zhan either wasn't home or wasn't answering.

But intuition was a powerful thing.

And it kept him standing outside Lan Zhan's door, the hair on the back of his neck standing up with the need to see and hear him, to know that he was alright.

"Wei Wuxian."

This time, Lan Xichen didn't make him jump, but he'd been just as silent as before.

"Hi."

"Are you delivering something?"

Wei Wuxian clasped his hands behind his back. "No. I just...No, I'm not."

"I see." Lan Xichen smiled as if he actually did. "The door is unlocked."

"Huh?" He looked to the lock, as if he could see the disengaged tumblers.

"You should go in. Today was...difficult. He needs someone, and I'm not always able to be that person."

Today? What happened today? An anniversary or something?

Maybe. Or maybe not. Grief was tricky, Wei Wuxian knew by experience. Sometimes there wasn't any one thing that pulled people back into the pit of despair. Just life, and living it while part of you was missing. It could have been anything from memories of Lan Zhan's mother, to running out of coffee.

"But I'm not…"  

Lan Xichen silenced him with a look. Not a cruel one, or quelling. Just penetrating , and he really couldn't think of a better word to use. Lan Xichen saw right through him, to the innermost parts of him, where Lan Zhan had worked his way in.

"You are," he said, tilting his head in the first catlike gesture Wei Wuxian had seen. "And I think you should go in."

Who was he to refuse, when that was what he desperately wanted to do anyway?

He gave Lan Xichen a nod and opened the door.

The apartment was different when the sun was setting outside. The cool blues, greys and whites were warmer, splashed with orange. The immaculate living room was suddenly alive with dust.

Wei Wuxian went right past it all to Lan Zhan's bedroom, where he'd never been.

The door wasn't quite closed, but neither was it open.

He knocked with the outer edge of his knuckle.

"Lan Zhan," he whispered. "Your brother sent me—oh. Oh, pet. What's the matter, hmm?"

Wei Wuxian had seen real cats before, even if he'd never owned one, and he knew what a cozy and comfortable nap looked like.

This was not that.

Lan Zhan was curled in a ball of white and grey in the centre of the tightly made bed, facing away from the door. His cat form wasn't plush or covered in fur to sink fingers deep into. Even with his limbs pulled in, it was obvious that he was sleek and long, just like how he was as a human. It was also obvious that every one of his bones was dragged down and wasted by misery.

Without thinking too much about it, Wei Wuxian toed off his shoes and climbed onto the wide bed. Lying on his side, he curled around the little puddle Lan Zhan made, leaving a few inches of space all around Lan Zhan's curved back.

At first, he didn't do anything, letting Lan Zhan get used to his presence, and hopefully breathe in a familiar smell that would settle him instead of making him feel like an intruder was soiling his space.

Then, when he spotted a single twitch of Lan Zhan's ear, he floated a hand over Lan Zhan's back and laid one long, broad stroke down the whole length. Under his palm, Lan Zhan's muscles convulsed in turn, but he didn't lift his head, so Wei Wuxian just kept doing it.

It was different from the tail petting of yesterday. That was companionship. This was comfort. So where that ended with the movie, and Wei Wuxian leaving, without escalating at all, this didn't.

It started with Lan Zhan moving his head. Suddenly, his long, pointed face was closer to Wei Wuxian's, slitted eyes still closed but somehow begging. Wei Wuxian's hand switched trajectories so he could gently scratch the silky soft fur between Lan Zhan's tall ears.

"You're okay," he murmured. "Everything will be okay, you'll see."

If he'd ever thought Lan Zhan was emotionless—he hadn't—Lan Zhan in cat form would have proved him wrong.

After a couple minutes of head-scratching, Lan Zhan started to bump his head up into Wei Wuxian's hand, demanding more. Wei Wuxian obliged as long as he could, but pretty soon after that Lan Zhan stood up and moved, uncurling enough that he could wipe the smooth side of his face against Wei Wuxian's jaw.

He purred. A deep rumble that jerked and jarred in waves, like he was unused to it.

Lan Zhan ended up curled right into Wei Wuxian's chest, chin propped on his arm as they cuddled. That same arm went a little numb from leaning on it, but the sound of that purr was worth it, and so was the gradual loosening of Lan Zhan's little body, until it was almost like he was sleeping, even though his eyes blinked slow and even.

It couldn't last, but it felt as if they'd made it last for as long as they both needed it.

(And Wei Wuxian would be the last to admit that he'd needed it, too, at least outside of his head.)

Lan Zhan's short fur still managed to be wrinkled as he stood up and hopped gracefully to the floor. Wei Wuxian watched him pad silently out of the room, then sat up, leaning his back against the headboard.

With someone else, he might have started wondering if he should leave, but not Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan would tell him if he needed to be alone, or Wei Wuxian would just know .

Instead, when Lan Zhan came back—dressed in soft pastel blue cotton pants and a loose white shirt, with his hair a little mussed, and not pulled up and away from his face like normal—he climbed up on the bed next to Wei Wuxian and radiated an energy that asked him to stay.

I will , he tried to say back, silently. As long as you want me to.

"Feeling better?" Wei Wuxian asked.

"I thought I was." Lan Zhan's Adam's apple bobbed roughly. "I thought—"

That he didn't need to run away anymore? That he wouldn't require comfort that he couldn't ask for as a human? Clearly not.

"It'll be okay," he said. "You've already come so far."

"I haven't. I still need it."

"Who cares?"

Lan Zhan's hands, laid flat on his thighs, tightened, dimpling the soft material of his pants. "I do. I've tried very hard, but I still feel so far from human sometimes."

"Of course you do. It was three years, you can't just shake it off like a bad dream. You're doing great, Lan Zhan, even if you took a step back. Give yourself a break."

There wasn't as much tension in Lan Zhan's body as there had been before, but he obviously wasn't in the state of mind to fully accept what Wei Wuxian was saying. He could relate. Wen Qing had been telling him he didn't owe the Jiangs anything since they were in high school, and he had yet to really get it.

So, if Lan Zhan couldn't internalize advice, then at least he could be soothed by something else.

Lan Zhan's hand left his leg and clawed into the hair next to his face, getting stuck in a tangle. Frustration bled into the muscles of his face even as he tried to yank his hand away, probably ashamed that even after acknowledging that he wasn't as far along into his full-time human journey, he still had the instinct to self-groom.

"Do you have a brush?" Wei Wuxian asked.

Lan Zhan nodded and pointed to the bedside drawer on Wei Wuxian's side with a hand that was still tense from keeping it away from his face and hair.

The brush was wide and made of wooden bristles. It felt heavy and expensive in Wei Wuxian's hand, but he tried not to be tentative with it, or with the thick front piece of Lan Zhan's hair that he gathered up in his fingers.

He set the brush to the wispy tips of his hair, then stopped. "Is this okay?"

The answer came right away. "Yes."

Somehow, even though he'd had his hands all over Lan Zhan's body just a few minutes ago, it was harder to touch him like this. The places he put his hands when he started to brush the tips of his hair were objectively less intimate, but it didn't feel that way.

It helped that this wasn't just intimacy for the sake of it. Lan Zhan had a need for a repetitive motion that left him cleaner or more put together at the end, so he put some real effort into it, untangling every snag until each piece was completely smooth.

Every once in a while, he'd ask Lan Zhan for some small accommodation. Turn a bit. Put your head down. Tilt it back. Every time, Lan Zhan obeyed without question, and his shoulders became less of a taut line.

"Turn to face me."

This time was no different.

When he settled himself in front of Wei Wuxian, Lan Zhan's lips were parted, and his eyelids lowered. He blinked at half-time. He looked...sated. Post-coital, almost, except without the sex hair. That was perfect, falling away from his face in thick, shiny sheets.

It made Wei Wuxian want to undo all his work right away.

He stroked the brush through the front parts a few cursory times, but there wasn't much left to do. No more excuses to touch him, unless he wanted to actually man up and do what he'd wanted to for days.

Bad fucking timing, he scolded himself. Lan Zhan might have looked like hot sin on a cracker, but he was dealing with some shit. Not the right moment to put the moves on.

Never would probably be a better time to try it on with his boss's brother.

"You'll be okay," he said again, setting the brush on top of the bedside table.

Lan Zhan nodded, then silence descended, but it wasn't a comfortable one, not like the ones they'd enjoyed before.

Wei Wuxian started to panic a little bit, even as he knew it was dumb. What had happened? Had Wei Wuxian done something to ruin the easy companionship they'd had? Maybe Lan Zhan had figured out that he wanted more, and wasn't—

"Sh."

It wasn't a soothing noise of comfort like any of the things Wei Wuxian had said in the heat of the moment when he'd been petting Lan Zhan. This was a command, and Wei Wuxian was powerless not to obey.

The silence was back—it had never really left—but it had a lot more intent this time. Lan Zhan was looking a lot less sleepy.

"Should I go?" Wei Wuxian whispered, his hands tightening on his knees with how much he did not want to do that.

"No." Leaning forward, Lan Zhan prowled the couple inches between them and captured Wei Wuxian's lips in a clumsy kiss.

It didn't stay clumsy for long.

Like everything that was coming back to Lan Zhan after three years, he picked it up incredibly fast. Wei Wuxian led them at first, slowing it all down so he could savour it.

But Lan Zhan was back to taking over soon, pushing it in every way, until Wei Wuxian was literally almost tipping off the bed.

"Wait," he said against those satiny lips, "Let me…"

"More," Lan Zhan said.

"Yes."

Getting their clothes off was a nightmare, mostly because neither of them wanted to separate for longer than a second. At least Lan Zhan's clothes didn't have any buttons or zips. Wei Wuxian's jeans were resisting, not helped by the fact that while he was struggling, Lan Zhan had picked up Wei Wuxian's shirt.

He held it to his face, still warm from his body, his eyes closing as he inhaled noisily.

"God," Wei Wuxian said, pushing off his jeans and underwear with a speed that hurt.

When he came back, it was his turn to push, until Lan Zhan was under him, laid out on the bed, miles and miles of skin that looked golden in the light from the fading sunset and against the white of his sheets.

Wei Wuxian wanted to look forever, but he was too eager to be intoxicated by sweet fruit and conifer trees.

He buried his face in the hair he'd just spent so long taming, pulling in a deep lungful of its scent before he turned his nose into Lan Zhan, behind his ear, down his neck...

Where he placed a sharp bite to the muscle that cushioned Lan Zhan's shoulder.

Lan Zhan let out a quick exhale, his eyes going wide, and he couldn't help but grin. And lean in to do it again.

Not just an exhale this time. A moan. Just small, but subsonic and heartfelt.

"Will you fuck me?" Wei Wuxian asked, throwing his leg over Lan Zhan's stomach, trying not to sit too heavily.

"Yes."

"Lube?" Before he could get an answer, he leaned down for a probing kiss. While their tongues were still exploring each other, Lan Zhan dug around in the nearest drawer until he found what he was looking for.

Wei Wuxian took the little bottle—green, with leaves on it, like it was all natural or some shit. Pretentious Lans—and uncapped it, squirting too much on his fingers. Some of it dripped onto Lan Zhan's chest, catching the light, and Wei Wuxian couldn't take his eyes off of that one shining drop as he spread the wetness where he needed it.

Lan Zhan's lungs were working double-time, a V of florid red blooming around his collarbone. He laid mostly still while Wei Wuxian prepared himself, except for the travelling palms that mapped every inch of his thighs.

He probably felt them tensing before Wei Wuxian lifted up, awkwardly shuffling into place. He definitely noticed when Wei Wuxian leaned forward, the hair that had fallen out of his ribbon trailing temptingly close to one small, seized-up nipple.

Not right now. Focus.

If getting himself ready with his fingers was awkward, then actually getting Lan Zhan's dick inside him was excruciating. He couldn't see, could only grasp and hope he got it right, fumble and blush, then finally, finally start sinking down.

His mouth fell open as he was filled, his legs already trembling even though they had the whole ride still to go.

"God," he said as he twitched his hips forward just a bit.

"Mm." Lan Zhan's eyes were wide and unblinking, bouncing around as he tried to watch every movement.

Wei Wuxian was too tired to really do it justice. If he hadn't been squatting over broken stones all day, walking back and forth from the pavilion to the wheelbarrow, he would've given Lan Zhan the ride of his life. He still tried, though.

Lifting up and dropping back down was too much work, so he just swivelled his hips, rocking them in a motion that hypnotised himself. His cock leaked on Lan Zhan's belly, untouched and happy to stay that way, to make this delicious, unsatisfactory bliss last.

He let his head fall back on one particularly clever jolt of his muscles, baring his throat and that was all it took for Lan Zhan to get tired of the dance.

Wei Wuxian shrieked a laugh as he was flipped over, but it turned into a moan when Lan Zhan nipped at his collarbone.

"Yeah," he said, "Mark me up." Hickies were so high school, but fuck if he didn't want them. All of them, on every inch of him.

Lan Zhan probably would've done it, too, but they were a little busy for that. Wrapped up in each other, they rocked from the powerful thrusts of Lan Zhan's hips. This was more like it. The animal drive for harder, faster , fulfilled by Lan Zhan who had the energy to go and fucking go.

Wei Wuxian was dying. Ascending. All that shit.

And for a full five minutes, he was sofuckingclose , but not quite there, and he couldn't ask for what he needed, not when his brain didn't want to work, and when this was Lan Zhan , who mattered too much.

So instead, he sank claws into Lan Zhan's back and pulled, and hoped that would—

Ah, it did.

Lan Zhan had been holding back. Incredibly, u nbelievably, he had more to give, and he gave it, until Wei Wuxian's back was arching, his hand going fast on his own cock between their bellies, making a mess and accepting everything Lan Zhan had to give him.

After, they breathed. The room smelled like them, like sex. Primal. But not savage or brutal, once the sweat started to dry.

Lan Zhan's arms came around him, bumping their foreheads together and keeping him close until they slept. That was all human.

[elsb-hrngtons]

I Can Get You High (If You Want To Climb) Chapter 2

Barb/ Carol.. You’re welcome

links to AO3 in notes.

Gym class is arguably Barb’s worst class, straight A student in all other lessons, gym being the only one she’s barely scraping by with a C and it’s not hard to see why. There’s nothing worse than having to run laps around the track, ill fitting sports bar doing absolutely nothing to keep the girls in check, she gets out of breath just looking at the track let alone when she actually has to do laps, barley breaking into a sprint, sweating buckets chest heaving and almost giving herself a concussion with every stride. She’s long passed caring about her grade enough to actually put in 100 percent, only participates so she doesn’t get failed altogether, can’t have a fail, that would screw her plans for college up entirely.

Of course the physical excretion is nothing compared to the mandatory gym kit Hawkins high provides, a pale grey t-shirt that does absolutely nothing to hide the tidal wave of sweat gathering across the entirety of her torso, she’s always soaked through by the time the hours up, and of course those awful little shorts. She always wonders if the uniform was designed by some creepy man, who gets off watching young teenage girls in the shortest shorts possible, barely enough fabric to cover even the smallest girl’s butt cheeks, let alone Barb’s, with her hulking thighs that really test the limits of the shorts seams. Barb has always been slightly self conscious, gym class makes it worse, all she wants to do is get the class over and done with, sit on the bleachers and wait patiently while all the girls filter through and get showered and changed, before she can go in a change herself. Thank god it's the last class of the day, otherwise she'll have to weigh the pros and cons of being late to another class.

Today was dodgeball and god did Barb loathe dodgeball above all other things, firstly she’s easy pickings and all the other girls take advantage of that, even the girls supposedly in her team, secondly her aim is shit especially because it is not worth the risk to wear her glasses, having learnt that lesson the hard way freshman year, with a broken pair or brand new glasses and a rather dramatic trip to the nurses office to make sure she didn’t get glass in her eye. It’s not like Barb couldn’t see anything, more like everything was more hazy, all the girls running about in a blur of green and gray, the balls whizzing past in a flurry of angry orange, it also messed with her depth perception like crazy, which meant unfortunately she tripped over her feat, a lot more than she usually would, causing her classmates to snicker cruelly from all angles, it just wasn’t fair that she was subjected to this, why couldn’t she just scrap this class altogether?

She prepares herself to be pelted by the balls and to be eliminated at her earliest convenience, the less time she spends on the court the better, but today’s different, as the opposite team line up balls in hands ready to take aim, she braces herself for the inevitable sting of rubber slapping against flesh, except this time it never comes. She’s startled by a growl and a blur of auburn locks rushing up in front of her, Its Carol Perkins of all people, an impressive force of tiny fury, catching each ball mid air and launching them back with acute precision at the other team, within minutes she’s already eliminated half of the opposition and is showing no signs of slowing down, Barb is in absolute awe as she stands in astonishment, admiring how flawless Carol looks channeling all that aggression into the game. Unfortunately for Barb she’s dragged out from her stupor by a ball landing squarely in her stomach, knocking the wind right out of her, she doubles over in pain for a second before having to compose herself as quickly as possible and makes her way to the sidelines to watch what’s left of the game, or risk getting hit again. Carol continues her assault, seemingly spurred on even further by Barb being knocked out, unsurprisingly Carol is the last woman standing, expression alternating between angry scowl and smug grin as she gloats in her victory to the rest of the class. Barb thinks she see’s Carol spare a glance at her, offering her a small apologetic smile, but it’s so brief Barb concludes she must be hallucinating.

###

The locker rooms are literal hell for Barb, reluctant to get changed herself in front of the other girls, always paranoid she’ll get ridiculed for her weight, but honestly? That’s not even her biggest problem, no the thing she hates most about being surrounded by a class full of beautiful girls in various states of undress, is that she doesn’t hate it at all. She feels like such a peeping tom, surrounded by all this silky skin, firm breasts and while she tries to avert her eyes as much as she can she always catches herself lost in thought staring a little too intensely and a little too south than she is comfortable with, has to shake herself from her sinful thoughts, shove her head further into her locker a pray that this will all be over soon, or god himself will strike her down and put her out of her misery. She wishes things could be easy for her, that she wasn’t repulsed by the very idea of men, that she didn’t crave the touch of a soft delicate woman instead of being manhandled by the rough calloused hands of a man. Her only saving grace is as all her classmates file out, chattering away about their weekend plans, if none of them seem to notice her, or her longing gaze, she’s safe for now, left in the peaceful silence of an empty locker room.

With a heavy sigh of relief she makes her way to the showers towel in hand and shimmies her way out of her gym kit, ecstatic that she’s free of it for at least another 3 days at least, she turns on the spray lets the water get to temperature as she fights her way out of the constraints of her sweaty sports bra and panties, discards them in a heap on the tile out of reach from the running water. She steps into the spray, lets out a satisfied grown as the warm stream runs now her back soothing aching muscles as she stretches and cracks her stiff joints. She lets that small pleasure wash over her for a while, she’s in no rush to hurry out today, no plans on this ordinary Friday afternoon, or for the entirety of the weekend to be fair, maybe except her regularly scheduled phone call with Nancy on Sunday evening.

She gets lost in the quiet, only the sounds of the spray filling the room, finally free to daydream about creamy thighs and the curve of womanly hips, all alone in her own little bubble, which is why she’s startled by the sudden appearance of Carol, leaning casually against the entrance to the showers, still fully clothed in her gym gear and bright blue orbs starting with a laser focus directly into Barb’s soul. Carol has a dangerous smirk on her lips, the kind that makes Barb squirm with the paranoia that Carol can read minds and knows exactly what Barb was thinking about only seconds ago. Her paranoia is not calming down as Carol begins to stalk towards Barb, never breaking eye contact even as she lifts her gym shirt over her head, and steps out of her tiny shorts. Carol completely skips past her own shower head, instead stepping under Barb’s stream, all hunger and determination pouring out of her as she stalks forward like a predator and Barb’s her prey. Barb has nowhere to go but backwards, cornered into the wall, shivering at the loss of warmth for the shower, and burning all too hot from the press of Carol’s skin on hers. Barb is at least 9 inches taller than Carol, height not giving her any advantage as Carol cages her in, Carol even has to stand on her tiptoes just to place a chaste yet hungry kiss to Barb’s collar bone, ripping a full body shudder from her, completely incapable of controlling the flush creeping across her face and spreading eagerly down to her chest.

“Wha.. what are you doing Carol?” Barb stammers out. She’s a storm of confusion and panic and it really doesn’t help that Carol is currently burying her face in her cleavage, leaving little kisses in her wake, until she rests her chin on the shelf of Barb’s breasts and looks up eyes all faux innocence as she says

“What’s the matter Teddy Bear? Don’t you want me?” Carol actually pouts, feigning hurt and Barb melts, it’s like an instinct, the inexplicable need to comfort a pretty girl. With shaky arms Barb brings her hands to rest on Carol’s shoulders, leans her weight in fear of her legs giving way any minute, she’s overwhelmed with a conflict of emotions, she’s not stupid, she knows exactly what this means, what Carol is trying to do; heard all bout her little romp with Nancy, she just can’t figure out why Carol has any interest in her.

“That’s not it.”

“Then what?” Carol asks. Still pouting and Barb is overcome with the need to kiss that put away.

“Why me?” Barb’s actually curious, why her? When Carol could have absolutely anyone she wants, she’s gorgeous and Barb has been told all her life, with the exception of maybe Nancy and her parents that she isn’t worth a second glance from anyone.

“Isn’t it obvious Teddy Bear?” that pet name does something to Barb, she should be annoyed, instead she finds herself quite fond of it, never wanting Carol to stop calling her it. Barb shakes her head, she really is at a loss. “You’re beautiful baby” Carol purrs and she runs her hands across the expanse of Barb’s sides, brings them round to rest her palms against the small of Barb’s back, uses the new angle as leverage to pull them closer together, as she begins peppering kisses all over Barb’s chest. “So pretty, gorgeous” Barb can’t help but scoff at that, no one has ever called her beautiful before. “It’s true! Let me show you just how beautiful I think you are baby?”

If Barb were not being held up by Carol’s knee bullying its way between Barb’s thighs she would have been a puddle on the floor because of Carol’s words alone, how could she possibly deny a beautiful girl showering her in compliments an affection, it’s not like she doesn’t function like everybody else on this godforsaken planet, she needs the validation just as much as the next person, and surprisingly to her she kinda gets off on it too, and if Carol’s actions are anything to go by, she gets off on giving them too. Carol leans up trying to reach Barb’s lips has to almost climb the length of Barb’s body to get even a little bit close, Barb gets with the picture and bends at the knees to meet her half way, their lips smash together clumsily, teeth clacking together in a desperate bid to brush against each other, its awkward but not awful and soon they find their rhythm, Carol deepening the kiss by licking her way into Barb’s mouth, sucking at her bottom lip and catching it with her teeth, it’s obscene and it lights Barb’s whole body on fire with desire and need, what she needs she doesn’t really know, but Carol seems to know what she’s doing, asserting her dominance with practised finesse as she uses her mouth to explore every inch of Barb’s skin, lips sliding across her across the shoulders and down her chest, until Carol sinks to her knees and gently paws at Barb’s thighs pushing them open to allow access.

Before Barb can even process what’s happening Carol’s nose is nuzzling its way through the course reddish hair that grows unruly atop Barb’s mound, she seems to revel in the sent and she uses her nails to lightly scratch at the backs of Barb’s thighs, inhaling deeply and sighing as if its the sweetest sent she’s ever smelt, maybe it is Barb really wouldn’t know, too ashamed to even touch herself down there.

Just when Barb thinks she can’t take the anticipation any more Carol dives in, goes straight for the gold and swipes her tongue across and around Barb’s clit with what Barb can only assume is  practised  precision. Barb yelps out at the sudden jolts of pleasure that shoot all through her veins, like sparks of electricity about to light a tinder box completely aflame. Carol’s tongue continues its exploration, licking through Barb’s folds, darting out and teasing her hole, she can feel herself gush and it’s embarrassing but Carol moans lewdly as her tongue laps up the evidence of Barb’s excitement. Her tongue peaks its way back up to Barb’s hood, lightly grazing against Barb’s bundle of nerves, causing her to twitch and her hips it involuntarily thrust, Carol’s hands creep their way up to Barb’s hips and press her flush to to the wall as she continues ministrations. Barb has to scramble for purchase to keep herself right, one hand desperately clinging to the top of Carol’s head to keep her balance the other flying to her mouth to muffle frankly pornographic noises she’s making without her consent. She can feel everything building, like a glass of water getting filled bit by bit and she’s so close to spilling over it’s almost painful, all it takes is for a well timed suckle of her clit from Carol and Barb is screaming out, hand doing absolutely nothing to silence the sounds of her pleasure now her orgasm is wreaking havoc on her body, she’s shaking all over, wave after wave of intense feeling crashing over she’s sure she’ll black out, before she can catch herself she sinks to the ground, still reeling from the aftershocks of the most mind blowing thing to ever happen to her. Carol catches Barb on her way down, cradles her as she leans against Carol’s shoulder, almost sobbing from being so overwhelmed. Carol pets through her hair, massaging and scratching lightly at her scalp and cooing quietly in her ear between a spattering of kisses across her cheek.

“You were so good Teddy Bear, so good for me”

Barb feels sleepy, could drift off right here she’s in such a daze, doesn't really register as Carol props her against the wall and reaches up form the soap, only jumps slightly in surprise as glides its across her body to clean her, it’s oddly gentle and far more intimate than what just transpired, Barb has completely lost the use of all her limbs so just sits there quietly as Carol washes her thoroughly and oh so sweetly all the while murmuring pretty little words and praises about how good Barb was. Once Carol is done cleaning the both of them she helps Barb to her feet and leans up to plant one last kiss to Barb’s cheek.

“That was fun Teddy Bear, can’t wait to do that again.” and with that she’s spins around and struts out of the showers grabbing a towel on her way out, leaving Barb completely speechless, her head spinning with all the possibilities of what again really means.

[mountaindewpussyblast]

lineup showing differences between the five clans

from left to right shadowclan, riverclan, skyclan, thunderclan, windclan

shadowclan 6 - 10 in / 5 - 9 lbs 

the leopard

persians, bombay, british shorthairs, munchkins [varied]

before skyclan [modern] arrived shadowclanners were one of the varied of the clans, often ending up in close proximity to humans attracting both kittypets and loners alike. they typically have more neutral colored pelts, ranging from paper white to inky black, some sporting bright patches of ginger to distinguish them from the crowd, and are often quite blotchy in pattern. no matter their color they are well known for having dark skin around their eyes, making their brightly colored eyes quite striking. their fur can be short or long, and is often quite coarse on the surface, but surprisingly resistant to mud and debris clinging to it, perfectly suited to their swampy territory. their most notable traits are their hooked claws, prone to leaving especially nasty wounds, long tails for communicating wordlessly, and intense gaze.

riverclan 9 - 10 in / 9 - 13 lbs 

the tiger

bengals, traditional siamese, vans,  abyssinians

by human standards riverclanners tend to be the most exotic and striking of the cats, sporting bright pelts, and patterns more often found in big cats than your average kittypet. they range in all shades of gold and orange and brown, with the occaisional silvery grey. ticking is a common pattern, as well as siamese, spotting, and rosettes. their eyes seem to reflect the water in which they swim encompassing all shades of teal to blue. typically short haired, it is not uncommon for their to be medium length furred cats, and just as many sport bushy tails as those with smooth ones. their pelts are smooth and oily, allowing them to maintain their buoyancy, and quickly dry off. although known for being especially well fed, they are remarkably muscular, and have unusually webbed toes.

[original] skyclan 9 - 12 in / 7 - 10 lbs

the lynx

japanese bobtails, manx’s, pixie bobs / later varied

the original cats of skyclan were uniquely adapted to scaling the massive trees that grew in their territory, and later on the rocky mountains where they would leap from rock to rock. although they always had grey cats they had a number of brown and gold ones, but their new home found their pelts greying until they blended in perfectly to their surroundings. they would often have soft patches or swirling patterns, and eyes that ranged from pale yellow to leaf green and sky blue. their pelts were quite varied both in length and texture, what set them apart was their short cropped tails, and long, powerful hindlegs that could propel them several more feet into the air than any other cat could even dream.

thunderclan 13 - 15 in / 15 - 18 lbs 

the lion

maine coons, norwegian forest cats, ragdolls, nebelungs 

although they were named after their founder, thunder, it is often joked amongst the other clans that thunderclan was named for their loud personas and big presence. descending from large northern breeds, thunderclan cats are easily the biggest in terms of volume. they have rich brown and orange pelts, with creams and greys being a bit of a rarity. there are few solid coated cats, with the vast majority being mackeral tabbies or brindles. they have bright yellow to amber eyes, although some may have instead dark green, it wasn’t nearly as common as it is nowadays. but that’s firestar’s influence for you. their fur is long and thick, with many sporting a mane of fur, giving a rather lion-like impression. aside from their sheer size, and impressionable pelts, they typically have rather large paws for suppressing their steps, but this has also resulted in polydactyl cats being quite the norm.

windclan 14 - 16 in /  8 - 10 lbs 

the cheetah

orientals, siamese, peterbalds, egyptian maus

the only cats that have a chance at looking down on a thunderclanner, windclan cats are about as narrow as the grass in which they stalk. they have muted coats, coming in browns, tans, greys, and whites, but always looking as though they’re being perceived through a misty haze. mottled cats are quite common, but they also have striped and spotted markings. their eyes are similarly pale, although quite varied otherwise. their fur is often short, with long haired cats still lacking a substantial amount of fur about their face and legs, and they’re described to have incredibly silky fur. they’re said to be rather cold, however their blood seems to run hot, making them less susceptible to the heat, and making their sleeping piles all the more effective in the winter. of course with their height comes long legs, making them some of the fastest cats around, all would be for not though if it weren’t for their equally long tails which they throw out like rudders to change directions in a chase, similar to how a cheetah might.

[maandags]

the small bar is dimly lit, the only sources of light the orange-and-yellow lanterns hanging from every wooden beam in the ceiling. the black silk of your outfit sheens in the syrupy light, the feathered mask behind which most of your face is hidden reflecting it and looking almost purple with the soft glow pulsing through the very air.

the atmosphere is sweet, heavily scented with cinnamon and a sharp tang that reminds you of the burn that strong whisky leaves behind as it glides down your throat. people in nice dress and masks mill all around you, and music drifts between the shift of people swirling across the floor. 

someone bumps into your shoulder and your senses sharpen, fingers involuntarily twitching for the throwing stars hidden in the folds of your long dark coat--along with two of your favourite knives--though if everything happens according to plan, you won’t need them. 

you spot him almost immediately, and you can’t help the smile that curves your lips at the sight. he’s made work of it tonight. 

he’s wearing a charcoal grey suit, and a white tie peeks out from behind the blazer. the fabric shimmers in the soft light as he moves, sipping champagne from a tall crystal glass and politely nodding along to whatever tirade his current companion is engaged in. his mask is a lighter grey than his suit, tendrils of black snaking across it in elegant patterns that sparkle with every bit of light they catch. his cane gleams, smoothly polished wood with a silver handle. his fingers tap a rhythm you know all too well.

a servant boy slips past you, platter of glasses balancing atop a hand encased in a red glove. you turn and pluck a flute of champagne off of it, giving him a polite nod. the servant inclines his head, slick white mask giving away no expression at all.

you mostly keep to the sidelines, inconspicuously scanning the room and its assets while also keeping an eye on your partner. you can’t see his eyes; can’t tell if he’s noticed you--and yet you know that he has. because that’s the way you two work: completely in sync, diving head-first into any situation because you know the other has your back. 

always.

you down the last of the champagne, and slip two fingers inside the glass to pluck out the raspberry that sits innocently at the bottom. you wrinkle your nose at the sogginess of it, glad for the protection of a dark red napkin so that the berry doesn’t stain your pretty black gloves. with practised ease, you pop the tiny pill out of the middle of the sweet treat and slide it in the hidden compartment of your glove. 

the rest of the raspberry you stick in your mouth, its sharp flavour bursting across your tongue.

the music changes from a soothing slow piece to a more upbeat composition, and you straighten, recognising the tune. you risk a glance towards the yellow-suited man behind the cello, then smooth out the folds of your coat and tug on the ornate buttons decorating your gloves. a tall figure in a dazzling lilac dress sidles up to you and holds out an elegantly manicured hand. you take it and flash the woman in the butterfly mask a grin.

it’s showtime.

the woman leads you towards the dance floor and takes your hands in hers, placing them on her hips. there’s a split second as you adjust yourself to the beat, then she sails out into the crowd. you move with perfect coordination, and with every step the middle of the room comes closer. under your breath, you count down the beats until the crescendo, humming along to the notes. 

beat. the Butterfly’s twinkling eyes hold an amused glint behind her mask. beat. a half-turn, and the crescendo finally arrives, and the cello sounds out above all other instruments. beat. in the split second of absolute silence that follows, the Butterfly gives you a final twirl and you close your eyes, momentarily weightless--

his hand catches yours, and the music picks up again, and your eyes snap open and meet his dazzling grey ones behind his mask.

“good evening,” Shiro murmurs as he places a hand on your hip, a faint smile upon his lips.

“and to you,” you greet back, effortlessly falling into step with him, letting him set the pace, letting him lead.

his left hand holds your right one, and you feel his fingers picking at the fabric of your glove, applying pressure until the small red pill slips out from between the silky folds. he catches it easily. 

though you’d practised the move a million times, you still felt a surge of relief that everything had gone so smoothly until now. there always was a certain uncertainty in every job you worked, and just because you’ve always been successful up till this point doesn’t mean you should be less careful. Shiro smiles, and you can see the excitement brewing in the silvery sky of his eyes.

you’d tell him not to be reckless, but he’d smile and say, too late for that. you’d tell him to be careful, but he’d merely tease you in response. oh, y/n, you know i’m the most careful man alive. 

for exactly thirty seconds you can afford to relax and just enjoy the moment, Shiro’s hand in yours, and the other one on your waist, holding you close to him. though the mere idea of romancing your partner-in-crime was outright ridiculous--your employer certainly wouldn’t approve, anyway--you wouldn’t deny that you hadn’t noticed the obvious tension that always seems to follow you around whenever you’re with him. 

you won’t deny you like the way he looks at you--like you’re the only one he ever sees; like you’re the only one worth seeing--or the way your skin flares with electricity when it brushes his. so you’ve thought about his lips on yours--what about it?

the music drops again, and you nod to him, and he nods to you, and he slips his fingers from yours and tips an invisible hat before waltzing away with a random woman. you suppress a smile, your own fingers securely closed around the handle of Shiro’s cane.

in your mind, you start the countdown as the small figure with the coyote mask picks up where Shiro’d left off, your mental timer ticking and your eyes firmly trained on his retreating form, making sure to stay as close to him as possible without making it conspicuous. he joins a group of elder men, all dressed in classic, muted tones except for one, who wears gold. they clap him on the back and you see their lips move in what are most likely rather rude comments about his various dance partners. they don’t notice the absence of his cane.

a servant with red gloves--deviating from the classic servant white--clips Shiro’s shoulder, making his platter wobble. a single crystal flute of champagne teeters over the edge, and Shiro catches it. the red pill falls from his glove into the glass, and the men cheer as he gives a shy laugh and offers it to the man in the gold suit. the latter waits with his drink in hand until the rest all have theirs, then lifts his glass in a toast.

you suck in a breath. Coyote slips a small bottle in your pocket. 

the Gold Man drinks.

a brief moment later, shouts. the Gold Man has sunk to the floor, his eyes bulging out of his head and coughing up a lung. people scream to give him space while they press forward to get a glance at the gruesome events unfolding right in front of their very eyes. 

you slip the bottle from your pocket, feeling its comforting weight in your hand, and Shiro’s cane--your cane--in the other. 

you toss the bottle up in the air, and in the same movement draw the gun hidden inside the cane, your fingers curling around the trigger and taking aim before the bottle has even reached its highest point. time seems to freeze, and the bottle takes an agonisingly long time to tumble over itself and reach its peak. when it finally does, you pull the trigger and a split second later the air fills with black smoke. 

you pull the filter concealed beneath your mask over your mouth and set a brisk pace for the door. the screams only intensify in number and volume, yet there is a smug grin plastered upon your face, and when you feel the familiar warmth of his hand slipping into yours, your grin morphs into an elated beam. you squeeze his fingers. he squeezes back.

- - -

two masked figures slip into a chilly city night, away from the dimly lit, cinnamon-scented music bar. they leave behind a dead man, a whole lot of confused partygoers, a not-quite-servant and a cello-player and a Butterfly and a Coyote who will find their own way out. one of them has knives and throwing stars hidden in the folds of their feathered coat; the other casually swings a cane that holds a concealed gun.

the stars welcome them home, twinkling their greeting.

[residentlion]

Fantasy AU Part 2.

‘The beacon will only respond to holy magic.’ Enrico slipped the pale gold stone into a leather pouch and closed it securely. ‘I would wish you luck, but you don’t need it. You’re one of my best knights, and I have faith that you will succeed.’

‘Thank you.’ Chris took the pouch and clasped his lord captain’s arm in farewell.

A squire approached quietly from the main room to let them know that everything was prepared.

Enrico glanced at him, then clapped Chris on the shoulder supportively. ‘Looks like the demon’s ready to go. Let’s get the oath sworn so you can start your quest.’

The demon waiting by the altar looked very different from the one Chris had seen in the cell. The bruising along his cheekbone was still there, but it was obvious that Albert had been given a chance to clean up and he was dressed in fresh practical travel clothing. Chris had vaguely noticed that he was attractive even when he was a mess, but now he was undeniably, and distractingly, beautiful. His shoulder-length hair was a very pale blond with all the dirt washed out of it, smoothed back from his face in a simple yet regal style, and Chris’ fingers itched to run through the silky looking strands. A faint smirk pulled his thin lips up as he caught Chris staring, the glimpse of sharp fangs serving as a reminder of what he was.

Chris ordered himself to focus, his quest was the only thing that mattered and the demon was merely a means to an end. He held his hand out for the ritual cut, noticing as Albert followed suit that there was an irregular pattern of thin red scars across the backs of his fingers.

Albert curled his hand into a fist to drip blood into the chalice set below. ‘I, Albert, will escort Chris Redfield safe and unharmed to the border of Arklay and activate the portal. This is the whole of my oath.’ His eyes flashed red in rage as he spoke.

The dagger stung as it cut Chris’ palm and he tipped his hand to let his blood run into the chalice too. ‘I, Chris Redfield, on behalf of the Order of Stars, will allow Albert to go in peace after he has fulfilled his oath.’

The old cleric grimaced at the mingling of human and demon blood, but he acknowledged the oath and it was done.

Jill healed Chris’ hand for him, hugging him fiercely as they headed for the courtyard. ‘I wish I was going with you.’

‘Me too.’ He sighed, he hated to leave his partner behind but the smaller the group the less notice they would attract once they were out of allied territory.

Their horses were already saddled up and laden with supplies. Chris gave his horse a firm pat before mounting, wheeling around to see Albert climbing onto his own steed. It was a good thing that the Order had kept the animal they’d found him with, the horse was ordinary as far as anyone could tell, but it had been specially bred and trained to accept a demon as a rider.

The sun was rising as they left, and it wasn’t long before Chris realised that they’d all managed to miss a very obvious problem. He glanced at his companion’s orange eyes shining in the sunlight and guided his horse off the road.

Albert followed, annoyance on his face as they stopped. ‘Did you forget something?’ For a presumably experienced rider, he seemed very uncomfortable on his horse, his shoulders too stiff and his grip on the reins too tight.

Chris had a bigger worry though. ‘There’ll be townsfolk on the road soon. We need to disguise you.’ He gestured at Albert’s unnatural eyes to indicate his demonic features.

‘Is that all?’ Albert made a sharp, impatient gesture towards himself. His eyes shifted to grey, his sheathed claws to normal nails and when he smiled smugly at Chris’ surprise there were no fangs visible.

‘Ok, that works.’ Chris was more than a bit unnerved at the glamour, the Order wasn’t aware that demons possessed that kind of magic, but it solved the current issue. He paused as a thought occurred to him. ‘Why didn’t you use that before, to evade the Order’s notice?’

Albert scowled, but he grudgingly answered. ‘I was too weak to spare the power to keep it up.’

Chris left it at that, nudging his horse back to the road to continue on their way. As he turned he caught Albert’s pained wince as he squeezed his legs around his own horse to follow after. Even though he hadn’t complained, and Chris should only care if it would negatively affect their quest, he found himself concerned about Albert’s apparently unhealed injuries. ‘Albert, are you okay to keep riding?’

‘Fine.’ The grey eyes could burn just as much as the red and to stubbornly prove the point, Albert sped up to pull in front of Chris.

He sighed and dropped the topic, the realisation that he would be spending months with a moody demon as his constant companion a very unwelcome prospect.

Chris wasn’t really expecting any help preparing their campsite, so he was surprised when Albert assisted him without any urging. ‘Isn’t it a little beneath a demon lord to know how to set up camp?’ He commented sarcastically even as he watched Albert expertly arrange the base for a fire.

Albert gave him an arch look and snapped his fingers, the pile in front of him bursting into flames.

‘Oh.’ That was faster than starting one manually, Chris had to admit.

‘You think we’re all arrogant pricks who like to parade around in fancy armour and scream at imps?’ He sounded amused, his head slightly tilted and his eyes shining in the firelight.

‘I’m guessing you’re talking about someone specific.’ The glimpse of humour and the demon’s seeming willingness to engage in conversation intrigued Chris. Most of his experiences with demons had involved him putting a sword or a bolt of holy light through their bodies, not having a casual discussion.

‘Oh, yes.’ Albert actually laughed quietly, and Chris was struck by how pleasant the sound was.

‘I know the type.’ He sympathised, grinning at the banter.

Before they slept, Chris set up holy wards around their camp. This close to the Order’s castle there was no real danger from brigands or animals, but putting up protective wards was basic training that he did almost without thinking.

Albert’s voice startled him out of his meditative spell trance. ‘I’m not going to run off and kill anyone.’

The statement made him realise that he was keeping Albert trapped inside, not just repelling potential invaders, and on second thought maybe that was a good idea. ‘No offense, Albert, but I don’t think I can take your word on that.’

For some reason that made him laugh. ‘No, you probably shouldn’t.’

Chris tried not to think about how good it made him feel to hear the low chuckle.

Sometime during the night, Chris woke up. He lay still for a moment, mentally checking his wards to make sure they hadn’t been tripped. The usual noises of nighttime surrounded him, the rustle of leaves and calls of animals… and closer a soft whimpering. Frowning, Chris propped himself up on his arm to peer across the camp at the sleeping demon.

Albert was on his back, his breathing ragged with little hurt cries while he tossed his head from side to side, one of his hands bunching up his blankets as he fought the grip of his nightmare. In the meagre light Chris could see the glimmer of tears on his cheeks, his almost silent suffering more heartbreaking than if he’d been screaming and thrashing.

At that moment it didn’t matter that he was a demon, Chris wished there was something he could do to help, unable to bear seeing anyone in so much pain. But he guessed that even a gesture made in support or kindness would be rebuffed with suspicion and hostility. Demons barely trusted each other, only working together because a greater demon ordered them to, and Chris couldn’t afford to trust his travelling companion beyond the scope of their quest. The argument wasn’t convincing enough to make falling asleep any easier when he could still hear Albert’s quiet sobbing.

[the-foxes-fangs]

Warmup fragments with Ikesen/OC’s

I’ve been behind on requests so I promised @otomediary I’d post these little warmups even though they feature my OC’s 

                                                           ***

She had thought it was the wormhole opening two months too soon as the sky split like a rent cloth on the day the warlord’s had taken her out hawking, she had been riding next to Hideyoshi who had the presence of mind to grab her horses reins as it reared and jerked away in terror, nearly unseating her. 

That same feeling, nauseating pressure, the crackle of static building to a painful roar, and the sky coming undone as Hideyoshi lifted her bodily out of the saddle and held her protectively, his arm growing tighter around her as the sounds of a massive battle rolled in as if on a wave that broke against them. She held his sleeve, heart pounding as their group bunched up, each of them peering into the midday twilight, turned ochre through a cloud of choking dust that whipped across their faces and twisted into serpentine columns, falling from the broken sky. 

And then the noise receded and they appeared, four figures riding hell for leather out of the dust, pursuing something that flashed unnaturally bright even in the haze, a massive twisting mass that reminded her of a huge crumpled thermal blanket whipping and rolling in some way that was horribly alive and malicious, and utterly silent. 

They were yelling to each other in some language she had never heard, even in her own time, women crouched low on their horses, circling it, it whatever it was. The language was unintelligible, but the urgency wasn’t. 

She saw one of them vault off her horse and into the writhing malevolence, before being immersed in a silence so complete and abrupt that for a moment she felt as if all of the sound had been excised from the world at once. The snorting and stamping of the horses and the buzz of voices started her out of the dull shock of the scene, which had seemed to expand into hours but must have taken no more than half a minute in reality, if reality could still be considered a reliable thing. She had fallen through time, and now time and space were falling around her as she clutched Hideyoshi’s hand. 

It was gone, and the dust was drawing back apparently of its own volition, revealing a placid, uninterrupted sky as it receded into the outstretched hand of the woman closest to them, and she felt that same instinct for flight as she had the night she’d arrived at Honno-ji when the two groups faced each other. 

“Hey!” Masamune thundered, wheeling his horse out, sword unsheathed, always the first to run toward a fight, “explain yourselves!” 

“Masamune, stand down.” Nobunaga said quietly, holding himself quite still and carefully observing the otherworldly invaders. 

“Be cautious my lord.” Hideyoshi said protectively. 

Ieyasu and Mitsuhide were too busy aiming their respective weapons to speak, and you could almost hear the speed of Mitsunari’s thoughts as he surveyed the scene. 

***

She was arrestingly beautiful, he thought, the tallest of the strangers with the darkest skin he’d ever seen, lithe grace in her body and fearlessness stamped into her fine features, from the graceful column of her neck, the gentle smile with no hint of timidity on her full lips to the good natured intelligence that burned in her dark eyes. 

He laid out the Go board and watched her pad silently about the Tenshu, hands held behind her back, taking inventory to the smallest detail as she seemed to always do. 

“Tiaret.” He said, her name heavy on his tongue. “Why is it that the others call you one thing, but you ask us to call you another?” Nobunaga asked curiously, watching the way the golden cloth of her dress seemed to gather all of the light in the room to itself. 

“I am from a place where magic is as common as water, and there’s magic in a name-- power to bind, power to break.” She answered, her voice soft and low, a trace of amusement on her face. She wore her thick curly black hair elaborately braided close to her head, with ornaments of gold and red that gave her face a warm glow even in the moonlight where she stood on the balcony. 

Of all their guests from the further shore, she was the most amiable, but he felt as if it were the disinterested amiability of a tiger looking at a falling leaf. He had never believed in the possibility of an unseen world, of anything so childish as magic, until he had seen what she could do. As every challenge ever had, she filled with him a fierce desire to capture her attention, to conquer her disinterest, and to know her. 

“And you have my name now.” He said, tapping his fingers against his cheek as he rested his chin on his hand. 

“If I wished to harm you with magic, it would be of a far more direct kind. I was elected as intermediary to maintain some semblance of peace while we’re here, not as an assassin.” She said, with an elegant gesture of dismissal. 

“I have seen it, and I still cannot grasp the nature of magic.” He replied, searching her untroubled face. 

She seated herself elegantly across from him and studied the board thoughtfully. “It is unnatural to you, and thus beyond your grasp.” She said bluntly, but without any incivility. 

A faint scent of honey and some flower whose name was as much a mystery as hers drifted across to him, heady and soft, with the warm late summer breeze. “I commend you on your grasp of tactics, it’s rare that I am outmatched in Go.” 

“My vocation is to remember, it would be strange if I were so well acquainted with the details of so many battles and yet knew nothing of the general principles of war.” She answered with an indulgent smile as she rolled a white go piece between her slender fingers. 

***

“You have a lot of freedom for a prisoner of war,” Ieyasu said, looking askance at the unsettling wisp of a woman, sickly pale as a radish with her face framed by hair the color of an orange autumn leaf and her eyes barely a shade lighter. 

“My prison is living, but my hell is being alive to be questioned by the likes of you.” Zenaida replied acerbically as she glanced up from her reading, bitterness in her expression, distant and hard. 

“Try to be polite, Zenaida.” Tiaret said mildly from across the library, without glancing up from her book. 

“Try to be less sickeningly saintly, Sulwe.” 

The entire room seemed to seethe with cold anger, but he saw, or imagined he saw a shadow of anguish flit across her drawn features for a fraction of a moment before it dissipated. 

“Well excuse me for breathing.” He muttered. 

“Ask the gods for pardon, all I know how to do anymore is spit poison at the world that poisoned me.” Zenaida answered very softly, looking up at him with haunted eyes that said he would get no more of an apology than that. 

***

“Darling boy, you couldn’t out ride me if your life depended on it! I was just about born on the back of a horse, and I expect I’ll die there too.” Sankho said merrily, irreverent and flip, with a wildness all about her that made Masamune feel downright conventional. 

“Oh you think so? Let’s have a race then. Loser cooks dinner” He shot back amiably, watching as she made another strange dish, with a mouth watering aroma he couldn’t place at all. She had said that since she didn’t know what ingredients were safe for humans it was better that he not try it all, but his curiosity as a cook was killing him. 

Of all of them, she looked nothing like a barbarian, she could almost have passed for a resident of the castle if not for the reckless glitter in her eye, her raucous laughter and utter lack of manners that had its own kind of charm. 

He couldn’t shake his fascination with her, it was like watching a typhoon coming in knowing that it would blow you halfway to hell and still not wanting to move out of the way. 

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather just have a duel? It would make you look more cool losing to magic, you know.” She said with a crooked smile and a daring wink. 

He grinned back at her, and felt the heat rise in his face. “And they say I’m overconfident!” 

“You’re reckless, far more reckless than a real dragon ever would be, and I’ve met a few, but I like it. There’s a little of the wild old magic in you, I think. The rest of it has gone to sleep in this world, but I feel the faintest echo from you.” She said, looking him over appraisingly.

“What does that mean?” 

“It means you should take my advice.” She said, and reached out to take hold of his chin, her eyes so dark they nearly looked like ink boring into him, into some part of him that he himself didn’t know. “Don’t let it make you cruel. It will make you feel like you can do anything, the mote that lives in you. Don’t always heed the call.”

***

“Play your hand, pretty fox.” Tura said, her voice pleasantly low, and took another drink. Mitsuhide glanced at his cards, and back at her. She was impossible to read, even for him. It was as if she could simply vanish into herself, into some stillness that held no thought or feeling. 

Her silky black hair fell down her breast in disarray, and she didn’t so much sit across from him as sprawl. But even in repose she was imposing, as tall as him or taller, with plenty of hard muscle under her curves that gave a serpentine impression. 

“My, are you in a hurry to lose, or trying to cheat while I’m distracted?” He asked, peering uselessly into her eyes, grey as ash in her angular tanned face. He fancied he could see the faint red glow of embers in their depths. 

“See, that’s why I like you. Half the fun of the game is trying to cheat each other.” She replied with a half smile softening her angular features. 

“Oh? Is that why I’m your favorite?” He asked, a little more seriously than he intended. 

She looked at him and smiled and there was a little of the wolf in her white teeth, as she laughed good humoredly. “I’d feel a little bad trying to cheat the Chatelaine or her man, but you can take it.” She drained her cup in one go. “Maybe it’s just that you haven’t got the good sense to be afraid of me.” 

The incense she always kept burning sent up a ribbon of smoke  that drifted between them and gave him the discomfiting sense that he had been there before, and had waited a long time to return. 

“I could say the same to you.” He said and filled both their cups. 

“Everything I ever feared has already come to pass.” She replied with no particular feeling. 

[save-the-spiral]

What about romantic headcanons about wizards who’s s/o isn’t a wizard at all?

These aren’t headcanons. More of a fic. Hope you enjoy!! I would’ve posted this sooner, but my laptop was taken away to be fixed up!!

Wizards are known to be adventurous. Common fact, really. Sometimes, wizards go places they shouldn’t, do things they shouldn’t.

And that’s where the real adventure begins.

The wizard was simply experimenting with teleporting- trying to make it cost less magical power, because they’ve lost good wizards who could’ve survived with just one more spell. Just a little bit more mana.

They knew it was dangerous, but so is teleporting into a world full of monsters with a lethally small amount of mana. So while they were risking their life, at least it was a good cause.

Preparing to test their theories, they readied their wand- a delicate rapier that they spent over a year crafting in Avalon, decorated in silver lines and jade. Before teleporting, they stomped on the ground, activating their circle of complex runes in the shape of a shimmery diamond-like ‘X’.

Muttering words of power under their breath, their breathing quickened in the darkness of their castle’s dungeon, the only light radiating from the runes in the room. Their dark eyes were focused on the small, intricate runes that lines their walls, the stone brick carved with rough, ancient magic that glowed a pale blue, becoming brighter with each magical word invoked.

That same magic swirled around the wizard, engulfing them in a whirlwind of something that felt like fear, visible in the magic that was steadily becoming the color of perfect aquamarines.

The faint scent of a salty sea breeze made their nose twitch as their vision went black.

-

They awoke with a groan, arm reaching out to pull their blankets up, wanting to shield their eyes, only to grab a handful of coarse sand. With a start, their eyes opened to the blinding sun and brilliant blue of the sky.

And the curious grey eyes staring down at them.

-

They were a wizard who managed to teleport themself into a Spiral of pirates. It was a Spiral full of violence and sailing and old songs.

None of their magic worked anymore. Their wand was nothing more than a knick-knack now, the enchantments gone and the weapon left weak. Their deck of spells still glowed faintly of magic, but without a weapon the wizard risked death if they tried to cast anything.

Admittedly, they could get used to it. It was nice, not having to cast magic, not having to worry about battles and wars.

The pirates were far less structured than the wizards. There was no order, no common area of schools. People here learned through hardship and necessity. Some of them could heal, others could trap, and others just attacked.

It was a chaos that held its own sort of freedom.

The pirate that had come across the wizard passed out on the beach was- odd. He was kind to those he trusted, and a menace to those he didn’t. Others gossiped about him, how he had no crew, but all he would do was smirk and quip about being a lone wolf.

He took the wizard in, explaining his worlds and entrusting them with books and all the knowledge he could impart.

Once or twice, he remarked on how they must’ve been a scholar back home. They were so intelligent, and they treated books with a special kind of loving care, so they must have at least had gone to some kind of school.

At the word school, the wizard had frozen. Fear scrambled into their bones, possessing their body to make way for panic to override their brain.

He learned to avoid words after that. He was patient.

The wizard thought that he was a good man. A murderer. A pirate who made his enemies cower in fear. Yet he was good.

There was goodness in the soft explanations, in the way he sewed them headscarves when their original one was ruined by some particularly angry sea birds, in the smiles and mischievous glances over pints of yum.

The wizard was a bit confused. Days passed of this companionship, and the pirate never mentioned leaving on his own, never claimed to be a lone wolf unless it saved him from awkward questions.

After a while, any time he mentioned leaving the docks of Skull Island, it always included the wizard. He would grin and speak of their future travels like it was what they had always done.

The wizard would only smile back, feeling a childish excitement that they hadn’t allowed themself to feel in a long time.

Was this what friendship was?

-

They rested in an old rocking chair, their bones settling and creaking like the docks of Flotsam, the driftwood straining and groaning with every moment, attempting a normal where they can exist in peace. The wizard sighed, their head falling back against the thin pillow secured to the rocking chair’s back.

The skies are so much clearer here.

The wizard was used to the dark oppressive skies of Dragonspyre, where they had taken refuge after they had gained enough notoriety for people to attempt to stalk them, trying to challenge for duels and other ridiculous things in order to gain their own reputation.

Back in the wizarding worlds, they were a hero. They were the top of their class, the leader. The pressure they had to withstand since they were twelve was immense, almost making them break-

“What are you thinking about?”

And they were confronted once again with those curious grey eyes, the pirate they belonged to lounging on the railing, one of his legs dangling over the side, the other bent with their boot resting flat against the uneven wood of the railing.

“Home.” They said, tearing their gaze from the horizon to stare into those eyes that pull like the moon pulls the tides.

He huffed, turning his head and resting it against the railing with a light ‘thump’. “’S useless to think of things like that.” He muttered. His boston accent was more obvious than normal, his emotions taking control for a moment.

“I don’t want to go back.” The wizard replied, feeling like they had to reassure the pirate. Their spine sent a sharp burst of pain through their shoulder, and they shifted restlessly, the moment of peace they had now long gone.

The distant cries of sea birds made the following silence all the more lonely, and the wizard shifted again, a cool rush of wind brushing over the pair. The pirate’s large poof of curls covered his face when the wind caught it, making him sit up with a goofy grin.

The wizard shifted again, their headscarf flying loose in the wind, letting their dark hair fall to their shoulders as they flinched harshly, instinctively retreating into the oversized coat they had taken to wearing.

The pirate moved quickly, their agile body a blur of motion as they crossed the balcony, leaping on the railing again to catch the silky headscarf in his hand. His free hand covered his eyes, his head turned to the side, as he returned the scarf.

When the wizard was comfortable again, the pirate settled into the opposing rocking chair, pushing it every time his feet hit the ground, the chair protesting with loud creaks every time.

“No…” The wizard trailed off, their gaze trained on the horizon again. They stole a glance at the pirate, whose face was slack as he stared at the setting sun, entranced as his attention focused solely on the horizon.

“I don’t think I ever want to go back.” The wizard whispered to themself.

-

The wizard didn’t realize someone could fall in love so fast. The word itself sent flutters through their body, settling in their stomach like a kaleidoscope of crystal butterflies.

They were in love with the pirate.

They were in love, and it was easy. They didn’t think it would be any different if he was a wizard or just a plain human or anything- no, it wouldn’t be any different at all.

Of course, if he wasn’t a pirate, they wouldn’t have met on that beach months ago. The wizard wouldn’t have had a guide through the pirating Spiral, wouldn’t have been able to sail through the universe at his side, their fingers trailing through the sky, catching stardust that burned new scars into the wizard’s hands, adding to a collection of hundreds.

If he wasn’t a pirate, they couldn’t share this perfect moment. On that same balcony in Flotsam where they watched the sunset together, ever since the first time where the wizard’s headscarf flew away and had to be rescued.

The horizon was lighting up in a brilliant array of oranges and reds and pinks, the sky darkening into a velvety violet. As they usually did, the wizard stole glances at the pirate. The golden colors of the sunset seemed to glow off of his beautiful skin. His grey eyes reflected the pink and red, and the wizard couldn’t help but marvel at how impossible in love they were with the pirate.

“I think I love you.” The wizard whispered in the quiet fade to night. It was the most adventurous thing they had ever done.

The pirate turned, a cocksure grin gracing his features as he spoke without pause, as if the wizard’s confession was simple. “’Bout time. I’ve been going mad over you since I met you. Glad you finally figured it out.”

It was like a shock to the wizard’s system, and they laughed incredulously. “You knew?”

The pirate laughed fully, the sound loud enough to cause some of the sea birds to wake up, their startled cawing joining into the sound below of drinking songs and shattering glasses and probably a sword fight or two.

“You didn’t know?” He replied simply, grinning.

The wizard huffed, and in a moment of boldness, they grabbed the pirate by the collar of his jacket and pulled him in. Those grey eyes were wide with shock, and the wizard could feel his breath on their skin.

“May I kiss you?” They asked, a smirk spreading slowly across their face at the dazed nod the pirate gave them.

The wizard leaned in slowly, the mischievous grin on their face fading as they tilted their head to the side, kissing the pirate almost shyly, their hands moving from his collar to brush along his neck, resting on his shoulders.

“I think I love you too.” The pirate whispered back.

-

Fate won’t let wizards and pirates stay apart forever.

And neither will love.

[gothify1]

Red lips are tricky. They instantly make us feel like we can take on the world, or at the very least, a 9 a.m. Monday morning meeting. The caveat? All too often, formulas leave us with dehydrated, wrinkly, smeared lips hours (or even minutes) later. This cult-classic formula from Tatcha, however, doesn't. Both Amanda and I agree it's the perfect shade of red (not too blue, not too orange), lasts all day, and keeps our pouts hydrated, plump, and photo-ready—regardless of how long ago we swiped. Like a daring hue of red, matte lips can be another tricky venture, and I typically stay away thanks to how chap-prone my lips are. This is the only matte lipstick I've ever loved and the brooding brick-red hue instantly makes whatever I'm wearing look 100% chicer. My go-to pairing is a tank, dark-wash jeans, and a leather jacket. Plus, minimalists rejoice: This lippie actually doubles as a creamy blush. If you have no time or patience for daring colors or finishes when it comes to your lip game, look no further than Tarte's whimsical collection of sheer tinted balms. Though there are eight equally flattering hues to choose from, we love this perfect hit of nude that blends seamlessly into your natural lip color while flooding lips with a wash of dewy hydration. Miraculously, it lasts all day. I get that a hair product promising shine and smoothness sounds a little OTT, but trust me when I say that I pretty much refuse to go out in public without a few healthy spritzes of this new launch from R+Co. It's chock-full of health-boosting, reparative ingredients like prickly pear, baobab, and sea buckthorn, and leaves even the most parched of strands with a light fairy dusting of shimmer. Its magic works equally on all hair textures and colors, and I even love spritzing it on my chest and shoulders pre-night out. (It's just that glowy.) Between its amazing scent (think black coconut, orange blossom, sandalwood, and Pacific musk) and the radiantly shiny results it imparts, this ritualistic hair oil from beloved all-natural haircare brand Playa is everything your hair is craving this winter. And if you're one to play outdoors regardless of season, fear not—this mix acts as a natural UV protected thanks to lycopene extracted from tomatoes. We're not kidding. Typically we think of hair oils being applied after we've washed (on damp and dry strands alike), but this brilliant salve from luxe French brand Leonor Greyl targets your hair's stubborn problem areas pre-shampoo. The result: super-strong strands that boast a ridiculous ratio of gloss and luster. It also just so happens to smell like heaven in a bottle. And everyone knows that as long as your hair smells amazing, you can pretty much conquer the world. And by "Barbie skin," we mean a radiant, airbrushed finish that would make even a trash bag look chic AF. (Seriously, great skin days are just as powerful as good hair days.) For the face, we swear by this other-worldly setting powder from under-the-radar brand Stellar which keeps makeup in place without a hint of matte or flatness. (Adjectives that usually accompany the majority of setting powders we try, FYI.) Whenever Amanda wears it, I can't stop obsessing over—and complimenting—her skin. I've tried a billion body bronzers since I first discovered this iconic tube back in college, and honestly, nothing has ever compared. First of all, it smells amazing and the compliments come fast and furious whenever I've slathered myself from head to toe. Second, it instantly gifts the skin with subtle luminosity, body-blurring perks, and the most believable of glow to flatter every single skin tone. It's my best-kept secret for looking like I have flawless skin at all times. Spoiler: so not the case. Oh, and it will make you and your legs look ridiculously photogenic in photos. If you plan on showing off your legs anytime soon, it's a no-brainer outfit pairing. ICYMI, I'm a little bit of a self-tanning expert and have tried almost every formula out there. And, this new one from Bali Body is—by far—one of the very best I've ever tried. It applies amazingly smoothly, doesn't smell horrible, dries quickly, looks natural, lasts forever, and fades phenomenally. I'm obsessed and nothing makes my outfit look better than a healthy dose of color that makes me look like I just got back from, I don't know, Bali?  Whenever we're looking to update our practical yet pretty hair repertoire, we head to Emi Jay straight away. Currently, we're loving this bow moment which just so happens to be a silky-cool collab with one of the industry's most-wanted hairstylists, Chris McMillan. And since the bow sits atop the brands signature soft hair tie, you can still *adorably* wear it on your wrist for those impromptu moments when you want to let your hair down. These are pretty much the most luxurious hair ties a girl could ask for and, we confess, we love them just as much worn around our wrists as a pretty little outfit accent as we do in our hair. That said, if you're looking for the ultimate hair tie antidote that lends itself to beauty sleep and dent-less styling equally, you've found your A+ match. We love this handy variety pack that meets all your neutral color needs. Aptly named, we're obsessed with this posh velvet scrunchi from Alo Yoga—a studio-to-street hair miracle that comes in six different hues and utmost convenience. Not only do we love Aila for its amazing color choices (we're forever doting on this pearlescent shade, in particular), but it's also one of the cleanest polish brands we've come across. Nothing upgrades your outfit better than a star-studded mani, and these handy stickers from L.A. nail hot spot Olive & June make the process painless. All you have to do is peel, stick, and set with a clear topcoat. Normally we'd never want anything with a name reminiscent of dirt or grime anywhere near our nails, but this edgy hue from nontoxic brand Base Coat is the *fabulous* exception. It's a satisfactory alternative to black but is less expected than other cold-weather hues like navy, burgundy, or emerald. Plus, it makes anything you're wearing look instantly cooler, and nothing makes you look more put-together than a well-executed paint job. I kid you not—I've worn this exact glitter (it's a cult-favorite from Stila) to work and black-tie events alike. It can be dressed down to go with a leather skirt, booties, and a hoodie, or dressed up for the most sensational of fancy-schmancy affairs. Either way, your entire ensemble will look all the better. While the Stila glitter above has a slightly finer payoff, this pretty pot of poison from Lemonhead.LA is a slightly ballsier graduation. The sparkle has a heartier chunk and texture, so there's more of a head-turning moment when you use it as an addition to your outfit. Every single color and formula from the L.A.-based brand is beautiful, so you can't go wrong, but we especially like the brand's exclusive color collab with chic beauty retailer Violet Grey. It's truly the best beauty accent to pair with any other rose-gold accessories you wear on the regular. Or if both of the above feel a tad too ostentatious, both Amanda and I maintain a hot-and-heavy love affair with these creamy, dreamy eye shadows from Tom Ford. They're easy to use (we especially like shades Opale and Sphinx), provide the perfect twinkle, and never crease, or smudge. Consider these pretty little pots the perfect opportunity to dip your toe into the glitter pool without having to dive in headfirst.  Next up, fashion and beauty editors agree���you should always travel with these 18 products.