#why is his jacket and trousers like two size smaller?

[sinfulcries]

reader filming him and kenma fucking without his consent and black mailing him the next day, telling kenma that he won't leak the video if kenma becomes his slave. despite reader being toxic, kenma catches feelings for him and when he confesses, reader says he feels the same way and fucks kenma only to crush kenma's hopes by saying he was just joking & that he would never like him hehe.

tokyo afternoons . kenma x male reader

authors notes. holy shit this was really long and it took me a few weeks to write. i was planning on writing 2 smuts for this but i lost inspiration at the end </3 anyways, virgin kenma hits differently

word count. 3.1k

tw. blackmail, non consensual filming, manipulation, toxic && douche-y reader, sadistic reader, virginity loss, corruption, size difference, unprotected sex, ignorant kuroo, obsession, spitting, noncon at the end.

The air was hot. Tokyo has always been so warm but it was never this hot. Kenma’s pale skin started to sweat, cheeks flushed as golden eyes peered at the man who was sitting beside him. You always left a warm feeling in his chest-- always left his heart drumming loudly whilst his cheeks were flushed a bright red. You were addictive, one of the people who managed to effortlessly bring a smile on to Kenma’s face.

“You’re staring at me.” You broke the comfortable silence with a chuckle, Kenma snapping out of his trance as he turned away to avoid your hot gaze. “Sorry,” Muttering a half hearted response in reply, the blonde averted his gaze to the sky-- watching the harsh sunlight spread over tokyo’s vast horizon. “You know, You look really pretty when you were staring at me earlier.” Another sentence that came out of your mouth broke the comfortable silence once again, and Kenma eyed you cautiously, not wanting to believe the compliment. 

“Do you say that to every person you hook up with?” Furrowing your eyebrows at his response, you planted your arms on top of your thighs, resting your head in the comfort of your palms as you looked at the shorter blonde seated beside you. “Believe it or not, I’ve only said that to you.” 

A sweet-talker. That’s what you were. Trying to lure Kenma in with your velvety voice and your captivating stare. Again, you were addicting. And Kenma was bewildered that he managed to hook up with you, the most popular and well loved guy in his university. “You seem like the type of person to call your partner a slut in public.” 

“I do call my partner’s ‘slut’ in public. Not with you though.” You snorted, grinning as you faced the sky, taking occasional glances at the male. “And why is that?” Confusion laced in his voice, and eyes narrowed at your taller figure, you only smiled softly in response, lashes fluttering against soft skin as you whispered faintly, “You’re just different.” 

Kenma could barely form a response with how his skin turned hot quickly-- The heat of the sun accompanied by your words only making him more of a mess than he already was. Hearing the speakerphone play the familiar tone signalling that their break was over, you grabbed the back of the smaller boy’s neck before pulling his head in to connect your lips with his. You took the opportunity to tug on his bottom lip between your teeth before pulling away. 

“I’ll see you at my place, Kozume.”  You sing-songed whilst simultaneously standing up to catch your next class. Kenma was left to stare at your retreating form, cheeks dusted with red as he felt the warmth in his chest spread every time he thought of your lips on his own once more.

Time seemed to tick slowly-- and Kenma had to begrudgingly go through the whole day without thinking of you or the intimate little moment that you had with him a few hours ago. It was pure torture-- not having you by his side or seeing your smile or hearing your shameless attempts at flirting. It was embarrassing, but he knew that he was getting used to you and your presence. Running a hand through his coarse hair, he spotted you leaning against the wall outside of his classroom, a greasy smile plastered on your face as you diverted your attention from the ladies beside you to the small blonde. 

Kenma’s heart dropped. He knew you were popular and that he didn’t have the right to get jealous because you were never his to begin with, but did that intimate moment mean nothing to you? Did that kiss mean nothing to you? He was snapped out of his thoughts when you tapped his shoulder once again-- your deep voice ringing in his ears as you cupped his cheek tenderly. “-ma, Kenma hey?” 

“Sorry I zoned out again.” He apologised, forgetting about what upset him for a moment before removing your calloused hand that rested on his cheek. You frowned at the action but soon relaxed, taking his small hand in your own. “Don’t worry about it. Should we get going?” You asked, and Kenma tensed, heaving a sigh as he mustered the courage to remove his hand from your hold.

“I don’t think i can go to your place today. Just choose one of those girls to go instead.” he murmured, bowing dejectedly. Tilting your head in confusion, you slowly grabbed his chin, tilting his head softly so that his golden orbs could meet yours. “Are you jealous, Ken?” you cooed, pressing another kiss onto his lips as he could only hear the whispers of his classmates in the background.

Kenma started shaking, instinctively moving closer towards you, turning his head so that he could bury his face into your chest. Noticing Kenma’s change of behaviour, you glared at the group of girls gossiping, instantly shutting them up. “Mind your own business.” Your loud voice was heard throughout the semi-crowded hallway and the people who had witnessed the sight of you kissing kenma nodded frantically, scrambling away to leave you and kenma to your own devices.

“They’re gone now baby. You can stop hiding.” Grabbing his hips gently, the blonde slowly scanned his surroundings before hugging you again, a soft whimper leaving his lips as you stroked his hair soothingly, “T-Thank you.”

Smiling fondly you replied, “No problem. Let’s go, baby.” 

As the two of you made your way towards your apartment, Kenma couldn’t help but stare at your taller figure, huddling closer to your side once he felt the chilly afternoon air hitting his skin. “We’re almost there, kitten. Sorry I didn’t bring my jacket.” You apologised, instead removing your blazer and placing it on top of his shoulders. “You’ll get cold, y/n.” Kenma murmured worriedly, “I’ll be fine baby, don’t worry.”

His chest rose and fell quietly. The faint sounds of footsteps and your occasional humming were the only sounds that he could hear in the empty street. You both arrived at your place quite quickly. You politely opened the door for the setter, leaving your backpacks at the doorstep and discarding your shoes before making your way towards the kitchen. “Do you want something to eat, Ken?” You called out, opening your fridge to scan over the snacks you had. 

“No thank you.” Kenma declined from the couch, unbuttoning the first top buttons of his dress shirt and tossing his tie to the side. “Suit yourself.”

Making your way towards Kenma’s hunched form-- a grin wormed its way onto your lips, ruffling his hair once you crept up behind him. “Wanna go to my room instead? You can lay down more comfortably over there.” 

Kenma gratefully accepted your offer, taking small and reluctant steps towards the mattress. “A-Are you sure I can lay down here?” The blonde shyly inquired, unable to focus once your scent hit his nose. You smelt so good-- fresh and clean, just the way Kenma liked it. You laughed at his flustered expression once more, jumping onto your mattress before pulling him in so that he was on top of you. “You’re light.”

“A-And you’re really warm....” His voice was so faint that you could barely hear it. Kenma looked to face you, cheeks dusted with red as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip thoughtfully. “What’s on your mind?” 

“I was wondering i-if you c-could…” Kenma tried his best not to stutter.

“If I could, what, kitten?”

Closing his eyes, Kenma took a deep breath before murmuring, “If you could kiss me again....”

Not giving the setter a chance to repeat himself, you leaned in to kiss him-- snaking an arm around his slim waist possessively as you started to jerk your hips against his clothed cock. Kenma whimpered into the kiss, eyes shut tightly as he failed to notice your free hand propping your phone on the nightstand-- giving the camera a perfect view of what you were doing to the poor boy. 

“Ruin me, y/n-kun~” Kenma didn't have to tell you twice before a dark smirk made its way onto your lips-- hitting the ‘record’ button before trailing your kisses downwards, kissing and sucking on the skin of his jawline and neck. 

“Mm,” Kenma whimpered, grounding his ass against your growing erection, earning him a deep growl of his name. “Yeah baby keep grinding against my cock like that,” you praised, only making the smaller male comply. 

A whine left the blonde’s lips as he started humping his ass against your thick cock-- his head fuzzy and vision clouded with lust. He loved this so much-- feeling your bulge against his ass. If the tent in your slacks was already big enough to prod at his clothed entrance, he couldn’t imagine how big you would feel deep inside of him, rearranging his guts and fucking him like the useless cock sleeve he was.

Feeling your big hands caressing the soft skin that hid beneath his dress shirt, he yelped as your thumbs pressed against the flesh of his hip before moving upwards to roll his nipples between your thumb and index finger. “You’re so sensitive, kitty. Such a cute little boy…” you cooed, tugging on the hardened bud.

Kenma keened at your touch, leaning against your chest as you moved to unzip both his and your trousers, making both of your hard cocks spring free from its confinements. Kenma’s intense and love-struck gaze was trained on your hard cock, the sight making him subconsciously lick his lips. “Don’t just stare at it, Kitty. Put it in your mouth.”

He gulped. His pupils shaking and his hands sweating as he struggled to even touch your length. “I-I don’t think i-it would fi--!” You were getting impatient and soon you grabbed him by his hair, forcing him to take your fat cock in all at once. “Stop making excuses and take it like a good boy.”

You started fucking his warm throat-- a low groan leaving your lips once you felt the tip hitting the back of his throat. Kenma was inexperienced and you could tell by the way he was sobbing, frantically tapping your thighs signalling that he couldn’t breathe. You rolled your eyes, lifting his head up so that he could gasp for air only to fuck him a second after. “Breathe through your nose baby.”

Kenma’s tear filled eyes met yours and eventually, he started getting used to the feeling of your cock wrecking his pretty little mouth. His face was ridden with drool, the sound of gurgling, your deep groans and his frantic whimpers around your cock the only noise filling the room. 

“I’m about to cum, doll--!” You rasped, thrusting into his mouth a few more times before holding his head in place, spilling your hot cum down his throat. Your free hand came to cup his cheek, spreading the cum that dripped down his chin onto his cheeks, mixing it with his drool and his tears. “So fucking pretty.” you grinned, making him smile weakly in response.

You effectively flipped Kenma so that you were on top of him, Your fingers teasing the rim of his puckered hole as he squirmed beneath your bigger figure. “You’re a virgin aren’t you?” You mused, grabbing the bottle of lube from your night stand before coating your fingers generously with the cold gel.

Kenma blushed, turning his head to avoid your gaze as he felt his heart thumping loudly in his chest. “Y-Yeah..” He murmured.

Your gaze on the blonde softened, wanting to at least prep him properly before fucking him senseless. “Okay. I’m going to stretch you out first, Is that fine with you darling?” A curt nod was Kenma’s only response and You wasted no time in stretching his hole out. You started with one finger, thrusting it in and out of him until he got used to the feeling before moving onto two fingers. You took your time with him, making sure that he felt good before he told you that he was ready to take you in.

Glancing at the camera once more you grinned darkly before snapping your hips forward, burying every inch of your cock inside of Kenma’s ass. The smaller male mewled helplessly, arching his back as he felt full from your cock. 

“Mmm, Your cunt’s so nice and tight f’me” You moaned against his taut skin, snapping your hips forward to meet Kenma’s. The smaller male jolted forward, attempting to meet up with your pace only to rake his nails helplessly against your back.

Kenma felt your lips clasping around his hardened nipple, Your warm and wet tongue swirling around the swollen bud. The blonde cried out in bliss, toes curling as he came without warning, an amused chuckle leaving your lips. “You’re so sensitive, Kenma. You came so easily.”

“S’Cause you’re too big…” Kenma laughed breathlessly, feeling the bulge in his stomach as you moved inside of him. A fond smile replaced your hot expression and soon enough, you were peppering kisses all over his sensitive body, a string of whimpers leaving Kenma’s mouth as he begged for more.

As much as Kenma enjoyed the hot afternoon in your embrace with your cock buried inside of him. He failed to notice the beeping sound of your camera once the two of you were done with your little session.

The next day seemed like a blur to the man. After you approached him, Showing the video you took with a shit-eating grin on your face, He instantly begged you not to show anyone-- Even getting on his knees to suck you off in the senior’s empty classroom. Your smile was different-- it wasn't genuine and soft just like the one you had flashed him yesterday-- your smile was wicked, condescending. And it only made his heart break much more, seeing how mean and ruthless you actually were. Your actions were undeniably fucked up however Kenma still couldn't bring himself to despise you, And he hated how much you still made his flutter even if you were hurting his feelings without a care in the world. 

“Kuroo can I tell you something?” Kenma asked timidly, asking the chemistry major, making him nod attentively. “Yeah go ahead man.” 

“You know Y/n L/n right..?” The blonde’s voice was slowly becoming softer and Kuroo only hummed, “Yeah the attractive senior what about him?” Kenma gulped before continuing, “I-I… we had sex and he b-black mailed me..” 

Kuroo scoffed, laughing loudly at the words that left Kenma’s mouth. “Y/n? Fucking someone like you? I'm sorry Ken but fantasies are waaay different than reality. Have the video games been getting to your head? He’s way too out of your league.” Kuroo shook his head, trying to stop himself from laughing more and Kenma sighed exasperatedly, trying not to cry. 

“You’re really not helping, Kuroo.” He murmured as the rooster head only raised his hands up in defense, “I'm just saying! He would more likely go for me you know,” The older male cooed teasingly, wiggling his eyebrows. “Well I have a class to catch, Ken! Let’s hang when you’re less busy and also, get lots of rest.”

Kenma sighed at the man’s words as he was left alone to ponder. If his best friend didn’t believe him then, no one would. However as much as the thought consumed him, He soon craved to have you touch him lewdly once more. He craved you, Confusing infatuation with love. Kenma wasn’t in love with you, No, He was obsessed with you. And to think that he would have such feelings for, you, out of all people, made his situation much more pitiful. 

Before the blonde could think of anything to make his situation less worse, He felt his phone vibrating in his pocket, a text message that had been sent from you illuminating brightly on the screen.

Y/n-Senpai: Come over after class.

Although the text was simple and straightforward, Kenma couldn’t help but think about it for the rest of the day. Why did you want him to come over? Were you gonna delete the video? Several thoughts spiralled in his head but none of them seemed to answer any of his questions.

“Relax, Kenma, I’m not going to do anything.” You laughed heartily, making the blonde seated in front of you shuffle nervously. Your words were not exactly the most convincing, especially paired with the mischievous glint in your eyes. But he decided to keep shut, letting you speak first.

“Do you like me?” You spoke bluntly, And Kenma tensed at the question, hanging his head down low to avoid your gaze. You soon frowned at the action, grabbing the smaller male’s chin, forcing him to look you in the eye. “C’mon, Ken. Answer me.”

It was now or never. You were giving Kenma the chance to confess! He wouldn’t just throw this opportunity away, No! He was going to tell you how he felt right here, right now. “Y-Yes.” He mumbled embarrassedly, only to blush once he saw you smiling at him softly.

He was too innocent! You almost felt bad for playing with his precious little feelings, however, as much as you loved making the naive boy smile, You would much rather see him crying and wailing for you to reciprocate his feelings.

“Are you gonna say anything else…?” Kenma piqued anxiously, and you hummed in response, inching your face closer to his, “Do you want me to say anything?”. God-- How could he form a proper reply when your lips were merely inches away? The younger only nodded before you leaned in to kiss him. 

“I wanna fuck you.” Were the words that came out of your mouth. “I- Don’t think I want to-” 

Giving him no time to protest, you pinned him onto your couch, pressing your body closely against his as he let out a silent mewl. “Don’t be such a killjoy. I thought you liked me?”

Your change of personality only caused Kenma to sniffle, tears forming in his eyes as he clutched onto the couch’s fabric tightly.-- “I do but, I don’t want to--!”

He looked so pathetic! And it almost made you cum, seeing him look so pitiful and helpless. Your touch on his skin was hot-- Blazing and painful; It almost reminded Kenma of the hot tokyo afternoon he spent with you a few days ago, except this time, you were torturing him and taking advantage of how weak he was, especially when it came to you. 

You effectively shut the male up by spitting into his mouth, forcing him to swallow your saliva as your predatory gaze landed on his shivering body. “You don’t want to? Well then you’ll leave me no other choice but to force my cock inside of you, Kenma.”

[persimmonteas]

take a good look

4 times you gaze at him + 1 time he gazes at you

fic cowritten with @shinaus​, art by @annypuff​ <3. you can buy mel a coffee and anny a coffee. please support them! their work is banging and i love them 🥺 

pairing: vampire!shinso x f!reader

word count: ~4.5k

genre: slice of life fantasy (a tinge of coffee shop!AU), fluff, mutual pining, smut

cw: dom!shinso, size kink, daddy kink (inspired by toshi anon), praise kink, some degradation (he says slut 3x), fingerfucking, nipple play, choking, hair pulling, mirror sex, mating press, hickies everywhere, a cunt slap, overstimulation

first time: the coffee shop incident 

Of course your favorite coffee shop is swamped. This place is the only good thing about waking up close to dawn, with drinks always better than what your office has to offer and not to mention the pastries they make fresh.

Letting out a small groan, you decide to wait it out in the line and do your best to hurry with your breakfast before heading into work. Thankfully, you always leave yourself with enough time to actually sit and enjoy whatever you decide to buy that day, opting for it over greasy break rooms or stuffy smoking areas. 

Once the warm mug is in hand, you make quick work to try and find your usual spot only to find it occupied. While you won’t act possessive over a public seat of all things, losing the chance to enjoy glancing out the window and munching down your croissant seems to screw with your brain. 

You act without thinking, making a sharp turn to go sit somewhere else only for your knee to make contact with the underside of another table. Shit, you think to yourself, hearing the clatter of their cup. You helplessly watch liquid run down the table and into the person’s lap. 

You expect them to flinch, dart up from the table or, hell, even yell at you for your carelessness. He doesn’t yell at you and you don’t expect to see the colour of the liquid running down the table onto the floor to be red. Blood red. Fuck. A vampire. Hopefully, one who doesn’t eat you for your stupidity.

Just as you feel your heart sinking down to your stomach, your eyes flick up to meet the man whose day you likely ruined. You don’t see a hint of anger on his attractive features. In his defence, it’s probably because he’s busy looking at the way you’re gawking at him.

His unkempt hair and the deep eye bags adorning his sculpted face somehow make him look all the more endearing. It even looks like he’s wearing the smallest hint of eyeliner. Or are his eyes just naturally like that? Hard to tell. 

You’re pulled out of your thoughts (and staring session) by him breaking eye contact with you to clean himself up, before rising to his feet and doing the same to the table. It makes you come back down to Earth, and thereby remembering your clownery

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to—” you start, but are met with a hand held up in front of your face. You furrow your brows in confusion, having assumed his lack of aggression would mean he’d be more understanding but nope.

“No issue,” he grumbles in response, giving his trousers one last wipe down before swiftly weaving through the others in the coffee shop, flipping his hoodie up and taking his leave. Now, you’re even more confused. 

Sure, you spilled something over him and the table, but you would have bought him another one? Paid for his dry cleaning or something maybe? Yet, off he went, moving so quickly you couldn’t ever hope to catch up to him. Fucking vampires, man, you shake your head.

The confusion eventually fades but not completely. You help one of the baristas doing the last of the clean up before settling into the strange vampire’s seat and letting your mind wander as you eat your breakfast. 

second time: gawking at the gym

It’s a common occurrence for you to make it to the gym right as the rush of 9-5s ends, the perfect time in your opinion. Nobody hogging any of the ellipticals, the water cooler always left unoccupied and nothing but time for you to get through your usual routine.

With this in mind, you can confidently say that nothing out of the ordinary ever happens at the gym. Well, could say. 

Carefully bringing your leg around to meet the other on your way off of the exercise bike, you're momentarily distracted by the sound of a nearby treadmill whirring so much hard that it sounds as though it may break. 

Lifting your towel and water bottle, you make your way over in curiosity. It almost seems as if whoever is on the treadmill moves even faster as you approach. Once you make it there, you’re met with the man who seems to be continuously haunting your surroundings. 

Despite his unruly purple hair in a band and all-black gym attire, vamp man still seems out of place. The athletic wear is a complete change of pace, considering the hoodie and leather jacket he was wearing during your first encounter. 

You rid yourself of any wandering thoughts about the man and focus on him being the reason that the treadmill is about to be on its last legs. You can’t bring yourself to look away from him; the sheer speed of his legs is mindblowing.  And a little ridiculous looking if you’re honest with yourself.

The moment is short lived when he slows to a stop, probably thinking the same thing that you are about the poor machine not being able to last another mile. He looks like he’s barely broken a sweat. Fucking vampires, you repeat to yourself.  

Just your luck, he notices your presence as he dabs the side of his not-even-sweating face with his towel. He begins to smirk at your eyes on him. 

“Little rude to stare, isn’t it?” he wonders aloud, voice much deeper and more luxurious than what you remember. Getting caught fills you with deep embarrassment. You stutter out a quick apology before making your way over to another machine. 

Even with your back facing away from any passing people as you continue your routine, you can practically feel his eyes boring into you.

A few minutes is all it takes for you to turn to check if your suspicions are correct. You’re met with his shameless stare. He’s not even making an attempt to hide his gaze either, leaning on one of the back walls as he watches you, large arms crossed over his broad chest somehow making the skin-tight shirt he’s wearing even tighter. 

This is torture, you think to yourself as you give him a polite smile, only to hear him chuckling at your strained smile.

“What? So you can stare but I can’t?” he tries, fully getting your attention once more as you stop what you’re doing. Sighing and smacking your machine, you come off of your machine and make your way back over to him.

Your confidence about approaching decreases as you see the full height difference between you two. You’re a fair bit smaller than he is. He looms over you even with his back still leaning against the wall.

“If you’re trying to stalk me, you’re doing a bad job. It should be me, after all. I’m the predator,” he lightly mocks you. 

You almost stomp your foot. “I am not stalking you!” you protest. “It isn’t my fault that you apparently go to the same coffee shop and gym as me.” 

He levels you with a delighted look. Humans usually don’t take his teasing well but you seem so much fun.

Throwing an annoyed peace sign at him, you make your way out of the gym.

third time: literally just that scene in the first twilight movie without edward doing donuts in his car into the lot

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing out at this time?” The low voice comes from your side, making every muscle in your body suddenly jolt. You just left your friends. Why do creeps seem to have a radar?

Even as you pick up your pace and ignore the question, it only seems to egg him on more. Right as he starts talking to you again, he’s swiftly cut off.

Feeling a small gust of wind at your back despite the calm night, you turn in confusion. Where did the creep go? Your question is answered when you watch him get slammed against the nearest storefront’s shutters. A much taller figure overshadows over him, hand around the creep’s throat. 

Even in the darkness, you can see the purple hair, unruly as ever starting from the collar of his coat. You stride over and pull on Shinso’s coat sleeve in hopes of ceasing his threatening actions—no matter how much the creep deserves the vampire’s ire. After all, you don’t want Shinso to end up with a track record after, like, a century (you’re guessing) without one.

“Shinso,” you say, eyes pleading as you look up at him—unaware of how much he enjoys hearing you so naturally say his name. He meets your stare briefly then rolls his eyes and releases his hold, watching the man scramble away. The chuckle that leaves him at the scene makes you wonder if he’s a sadist. 

Before you can wonder much more, he grips your hand tightly in his own as he leads you farther down the street. The clasp strangely comforting to you despite his freezing skin.

“You really need to stop being so irresponsible,” he tells you, tone almost mocking as he (somehow) takes every right path to your apartment building. There’s no point in questioning how he knows this. After all, for some reason, the world keeps leading you to him in an array of coincidences that are starting to feel less and less coincidental. 

When you let out a scoff, his hand seems to tighten further and you reflexively try to yank your hand away. He just stops in his tracks and turns to face you. There’s a look in his eyes you don’t question, especially since he speaks up before you do. 

“Don’t make me have to watch your every move to keep you out of trouble, I’d like to have a social life too, you know,” he grumbles, before turning to walk away. It leaves you a little dumbfounded to say the least, since you’re not exactly stopping him from having a life. Y’know, with, how totally unplanned these encounters are and all.

fourth time: the confrontation

Apparently, not one thing can be your own anymore. Not that you’re complaining, of course, but the sheer number of coincidences between you and Shinso is extraordinary and only seems to escalate. You keep running into him even in places so busy that you think there’s no chance of running into anybody you know. 

Now that Autumn is in full swing, the nights are colder and the leaves are dappled in brown and red shades. The perfect time to start going on walks through some of the bustling parks you live near. 

You love the scenery, especially the large lake that lies in the middle of your favorite park. As dusk rolls around, you take the chance to get a walk in to enjoy the now barely visible sunlight and to ponder a certain vampire. 

Not even one lap into walking around the lake, you catch sight of the colour that’s been plaguing your thoughts in your peripheral. 

The deep indigo colour is hard to miss, especially when it’s on the head of the vampire you keep running into. Though this time feels a little different since you finally catch him when he’s unaware of you.

Sitting on one of the benches facing the water, he’s wearing his typical hoodie and leather jacket and is holding what looks to be a book. What kind of book a vampire reads is beyond your imagination. 

All you know is that you finally have the opportunity to take the upper hand. Every time you see Shinso, he worms his way out of your questions. Or he leaves in an ominous distinctly vampire fashion.

There’s no reason for him to be everywhere you go, unless ... You want to confirm your hypothesis. 

The plan is simple. You’ll act like you're still out on your casual walk and you’ll walk up to the bench and sit down in a non-suspicious way. You nod to yourself. Perfect, flawless plan. 

It shockingly works … his book must be really good. You get all the way up to the bench without him acknowledging you. Since he’s only taking up one side, you don’t wait for verbal permission to sit down alongside him.

He still makes no indication that he notices you. His eyes never leave the book he has in his hands. You fixate your eyes on the silver ring on his index finger as he flicks through the pages. 

You lean in close and try to keep your smugness about finally startling him from bleeding into your voice when you speak. 

“You know, I’m starting to think you’re conveniently everywhere I go on purpose.”

For the first time ever, he’s the one caught off guard. Shinso flinches away from you and brings his eyes to meet yours. Without his signature smirk or witty comments, he simply gets up to take his leave. 

Well. This certainly isn’t going the way you want.

After your many encounters, you can pick up on his overall mood through his reactions to you. Though, he’s never reacted like this. At least not since the incident at the coffee shop.

The dismissal ignites irritation in you. Why is up to him whether or not you interacted? Taking the opportunity while you still have it, you follow him. 

It isn’t until he passes a large tree just off of the main path that you completely catch up to him. You realize he’ll easily slip away if you don’t move quickly. So you do, hand coming up to hit the tree trunk and essentially blocking his way. 

His eyes widen at you. However, he makes no attempt at escaping. 

“Why do we keep running into each other?” you ask with exasperation, eyes still on him as he moves to lean against the tree. You don’t move your hand, using it to grasp some control of the situation.

“You’re everywhere I go, it doesn’t matter where or when. You’re always there.” The rant is far from needed for him, he knows this already. But, you keep going. 

“What is this? Were we lovers in a past life or something? Do you have some unresolved feelings?” The way you’re rambling makes you impossibly endearing to him. His classic chuckle slipping out stops you in your tracks.

“Nothing of the sort,” he curtly replies. You cross your arms over your chest at his usual demeanor returning. “No such thing as reincarnated soulmates, at least with what I’ve experienced in my lifetime. Though, the feelings department…” As he continues, he leans closer to you. So much so you can almost feel his breath on your face and smell his warm, spicy cologne. 

“Is there a problem if I do have feelings for you?”

You blink at him. What? You don’t think you’ve ever been so caught off guard.. Feelings? Is that what this has all been about? 

Every previous encounter begins to run through your head and you start picking out small things that back up his statement. The lingering stares, teasing words, protective nature. You groan and drag your hands down your face. Man, you didn’t pick up on any of his hints. He must think you’re an idiot. 

Before you can give him an answer, he pushes off the tree, standing over you at full height. Assuming he’s about to attempt to leave once more, you’re surprised to see him turning back in the direction of the bench. When you make no effort to move, he reaches out and pulls you by your coat until his hand is in yours. 

“I’ll take that as not a problem.” A smirk still on his face due to you indirectly feeding his ego. 

Although, now walking beside him, you don’t miss the way his free hand reaches up to rub at the back of his neck. A gesture you recognise as one of his nervous tics. Did you do that to him? You grin at the idea that you make the great vampire feel that way.

“There’s a scooter rental place down by this side of the lake.” His voice brings you out of your thoughts, realising he’s been trying to hold eye contact with you. “I’ll make a deal with you, if you let me take you out on a ride around the lake, I’ll answer any questions you have, deal?”

The way he’s practically bargaining with you makes you want to laugh, but you keep your face neutral as you agree to his offer. Who turns down taking a romantic scooter ride with a hot vampire? Nobody. 

Of course, he takes any opportunity to tease you, so he rents a smaller scooter so you have to cling onto him.

You don’t complain though. How can you as you enjoy feeling his back muscles flex? Not to mention, he keeps his promise and answers any and every question you have about himself or his past. And, wow, he has an interesting and long past. 

As the sky turns dark and drips stars, you’re left with a feeling rising in your chest that you certainly don’t reject and with the hope of meeting him again—on purpose, this time. A planned event seems likely as you clutch the torn-out blank page of his book with his phone number scribbled across it in your fist.

one time: he gazes at you

“Hitoshi. You already have better night vision than me. This is so extra!” you protest, stumbling through the dark apartment as your vampiric boyfriend maneuvers you to ... his room, you think. 

Hitoshi just rubs soothing circles on your back and you just know the fucker is smirking. You hear the light click on. 

“You can take the blindfold off.” 

Tugging the blindfold off, you stare at the new object Hitoshi bought for his room. 

“Baby, this is a mirror.” 

He nods while leaning against his bed, looking infuriatingly pretty per usual. 

“You can’t even see yourself in a mirror. Why?” You arch an eyebrow in Hitoshi’s direction, trying to explain your absolute bafflement at his purchase. 

“In case you’re here and want to check yourself out.”  

You see nothing but innocence plastered on his facial expression but did you trust it? No. 

A mindblowing second later, he stands in front of you, caressing your face with calloused, cold hands. A nice contrast to the sweltering temperature in his room he set for you. Hitoshi leans in to kiss you, gentle but firm. Your hands go up to fist his shirt as he intensifies the kiss. 

He slides his hands down your cheek to stroke your lip and then slowly skims down your body.  

“It would be a great idea to take this off,” he whispers, playing with the hem of your shirt. 

You eagerly nod as he strips you out of your shirt and pants. Awareness of his plans finally clicks when he turns you to face the mirror. 

The remark on the tip of your tongue dies when Hitoshi rolls your nipples through the thin lace of your bra. You arch into his touch as he gently pinches and pulls them. God, your panties are already drenched and nipples hard. 

“Fuck,” you moan as Hitoshi slides your panties to the side. Letting you lean against his corded chest, he hitches one of your legs off the floor. 

“Go on, spread yourself open. Let me see how wet your slutty cunt is,” he murmurs into your ear. 

You hard swallow as you spread your glistening lips open for him, strands of your arousal clinging to your fingers when you pull them away. Hitoshi digs his hand into your thigh.

“Did I tell you to stop?” He sounds amused as he uses his other hand to pull your hair by the roots.

“No, no, daddy, I’m sorry,” you apologize and move your hand back to where it belongs. 

“Good girl, look at yourself. Wrecked without even being fucked.” You stare at yourself in the mirror with a half-lidded gaze. He’s right. With your heaving chest and puffy, soaked pussy, you look like you’ve been railed. But instead, you continue to spread open your aching pussy for your fully clothed boyfriend.

“Daddy, daddy, please touch me,” you plead as you grind against his hard bulge, desperate for any kind of friction. 

“Are you going to be a good girl for me?” If you were any more lucid, you’d have smacked Hitoshi for his lilting tease. 

“Aren’t I always a good girl,” you whine, hands clambering at his thighs. 

He chuckles at that, kissing your head before somehow gracefully crumpling to the ground with you in his lap. In a blink, he has you spread out in his lap as he plays with your clit. He slides a thick finger inside your tiny cunny as he grazes your shoulder with his canines.

“Look at you,” he coos. “You look so good like this, my darling little slut.” 

You don’t even have a retort, too enraptured by the sight of Hitoshi fingerfucking your sopping cunt with his invisible hand. The way your cunt opens for him and gapes in the mirror spellbinding for both of you.

You moan as your hips jerk up. There’s not much more he loves than how your lips part and your legs shake at how he strokes his finger inside of you. 

“More,” you beg. How can he resist your dazed expression? 

“Such a needy baby,” he tsks as he scissors you open with another finger. 

Another strum of your clit and pinch of your nipple and you’re gone, eyes squeezing shut. Your juices surely ruining his pants as you writhe in his lap. 

He cradles your cheek and then grips your chin to turn you back to the mirror. 

“Look at yourself, pretty girl. Such a fucked out mess.” 

You gaze at the bruises blooming over your shoulders and down your neck and shudder, pleased. The aftershocks of your orgasm leave you warm as you languidly suck your juices off Hitoshi’s fingers.  

“Toshi!” you squeal as he gently deposits you on his bed and pulls his clothes off. The bed is purely decorative and for you considering he doesn’t sleep. Although, even with a bed, you guys still fuck over every surface in his apartment. 

Your sensitivity protests fall to deaf ears as he bends your knees to your chest. This time, Hitoshi is the one to spread you open. He slaps your cunt and you claw at the sheets. Pumping two fingers slowly in and out of you, he uses his other hand to roughly pull down your bra.

His chapped lips wrapping around your nipple and cold fingers groping your other breast feel overwhelming. Hitoshi cages you in, sucking wet kisses over your tits, leaving you no room to evade his overstimulation as you squirm to get away from his fingers fucking up into you. 

Your sore nipples and cunt get a moment of reprieve as he moves down to concentrate on marking bites all over your plush thighs. Instantly, you miss being full. 

When he passes your empty, clenching cunt for the third time to suck bruises on your inner thighs, you burst. 

“Daddy, please, please, fuck me!” 

Hitoshi trails kisses up your heated skin to your throat, laving over the hickies he left.

“Beautiful,” he croons as he finally positions his tip against your hole and pushes in. The praise and stretch make you whine. He stills as your tiny cunt clenches around him. Your warm, drenched walls wrapping around his cock makes him toss his head back in pleasure. 

“My patient good girl,” he groans, pulling at your nipples. 

“Fuck—more, daddy, more,” you curse as you squirm, your hips rocking up to meet his shallow thrusts. He doesn’t reply and grazes his fangs over your pulse point as he holds your hips down. 

Your breath hitches—and he abruptly pulls back.

“Did my baby think I was going to bite her?” Hitoshi gives you a lazy smirk as he keeps his vexingly slow pace, watching his cock drag in and out of your creaming cunt. 

His large hand wrapping around your neck makes you squeak and suddenly tighten around him. Your favorite necklace. Knowing he’s using an insignificant fraction of his strength to please you makes your eyes roll back as your breath stutters.

“That’s it, cum for me, pretty girl.” Hitoshi starts a punishing pace as he strokes your clit with his free hand. His dark eyes never leave his hand wrapped around your throat, your ravishing lightheaded face and your bouncing tits. Hitoshi’s furrowed expression as he drags his tongue over his canines in concentration makes you whimper. 

You buck against him, gushing around him and crying out his name.

The way you cum so prettily for him has Hitoshi hissing your name in your ear as he thrusts deep into your spasming cunt, chasing his own release. Intertwining his hands with yours, he presses you into the mattress to pin you down. Before long, his orgasm washes over him. 

You gaze contentedly at Hitoshi as he pulls out, feeling empty already—and then you realize. 

“Hitoshi! I swear to god if I look like a grape again,” you threaten as you try to stand up to head to the bathroom. 

You don’t even take a step before he whisks you into his bathroom, laughing at you and kissing your forehead. 

Well. You suppose looking like a grape isn’t that bad.

[mizgnomer]

Excerpts from the SyFy Wire & Film School Rejects interviews with Claire Anderson, the Emmy-nominated costume designer for Good Omens:

[ Film School Rejects - by Ciara Wardlow]  “I worked through it with gut reaction images. So, two guys. Two guys, kind of close, nearly in love, if you like,” she said. “I just went in and we had a really big, very open conversation about how you related to these people in the script and how we would make them real and plausible, but give them a fantasy element. Give them something otherworldly.”

While Anderson says that she ultimately took this approach with more or less all of the characters, mixing period and modern elements to give characters somewhat timeless, yet also somewhat fantastical “out of time” looks, in the early discussion stages it was all about Aziraphale and Crowley. For one thing, Sheen and Tennant were already cast, which was a major help in determining their looks. It took some time to settle on the duo’s main, contemporary looks, but once these were locked in they played a significant role in determining everything else they wore.

[...] Aziraphale maintains a look with significant nods to the late Victorian era. Crowley too, although he manages to put an edgier twist on things than his angelic contemporary. “We re-appropriate bits of period stuff so that it echoes. [Aziraphale and Crowley] echo one another in their visual identity with pieces from their past—where they’ve touched each other in the past perhaps, or bumped into each other.” Regarding how Crowley manages to keep more of a modern, cool vibe, Anderson gives David Tennant’s performance the lion’s share of the credit. “He’s a very nice man, but he’s very sexy. He brought all of that swagger, that rock star, snake-hipped sexiness, and we built on that.”

[ SyFy Wire - by Jennifer Vineyard] GARDEN OF EDEN, 4004 B.C. -  Anderson looked at everything from Pre-Raphaelite paintings to Al Pacino’s hippie clothes in Serpico to determine just the right flow for Aziraphale’s rough-hewn robe, which has gold embroidery on the shoulders and side. Aziraphale is also wearing a golden ring, which later becomes a signet ring stamped with wings in the Victorian era.

NOAH'S ARK, MESOPOTAMIA, 3004 B.C. - “As aged as I am, I wasn’t there,” Anderson says, laughing. “And there wasn’t any painting or documentation from this era. But what we do know is that tunics remained pretty simple, and the earlier shape would have served them well for many years.” Aziraphale’s robe becomes more streamlined, and he wears gold beads at the neck.

THE CRUCIFIXION, GOLGOTHA, 33 - By this time, both Aziraphale and Crawley — now Crowley — are wearing turbans and head wraps, which Anderson attributes to “a bit of vanity.” Plus the wrap helps Crowley conceal his snake-like eyes (it’s too soon for glasses). Aziraphale dons a soft leather coat over his tunic, while Crowley wears female attire of the region — an abaya.

ROME, 41 -  Switching from tunics to togas was difficult, since togas contain 6 to 12 meters of fabric, which is a lot to carry around on camera. Anderson reduced the size by cutting the togas to fit for the character’s movements, and she gave each actor a thematic decorative pin to hold their togas together — Crowley a serpent and staff, Aziraphale a pair of wings (both courtesy of George Easton at Danegeld Historic Jewellery). Although history might argue that it’s too soon for sunglasses, Crowley starts to shield his eyes with a very small, eye-shaped lens. “It’s suggestive, rather than historically accurate,” Anderson says. And as a sign that Crowley is adapting to the humans around him, he also wears a silver laurel wreath.

ARTHURIAN ENGLAND, THE KINGDOM OF WESSEX, 537 - Anderson sent character descriptions and visuals for Aziraphale and Crowley to armor specialist FBFX, which sent a van to London full of pieces that could work for angelic and demonic armor. Instead of focusing on historical accuracy, Anderson looked for shapes and fit that suggested an ethereal — or snakelike — quality, once the pieces had been painted black or silver. For Crowley, she found a helmet that had a smaller face that could suggest a snakehead, and for Aziraphale, shoulder pieces that were slightly wing-like. To add to the wing effect, Anderson added a white fur caplet to Aziraphale’s armor. “It was terribly grand, but not very practical,” she says. “And the poor guys, it was murderously uncomfortable to stand around in that armor.”

GLOBE THEATRE, LONDON, 1601 - Crowley and Aziraphale catch an early version of Hamlet, looking more period-appropriate than ever thanks to the Globe’s vast archive of costumes. Aziraphale’s wardrobe, which includes a neck ruff edged with gold thread, has a metallic look with a hint of iridescent blue, which opens up his color palette. Crowley, meanwhile, wears a cleaner neckline and leather on his doublet, as well as fabrics that provide sheen and luster to suggest his snaky origins.

REVOLUTIONARY FRANCE, PARIS, 1793 - This is not a period to be dressed like an aristocrat, but Aziraphale couldn’t resist a lace collar, gold brocade and fitted jacket — which explains why he’s stuck in a prison cell (at least until Crowley intervenes). Crowley, more mindful of what revolutionaries would wear, dons a dark red jacket that’s almost as dark as his usual black. When Aziraphale miracle-changes his clothes, he wears the red cap of liberty. “It’s a soft beret that falls somewhere between a modern French beret and a pirate headdress,” Anderson notes.

ST. JAMES' PARK, LONDON, 1862 - This is the time period with which Aziraphale gets most comfortable, fashion-wise, and settles into a Victorian look with tartan flair. Anderson also bestowed some heavenly nods to his angelic nature — a feathery velvet top hat, a stopwatch with angel’s wings on the chain, and the signet ring. Crowley, meanwhile, wears a pair of long, elegantly cut trousers that we will see again in the 1960s. “The trousers repeat, which is basically what fashion does anyway,” Anderson says. “And it’s what the story does. There are notes backward and forwards.”

THE BLITZ, LONDON, 1941 - Aziraphale’s tartan necktie becomes a bow tie, and his penchant for wide lapels, a nod to his wings, continues, this time with a spear-point collar. Crowley, who comes to save Aziraphale once again, is dressed more formally, in a full double-breasted wool suit that must have been hard for David Tennant to wear in the South African heat. “The rest of the crew were in flip-flops and T-shirts, and David was in the suit, hat, and those big boots,” Anderson says, recalling the shoot.  “He had to be very physically active in that scene, and yet David didn’t complain about the heat or anything. He’s amazing.”

SOHO, LONDON, 1967 - Crowley, as noted, continues to wear his Victorian trousers, which are right up to date, and which he pairs with a black paisley velvet jacket with contrasting lapels. His sunglasses now have more of a John Lennon vibe. Aziraphale, perhaps inadvertently, is also looking stylish with his Victorian topcoat, spear-point collar, and cravat (modified from his scarf in Victorian England). “You can’t avoid being affected by changing trends,” Anderson says. “However bookish you are, you still notice other people. And you would have had Rolling Stones and Beatles fans wearing that kind of thing. That was our argument for Aziraphale wearing his Victorian topcoat all the way through, and Michael Sheen loved it. He said it inspired him. And the cravat rang in the changes and helped us with the passage of time, rather than always having him wear a bow tie.

[mrsalwayswrite]

This Night (40s!Bucky Barnes x Hispanic!OFC)

Summary: When she saved a scrawny blond in a back alley, she would never have anticipated the ripple effects it would have. Nor how meeting someone with a pair of baby blue eyes and cocky smirk would draw her in, encouraging her that for one night, to taste revelry like she never had before.

This is my submission for @allaboardthereadingrailroad​ Marvel Diversity Challenge! My prompt was “a little danger never hurt”. 

I am going to admit, I’m super nervous to post this. I’ve never written a person of color before and would be horrified to accidently offend someone. That being said, I also had so much fun writing this piece. I adore 40s Bucky and Steve, so I was excited to finally have the inspiration to write them. 

Few notes:

-All translations are via google and what I can remember from university (if any of my Spanish is wrong, please please please someone tell me and i’ll correct it!)

-I threw in some 40s slang for fun, so that will be in italics.

-In the little research I did (again, someone please correct me if I am wrong), in the 40s there were not many Hispanic or Latino people living in NYC yet. So for my OFC and her family, they would very much stand out. 

Warnings: a few swear words, some angst, sexual tension, topic of racial discrimination and inequality 

Words: 8k (the story kept growing, i’m so sorry)

<gif is from Pinterest>

She clutched the parcel to her chest, trying to avoid the muddy puddles on the sidewalk. Mr. Hendricks would be furious with her if she got any mud on the packaging of the parcel. He always said it reflected his reputation.  

 Weaving through those walking down the busy Brooklyn sidewalk, she could feel the few glares and inaudible comments following in her wake. She tried to ignore it, knowing was not the first nor last time others judged her for her different skin tone. Though she doubted she would ever get used to it. One of her older brothers would try and cheer her up saying the white folks were jealous since they burned when in the sun too long while Spaniards became more beautiful. Without fail, she would smack him but end up laughing along. 

 Peeking at the address scrawled in precise handwriting, she surveyed the street names around. A sinking feeling in her gut confirmed her fear- she had somehow gotten lost. 

“Mierda.” She hissed, turning around in a circle. Not just to try and relocate her whereabouts but on the off chance her mother happened to be behind her to whack her over the head for swearing. 

 Not wanting to be run over by a fellow pedestrian, she stepped off the sidewalk into an alley nearby while she tried to get her bearings. She brushed down the front of her workwear, dark blue, princess style dress with its Peter Pan collar, double pockets and pleated skirt. A glance at her tights showed a couple spots of mud she somehow managed to still get on her even though her kitten heels were still mostly clean. A miracle really. 

 It was only mid-afternoon but Mr. Hendricks hated when she returned late from delivering parcels. He was the best tailor in Brooklyn and practically thrived off that title. He employed her to help keep things organized, the shop looking nice and delivering parcels to their patrons. It was mindless work but that did not bother her. It was a job...and she was lucky to have one. Being from one of the few Hispanic families in the area was not a perk when trying to find work. She knew the only reason she even got this job was she willingly took half the pay he would have given to anyone else, she could sew well, and she was pretty. 

 A crash at the end of the alley drew her attention behind her. There was some hushed talking followed by another sound of something hitting the ground. Hard. 

 Logically, she knew she should walk away. She was already lost. Her mother frequently reminded her to not involve herself in other people's business, it would only get her in trouble. The problem was her curiosity was a near palpable thing, driving her forward, along with her independent streak the size of the Upper Bay. So when she heard what sounded like a smack and another crash, her feet started moving without a second thought. 

 She darted around a half brick wall to find herself at an "L" intersection. And at the end of both alleys, stood a tall man with a face like a bulldog and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows, fists at his side. Below him lay a much smaller, blond man who was sprawled out on the dirty ground. The smaller man groaned, rubbing a hand on his jaw. He rolled onto his side, then slowly and painfully rose back onto his feet, his own fists in front of him in a poor imitation of a boxer. 

 "You think you somethin' special, huh?" The larger man jeered, a nasty smirk on his face. He leaned on his back foot, preparing to throw another punch. 

 The smaller man raised his fists but made no other move, prepared to take the hit and most likely go back down. 

 So, she decided to do something stupid. 

 "BILL!!" She cried out, her voice echoing off the brick walls of the alleys. 

 Both men froze, turning to look at her. 

 Tucking the parcel under her arm, she jogged over to the smaller man, uncaring now of the muddy puddles. "There you are, Bill. I've been so worried. You promised to show me where Mrs. Wilcox lives. I tried to find her myself but I got so lost." Ignoring the quizzical look from the blond man, she stood between the two men, meeting the eyes of the larger one. She twirled a strand of her long, black hair around her finger, nerves getting to her but she pressed on. "I'm so sorry for whatever trouble he has caused you. He won't bother you again. We have to go now; our boss will dock our wages if we aren't back soon."

 The man trailed his eyes over her as if looking for a lie tattooed on her skin or dress. Finding nothing of interest, he stared hard at his victim for a long moment. She found herself holding her breath, silently praying her ruse worked. 

 Finally, he rolled his shoulders and unclenched his fists, his thick jowls still tense. "Keep ‘im away from me or next time his ass will end up in the hospital."

 Slowly, she released her breath as she watched the bulldog of a man turn on his heel and stomp away, back down the alley and onto the main sidewalk. 

 "Are you hurt?" She asked, looking over the smaller man. As he dusted off his brown trousers and tan jacket, she was surprised to realize he stood about her height, and probably about her age, in the young twenties. If her guessing was any good. 

 He rubbed his jaw again and winced where an impressive bruise was already growing. "I've had worse." 

 She could not help but smile at his nonchalance. His bright blue eyes met her own honey brown. A timid smile echoed hers, his face so open and expressive. Something about the man she found endearing already. Maybe defending him was not such a stupid action.  

 "All that stuff you said, about lookin' for me and gettin' lost…"

 She huffed a laugh. "I am actually lost. I'm trying to find this address here." She showed him the scrap of paper with the address scribbled on it.

 It took only a glance before he handed the paper back with a smile. "You're not too far. Only three streets away….I... I can take you there if you like."

 "Oh, I'd hate to impose on you."

 "No, it's really fine. Seems you saved me from...well…" He shrugged, sticking his hands in the pockets of his tan jacket. 

 "And... you...don't mind, you know, being seen with me?"

 "No, why?" Eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed slightly, he stared at her like that was the strangest question. 

 It was in that moment she knew, whoever this scrawny man was- he was a good man. The difference in their ethnicity made no difference to him. He was a rarity in her experience with most New Yorkers. 

 Even though it was 1940 and this was supposed to be a land of equal opportunity. 

 It was not. 

 With a shrug and momentarily, awkward silence as they both thought about their own answers to his question, they fell into step with one another as they headed back out of the alley.

 "So, what's your name? Or is it actually Bill?" She spoke up once they hit the sidewalk. 

 "Do I look like a Bill?"

 She squinted her eyes then shook her head giggling. "No, you don't."

 "It's Steve…. Steve Rogers."

 "It's nice to meet you, Steve."

 He directed them down another street. Their shoulders brushed occasionally as they walked, due more to their need to maneuver around puddles and other pedestrians than any sense of intimacy. "You gonna tell me your name or do I have to make one up for you?"

 "Oh! Sorry. It's Elana Morales-Díaz. So, what caused the fight?"

 The tips of his ears and cheeks turned pink as he ducked his head. "He, um, we...we had a disagreement."

 "Obviously. I would hate to know you're friends and beat each other up for fun."

 "My best friend is a boxer. He's tryin’ to teach me some moves…. does that count as beating each other up?"

 She pretended to think about it. "I may let that one slide but it sounds like you might need some new friends."

 "Yeah," he chuckled and peeked over at her. "Know of any openings?"

 "I just might."

 They stood at an intersection waiting to cross the street when they heard a shout from further down the road. Neither paid much attention initially until the shout repeated itself. 

 "STEVE!"

 The blond looked down the road, a smile on his lips. He waved and tugged on Elana to move away from the curb. She followed along, surprised since he told her they needed to cross. 

 A man glided through the pedestrians easily, a few lingering looks thrown his way by some of the women. When he noticed her standing next to Steve, his eyes widened for a brief moment before a lazy smirk appeared on his face and his strut became more pronounced. With boxing gloves dangling over his shoulder, his white shirt and black trousers, he looked like he just walked out of a gym. Especially with the way his dark brown hair ruffled in the breeze, a few strands sticking up like he had run his hands through it a few times. 

 "I leave you for one afternoon and I come back to find you with the prettiest gal in all of New York." 

 Steve rolled his eyes. "You're always at the gym now."

 The man put Steve in a teasing headlock. Only after a flirtatious wink at her, he released the smaller man. "So, you gonna introduce me to this wolfess, Steve?"

 "Ah, right. Elana, this is my best friend, Bucky Barnes. Buck, this is Elana."

 "Nice to meet you." She said, a small smile at their interactions. It reminded her of her brothers.

 The man -Bucky- reached over and took her hand but instead of shaking it, pressed a kiss to her knuckles, maintaining eye contact the whole time. "Pleasure is mine."

 Oh, he was a charmer. The kind her mother warned her about. Then again, her father had the same devilish charisma and Elana liked to remind her mother of that. To which her mother would laugh and say that's why she warned her daughter of those men, she knew from experience. With just a wink and kiss, she would fall madly in love, leave her home and give him five babies before she even knew it. It was always after this statement often said loudly and with feigned annoyance that Elana's father would wrap his arms around his wife, lovingly kiss her temple and remind her how long he had to chase her before she even agreed to go on a date with him. 

 "So how do you guys know each other?" Bucky asked, those blue eyes bouncing between the two of them. 

 Steve coughed, rubbing the back of his neck. It was then Bucky finally seemed to notice the slowly darkening bruise on Steve's jaw. 

 "Steve!" He grabbed his friend's face and glanced over him, concern etched in his movements and expression. "What happened this time, punk?"

 "Nothin'...just a disagreement. I had 'im on the ropes."

 He dropped his hand, running it through his brunet hair. "You gotta stop pickin’ fights, one of these days…" The implications hung heavily in the air. 

 "Ah, Steve…" When he looked over at her, she nodded toward the parcel still in her arms.

 "Oh right! Sorry. Buck, I gotta take her to drop somethin' off."

 Bucky shrugged. "Lead the way, punk."

 "Jerk."

 The three of them quickly crossed the street. Steve, and soon Bucky when he understood what was going on, pointed out markers for her in case she got lost again. In a short time, they arrived at the house, one of the nicer ones in Brooklyn. The boys waited on the sidewalk as Elana walked up to the front door and handed the parcel over with the man's tailored suit. 

 "Where you off to now, doll?" Bucky asked when she approached them. 

 "Oh, I need to get back to the shop. Mr. Hendricks will most likely be upset with how late I am anyway."

 "The tailorin’ shop near Prospect Park?"

 "Yeah." She played with a strand of her hair, trying to hide her nerves.

 "What a coincidence. We were headed that way ourselves, right, Steve?"

 "What?" Steve looked at Bucky, head tilted in confusion. Bucky cuffed him in the back of the head. "Oh, yeah. Yeah. Um, gonna take a nice walk in the park."

 Elana could not help but giggle at the two. With Bucky looking skyward like he was silently praying for patience to deal with his best friend; meanwhile Steve rubbed the back of his head and glared at his best friend. Although she just met them and hardly knew them, she found herself enjoying their presence. Friends were not something she had in great supply...or any supply really. 

 Plus, if she was being honest with herself, she found her gaze drifting to the tall, charming brunet more times than she cared to admit. The butterflies in her stomach did not help the situation. She knew it was foolish. He was attractive and knew it. But when he turned those baby blues on her and winked, she could not help but be drawn to him, like a moth to the flame. 

 "How come we ain't seen you round before? I know I'd remember a dame as beautiful as you round Brooklyn." Bucky said on her left side while Steve walked on her right. Neither one crowded her space. Sometimes one would touch a hand to her back to direct her steps or hold her elbow when she jumped a puddle. It was sweet instead of condescending. 

 She shrugged. "I recently got the job at the tailor shop and I live in Queens."

 They both winced making her laugh. She would never understand this animosity the boroughs had with each other. 

 "Well that explains a lot." Steve muttered. 

 "Hey!" She nudged the blond with her shoulder as she muttered. "Me gusta Queens. Ustedes dos están celosos."

 "What language is that?" Steve asked, curiosity evident. 

 "Spanish."

 "Is that why you have an accent?"

 She nodded, unable to meet their gazes as she answered. "My family moved here from Spain when I was six." Although she had grown up here in New York City, gone to school just like the other kids, she still maintained a slight accent to her words, different from the stereotypical New Yorker's accent. 

 "Say somethin’ else." Bucky smiled down at her. 

 She laughed. "Like what?"

 "I don't know. Anythin’."

 "El cielo es azul. Me duelen los pies con estos tacones. Me he reído más con ustedes dos que en semanas".

 Bucky had almost a dazed look on his face. "That's beautiful."

 "You have no idea what I said."

 "Doesn't matter." The brunet stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Steve can talk in Irish." 

 "Buck…"

 "What?" 

 "I mean, a little." He rubbed the back of his neck. "My ma came from Ireland." 

 Bucky snorted. "You wrote a poem for a girl in the second grade in Irish and read it to her on the playground. I'd say that's more than a little."

 Steve's face was red and jaw dropped as he stared at his friend. "How...how...how do you know that?" He sputtered. "We weren't even friends yet."

 Bucky winked at Elana as he answered. "Gotta be friends with the right people."

 The three of them walked back, talking and laughing. Well it was mostly the boys talking and teasing one another but she enjoyed just listening to their banter. Occasionally they would direct a question to her or she would throw out a remark that had them laughing. 

 She guided them to the back alley of the street front shops. Mr. Hendricks disliked her walking through the front unless she had her work apron on and clean shoes. 

 "Well thank you for helping me and walking me back."

 "It's not a big deal." Steve said. 

 "We'll see you round, yeah? I'd hate to just meet a gorgeous dame like you then never see her again." Bucky threw a wink at her, adjusting the boxing gloves still over his shoulder. 

 She opened her mouth to tease them then stopped. She truly hoped this was not the last time she saw these two. In a spur of the moment decision, she stepped closer to say goodbye. She pressed her cheeks to Steve's first, giving the traditional cheek kiss. She did the same to Bucky, though she had to rise on her toes to reach his face, and she suspected he bent over slightly. 

 "Hasta luego, mis amigos."

 "What was that, doll?"

 She looked from Bucky's smirk to Steve's red face and back. "A traditional goodbye."

 "Mmm…I could get used to that." The boxer teased, nudging his friend who refused to meet her eyes now. 

 She smiled and started to open the back door when Bucky's hand grabbed her forearm, stalling her movements. 

 "Hey, wait." Those baby blue eyes met her honey brown ones. "It's Friday night.  We usually go to the Stork Club for drinks and dancin’. Come with us."

 "Oh, I don't know…"

 "Come on. It'll be great. If it helps, we'll pick you up from your house."

 She could not help the laugh that slipped out at the thought.  "You'd come to Queens... to get me?"

 "It might break my heart to leave my beloved Brooklyn but I'd do it for you, doll."

 "Honestly it'd be dangerous for you to come to my house." 

 "A little danger never hurt." He brushed some of her hair behind her ear, sending shivers down her spine. 

 He was trouble, complete trouble for her...and she knew it. But the longer he stared at her with those pleading eyes and hand now at the nape of her neck, she could feel her resolve crumbling. "I have three brothers and a protective father."

 "They can't be that bad… Come on, please? Steve, help me out!"

 Steve just laughed, raising his hands in surrender. 

 She bit the inside of her cheek thinking about it. Her brother Mateo owed her for when she covered for him when he almost got caught smoking cigarettes behind the apartment building. Tonight, her parents were supposed to visit her eldest brother and his new wife in the Bronx. 

 "Ok…" She whispered. 

 "Yeah?" A beaming grin spread over his face.

 "Ok...I'll meet you there though."

 "Yes!" Bucky bent over and kissed her cheek loudly. "You won't regret it! Nine o'clock!"

 "Nueve. Estaré allí."

 "I still don't know what you said, doll, but I love it."

 She laughed, pushing him away from her. "Go! Before I'm even more late."

 Before they were three steps away, she ducked inside the back of the shop. Hopefully she was able to slip in unnoticed. The shop should be closing soon so Mr. Hendricks would be in his little office room. 

 She leaned against the back door, hands pressed against her cheeks to will away the warmth in them. Thankfully with her brown skin, the blush would be harder to notice. As she stood there, the realization of what she just agreed to finally hit her. An icy fist landed in her gut, drowning the blush away. She had never been to a club before. She had no idea what to wear...or how to act. How was she even going to get there? 

 Underneath the fear though was a determination to go. Why couldn't she have fun for one night, like other young women she regularly saw and envied. Both of those Brooklyn boys seemed nice. Thinking about them brought the flush back to her skin, especially when she thought of the kiss on the cheek from Bucky. He was trouble and fun and charming and devilish and… and she wanted to spend more time with him. And Steve, the sweet, kind, funny guy that he was. She liked them both. But when thinking about those baby blue eyes, insufferable smirk and broad shoulders...her heartbeat sped up and butterflies erupted in her belly. 

 "Oh Dios, ¿qu�� voy a hacer?" She whispered to herself. 

 *****

 Just after nine o'clock, Elana climbed out of the taxi. She stared up at the sign that brightly screamed ‘Stork Club’. So many people milled about, either walking into the club or chatting, waiting for others in their group. A couple people already looked like they had been hitting the bottles for some time, if the rambunctious yelling and obnoxious laughter said anything. The atmosphere was loud and vibrant with an air of debauchery...and she had not even stepped foot in the door. 

 "Oh Dios, ¿por qué estoy aquí? Estúpido. Tan estúpido. Debería irme. Ni siquiera se darán cuenta." She murmured to herself, her hands wringing the strap on her clutch. Actually, it was not even hers. She "borrowed" it from her mother's closet and prayed that she could return it before her mother noticed.

 "Elana!" 

 At the call of her name, she turned around to see Bucky and Steve crossing the street, dodging a car that decided they were taking too long. 

 "You made it!" Bucky exclaimed, bubbling with excitement. He scanned her over, giving a low whistle. "Damn, doll, you look beautiful."

 "Gracias." She smoothed down her floral-patterned tea dress that reached mid-calf, her kitten heels still on from earlier. Her raven hair hung loosely down her back, unstyled in the typical curls that most women wore. There had been no time to try one of those hair styles and not bring attention to herself before she snuck out. Just to make her even more self-conscious, the cherry red lipstick she wore felt heavy on her lips. Something she only wore on rare occasions. "You fellas clean up nicely."

 Checking over them, they each wore nice suits. Though Steve's looked a size or two too large and the prominent bruise on his cheek ruined the look a bit. Bucky was practically sinful in his suit, showing off his broad shoulders and strong legs, his hair slicked back. Improper thoughts flooded her mind and a heat warmed her cheeks. She had a feeling she would need to go to confession tomorrow. That was tomorrow’s worry though, tonight was about fun.

 "Ready to have the time of your life?" Bucky asked, excitement practically bubbled under his skin. 

 "That's a high standard."

 "Guess I better not disappoint. C'mon!" He grabbed her hand, pulling her towards the crowded, open door. In her sudden fear, she reached back and snagged Steve's hand, dragging him along. She would never admit it but having both of them on either side of her made her feel better. 

 There were several different calls for Bucky, vying for his attention. He just waved or yelled something back but kept her hand in his, pulling them through. She noticed more than one disappointed female face when Bucky passed them. It churned something in her stomach which she tried to ignore. 

 When they finally entered the dance hall, she froze. It was nothing like she imagined and so much better. At the far end was a stage with a large band playing an upbeat song that made her bounce on her toes without realizing it. A large bar area was set up, packed with people already looking for something to wet their throats. Booths and tables lined the walls. Already the hardwood, dance floor looked packed with couples jiving. Mirrors and photographs hung on the walls making the place feel bigger even when it was so crowded. The air smelled of alcohol, sweat and a youthful zeal she had never experienced. 

 It was intoxicating and nerve-wracking. She could not wait to join in. 

 The next thing she noticed when she glanced at all the people...she was the only non-white person there. 

 "Let's get a table." Bucky tugged them along towards an open booth on the right side of the dance floor. 

 She slid in on one side while Steve scooted in on the other. Bucky stood at the end, grinning ear to ear as he seemed to quickly survey the place. 

 "Right." He tossed his suit jacket on the seat next to her then clapped his hands, the sound muffled by the volume from the band nearby. "What kinda drink would you like?"

 "Ah, vino?"

 He nodded and waltzed towards the bar, throwing an arm around the shoulder of one of the men standing there waiting. 

 She turned back to the blond. "You're not drinking?"

 "Nah, too many health issues to make it worth it." 

 She hummed and took note of Steve's fidgeting. "Is this your first time too?"

 He chuckled. "No. I just don't...well, this isn't where I'd prefer to be on a Friday night...but don't tell Bucky... though he probably knows."

 "What would you rather be doing?"

 "Drawin’ or paintin’, maybe playin’ cards but I'm terrible at them."

 "You're an artist?" The realization warmed her heart. This scrawny man with a heart too big for his body and kindness an invisible cloak around him. It made sense somehow. He could look past the ugly and see beauty and somehow capture it. 

 "I don't know if I'd say that...I just enjoy it. It's usually what I end up doin’ when I come here. Doodlin’ on a napkin while Buck dances with every girl he can."

 Her stomach dropped while hearing that, which was stupid. So stupid. She swallowed thickly, hoping Steve did not notice, before she spoke again to distract herself. "Well if you doodle something tonight, can I see it after?"

 "If you like."

 Bucky appeared a minute later with a foamy glass of beer and a glass of red wine. Carefully, he placed them both on the table. "Ready to cut a rug?" He asked, looking at her expectedly. 

 "Um, I don't...I've never danced like this before." She hesitantly admitted. Steve gave her a sympathetic smile like he understood. 

 "Don't matter. I bet you're a swell dancer." He held out his hand for her. When she did not immediately accept his hand, he wiggled his fingers. "C'mon, ain't that hard. I'll teach you."

 With a sigh, she took his hand, his smile beaming as he tugged her out of the booth. She could not help but smile back at his sheer enthusiasm. It was contagious. 

 He led her off to the side of the dance floor. Putting one hand on her lower back and taking the other in his hand, he began demonstrating the steps. Her eyes stayed glued to his feet while he moved, willing her brain to understand and not make a fool of her. 

 "You got this, doll. Told you, you're a natural. Just follow my movement, let me lead."

 So she did and before she knew it, they were flying around the dance floor. 

 Bucky was an amazing dancer and it showed in how he effortlessly led her. A couple times she stumbled or stepped on his toes but he would just grin and encourage her to keep going. The faces of those around them blurred. The music seemed to sink into her blood and with every beat of the drum or clap of the hands from the band, her heartbeat echoed it. It was intoxicating and she had not even had a sip of alcohol. Now she understood why people flocked to these dance halls. There was something freeing in them, losing yourself to the music and movements. For a short time, you could ignore the outside world and all its trials. Here, you could be free. 

 Eventually she begged a break, practically panting from the several songs they danced through. The brightness in her eyes and smile though showed how much fun she was having. Still holding hands, they weaved through the crowd back to their booth where Steve sat with a napkin in front of him, pencil in hand and eyes focused downward. She slid into the booth first, Bucky right behind her. 

 "Have fun?" Steve asked, eyes bouncing between the two before him. 

 "I can't breathe." She giggled out, hand pressed to her chest. Her lungs struggled to fill up properly but instead of installing fear into her, it only made her laugh. 

 Bucky took a long sip of his beer and slung his arm behind Elana, on the back of the booth. "Told you, you'd have fun. You're a great dancer."

 "Only cause I had a great teacher." Taking a sip of her wine, she focused on the quiet artist.  "Did you draw something, Steve?"  

 "Yeah, just a little sketch."

 "Can I see it?"

 He slid the napkin over to her, nerves obvious. Giving him a small, reassuring smile, she flipped the napkin over and felt her heart stop and jaw drop. The pencil sketch was of Bucky and her dancing. His mouth was next to her ear, whispering instructions or flirtatious comments, his hand on her lower back. Her gaze was on his chest but the brilliant smile on her lips gave her away. The sketch was so realistic, it was astounding. It completely captured Bucky's confidence and her nervousness but somehow the opposite emotions only added to the image, bringing a sense of balance and trust between the two dancing partners. 

 "Steve, esto es…. hermoso…. increíble." She breathed out, never taking her eyes off the napkin. When she finally looked up to see him blushing and fiddling with the pencil, she smiled. 

 Bucky had been leaning against her so he could see the sketch also. "That might be your best one yet, pal."

 "Thanks, guys. S'nothing."

 "May I keep it?" She softly asked, eyes tracing the delicate lines and shading.

 The embarrassed blond flapped a hand at her. "Course. It was for you if you wanted it anyway."

 Silently, she reached across and squeezed Steve's hand, unable to convey all the emotions she was feeling. "There's one thing you got wrong."

 "What's that?"

 "I'm not that pretty."

 Both Steve and Bucky chuckled.  

 "Elana," Bucky started, gazing down at her. "He drew you like-"

 "Bucky!" A silky voice interrupted. A young woman stood at the end of their booth. Her blonde hair in perfect curls, bright red lipstick matched the equally bright red dress she wore. Her eyes zeroed in on the handsome brunet at the table, ignoring the other two patrons like they were just wallpaper. "Wanna dance?" 

 The sun-kissed woman could feel Bucky's hesitation. Nudging him gently in the ribs, she nodded towards the interloper. "Go. Have fun. I still need to catch my breath."

 With a nod, he slipped out of the booth and followed the beautiful woman onto the dance floor. The two easily fell into step like they had done this a million times, each movement flawless and smiles on both of their faces. 

 She turned back to Steve, ignoring the churning in her gut. "What's your favorite thing to draw?"

 They talked for a few minutes about art classes he had taken and the few commissioned pieces he had done for local businesses. The passion he spoke with about art, hands flapping and eyes alight, it was impossible not to join in his enthusiasm. 

 The presence of someone standing at the end of the table drew their attention away from the quick sketch of a monkey Steve had drawn on another napkin. This young woman had a haughty expression on her otherwise pretty face, glaring down her nose at Elana. 

 "You shouldn't be here." She stated, venom lacing every word. Hands on her curvy hips, the gold stitching in her emerald dress catching the light from above. 

 "Ruby, we-"

 "No one is talkin’ to you, Steve." She barked then continued glaring at Elana. "I bet you're a real floozy, comin’ in here lookin’ like that. Well news flash, no one wants you or your kind here."

 Tears stung in Elana’s eyes, threatening to fall. She knew this would happen. It always happened. There was always someone to remind her she was not one of them, even if her own eyes could see it. She had hoped tonight would be different. That for once, she could fit in. 

 "I want her here. She's my date."

 The lady -Ruby- spun on her heel so quick, her dress flared out. "Bucky," she crooned, her voice sugary-sweet, so different than a moment ago. "You're lookin' like a real Fred Astaire out there tonight. Let's go-"

 Bucky did not even look her way as he slid back onto the bench, eyes focused on Elana. "You alright there, doll?"

 She nodded numbly, staring at the table. Twirling a strand of hair absent-mindedly around her finger, she tried to force the tears from falling. It was not even the worst insult she had heard hurled at her, but it still cut her to the quick. Every time. 

 "Why don't we head out, yeah? Steve there looks like he's gettin' a little warm and the music ain't so good tonight." Bucky said gently. 

 She nodded again, not trusting herself to speak. 

 "Bucky, stay…" Ruby tried one last time but he leveled a glare at her that made her take a step back. 

 "Take a powder, Ruby, I ain't interested."

 Bucky wrapped his hand around Elana's, entwining their fingers as he slid out of the booth with her right behind him. Without even a backwards glance, he led the three of them out of the dance hall. Elana kept her head down the whole time, unable to meet anyone's eyes for fear of what she would see. 

 The night air was blissfully cool after the heat of the dance hall. It kissed her skin as if trying to help calm her down. At this point, the street was not as busy, everyone mostly inside now. Only a few pedestrians and cars interrupted the quiet scene. 

 "Elana, I'm so sorry."

 "Debería irme. No debería haber venido. Soy tan estúpida." She muttered to herself, not even hearing Bucky's statement. It was a foolish idea to come out. For so long she had tried to fit in, especially as a child. Her mother always told her to be herself and embrace her difference. That was easier said than done. Tonight felt like a taste of it when she was on the dance floor. What things could have been like if everyone was accepted. If where she was from did not matter. She had been so happy dancing with Bucky, this handsome devil who treated her like she was special, holding her hand in front of everyone. Sure, Steve said he danced with a lot of girls but for tonight, she was someone while on his arm. She was someone special. 

 And oh, did she love the feeling of his hand wrapped around hers. Him holding her close as they danced, his warm breath hitting her neck just right. He was trouble, through and through. Her mother would call him a Casanova and tell her to run the other way. Yet she did not want to. He drew something out of her. An almost recklessness. A desire for more. More in life. To experience life with a passion. Both this new feeling and Bucky’s presence were addicting...and she found herself unable to turn away. At least not for tonight. She wanted to revel in it tonight. 

 It was not until a hand cupped her cheek and tilted her head up to meet a pair of worried baby blue eyes that she was jolted from her internal spiral. 

 "Hey, hey. I have no idea what you're sayin' but it don't sound good. Why don't we walk for a bit, mmm? The night's still young."

 Wordlessly, she followed. It was then she noticed Bucky was still holding her hand, palms flat against one another's. That realization drew a small smile on her lips. On her other side walked Steve, hands in his pockets but a genuine smile on his face when he caught her eye. Even after all this, these two Brooklyn boys wanted to be with her. With that in mind, she shoved her despair and pain away. Let tomorrow bring what worries that came with it. Tonight she wanted to be reckless without fear of the consequences. Tonight was supposed to be fun.  

 "Can't believe Ruby would say that. Always thought she was a nice dame." The brunet mused, slipping his suit jacket back on before taking Elana's hand once again.

 "She only showed what she wanted you to see, Buck."

 "Dance with a girl a couple times and she thinks you owe her or somethin'."

 The blond quirked an eyebrow at his friend.  "Was it only dancin'?"

 "What you gettin' at, Rogers?"

 "You ditched some other girl for her once before."

 His head swiveled to stare at the smaller man in shock. "I did?"

 Elana spoke up. "Sounds like you have quite the selection of dance partners to choose from."

 Steve snorted. "Guy has been doll-dizzy since he was twelve."

 "What can I say? I appreciate fine art." Bucky said with a self-satisfied grin.

 "Don't usually lock lips with paintings or statues…"

 "You know what, Rogers!"

 Elana laughed as Bucky let go of her hand to race around her and put Steve in a headlock. The two pretended to box for a couple minutes, grins on both their faces. When finished, the champion boxer slid up to her, a rakish smile teasing his lips as he claimed her hand back.

 "Well if those gals are fine art, you sweetheart, are a masterpiece." He twirled her around once, making her dress flare out around her legs. "Have I told you yet how beautiful you look tonight?"

 "Yes, Bucky."

 "Good, I'd hate for you to forget." He winked and the trio started walking again. 

 "Oh, here." Steve suddenly said, fishing something out of his pocket. He held out his hand almost shyly.  

 She took the offered item to see it was the napkin with the sketch on it. "Oh, Steve. Muchas gracias." She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek, leaving a red stain behind. "Oops."

 "Here." Bucky tossed over a handkerchief to Steve. 

 She glanced at the napkin one more time before reverently placing it in her clutch. She already knew where she was going to put this in her room so she would always remember this night.

 "Oh drat." Steve said after glancing at his watch. "It's almost eleven. I have class early tomorrow."

 "Go on, punk. I'll look after her."

 Elana hugged Steve and was thrilled when he squeezed her back just as tightly. "I'm so happy to have met you."

 "This isn't goodbye, right?"

 "I hope not. You have more artwork to show me."

 He blushed yet nodded before giving Bucky a quick hug. 

 "Night, Steve."

 "Night, jerk."

 Together, they watched Steve walk down the sidewalk, wave back at them then disappear down the next street. 

 "Wanna keep walkin'?"

 She nodded. She knew she should go home. It was getting late and she still had to get back to Queens. Yet walking side by side with this man whom she had only met several hours ago, she found the idea abhorrent. Glancing up at the night sky, only a couple of the stars were visible through the smoke, clouds and street lamps. They were lovely though, a reminder that there were greater things out there, one just had to look for them. At least, that is what her father always said. 

 "Hey," Bucky's voice pulled her attention back, "I never got to say it earlier but thanks...for havin’ Steve's back earlier today. Punk doesn't know when to quit."

 "I'm glad he got in that fight...is that odd? If he didn't, I wouldn’t have met either one of you."

 "Alright, this ONE time I'm glad he got in a fight. Though, we probably would have ran into each other eventually."

 They walked in comfortable silence for a couple minutes. Two cars passed them separately and only a handful of people walked their way. Otherwise it almost felt like they were alone. It was peaceful, still holding hands and wandering the streets of Brooklyn.  

 "Y'know, I was kinda hopin' we'd get at least one slow song at the dance hall."

 "Me too." She confessed. 

 "Well, we should!" An idea sparked in his eyes. "Wait here." He moved over to one of the parked cars near them. He tried to open it but it was locked so he moved to the next one. This one opened without hesitation and he slid in. The whole time Elana switched between watching Bucky and scanning the streets for someone to yell at them. What was he thinking? Suddenly music came on, drifting from the radio through the open passenger door. 

 Bucky stood there, leaning against the car with the biggest grin on his smug face. "Who needs a dance hall?"

 She laughed, understanding what he had done. "We’re going to get in trouble."

 "No, we ain't. C'mon."

 "Oh, Dios mío, yes we are!" 

 "Dance with me." He cooed, standing before her looking like an Adonis. 

 With that lazy smirk and enthralling blue eyes staring down at her, refusal was not an option. The words died on her tongue as she stared up at him. The music was slow, a singer crooning about his love. The moment felt like something from a fairytale story her mother would tell her as a little girl. She knew she should go home. Stop this heat that seared through her when she found herself caught in his eyes. Stop the butterflies in her stomach when around him. Stop the way she melted under his touch, his hands always so gentle. 

 But she wanted this. Right now. To pretend this was her reality. To dance with her prince under the stars. That love did not care about the differences in their skin tones. For when the sun rose and this dream faded, reality would seep back in. Plus, he was a charmer. Doll-dizzy. She would not keep his attention past this night. 

 For now though, she could pretend. Enjoy the night in a way she never had before. 

 He placed her hands behind his neck and his on her hips. Standing there under the streetlight and distant starlight, they danced, swaying back and forth. Her head landed on his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath it. So steady and soothing. The world faded away around them, the only things that mattered was their dancing and the music. It wrapped around them like a warm, thick blanket. Enveloping them in a sense of security and vitality. One of his hands slowly traced her spine leaving a trail of fire behind. His cheek pressed against the top of her head. She felt safe...and wanted. A heady feeling that she could sense herself beginning to crave even more. Her hand tangled in the hair, her fingers lightly scraping the back of his neck. 

 "Say something in Spanish." He whispered, his lips against her scalp. 

 "Gracias por esto ... todo esto. Ha sido la mejor noche de mi vida".

 She looked back up at him, hoping to convey without words what she said. As she lifted her head up, their eyes locked. Tension filled the empty space around them, pulling them closer. For a split second, his eyes drifted to her lips and back up. Her heartbeat began racing anew. Slowly, as if waiting for her to turn away, his head tilted towards hers, his hands gripping her just a little tighter. His breath fanned across her face, warming her inside and out. She swore her heart was going to beat out of her chest. His nose brushed hers, an almost timid action that drew a smile from her. He chuckled silently then somehow pulled her even closer. She closed her eyes, a gasp escaping her when she felt the faintest touch of his lips on the corner of her mouth. 

 "Hey! Hey, you kids! What ya doin’ with my car?!" 

 All the tension evaporated like rain drops under the scorching sun. 

 "Shit...c'mon!" He grabbed her hand and started running away. Holding on tight, she ran next to him, as well as she could while wearing heels. The yells of the car's owner soon a distant sound behind them. 

 Finally, they stopped two streets later. He let go of her hand, running his hands through his hair and pacing. She leaned against the brick wall, hand over her mouth, giggles spilling forth between gasps of air. Never in her life had she done anything like this. She closed her eyes as the giggles turned into full-body laughter. One hand covered her mouth and the other wrapped around her own waist to try and contain the sound. This night was nothing like she expected but it only seemed to get better and better. This newfound revelry of youthful zeal, this silly recklessness...she wanted more and more of it. 

 When the laughter dissolved into small chuckles, she wiped her eyes as she opened them, hoping her make-up had not smudged too much. Not that she particularly cared in the moment.

 What she saw standing before her killed the laughter on her tongue. 

 Bucky stood just at arm's length, staring at her like she was the stars in the heavens. 

 In a single step, he crowded her against the brick wall. "Elana…" he growled, voice low, and it might have been the most exhilarating sound she had ever heard. One of his hands cupped the back of her head, as he lowered his lips to hers. The kiss was gentle, their lips just pressed together. A soft pressure that made her melt into his arms. 

 He leaned back to press his forehead against hers. His breath just as shaky as hers, both still breathing hard from their run. 

 "That was my first kiss." She blurted out, immediately regretting the words once they escaped. 

 He leaned back to look her in the eye. "Really?"

 She shrugged nervously. "Not many fellas lining up to kiss a girl like me."

 "Their loss, doll face." He smirked, running a thumb over her bottom lip. "May I have the honor of your second kiss ever?"

 She giggled and nodded. 

 This time when their lips touched, it felt like more. The first was like licking the spoon used after mixing cookie dough. A taste of what was to come. The second kiss was eating warm cookies right out of the oven and practically ascending to heaven. 

 His lips slanted over hers perfectly, as if they were formed just for her. Their mouths moved in tandem, picking up speed. No longer were the kisses sweet and gentle. His tongue traced her bottom lip and she willingly opened her mouth to receive it like a present. These kisses were all-consuming and fiery. It was as if his touch seared into her soul, leaving an imprint there for all eternity. 

 She knew right away when she met Bucky Barnes, he was trouble. He was the kind of man her mother warned her about. The kind to sweep her off her feet and make her forget the world around her. He was kind, charming and so full of life. Yet she knew even as she was wrapped in his arms, lips pressed against his, that there was one truth that would haunt her. Even if she ignored it for now. That truth would never leave. So she overlooked it, sinking deeper and deeper into his kisses and embrace. Drowning herself in him. With her back pressed against the wall, her hands tangled in his hair and mouths devouring one another, she had never felt more alive. 

 Tonight, she would choose the fire he poured into her. Tonight, she wanted to enjoy life without fear. Tonight, she wanted to pretend that this night would never end. To thrive in this feeling of passion and life, that nothing could go wrong. 

 For the truth was one day, he was bound to break her heart.

[wakaoujisenhime]

Down below - Kirishima x reader

Synopsys: During your daily walk alongside the shore you come across a peculiar looking man. Suddenly everything around you changes and the beautiful paradise becomes a nightmare. There is but one man who can wake you up from it. Will you manage to open your eyes? What awaits you if you open them?

tags/warnings: Kirishima x reader ✅  slight Bakugou x reader ✅  SFW ✅  fluff ✅  fantasy ✅  slight horror/violence ✅

word count: 6.6k 

prompts used: “It’s all right, come here.” and “Wow. You’re even prettier up close.”

A/N: This is my contribution to the Mermay event the BNHA bookclub organized! Please mind that this is my very first attempt at such a long story! A BIG thanks to all the people from the club who continuously cheered me on and sprinted with me until the very end of this piece ( ´ ∀ ` ) Enjoy and thank you for picking this work up! ❤️  

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The wind caressed your cheeks while the sun warmed your whole face. You took a deep breath and smiled at the familiar salty scent of the ocean. With your flippers in one hand you began the daily ritual you had set up for yourself.    

‘One early beach walk per day’ was your motto. 

Some months ago you had moved into a small apartment that was close to a small but beautiful beach. The first time you had set foot on the same golden sand you were standing on right now, it had felt like a warm but slightly rough blanket was being wrapped around your feet. The scent that now puts you at ease had bothered you a little in the beginning. The only thing that didn’t change though was the fact that you enjoyed the sound of the splashing waves just as much as you had enjoyed them the first time around.

It saddened you that almost no one of the local residents appreciated the view as much as you did, so you always made sure to savor that alone time you had with your entire body and mind. 

Having a whole beach for yourself every morning always gave you the impression of being the last person on earth and that filled you with unbelievable pride.

You walked alongside the shore while the slightly cold ocean water enveloped your warm feet for a brief number of seconds, only to retreat back not short after. The change of warm and cold always made you shudder, but not in a bad way, it was more like a bittersweet kiss from nature so you always made sure to accept it gratefully with the best smile you could muster. 

Some minutes passed and you had finally reached your favorite spot on this entire beach. 

The stone valley...or at least that’s what you had decided to call it. 

This small section of the beach was covered by various stones and rocks, all varying in sizes. 

With a small smile, you began climbing some of the bigger rocks until you reached your favorite place.

Every time you climb up to this spot you were greeted by a breathtaking view of the horizon. The way the sun rises and causes the water to glisten in many different colors every day was just plainly beautiful. 

You sat down on the hard surface and took a deep breath. The moment your eyes had caught a glimpse of the ocean, your heart rate immediately went up. The splashing of the waves was somehow different from up here, you couldn’t explain how or why, but that’s how you personally perceived it. 

Another set of minutes passed during which you had closed your eyes in order to sharpen your remaining senses. 

Suddenly you heard someone walking on your left side, their steps gradually grew louder and louder the closer they came. At first you refused to open your eyes, figuring that it might have been one of your neighbors who came out on a whim just to tease you. Surprisingly the person remained silent, even after their footsteps had stopped. 

Curiosity got the best of you so you opened your eyes slowly, allowing them to adjust to the now brighter sunlight and glanced to your left. 

Much to your surprise the man who was some meters away from you was dressed in a very peculiar and unfitting way for a mere beach walk. 

A black suit, black leather shoes and a black fedora that successfully covered his eyes. 

His hands were casually tucked in his trousers’ pockets. Under his fedora you could clearly see the blond strands of hair.

The man turned his head in your direction and sharp red eyes met your own [e/c] colored ones. His eyes alone caused your muscles to tense up involuntarily. 

At first it seemed like he was constantly glaring at you, but upon a closer look you noticed his gentle and relaxed facial features.

“You need something?”

His voice sounded like a deep rumble, commanding and sharp at once, no softness whatsoever...nevertheless it appeared soothing to you.

Instead of answering, you just shook your head and whispered a barely hearable ‘sorry’, which was most likely swallowed by the splashing of the waves. 

You turned your attention back to the horizon, but out of your peripheral vision you could still see and feel his gaze resting on you.

When he finally looked away your whole body relaxed as if a huge burden had been taken off your shoulders. You hadn’t realized just how big of an impact his glance alone had on you.

As if to reinforce your worries a sudden and cold gust of wind blew past you. Goosebumps ran through your entire body causing it to shake due to the abrupt change in temperature, that’s when you noticed how cloudy it had suddenly gotten. 

Thick clouds were swallowing the sun and its warm light, obscuring the horizon and bringing cold winds, which then enraged the waves, with them.

Your paradise had turned into a nightmare you’ve never seen before.

How was it possible for the weather to change so abruptly? 

Sure, bad weather happened from time to time, but never to this extent.

While you were trying to find a logical explanation for this phenomenon, you failed to notice how the black-suited man had stepped closer to the shore.

His shoes alongside his socks were splashed and drenched by the water.

Another strong gust of wind blew past you, but this time you had almost lost your balance and fallen of the rocks. 

You were slowly getting worried and your quick heartbeat didn’t help out at all.

I need to get home, now!

As carefully as you possibly could, you tucked your slippers under your arm and held onto some of the smaller rocks for support. 

Wait..!

Your feet were so close to touching the sand, but something held you back from taking that one crucial step.          

With one swift movement you turned your head, your eyes focused on the man standing by the shore. 

His posture hadn’t changed one bit from before. 

Just as you opened your mouth and called out to him another strong wind blew past you, erasing your scream, making sure that it never reached his ears. You squint your eyes, making sure to protect them from the sand that was flying around and just before you had completely closed them a small black object flew past you. 

Your mind was telling you to look back and identify the object, but your body did otherwise. 

Fluttering black jacket, hair that was being caressed by the wind and fierce red eyes that adorned the sharp facial features of the man standing in front of you.

How…? H-How is he so calm about this…?   

As if he had read your mind, the pair of eyes that were so focused on the raging waves slowly shifted their attention to you.

His face had kept the same calmness from before and if anything had changed, then it seemed to you that he looked more melancholic than before. 

The right hand that had been hidden in his pockets was now slowly extended towards you.

A silent invitation.

A wordless request.

Once again your body acted against your mind’s will, your feet tread the path you had just escaped from, your eyes were once again opened and were fixated on the mysterious man. It was as if he was the only one existing for you at the moment. Whoever this man was, he was stealing your entire attention and was directing it towards him and himself only. 

And before you had even noticed, you were standing next to him. His hand was still waiting for your own to grasp it and no matter how loud your mind was screaming and warning you, your hand moved completely on its own...it was as if strings were attached to every limb of your body. 

You were this man’s marionette and he was the puppet master, controlling and making you act just the way he wanted you to.

His hand was colder than anything you’ve ever touched before, but thanks to its size it managed to envelop your own - in comparison - small hand, warming a small part of it in the process. 

It felt comfortable at first, but then his grip suddenly tightened, up to the point that it hurt so badly you thought he’d break a bone or two and no matter how strong your desire to push him away was, the invisible strings made sure to shut down any resistance you had.   

The man pulled you towards him, looked you in the eyes and held your body close to his with such an enormous strength that you were literally too petrified to even attempt any movement whatsoever.

“L-Let me go..”, you stuttered. 

On one hand you felt a sense of relief that you even managed to say a word while being under this man’s intense and intimidating gaze, but on the other hand the slight tremble in your voice only made your statement less convincing.

He didn’t react at first, but it was only a matter of seconds for him to expose his unexpectedly sharp teeth. The nostalgic look on his face was replaced by a horrific and broad grin.

“So you finally decided to step up to me, huh..?”

The man let his slender fingers run from your cheek down to your chin, with every millimeter they passed his smile only widened until it contorted his handsome face into a terrifying grimace. 

He began pulling you by your hand while slowly stomping into the ocean, the fact that both of you were still completely dressed apparently didn’t bother him even one bit. You on the other hand were a tad thankful that he dragged you into the cold water, because thanks to its low temperature you managed to come back to your senses, now fully intending on stopping his selfish antics.

“What are you doing? Let me go!”

Finally feeling freed from the marionette role he had assigned you, you instantly began thrashing your body around, desperate to get away from his grip. But even a man like him had his limits...

When you showed no sign of giving up, he simply stopped dead in his tracks and before you were even able to even look into his eyes, his palm was already on your head, suddenly pushing you down with such brutal force that even your reflexes couldn’t have braced you for what was about to transpire.

Your entire head was pushed down into the water, the shock of its coldness widened your eyes, allowing the salty water to come in contact with your sensitive eyes and slowly begin to burn them. You wanted to scream, but if you had opened your mouth right now, the water would’ve probably flooded your lungs.

After what felt like several minutes, the hand resting on your head took a fistful of your hair and yanked you back up. 

The moment you were back to the surface your body didn’t know what to do first. Should you start by freeing your lungs from the water that had managed to enter your body in the beginning or should you rub your eyes to ease the burning pain? It was all so overwhelming that for a second you thought you might lose consciousness right then and there.

With his free hand the man lifted your chin and looked you deep into your eyes, secretly admiring just how red your conjunctiva had become. He couldn’t help but snicker at your pathetic appearance. 

“Wow...you’re prettier up close.”

You weren’t sure if that statement was to be taken seriously and you didn’t care since all you wanted right now, was to punch this man’s handsome face. All you wanted now, was to scream at him, ask him why he would do that, but for some reason you couldn’t form any word let alone a whole sentence...your throat felt constricted.

His red eyes were still glued to your face, observing the small tears that were rolling down your face and admiring the way they mixed in with the small droplets of ocean water that decorated your soft skin.

“You’re absolutely stunning.”, he whispered in a raspy voice while both of his hands slowly moved to the back of your head, grasping onto your hair and tangling his fingers into it. 

The blond man slowly brought his face closer to yours, entirely ignoring the fact that you glared at him with such hatred and distaste. You knew what he intended to do and you wanted to stop him at all cost, but his pushiness overpowered your reaction time by far.

“N-No, stop! I don’t want this...I already have someone I-”

The lips that were now connected to yours, were as cold as every other limb of his body and maybe even colder. Your resistance proved to be futile in the end, all of your attempts to escape were nullified the moment his slightly chapped lips came in contact with your in comparison softer ones...you were back to being his puppet.

The waves around you had calmed down a little, but only so much that they didn’t swallow you two and take you down with them...down to the depths of the ocean.

That’s when you suddenly noticed that for some reason the water level around you seemed to be rising.

No wait...a-are we...sinking?

His kiss had deluded you so much, that you failed to notice how he had slowly begun dragging you down with him underwater and all of that while he was still kissing you. 

This time though you knew better so you closed your eyes and inhaled deeply through your nose for the last time before the both of you submerged. 

While you were underwater he never even once separated from you, the man even began to gently push his tongue against your lips as if asking for permission which you successfully managed to refuse. Unfortunately for you, the refusal didn’t sit well with the black-suited man. 

The grip he had on your hair tightened, he even went as far as to actually bite and pull on your lower lip in order for him to satisfy his desires. Much to his dismay, you managed to stand your ground despite the fact that the slight taste of iron began spreading around your mouth’s insides. The satisfaction of that small victory was short-lived and what followed was far worse.

One of his hands finally let go of your hair and slowly crept up your neck, causing countless goosebumps to spread across your entire body. 

If you learned something about this man in that short amount of time you’d known him, then the fact that he isn’t the type to bluff. 

“Come on my sweet pearl. Part your lips for me.”

You absolutely didn’t want to, but the soft tone in his voice emptied your mind to such an extent that you couldn’t even question how he was able to talk underwater...so with no option whatsoever you complied with his request, the fear of what he might do to you if you had refused yet again paralyzing you. 

The way his tongue caressed yours was somewhat pleasant considering his brute behavior some seconds ago, but nevertheless you felt awful. 

To someone standing at the sidelines, it may have looked like you enjoyed the kiss, but all you were concentrated on at the moment was on how to not let any more water inside of your body. 

Suddenly you felt a tight grip around your neck, strong enough to crush your windpipe. Your first two reflexes were to open your eyes and instantly take a hold of his hand.

Your vision was blurry, your surroundings dark, the man’s outlines unrecognizable and the salty water burned your eyes like acid. 

Screaming would be futile. Thrashing your body around...useless. 

With all the power you could muster, you tried to remove his hands from your neck by scratching them, up until the point you left bloody nail marks behind.

Completely unfazed by your desperate attempt to save yourself and stop him, he continued kissing your lips. You on the other hand slowly felt your vision growing darker by each passing second. 

He stopped kissing you and looked into your eyes with perhaps the most gentle expression he could muster, but you were too far gone to even notice that change.

Your entire body felt numb and all you wanted right now was to close your eyes and fall into the dark depths of the ocean…

“(Y/N)...” 

Your eyes shot open and an absolutely ear-piercing scream escaped your throat.

“What’s going on?! What happened?!”

The red-haired man almost tripped on his way to your shared bedroom, causing him to crash against the wooden door so hard that it almost broke its frame. 

The moment he saw the terrified look which contorted your normally calm features, he didn’t even hesitate to run up to your side and take your small hand in his own.   

He decided to calm you down at first before showering you with countless questions.

When your breathing had finally calmed down, the muscular man sat down on the bed next to you and as gently as he possibly could, wrapped his strong arms around your shivering body.

“Shh, everything’s alright sweetie...everything’s alright.”

He continued whispering sweet and comforting lines next to your ear while his hand softly caressed your back in steady circular motions. You finally let out a sigh of relief, signalizing him that you’ve come to the conclusion that all of this was just a bad dream. The muscular man immediately used this chance and began peppering your skin with kisses. Your face, your neck, your shoulders, your arms, your hands, your fingers...no place was left unkissed. 

Thanks to that sweet treatment you finally felt yourself relax in his arms, so you reluctantly tried to return the favor. 

“It’s alright, come here.”, he said in a silent but deep voice. These were all the words you needed to engulf him in a tight bearhug that might’ve crushed any other man, but not him. 

Kirishima Eijirou. A man like no other. He was the man who made you felt special every single day. He was the only one who understood the pain you went through and he was the one sharing the burden of your mutual secret. 

Kirishima Eijirou. A man like no other. Truly...then he was a merman.

The countless stories and movies about mermaids were all true, but their existence had always remained a mystery to the humankind. 

Only underwater people could decide when to show themselves, so even if countless submarines and divers had passed the breathtaking underwater city, they weren’t allowed to see it.

You were a part of that underwater kingdom as well, but you weren’t just another of those fancy mermaids or mermen that formed the majority of the city...no you were the king’s descendent. 

Your father was none other than Aizawa Shoto, the most respected being in the depths of the ocean. If someone tried to compare him to any other being, humans were familiar with, then that one particular being would be the king of the animals - a lion.  

Everyone loved and celebrated the black haired merman as if he was a god and the moment you were introduced to his worshipers, the life you called nightmare began...

As his child you were expected to be absolutely flawless in every single thing that you did or even attempted to do, if your ways of handling an issue even dared to slightly differ from your father’s way, you were instantly punished and talked down upon.  

Wherever you went palace guards were following you and always made sure that you had no freedom whatsoever. 

You liked a piece of clothing? Too bad...it’s not made from gold so it’s way below your status.

You found a seemingly interesting book? If it doesn’t deal with your ancestors’ or your father’s success, so it’s useless.

You saw a beautiful underwater park? There’s no merit for you to go there and furthermore...it’s unworthy of your mighty presence.   

The same goes for the people you hung out with. They just weren’t worthy, no matter how great you portrayed them to be.

You of course went ahead and continued meeting up with them. Thanks to the combined efforts of the whole group, you guys managed to set up multiple secret meetings outside of the castle during which you were finally able to enjoy this thing called ‘life’. 

Unfortunately all good things have an end. 

After some time your father found out about your secret meetups and took the liberty to actually prohibit you any further contact with the only people who understood and actually tried to help you. 

As if I’d let that happen..!

The two of you had quite the argument about it afterwards. 

Countless screams, insults, accusations echoed throughout the whole castle, silencing anyone or anything that even thought about going between the two of you. 

Neither you nor he backed down and after what felt like hours you were too emotionally drained to continue this pointless fight, so you decided to leave without saying another word.

On your way out of the castle the hurtful words of your father still echoed in your head, haunting you like some malicious ghosts wherever you went.

Your entire life has been controlled by your father like this and finally, you had enough. 

There has always been one thing you never dared to go against. 

“Never go beyond the city gates.”, he had ordered after the 5-year-old you had asked him what lied beyond them. 

The tone in which he had uttered those words was so intimidating and absolute that it had sent shivers down your spine, causing you to never mention that subject ever again...up until now.

Was it curiosity or just the simple urge to take revenge on your old man? 

You didn’t know, but you still left the castle and began swimming as far as your fin could take you.

Leaving the castle premises was a new experience for you and it was absolutely breathtaking. 

The wildlife was beyond beautiful. 

The way the sun shone through the water and onto the sand was the most gorgeous sight you had ever witnessed. 

The vast variety of fish out there was incomparable to that of the palace.

Everything you saw and experienced in that small timeframe you had swum around left you with such a satisfying feeling that you even considered the thought of never going back to the palace ever again.       

“I don’t get him, it’s all so beautiful. Why would he hide all of this from me?” 

You continued exploring your surroundings, interacting with some of the small fish that swam your way. 

And that’s when you saw something absolutely heartwarming…

A single round but massive rock was standing at the center surrounded by almost nothing but sand and algas, the water around it glistened like small diamonds thanks to the sunlight that shone almost like a spotlight upon it.

But that wasn’t what had your heart thump so hard against your chest, no...it was the young man who sat on that rock.

His gorgeous and long black hair was beautifully braided into a low but loose ponytail and the way it floated about it seemed to you as if the water itself was caressing and playing with it. 

The expression he wore was one of pure pain and suffering...an expression you knew to well.

It didn’t take him long to notice your presence, he was actually so startled by it that he almost slipped off the stone he was sitting on.

“W-Who are you?! Did my parents send you? I told you guys already, give it up! I’m never going back home again!”

Those sentences alone spoke volumes about him. 

The sad expression he wore very much reminded you of your own and now he had even revealed some of the reasons behind it.

You were sad...so unbelievably sad for that young man. The urge to cry for both him and yourself was slowly consuming your entire body and all you could muster to say was:

I’m sorry…

——

“You should’ve seen your face!”

“Stop it (Y/N), it’s not funny! I was genuinely worried about you! I-I even thought that you’d cry the moment I turned my back to you!”

No matter how hard you tried to stop yourself from laughing, you just couldn’t. This rock of a man who was also your boyfriend was way more innocent and precious than you originally gave him credit for. 

Almost an hour had passed since you had woken up from that terrible nightmare. 

Kirishima had stayed by your side until you had completely calmed down. He knew that you weren’t ready to talk about your dream yet, so he decided to let the subject rest for a while until you initiated the conversation.

While you were sleeping he had prepared some pancakes for the two of you, so the moment you got out of bed he pretended to be a butler accompanying his mistress to the breakfast table. Of course the characteristic traits of a real butler didn’t quite suit him that much, but you were so thankful for his consideration that you couldn’t care less about the small details.

After a breakfast filled with immense joy and countless jokes, you asked Kirishima if he’d be interested in a walk alongside the shore. 

“Say no more.”, he’d said. This was the first time you actually witnessed him getting ready to leave your house in under a minute...you were flabbergasted, but the wide grin he gave you warmed your heart to such a degree that you simply kissed his lips with such vigor, hoping that your feeling would reach him.

And here you were...walking on the lukewarm sand, listening to the calm crashing of the waves and reminiscing about your shared past.

Kirishima held onto your hand for the entire walk and whenever he saw any sign of worry or anything of that sort, he’d immediately change the subject or just try to lighten up the mood in general.

What have I done to deserve this man…?

He kept on talking in that same cheerful voice as ever, until you had to stop him with the same sad smile you gave him on your first encounter.

Your eyes were fixated on the ‘stone valley’ from your dreams.  

“That’s where he was standing…”

A pair of red eyes followed your slender finger which pointed towards a small spot just a few steps away from the shore.

Your boyfriend had to bite his lip in order to hold the countless questions he was about to ask you back, but luckily he wasn’t the only one able to judge your expression. 

Over those countless years you guys had spent together, you’ve learned to see past his constantly smiling face and look at was lies beneath it. 

“In my nightmare...there was a fair haired young man in a black suit standing right by the shore.”

You proceeded to tell the boy next to you everything that had occurred in your dream, leaving no detail out.

He just had to know everything...that was one of his small character flaws you got introduced to. 

Kirishima proved to be a man who insisted on knowing every single detail no matter how small or unimportant it may seem to you, it was essential to him. 

The reason for that was simple. For him it it’s those small things that paint the bigger picture and even if that blond man’s fedora had been swept away by that strong wind, there must’ve been a meaning behind it...that’s what his instincts were telling him at least.

“...and that’s when I woke up.”

Strong arms wrapped around your body and pulled you wordlessly into the muscular but soft chest of your boyfriend. You embraced him, the warmth of his body making you melt in his arms. 

“Thanks to that nightmare, I think I came to hate the ocean...”

Kirishima twitched and even if you couldn’t see his face, you knew that he was most likely completely shocked by what you’ve just said. You couldn’t hold it against him really...after all, the ocean is where you guys had first met and it was the place the two of you had escaped from together. 

As expected the redhead didn’t like that at all. Your dream had apparently left quite a big scar behind and the fact that he had underestimated that, disappointed him.

He abruptly put an end to your embrace, firmly gripped your hands instead and focused his big red orbs onto your [e/c] colored ones.

“There’s something I’d like to show you...may I?” 

The way his eyes glistened always made you weak and unable to refuse whatever offer he had made...and this time was no different. 

With a small nod you squeezed his hands, hoping that this small gesture would show him just how much trust you actually have in his plans, until…

“N-No Kirishima, wait! I d-don’t think I can do this...”

“Please (Y/N)..you already put your trust in me, didn’t you?” 

“I-I did...yes, but I didn’t think t-that we’d do this!”

Kirishima started dragging you into the water while the both of you were still dressed. The scene had given you such a heavy déjà-vu that you actually got a tad scared of what was about to happen.

The man stopped walking when the water level reached your guys’ hips and simply smiled at you.

“In order for me to show you that thing I well...intended to show you, we need to go...down there.”

Oh no...he did not just say that…

“Kirishima...you know we can do that.”

The reason you both actually managed to live in a world you didn’t belong to, was because you were banned from the underwater world, by your own people. 

After getting to know Kirishima it was a big shock to both of you that each of you had belonged to a different kingdom. Neither you nor him knew about the other and guess whose fault it actually was...that of your parents of course. They had been so invested in drilling the greatness of your home’s history and success into your guys’ brain that there was absolutely no way they’d even mention another kingdom. So imagine their reaction when they found out that each of you met with the other. 

Had the both of you not agreed on an escape plan beforehand, you guys might have actually been locked in your castles with no hope of escape, but luckily that wasn’t the case.

It cost you guys a lot of mental as well as physical strength to make your escape a success...you even needed to do something really forbidden and even if it was frightening for you, you just had to do it in order to ensure the both of you a future filled with nothing but happiness.

As if he sensed that you were overthinking things again, you felt Kirishima’s warm hand caressing your cheek.

“(Y/N)...this is really important to me, so please. I know that it’s going to be dangerous and if someone were to find us- ...forget it, I don’t want to even think about it, but ple-”

“Alright...”

It took him a few seconds to process the fact that you’d actually agreed with it. You on the other hand returned his gesture from before, a sad smile adorning your lips.

“I am going to do it for you Kirishima. I can clearly see how important this is to you, so I am willing to take any risk...even if it means that we might get caught. And just in case that happens...we’ll just outswim them, right?” 

Kirishima could have sworn that your normally soft voice had a hint of cockiness with it, but he wasn’t mad at it, if anything he was absolutely overjoyed. 

As soon as he felt himself tear up a little, his lips were immediately connected to yours, passionately kissing you. 

You buried your hands in his red hair, gently caressing his scalp, remembering the time back when he used to have long black hairs. The thought that in order for the two of you to live a peaceful life he had to color his hair a bright crimson red saddened you to no end, but much to your surprise he didn’t seem to mind it at all...in fact he even loved his new looks.

——

“These two idiots are really unbelievable. What are they even thinking, kissing while swimming in the ocean? On top of that their even dre-“

“Come now Kacchan...there’s no point in being mad about something you just did yourself.”

Two men wearing black colored suits and an equally dark fedora to match stood by a cliff not to far away from the couple, watching them. 

“O-Oh look! They actually transformed! That looks amazing, I think I have to write that down...the way their gills appeared on their necks resembled...small cuts? Yeah definitely small cuts! B-But no-...maybe that’s too brutal of a description...what do you think?”

While the man on the left continued murmuring to himself and writing everything he could witness in a small notebook, the other just shook his head obviously annoyed. 

The moment the two of you disappeared under the water the blond just turned his back on the ocean and began walking away.

His partner noticed the missing presence of him a tad too late and almost tripped and fell on the floor in order to catch up to him.

“Why are you leaving so soon?”

“Shut it you damn nerd! As if I’d stay behind and watch these two dumbasses behaving all lovey dovey in my presence.”  

The young boy tightened his grip on the notebook and smiled mischievously.

“Are you perhaps jeal-”

“Say that word and see what happens, I dare you!”

The man whose name was apparently ‘Kacchan’, waited for the other to apologize before letting the collar of his dark suit go and continue his walk.

Due to the rough treatment the other boy had received, his hat had fallen off his head, revealing his dark green hair and a very young face, marked by countless freckles under his big equally green eyes. 

“You’re so dishonest with yourself Kacchan...”

——

A lot had changed since the last time you had been underwater. 

The variety in plants had decreased quite a bit and the amount of fish that swam around was way less than you remember.

“Alright...we’ve arrived.”

You had been so occupied with comparing the scenery before your eyes with the one from your memory that you failed to notice where you guys were actually at.

“Kirishima, is this...n-no way, is this really..?”

Now it was your turn to tear up and even if you guys were surrounded by water, your boyfriend didn’t miss the small tears that formed at the corner of your eyes.

Behind him was a perfectly round shaped rock, standing in a central position, it was surrounded by so many different types of plants that the minimal amount of sand that sticks out from underneath captured the most of your attention, the water around the scenery shone in many different colors thanks to the small amount of sun rays that managed to reach that deep into the ocean.

The red haired man didn’t give you any time to process the whole situation you were in, he decided to just follow his gut and continue with everything he intended to do.

“(Y/N)...”

He once again took your hands in his own slightly trembling ones and began talking:

“The first time I saw you I got really anxious that you were someone sent by my parents, but the moment you apologized to me with such a sad face I knew...I knew that I was wrong. You can’t imagine just how much I regretted making a person I had just met so unbelievably sad and believe me when I say that I am still regretting it. No matter how many times you’ll try to reassure me that it’s all in the past and that I couldn’t be blamed for it...I’d still feel bad. When we had our first real conversation, I was in awe as I saw how beautiful your smile actually was and that only fueled my feelings of guilt, up until the point where I swore to myself that I’d make you laugh every single day to make up for my mistake.”

Kirishima took a short break to calm his nerves down and when he felt ready to resume his confession he let go of one of your hands.

“Do you remember the time you wished for a way for us to become humans? After that you laughed and told me to not think too deep about it, but when I went back home I just couldn’t stop thinking about it and tried to look for a way...I’ll never forget the expression you made when I gave you the details of my results. Your smile...was angelic back then and now that I’ve lived all those years by your side I came to a conclusion.”

You suddenly felt something surprisingly cold envelop your finger...your ring finger to be exact.

Without even looking at it you managed to count two and two together, the puzzle pieces finally clicked and Kirishima’s peculiar behavior some minutes ago made perfect sense to you now. 

Your mouth was opening and closing, but you couldn’t manage to get even a word out of it.

“(Y/N), the smile that lit up my day when we realized that our plan to become humans had worked was almost as beautiful as the one from back then, but what if I told you that there is a smile even more beautiful than every single one I’ve seen so far...would you believe me?”

“Kirishima I...”

“Can you make me the happiest man alive by answering the next question I’m about to ask you as truthfully as you possibly can?”

The young man in front of you brought your hand to his lips and gave your ring finger a gentle kiss. 

That’s when you saw the gorgeous ring he had put on you, it shimmered even brighter than the gentle sunlight from above. 

“Will you marry me?”

He hadn’t even finished his question and you were already tightly wrapping your arms around his muscular body.

The tears you held back from before were finally able to leave your eyes and in between your sobs you thanked him countless of times. Your honest reaction made him so emotional that he almost cried himself and the moment he saw your smile Kirishima’s heart exploded from happiness. 

The place down below where the two of you had spent the most despicable times of your lives had now become the place down below which marked the first day of the rest of your joint life.

[biggest-stupidhead]

Path Walker (Levi x OC)

Summary: Emory comes to terms with the events of Trost and what this means for her future. (I did a slight time skip and skipped over the Trost arc) 

Warnings: Death, trauma 

Word Count: 2K 

My eyes watered as I watched the bodies burn. The scent of burning flesh filled my nose as I knelt down onto one knee. I couldn't tell if they were emotional tears or just watering because of the smell. It was strange but my nose was really sensitive lately, my eyes flickered over to see Annie, Bertoldt and Riener standing not too far away. I turned to see Jean to my right, he kissed his closed fist as tears ran down his cheeks. Connie sniffled loudly and Sasha hiccuped. I cleared my throat as a few rogue tears slipped down my own cheeks. The last 24 hours were arguably the worst in my life. I had watched countless comrades fall to the titans, and now Eren was apparently some freak of nature. Well I mean I knew he was a bit unhinged but I definitely didn't think the dude was a titan.

I stood, not bothering to brush the ashes off of my white trousers. I turned and stalked down the empty street, which had served as a battle ground earlier. My hair swayed as I made my way back to HQ where we would be bunking for the night. I paused at the sight of a tavern, the warm light that seeped out of the saloon style doors and the sound of hearty laughter reminded me of my upbringing. I was used to adults being drunk, and I knew how to avoid them as well. I lingered outside the door a moment longer before continuing. As I walked I stuffed my hands into my pockets of the leather trainee jacket. The night was cold despite it being summer, or maybe it was in my mind. Regardless I shivered and picked up the pace. I was exhausted and ready to put all of this behind me, fulfill my promise and all that bull shit.

"Hey Emory! Where are you going?" A sweet voice called from behind me. I turned around and felt my eyes widen at the sight of the golden girl, Krista Lenz jogging to catch up with me.

"Hey." I murmured when she caught up, turning to continue.

"What's wrong?" she asked as she matched my pace.

"Nothing, just tired." I lied as she laid a gentle hand on my forearm.

"Did you hear? We're shipping out in the morning for the Scouting Regiment's head quarters!" she said, those baby blue eyes shining in the moonlight.

"Yeah I heard." I said, licking my lips as I turned to face forwards again.

"I'm a bit nervous but I hope that they let Eren join still after... you know" she trailed off as I pursed my lips in thought.

"They have to let him, he's sure to be a useful tool. " I said grimly. Her grip tightened on my arm and her eyes widened.

"Right, I just hope that he can persuade the jury tomorrow at the hearing. " she said, a bit of an edge on her usually light tone. I wasn't sure what to say, so I stayed quiet, the two of us walking down the dark streets. We reached the large castle, and entered the main room was empty, but a warm light spilled from the mess hall. Our eyes met and I knew that she wanted to peek in the room as well, so we both veered off course to poke our heads into the cavernous room.

"-I think that should count as an assist! I clearly had the situation handled." a loud voice boomed, breaking the relative silence of the building. Krista flinched against my side, causing me to let out a small huff. She looked up and smiled bashfully.

"No, I  had the situation under control, besides Levi had the most kills." a feminine voice cut in, and the sound of glasses clinking and grunts of agreement. Krista peered around the thick stone corner and gripped my wrist as she eavesdropped. Levi huh? Couldn't be my Levi, could it? Only one way to find out. I poked my head around the corner and immediately cursed my curiosity. Sure enough a group of soldiers, scouts to be exact sat in the mess hall drinking mugs of golden ale. All except for one person, Levi opted for a dainty cup of what I assumed was tea. My heart hammered in my chest and I felt like I was going to ralph at the sight of the steely eyed man. I swallowed and ducked back behind the wall, Krista's grip tightened on my wrist.

"What's wrong? Are you going to faint? Please don't faint!" she begged shaking me as she spoke, my vision swam as I remembered my past in the underground. Krista raised her voice as her concern for me grew, her blue eyes were wide as she continued to drill me with questions.

"Answer me Emory please, I know we're about the same size but I won't be able to carry you if you pass out!" she cupped my cheek as I slumped forward and buried my burning face in the crook of her neck. A shaky breath escaped my lips as I hugged Krista and fought off the tears. I know I know it's dramatic but usually I didn't experience these emotions. I usually turned tail and ran in the opposite direction when I thought of Levi and the note that our relationship ended on. But I like to believe that the fresh trauma and the old trauma was a bit overwhelming in the moment.

"Woah Emory! Please tell me what's wrong so I can help you!" I shook my head and swallowed thickly.

"I don't know what came over me, I think I just need to get to bed." I said pulling away from the smaller girl. She gripped my biceps as she watched me straighten up and inhale deeply.

"Oi, who's out there? Cadets are supposed to be in bed." the callous voice echoed off the stone walls and I felt the feeling of dread wash over me again. Krista looked at me with wide blue eyes before answering shakily.

"S-Sorry, we were just on our way there actually! Pardon the intrusion!" she called around the corner without looking, praying that they would leave it at that. Silence. I grabbed her wrist and pulled her past the door with a sudden rush of confidence. She stumbled after me and I felt like Ymir, who was known for hauling the poor girl around. I felt like I was wading through molasses as I walked past the huge doors, my eyes wide and a bead of sweat rolling down the back of my neck. Krista yelped as I gripped her wrist and we stole up the carpeted staircase and up towards our rooms. I released her at the top of the stairs and continued to walk briskly towards my quarters.

"Emory, oh my god are you okay? Please I'm really concerned about you!" Krista called after me as I pulled the door open to my room that I shared with Annie open. She ducked in behind me and quietly closed the door.

"Please you can talk to me, I'm your friend." Krista begged, as she moved to sit next to me on the bed.

"I'm sorry Krista, I think that everything just hit me and..." I trailed off, wow I just realized that I am in fact a terrible liar. I heaved a sigh of defeat.

"Do you really want the truth Krista?" I asked, turning to face her with a grim expression, her face was open and accepting as she nodded slowly.

"Please that's all I am asking for." she said, turning to face me full on, I mirrored her so that our knees knocked, licking my lips I prepared myself. Krista would be the only other person besides Erwin to know that I am from the Underground.

"I...I am not from around here, I had to....make sacrifices to get into the trainee corps." I paused gauging her reaction, she nodded understandingly, her eyes urging me to continue.

"I lived in the Underground before I managed to score a deal, citizenship if I agreed to join the Survey Corps." I said, clenching my jaw as I gauged her reaction.

"The Underground?" she said with wide eyes, there it was the pity. It was clear across her face and I hated it.

"I don't want your pity." I said, my eyes drifting to the window to look at the starry sky. She let out a shaky breath but nodded in understanding.

"So did you know Levi?" she asked, desperate to hear more.

"I guess you could say that." I chuckled, my eyes falling to my lap where my hands were laced together.

"We um...we knew each other. " I admitted, now she would know. I was weak, the sound of his voice was enough to throw me off balance. How pathetic. I clicked my tongue and swiveled my head to face her again. She was silent, her eyes wide and shining with...admiration? She opened her mouth to speak but before she could say anything she was interrupted by the door creaking open. Annie stood awkwardly in the threshold, her own blue eyes scoping out the situation. Krista stood up and sighed.

"Well I had better be off, I'm sure Ymir is wondering where I am!" She sent me one last look, I couldn't quite decipher what she was feeling as she brushed past Annie and out into the dark hall. Annie shut the door after her and stalked into the room, bringing her over powering scent with her. I couldn't help but wrinkle my nose as she peeled her soiled jacket off of her shoulders. She raised a delicate brow at the expression on my face.

"What?" she asked, her voice hinting at her annoyance and exhaustion.

"I-" In yet another moment of confidence I decided to ask her about her smell.

"I was wondering why you smell the way you smell." it came off ruder than expected but how are you supposed to ask someone that question without being rude? I certainly don't know.

"What smell?" She asked, obviously self conscious, she lifted her arms and smelled her pits.

"I can't explain it but I just noticed it a few weeks ago." I shrugged as I watched her pick up her jacket and inhale deeply.

"I don't smell anything, is it a bad smell? Do other people talk about how I smell?" she asked with her eyes every so slightly wider than normal as she pulled at her usual hoodie. I held my hands up and waved them in an attempt to calm her down.

"No I mean I haven't mentioned it to anyone, and nobody has asked me about it so I assume that it's just me." I said, watching as her posture became more rigid.

"Well what does it smell like? I would expect at least Sasha to be able to smell whatever it is as well. She's got a great nose." Annie asked skeptically as I chewed on my lower lip.

"I guess if I had to describe it...I would say you smell like this crazy mix of herbs and...dead leaves?" I said, unsure of how to describe her musk. Annie's usual stoney expression fell right off her face as she blinked at me with surprise.

"Am I really the only one that smells like that?" she asked as a shadow fell over her face.

"No, Ymir smells weird and so does Bertholdt and Reiner. And Eren come to think of it." I said, my head tilting to the side as I took in her thoughtful expression.

"Odd." she spoke tautly as she slid off her white pants and into some sweats before falling into bed. I stood and tensely undressed, I was fatigued both mentally and physically. A sudden wave of embarrassment washed over me when I remembered the way I had dragged Krista in front of the superior officers. I fell into bed, staring up at the wooden rafters until I reluctantly slipped into unconsciousness.

[norabrice1701]

An Offer Received - Part VI

A Jaguar Villain Tom Hiddleston Character (Thomas Conrad) fanfic

Pairing: Thomas Conrad x Fem!reader

Summary: Life underwater reveals the grand plan and...victory?

Rating: Sexual content NSFW smut (more sensual than explicit, but still please be ye warned), controlling behavior, f-bombs, discussion of violence happening out-of-scene, Conrad being Conrad 

Previously: Part V - 5 Days 

A/N: And we come to the end! Hopefully the loose economics isn’t too off-putting and semi-plausible (at least for this version of a modern world ha). Thank you to everyone who’s read and enjoyed! 

GIF credit to the original poster via the Tumblr search! 

Part VI - 5 Empires 

As best you could figure, there were three compartment rooms exclusive for your and Conrad’s use. The first was the combined living room and your office. The second was a smaller room, connected to your office, that served as Conrad’s office – his nerve center, as you came to think of it. The third room was a single bedroom with a bed just big enough for two; built-in wardrobe and drawers lining the walls; and a small, functional bathroom. Or head, as the onboard sailors called it.

Beyond those three compartments, your movements were fairly limited and presided over by the seemingly indifferent crew that moved around you. “Miss Fox”, they all called you, inclining their heads politely when you passed or encountered them in the wardroom. Fortunately, no one waited on you hand and foot. You had free reign in the wardroom for food, coffee, and snacks. Hell, you suspected you might gain weight on this voyage with no chance to run or get any real exercise. At least the clothes that had been provided for you were surprisingly practical – suits with both trousers and skirts, tasteful blouses, silken cami and shorts sleepwear – all perfectly in your size.

Between working and surfing channels on the TV, you kept busy enough. It was still surprising that wireless internet or satellite or whatever it was worked so seamlessly underwater for all digital connections during your voyage.

Now that you were trapped with him underwater, living day-to-day, sharing a bed every night...it was disturbingly domestic and not. He still hadn’t told you much that was practical about anything, other than how to operate the shower controls. 

You’d thought that, surely, now that you were here with him and no means of escape - maybe you would finally be privileged to know the grand plan. But you didn’t even know where the submarine was heading. You didn’t have your passport, but somehow you didn’t think that would be a problem whenever you arrived. But if this was his big move - or if he was making big moves - then would you at least be privileged to know if he won? Or if he lost? 

That thought sat funny with you. If he lost. Of course, it was possible and, in fact, quite probable. Supervillains bent on world domination never won in the movies or comic books. But did you really consider Conrad a supervillain?

Hard to say.

He didn’t act much differently. He’d always walked and stood with the authority that he owned the world. With LOKI, he certainly had, and nothing about that had changed now. His cool, controlled demeanor had yet to slip, even though you spent a lot more concentrated time around him. At first, you feared what the single bed in the one bedroom would herald, but until last night, he’d been an unexpectedly, perfect gentleman. And even then, he’d only given you what you all but took from him. 

You hadn’t meant to wake up. But the motion of the bed as he slid beneath the sheets stirred you. His scent enveloped you, always so enticing. Your hand reached out in a sleepy haze, settling to the hard plane of his chest, fingers tangling in the light scatter of hair. The heat of his body permeated the air, a welcome contrast to the chill of the submarine’s filtered air. Your head drifted on the pillow, only wanting to curl closer. 

His minty breath fanned your face as a warm, solid hand covered yours, pressing it flat against his skin. Arousal suffused you, warm and rolling. Your legs twitched against the sheets, brushing his coarse leg hair. His nose skimmed yours as you breathed him in. 

When your lips met his, there was no resistance. No illusion. Half-lucid drowsiness had given way to aching want, and he groaned softly as you rolled atop him. His hand rose to frame your face, angling you deeper into the kiss as his other hand drifted down your spine. You moaned, low and breathy, as tongues tangled and you felt his arousal grow against you. Without realizing it, your hips started to roll in slow, teasing waves. 

In a fluid, tender motion you were on your back with the heat of his body everywhere above you. Those nimble fingers caressed your breast through the silk of your cami as he angled his hips to let you slide down his sleep shorts. Yours went next and you whimpered at the feel of him, hard and heavy, against your core. With no words, no questions, he pushed inside, burying to the hilt before setting a slow, steady pace. 

He brushed that secretive, intense place within you on each stroke, tearing raw moans from your throat. Tears stung your eyes, overwhelmed and overcome, as he continued to move, your fingers digging into the muscles of his back. His forehead rested against yours, noses nuzzling as you each gasped and moaned your shared pleasure. With the deep slide of him inside and the press of him outside, it didn’t take long until your release burst in blinding euphoria. 

And you did the unthinkable. Words slipped from your lips before you could even think. 

“Oh, Tom….” 

You didn’t realize what you’d said until later. Much later. After he’d told you not to wash away the evidence of your shared passion. After you’d fallen asleep, curled into him, despite the tacky moisture pooling between your thighs. After you’d woken to see the sheets stained beyond reuse. After he’d brought enough breakfast and coffee for two as you each dressed for the day. 

And now...now, you braced for his response. For his inevitable retaliation for the liberties you took, either with his given name or his person. He’d never given you permission to call him ‘Tom’. 

You blew another sigh, distracted from your work yet again. And all of that was to say nothing of even beginning to analyze what drove you into his arms at the late night hour in the first place. Was this the beginning of some twisted captivity dependency? Where you were just that desperate for human contact that you turned to your captor? 

Not quite. He hadn’t abducted you. You could have pitched a fit, refused to go, and likely wound up in the bottom of the harbor along with your watch. But you didn’t. You were here.

The VI on the bottom of your foot throbbed. 

But the hours continued to progress, and it proved just another day under the water.

Until it wasn’t. Until he lounged on the couch, oddly close to you, oddly relaxed. His tie had disappeared, along with his suit jacket. The top buttons of his dark shirt revealed a tease of skin, and his sleeves were cuffed just above his elbows. He sipped from a highball of scotch as you nursed your wine. The TV droned mindlessly on global news, current events.

“It’s been four days,” you started softly, “are we still planning to arrive tomorrow?”

He took a slow sip of scotch. “Yes.”

“Is that when I’ll learn more?”

He cut you with a wry, sideways look. “Don’t you want to maintain some plausible deniability?”

You bristled. Sure, you’d thought of that, but you didn’t like the insulation on his voice. You weren’t ready for him to make a rash decision on your behalf and cut off your left foot. “At this point…after last night – difficult to deny I’m not a willing participant in your coup or revolution or whatever you’re terming it.”

“It’s neither of those things.” He paused for another mouthful of scotch. “Certainly nothing so dramatic. Dramatic change invites a dramatic response, which does no one any good. Subtlety is key until the moment of revel.”

You couldn’t hold back a soft snort. “Until you…what? Rise out of the water on a fountain of righteousness?”

“Nothing so fantastical. The dominoes will start to fall tomorrow. You’ll see.” 

You took another drink of wine, debating pushing your luck. Why not? “I thought you might be angry, or...displeased after last night.” 

He hummed softly, his eyes darting up and down your torso as he raised a hand to his mouth, teasing his thumb with his front teeth . “Now, why would you think that?” 

“No one calls you ‘Thomas’, let alone ‘Tom’.” You weren’t going to mention that conversation with Amelia. “I just want to know if I should be on my guard for you to corner me against the bulkhead for another of your so-called ‘lessons’.” 

“In the dark of night with you warming my bed so freely, you’ll find little behind closed doors that displeases me. However, should such an incident bleed over into the daylight, that will be a different discussion.” 

You blinked, doubting you heard him right. “That...that’s it?” 

He turned to you with a distantly annoyed expression. “I’ve told you before - you’re not one for trite questions. You have what you have. And soon…,” his lips curled in a wolfish smile, “we’ll have the world.” 

You’re not sure how you slept that night, but you did. You did, and you worked until he interrupted you, switching on the news. 

“Alright, thank you, Adam.” The anchor turned back to face the main camera. “Again, to recap - if you’re just joining us - we’re 14 hours into what’s already being called the most massive market shakeup in history. The trend started in the Japan Exchange Group - the world’s 3rd largest financial market. A trickle of sales and acquisitions that grew to cascading proportions, with far-reaching impacts into the Shanghai, Hong Kong, and Shenzhen Stock Exchanges. Financial analysts are now reporting the moves permeated across these markets now have spread through the Bombay Stock Exchange, and are starting to manifest in Euronext. We have our own analyst, Ted Marshall, joining us now. Hello, Ted.” 

The newscast split screens, and a spectacled man in a frumpy suit joined the anchor. “Hello, yes - as you said - the financial world has never seen movement of this magnitude. And, to be clear, we’re talking about movements of tectonic proportions that have left investors around the globe scratching their heads and frantically trying to keep up.” 

“As we’ve already seen, six of the ten largest markets in the world have already been impacted. What risk do you see for the remaining four markets?” 

“I don’t think it’s a risk at all - I think it’s a predictable reality. Pinhole leaks precede a tsunami wave breaching a seawall. We’ve already seen those pinhole streams flow from one market to the next as trading floors open and then the big wave hits. It’s as if someone has found the thread that unites all of the world’s major markets, and is following that thread across the time zones, pulling to unravel and create something new.” Ted shook his head, as if in disbelief. “The world’s top ten stock markets control almost 80% of the global wealth. If what we’re seeing continues on through the UK and US based markets, then we could be looking at the largest redistribution and consolidation of wealth in history.” 

You stared at the TV, nearly agape. This was unreal...it had to be. It didn’t make sense - how could....? 

A cold chill ran down your spine as you glared over at Conrad. Sure, he was normally a man of confident bearing, but the intense pride that suffused his handsome face was unsettling. Slowly, he turned towards you, the corner of his mouth lifting as he spoke. “Admittedly, it was a hard thread to identify.” He muted the TV volume. “It took me years to execute the right contracts, plan the right mergers. And then more time, still, to recruit foot soldiers. But the sales and acquisitions will continue to waterfall through the western markets - until they seize upon the floors of the Nasdaq and New York Stock Exchange, with LOKI emerging a triumphant victor.” He glanced back at the TV with an almost secretive air. “The reporters have it right - the world’s top ten markets do control nearly 80% of the global wealth, and by the time of the closing bell on Wall Street - 75% of that wealth will be directly under my control.” 

Your eyes widened. “You’re just...you’re stealing the global wealth to fund your takeover?” 

“Did you hear any mention of illegal activity?” He cut back to you with a sharp look. “That’s the beauty of it - all the sales, all of this tectonic movement and consolidation - has been out in the open for everyone and anyone to exploit, given the right resources and strength of will. Surely, I don’t need to remind you that I have both of those fully at my disposal.” 

“But that’s...that’s….” Words escaped you as you turned back to the TV, seeing the headlines and stock market numbers on the screen. It was...dammit, it was smart, it was genius...it was terrifying. You forced a swallow. “So, what then? Once you control 75% of the global wealth, what happens then?” 

“With 75% of the global economy facing bankruptcy, world leaders will have very little choice. But as I’ve said before, it’s a balance act to prove one has enough bases covered. Economic prowess is not enough to bring the nations into alignment, so it must be supplemented.” He glanced down at his watch, swiping through the touchscreen and pushing a side button. 

The TV channel changed to a tactical display - a visual of the world’s continents with major cities marked and identified. Each city had a stock market indicator, tracking the progression of wealth accumulation, and symbols that looked like traffic signals. Most of the cities just had one traffic signal indicator, but some cities like Tokyo and London had two indicators. Washington, D.C. had three indicators. In fact, now that you looked again - all cities had red lights at the top of the indicators, but Tokyo and Beijing’s indicators were yellow. 

You gulped, trying to understand. Both Tokyo and Beijing had a full wealth accumulation tracker, so what did the yellow lights represent? You turned to Conrad, his gaze fixed on you, observing your study of the map. “The yellow lights...does that represent your supplement?” 

The dark grin that curled his lips didn’t reach his eyes. “It represents an inbound warhead. Two targets in Tokyo and one in Beijing - undetectable by radar, too small for anti-missile defense, and enough firepower to reduce the seats of those governments to smoldering ruins.” He waved at the TV. “With a few strategic hits, the old guard will visibly crumble, paving the way for a new world.” 

“That’s monstrous!” You stared at him wide-eyed in disbelief. “Killing all those innocent people!” 

“Innocent is a kind word for those who have brought the world to such a state. A few will perish, yes. Such important buildings are never truly empty, even after hours when the majority of its occupants are off basking in the wealth of their reaping.”

“But you can’t…that - that makes you no better than they are.” 

“There are only so many ways to get their attention, and in this case - it’s best to speak languages they understand.” 

You shook your head, still horrified. “Money and violence.” 

“Precisely.” 

You wanted to keep admonishing him, yelling at him, and even beg him to stop. Each scenario played out with ultimate futility in your mind. This was his submarine, this was his show, and this was his moment. Nothing in his overbearing arrogance would bend to your wishes that he cease and desist. 

So, you watched. You watched the stock market wealth accumulators fill. You watched the traffic signals drop from red to yellow, and ultimately to green. You tried not to think about how many lives each light represented. Occasionally, the TV would revert back to the news - each station overwhelmed with the amount of incoming information, updates on world leaders rushed to safety, financial markets upheaved, buildings exploding into flame in yet another new city. 

It was terrible to watch. Terrible, and yet - like a train crash - impossible to look away. 

After time, after hours - eventually, the last wealth accumulator peaked. The last signal turned green. 

And nothing. Nothing happened. The submarine continued along, just as it always had. Just another day under the water, blissfully oblivious to the destruction raging across the continents above. You’d completely lost track of the hour, feeling a deep bone-weary exhaustion gnaw at you. You couldn’t even recall the last time you’d eaten, your stomach a giant knot from all the anxious news activity. 

Still, you watched coverage of the fallout. Unknown numbers of injured, but significantly less than if the buildings had been occupied. And the list of damage was extensive. Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building. The Great Hall of the People. The Kremlin. The Grand National Assembly of Turkey. The Government of India Building. The Palace of Westminster. Buckingham Palace. The White House. The United States Capitol. But you already knew - you’d seen the map. 

But then came a breaking announcement. After the twenty-four hours of chaos, everything had fallen still and quiet. No more inbound missiles. No more stock market movement. In fact, the governments of the world were beginning to read the outcome in the settling dust, starting to grasp that the vast wealth of the global economy was no longer theirs to control. 

There were too many questions and not enough answers in the chaos - but there was a note. A single message with a concise purpose that arrived at the United Nations conspicuously after the last missile fell. 

It brought a request. A request for a meeting. A request to talk through the global situation. And the meeting was due to start within minutes. World leaders from all over the globe planned to call in and listen firsthand to the discussion. And, of course, the origin of the note was untraceable and anonymous. 

But you knew who had sent it. 

He stood next to you now, dressed in the finest suit of his collection. The crispest cut, the sharpest fit, and the dark navy color did wonders for the crystal blue of his eyes. He looked like a man of power. Like...like the ruler of the world. 

He caught your gaze with a sideways smirk before he turned for the door to his office. “Mustn’t be late, you know.” 

You exhaled shakily. “So...so, that’s it? It’s over? You...won?” 

He paused at the door, turning back for one last glance, steely determination glinting in his eyes. “What other choice do they have?” 

The door closed behind him, and you held your breath.

The End

[kingofdirtandnothing]

@polyfacetious big ass Christmas Drabble Extravagaza: Day Fifteen

Peter steps up to the door of the apartment, trying to juggle an arm load of jacket and briefcase, and he’s met with the smell of sweets just on the other side of the door. It’s the warm smell of something sugary, fresh from the oven, wafting in the space between the bottom of the door and the floor. 

He shifts his briefcase to his other hand, wrestling his keys free from the pocket of his trousers. Just inside the door, there’s a small table with a bowl on it. The bowl was a wobbly, knobby thing made by one of Owen’s nieces in her pottery class. It has ‘I love you Uncle Owen’ painted around the width of it in a child’s uneven print. Keys and cell phone go in there, and his briefcase is placed underneath the bowl on the shelf designated for it beneath. 

There was a place for everything, and everything needed to be put in its place. That was Owen’s doing. (Peter hadn’t exactly been a slob before they moved in together, but his home had never been this tidy. He’d been prone to throwing his jacket over the couch, his wallet and keys wherever they landed.)

The flat was smaller than Peter would like, just a single bedroom, a living space, a kitchen and a bathroom. But it was on a good street, and they could open their windows and listen to the sounds of the ocean nearby. It also was far more expensive than any flat Peter ever kept back in Edinburgh, and nearly half the size.

Owen deserved better, but it was a starting point. You had to get your foot in the door somewhere. The only way you could climb the ladder was by putting your feet on the ground and just getting to it.

Because Peter had a plan. He had a plan that included increasing his salary and his usefulness by at least five percent every year for Mr. Wingrave and his office. Executive Assistant paid better than most of the grunts down on the main floor, but it still wasn’t enough. There was a corner office just waiting for him, all Peter had to do was reach out and take it. 

But none of this would be done overnight. Eight months into his plan and everything was on track, but it was hard not to feel frustrated that things weren’t going faster. Peter wanted to be able to buy the both of them the things they deserved. Rolex watches and bespoke suits and a Porsche or two. 

Owen would look like a bloody dream behind the wheel of a Porsche. And Peter would give up an obscene amount of money to be able to fuck Owen in the backseat of a Porsche.

Peter slips his overcoat and his suit coat from his shoulders, shaking them out before hanging them on the back of the hook near the front door. He steps into the living room, and even from there, beyond the decent couch and the second hand coffee table, he can see the mess of mixing bowls stacked haphazardly at the edge of their counter space, a leaning mountain of metal and glass and whatever mixture he’d made in them spilled up against the sides. 

(The kitchen was why Peter settled for this shoebox of an apartment. Because Owen hadn’t had a strong opinion about any of the places they’d looked at, he’d just shrugged and said he liked them, until he saw this one with its double oven and it’s kitchen island with a marble countertop. Then, he’d stopped and looked around and really taken the place in. So this one it was.)

It looked like Peter wasn’t the only one feeling the frustration today. “Tough day at the office?” He calls out coyly, stepping into the kitchen proper with a finger crooked into the knot of his tie to start working it loose from his throat.

Owen looks up from where he is hunched over a metal mixing bowl, the whisk in his hand still working furiously on the white cream beginning to stiffen in the bowl. Hand made whipped cream. Not a sad day, then. An angry one. Owen wasn’t one who got angry often, and he always took it out on food. 

Over the last several months, Peter has learned to read Owen’s moods through the food. Things that were breaded or fried meant that he was looking for comfort. Baking meant he was anxious, and trying to do something with his hands. Sweets meant that he was pissed off. (Peter learned that the hard way, through his own fuck ups. And he learned to hate the taste of strawberry bon bons because of it.) Decadent things, French things, they meant that he was feeling amorous. 

Peter fucking loved the days he came home to the likes of duck a l'orange or coq au vin. Those were the days he got to take his sweet lover into the bedroom and fuck him until he was hoarse and shaking with need, until he could peel away all those layers of goodness and kindness with blunt fingertips and sharp nails. Until all that was left was single minded, selfish need. 

Owen was gorgeous at any time. There was something effortlessly handsome to him, where Peter felt like he couldn’t catch any eye without a nice suit and plenty of pomade. Owen was handsome in his natural state. And confident about it. There was none of that bullshit false modesty with him, and Peter loved him all the fucking more for it. 

“Long day.” Owen huffs out a laugh, self aware enough to know what he looks like with his sweater sleeves pushed up over his elbows and his apron splattered with whipping cream. “That’s all.”

Peter is in a good enough mood that he’s not going to immediately call bullshit on that. So he steps forward instead, and he can see by the widening of Owen’s eyes that he knows what’s coming. “Oh, no. Don’t--come on.” That’s two fingers dipped right into the soft, fluffy whipping cream. “You’ll deflate my cream.”

Those two fingers are lifted to his mouth, and Peter makes a show of closing his lips around the knuckles, sucking them all the way into his mouth until they brush the back of his throat. Owen knew how far he could take things, both in the literal and metaphorical sense. It’s only when both digits are sucked clean, damn fresh whipped cream was lovely, that he speaks. “I’ll do more than that to your cream if you let me.”

Owen laughs, but there’s no denying how dark those already dark eyes are. “You’re a terrible influence, Peter Quint.” No truer words had ever been spoken about him. Peter has been the bad apple out of the bunch since he was in nursery school. After that many years, it did no good to try and run from these things. The truth was the truth. 

“I don’t want to be ungrateful.” Owen puts the bowl down, wiping his palms clean on the front of his apron. It never took much pushing to get him to speak his mind. Especially in the privacy of his own kitchen. “I love my job. I love the people I work with, and Tony essentially gives me free reign, outside of his signature dishes.”

“But.” Peter supplies helpfully, already tugging on the long strand of Owen’s apron strings. The knot gives easily to his pressure and slips loose, leaving the blue and white striped fabric to hang loosely around his neck. When Owen doesn’t pick up the dropped line of conversation, Peter pulls the apron up and over his head. And as much as he wants to toss it on the floor, he hangs it on the hook. 

A place for everything, and everything in its place. He knows, Owen. 

“But it’s not the same. Being an employee with freedom isn’t the same as being your own boss.” Peter knew that chafing very well. Henry Wingrave was a good man. He was a kind man. But a good and kind man holding your leash was still someone with power over you. The dream, the real, honest to God dream, was to have no one holding his leash. 

The dream, if Peter was feeling soft enough to put it into words, was to have that corner office. And to use the money from being his own boss to buy Owen his own restaurant. A place where he answered to no one, and the menu reflected whatever mood Owen wanted it to. 

Owen nods, guilt written across the weight on his brow. Now, Peter can’t have that. So he does what any man in his position would do. He dips his finger right back into the whipping cream, and then smears a long path of white along Owen’s bottom lip.

“Oh no. Would you look at that. You’ve got a little…” Owen laughs, but it’s high and a little bit nervous, and Peter doesn’t know what he’ll do if he ever stops making Owen nervous. “You’ve been working so hard today. Let me take care of that for you.”

Kissing Owen is always sweet. But that creamy hint of sweetness as he parts the seam of Owen’s lips with his tongue runs right through Peter, giving him an idea. The kiss is slow, and deep, and Owen ends up pinned between Peter and the counter, and that’s right where Peter wants him. 

“You look like a man who needs his mind taken off of his work, Mr. Sharma.” Peter’s fingers catch on the metal tab of Owen’s trouser zipper, and the sound of it being pulled down is loud in the quiet between them, punctuated by the breathy jesus that slips from Owen’s lips. “I’ll be more than happy to take care of that for you.”

Peter has no qualms playing Executive Assistant like this. He’d choke on his own tongue before he got on his knees for Henry Wingrave, but it’s as easy as breathing to sink down onto his knees on the tile floor of their kitchen, and watch Owen’s rapidly rising and falling chest through the smudged veil of his lashes. 

“Peter-” His name always has weight, on Owen’s tongue. Sometimes it’s exasperated, sometimes it’s irritated. Often, it’s full of fondness. And sometimes, like this, it’s full of breathless wonder. And Peter would set his mother on fire to keep that shaky reverence in Owen’s voice. 

“Hand me that bowl, would you?” The button to Owen’s trousers slips neatly from its hold beneath his thumb, and Owen’s brown trousers fold open like the petals of a flower opening up to the sun. His boxers beneath are soft and white, and still smell faintly of the soap they using for washing. 

Owen hands the bowl down to him with shaking hands, and Peter stops him with the bowl still over his head. “Get a little.” It’s an order, no matter how quiet his voice is. Peter puts the bowl down on the floor next to his knees and takes hold of Owen’s wrist, feeling the wild thrumming of his pulse beneath his fingers. 

“I always liked a little salt with my sweet.” Owen’s breath catches before Peter ever parts his lips to take Owen’s cream slick finger into his mouth, and the sound that leaves him when Peter’s tongue curls against the digit is explosive, like he’s been punched right in the gut. 

Slowly, Peter licks every trace of sweetness away, until he’s left with the taste of Owen’s skin against the roof of his mouth. He suctions his cheeks in, keeping that pressure until Owen’s finger slips free from his lips with an obscene pop. 

Peter grins, smug as the cat in the cream, and makes a pointed look between the bowl and the oh so tempting vee of Owen’s open trousers. 

“Now...where else could I use this stuff on?”

[thetrueenemyofhumanity]

"There is only one bed" with Ashe and widowmaker? Thanks

Im very unsatisfied with these, it seems I have forgotten how to english. Here’s hoping some practice will help me get back into things???

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

ASHE

It took a few hits for the old door to finally give an encouraging budge. You sucked in a deep breath and thrust your full weight against it a final time. At last it flew open, sending you with it. A strong hand closed around your arm and stopped you from hitting the foul carpet face-first. Ashe pulled you upright but rather than release you, she instead looped her arm through yours to escort you inside.

“Well this certainly ain’t the Ritz,” She remarked with a sneer.

“Hey, it was you who wanted to escape the life of luxury. Don’t think we could possibly get any further-“

A loud thunk had you and Ashe turning to face the door. The termite-infested woodframe creaked and splintered as B.O.B. tried to join you. You bent to retrieve the hat which had rolled off to now lay at your feet. Brushing the dust off you realised it was actually much bigger than you thought. It was merely B.O.B.’s enormous stature which made it appear comically small.

“Dammit, B.O.B.!” Ashe snapped, shoving him back through the doorway, “State of the art processors and ya can’t even figure out the size of a damn door?”

She took the bags from him and marched back into the room. You stepped forward and gave B.O.B. an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, B.O.B., guess you’re powering down out here for the night.”

He lowered his head to allow you to place the hat back in place. You tilted it just how you knew he liked before stepping away. B.O.B. waved as you retreated until the door tucked him out of sight, but now you faced the problem of not being able to get the damn thing fully closed. You once again flung yourself at it until to no avail. Suddenly it was pulled back and clicked closed.

“Thanks B.O.B.!”

Ashe flung the bags onto the bed and that’s when you realised a whole different issue.

“Notice something?” she sighed.

“There’s only one bed…” you huffed, imagining you’ll have to spend the night in the hallway with B.O.B.

You expected her mood to only get darker. Instead you were surprised to hear a chuckle. A smirk slowly grew and she licked her lips, watching you from the corner of her eye.

“Well, at least one good thing came out of this crap-shack.”

  WIDOWMAKER

“Area clear. For now. Doubt that’s going to last long.”

“Copy that. We’ll keep an eye out. You’re relieved until things get exciting,” came the voice from the other end of the comm line.

“Heading back to base now. E.T.A. twenty minutes.”

You began throwing your equipment back into your bag. Admittedly you could have been a bit neater- not to mention safer- with your packing skills, but the unease that knotted your stomach told you to get out of there and get out of there fast. Something didn’t feel right. It felt like you were living on a bomb and the fuse was getting smaller and smaller. Sombra’s intelligence had been highly questionable of late and be it treachery or plain stupidity, you weren’t going to pay the price for someone else’s mistake.

“Negative. You’re to stay with the asset. Someone needs to keep an eye on her.”

The knot in your stomach only grew at that and you fell silent.

“Agent, is that clear?”

You shook your head and drew in a deep breath. Throwing your bag over your shoulder you left in a lot less of a hurry.

“Clear.”

--

You made sure to make as much noise as possible upon entering the room. The last thing you wanted was to spook the world’s finest assassin. But when you entered that wasn’t the sight you were met with. Perched on the widows ledge was Amelie, who had swapped out the skintight catsuit for a plush jumper and loose-fitting trousers. The costume itself was neatly folded atop the case which held her rifle. Her long hair now fell freely around her face and there was a weariness to her you had never seen before. She didn’t even look at you when you entered. Instead her sharp eyes were fixed on nothing, lost in a daze.

“Widowmaker,” you greeted with a curt nod.

She didn’t reply. But you doubted awkward conversation would be any better than the awkward silence. Looking around you could only see one bed. Unsure of where to go you simply…hovered for a moment.

“There is only one bed,” Amelie finally spoke.

“Clearly times are tough, Talon can’t even stretch the budget to two beds in here?” you tried to joke.

“Why buy a steak for a vegetarian?”

Your poker face melted to one of pure confusion.

“E-excuse me?”

“There is no point Talon providing a bed for someone who doesn’t sleep. At least until they’re told to,” she explained, lifting her head to lock her piercing eyes with yours. And like a fly in a web you were paralyzed.

“They tell you when to sleep?”

You couldn’t hide the distaste in your voice. She nodded slowly, her eyes not leaving you. Well that certainly explained why she looked so tired. Shrugging off your jacket you sat on the edge of the bed. Only when the weight was taken off them did you realise how truly weary your legs were. Your back cracked as you rolled your aching shoulders and you struggled to stifle a yawn.

“Amelie, you look as tired as I feel. You need rest.”

She shook her head.

“What Talon doesn’t know won’t hurt them,” you pressed.

“It is not that. Whenever I close my eyes… Talon’s drugs are the only way I can sleep in peace.”

You sucked in a deep breath and tentatively placed a hand on top of hers. The cool touch sucked the warmth from your own skin.

“Nightmares are intimate friends of mine too,” you assured her.

“Nightmares I can deal with. You wake up to a better reality. It is the memories that haunt me. There is no waking up, no running. No freedom. Yet as much as these ghosts plague me, they are all I have to remind me I was once human.”

You were lost for words for a moment before finally rising to your feet. Reaching over her you pulled the blinds closed.

“You’re still human. You’re not what they made you. You’re so much more. C’mon, lets get some sleep,” you suggested, “Whatever demons come I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

She took your hand and slowly stood. A tense moment passed before she suddenly threw herself forward, wrapping her arms around you. Your heart momentarily stopped and every possible ulterior motive she may have rushed through your mind. But once you realised there wasn’t a knife in your back you finally accepted that the Widowmaker just didn’t want to be so alone. As much as she didn’t want to open her heart- having lived the truly worst that can happen- the starvation crushed all her senses and she wanted nothing more than to melt in your warmth. 

[verai-marcel]

You fuel my obsession for rdr2. And honestly if you wrote anything linked to a film noir style thing in a club where reader is a singer/dancer, I would do anything. A n y t h i n g *leans in creepily close and whispers* anything...

My Song Bird (RDR2 Fanfic, 1940s AU, Arthur x Fem!Reader, 18+ ONLY)

Summary: You’re one of the backup singers for a club in St. Denis, owned by the infamous Van der Linde family. Their enforcer, Arthur Morgan, is often seen hanging around the club to protect everyone that works there. He takes a special interest in you, which makes you feel a little uneasy, for he’s a large and intimidating man. Why is he so interested in a little song bird like you?

Author’s Notes: My dear @pixieisonline, I have zero idea of how to write a film noir-style thing. But I tried. I did. 

Tags: medium honor Arthur, singer reader, size difference, smut, doggy style, dominating sex, possessive sex, 1940s AU

AO3 Link is here, kid.

——————–

You stood on the stage, taking a deep breath. The club was not yet open for the night, but you had to get your courage up; Hosea had asked you to fill in for the lead singer, who had fallen ill. Staring out at the empty room, you saw your coworkers bustling around, getting the place ready for a busy Friday night. Tilly and Mary-Beth were getting the tables ready. Karen was wiping down the bar with Sean, who snuck a peck on her cheek when he could. You could smell whatever Pearson was cooking in the kitchen. Strauss was probably upstairs doing accounts, and who knew where Swanson was. But he was always back in time for opening, and he was a good host, so you didn’t care. 

Everyone else was probably at the other business with the owners, Dutch and Hosea. They were off overseeing one of their other properties; this club was a smaller venue, and probably didn’t bring in as much as their gambling parlour. But still, you liked it here; it was much better than working for the O’Driscolls. You shuddered at the memory.

Over in the back corner were a few of the hitmen of the Van der Linde family: Javier, Charles, and… him.

The head of the Van der Linde’s hitmen, the enforcer, the man who could and would get anything done for the family: Arthur Morgan. Standing in the corner of the room, he looked rather handsome as he leaned against the wall, lighting a cigarette. He wore a brown leather jacket over a blue casual collared shirt, a fedora, trousers, and dark brown oxfords. But you knew what he was capable of; his looks belied a cold, ruthless killer. 

You had first met him when the O’Driscolls and the Van der Lindes had a shootout in a club you had been forced to work at for Colm. Hiding under the bar until the smoke cleared, you had curled up into a ball and trembled, even after Arthur had found you and told you that you were safe, that you were free from Colm forever.

With a blood splattered shirt, he had held his large hand out to you, you remembered that he had just strangled a man to death before your eyes, and you started to cry, thinking he’d do the same to you.

Instead, he had gently coaxed you out from under the bar and held you softly, petting your hair and murmuring comforting words as he guided you out of the building and into his car, where he drove you back to your meager apartment. He gave you a card with an address, telling you that if you needed work, the family would take care of you, as long as you were loyal.

And so, here you were. And after three months of working with them, you decided that they were much, much, much better than working for the O’Driscolls.

Your eyes met a certain pair of blue ones, and you quickly looked away. Arthur still scared you a little, even after all this time. Sure, the other men were just as big as he was. But that was just physical; Charles was gentle, though quick to anger at certain subjects. Javier was blunt, but he was charming, and played the most wonderful guitar music. 

Arthur, however, was just plain intimidating because he knew how to use his size. The way he stood, the way he walked, revealed a man who knew he could handle anything, who could muscle his way out of a situation if he couldn’t threaten someone to stand down first. He didn’t speak much when he was on duty, and even when speaking normally, he still sounded rather gruff. Although he was kind in his actions; he would run errands whenever requested, and he often asked after everyone’s health.

But he was always gentlest with you. His voice turned to butter, a low, soothing sound when he spoke to you, and you noticed that he only used that tone with you alone. As if he were speaking to a fearful animal, his dulcet tone would seduce you into thinking you were more than just a coworker; for a fleeting moment, whenever the two of you spoke, you thought that perhaps he cared for you in a special way.

Then the conversation would end and the trance was broken, and he’d go back to barking orders. He’d be set up in his corner, watching the club and sending over his men to keep the peace. If things got real dicey, he’d come over himself, and whoever was causing trouble generally wasn’t seen in the club again.

You shook your head to clear your mind of the duality of your thoughts about Arthur. You had to sing. You had to carry the night. Stepping up to the microphone, you took a deep breath and sang one of your favorites. You closed your eyes and felt the song come from within your soul, and let it spill from your lips, your voice wrapping around the room like velvet.

It’s that ole devil called love again

Gets behind me and keeps giving me that shove again

Putting rain in my eyes

Tears in my dreams…

Opening your eyes as you finished your song, you scanned the floor. Everyone had stopped working and was staring at you.

“I… S-sorry, I wanted to see what it would f-feel like being center stage, for once,” you stammered, surprised that you had gotten their attention.

Karen erupted into raucous applause, causing the others to clap as well. “That was amazin’, sugar! I can’t believe you haven’t sung solo before!”

You smiled and bowed, then quickly backed away from the microphone, leaving the stage. As you passed Arthur, you felt his gaze upon you, a simmering look that you couldn’t read, but it both frightened you and enticed you. Glancing up at him and then looking away quickly, you nearly ran the rest of the way to the dressing room.

***

Shutting the door and leaning against it, you took a deep breath. Clutching your chest to calm your frantic heartbeat, you took a deep breath. There was no need to be nervous; it was just one night, you could do this. You had sung on this stage for so many nights, it wasn’t going to be any different. 

Except you were center now. Everyone’s eyes would be on you.

You remembered Arthur’s look as you left the main room.

Your heart raced again, and you sank to the ground, clutching your knees. You loved to sing. But you sang better with others. You sang better in the background.

Though that wasn’t the reason your heart was racing, and you knew it.

There was a soft knock on your door.

“Y-yes?”

“You alright in there?”

Arthur’s smooth tone carried through the door, and you felt your heart spike. Getting up and opening the door a crack, you looked out to see him, a worried expression on his face.

“I’m alright. Just a case of the nerves, I’ll be fine for tonight.”

He watched you for a moment longer, looking as if he might argue with you, but then chose to accept you at your word. “Alright then.” He stepped a little bit closer to the door, closer to you; he lowered his voice, speaking softer. “If you need anything, you let me know, okay?”

You nodded. “Yes, Arthur.”

He gave you a look that you couldn’t discern, then closed his eyes and nodded. “That’s my girl,” he said, and walked away. 

You closed the door and grabbed your heart again. 

That’s my girl?!

***

The night went splendidly well; so well, that you came out for two more encores throughout the night. You wore a gown that attracted everyone’s attention, thanks to Mary-Beth’s fashion sense, and you sang your heart out, ending the night to a standing ovation. You’ll be the first to admit that you botched the first few lines of the first song, but you quickly recovered and just focused on singing, and noted that the crowd grew and grew as the night went on. 

As you stepped off the stage for the last time that night, you were stopped by someone grabbing your arm.

A drunk patron, of course. He was easy on the eyes, but he stank of whiskey and had a dopey grin on his face as he leered at you.

“Sweetheart, you were amazing,” he said, pulling you closer to him, his hand like an iron manacle around your arm. “Come with me, I’ll make you a star.”

You tried to pull away. “Thank you, but no, I’d like to stay here.”

He grew angry at your blunt refusal. “Do you know who I am?”

You kept pulling, but now he had another hand gripped around your other arm. “No, I don’t, and I don’t take kindly to you handling me like this!”

“And neither do I,” a gravelly voice said off to your right.

You looked over to see Arthur glaring at the man, his arms crossed. He stepped closer, using his hulking form to intimidate the other man. “So I suggest you let the lady go, or I show you what happens to men who don’t respect a lady’s wishes.”

At his threatening figure, the man pushed you away into Arthur’s chest. Arthur held you steady as the two of you watched the man huff and walk out of the club, looking back one last time to glare at you before slamming the door.

After a few moments, you realized that Arthur’s hands were still on your shoulders, the heat warming your skin through the sheer fabric.

“You okay?” he asked, leaning down to look at where the other man had grabbed your arms.

“I’m alright, thank you,” you said, stepping away from him and quickly fleeing to the dressing room.

***

You breathed a sigh of relief as you took off the gown and changed into your dark blue polka dotted shirtwaist dress and oxfords. Checking your watch, you realized it was three hours later than when you usually went home; finding a taxi at this hour was going to take longer than usual. You exited the room and went back downstairs to say goodnight before going home. 

***

As you turned the corner on the staircase, you nearly bumped into Arthur, who was coming up.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, moving aside. He followed your movement, looking up at you. 

“I came to see you.”

“O-oh?”

“Can I take you home? It’s later than usual for you, songbird.”

Songbird?

He held his arm out to you. You tentatively reached out, and delicately placed your hand on his arm. Escorting you back down the stairs, he told Charles he was taking you home, and to take care of things here. Charles glanced at you for a moment, then nodded. 

“Y-you don’t really need to…”

“I do, darlin’. That man might still be around, and I want to make sure you get home safely.”

You blinked and then smiled at him. He really was a good man.

***

He walked you to his car and drove you to your apartment. He got out and opened the door for you, holding his hand out to you like a gentleman out of a movie. You took it, and felt a warmth blossoming in your heart. Walking to your apartment door, he stood close by with his back towards you, his eyes looking around for anyone who might be stalking you.

When you had unlocked your door and stepped into your apartment, you turned back to him. He had turned to you, watching you with those ocean blue eyes of his.

“Keep your door locked, don’t open it for strangers.”

“Yes, Arthur.”

He took a step closer, slowly reaching out for you. Holding your breath, you let him tip your chin upwards. 

“Whenever you say that, makes me want you more.”

Your eyes widened as he caressed your cheek with the back of his knuckles. He looked at you as if he wanted to eat you up, but then he let out a small sigh and suddenly looked sad.

“Yer such a sweet little song bird.” He took a step away from you. He tipped his fedora. “Good night.”

You watched him turn and start to walk away to his car.

“Wait!”

He stopped, but didn’t turn around.

“Would… would you like to come in? For some tea?”

He turned around this time. “Are you sure? Yer invitin’ a big bad wolf inside, little bird.”

You nodded. “I know.”

Arthur slowly walked back towards you. As you stepped aside to let him in, he paused and gave you a heated look. 

“You don’t actually have any tea, do ya?”

As you closed & locked the door behind him, you gave him a shy half-smile. “How’d you know?”

He stepped closer to you, his bulk making you feel even smaller than you already were. Leaning down, his lips were dangerously close to yours. “Because you look like you want to get eaten.”

He kissed you, gently, tentatively. When you kissed him back, a switch was flipped, and he wrapped his arms tightly around you and held you close as his kisses became a torrent of passion. He devoured you, your every whimper, your every breath, he took it all and gave you a fire low in your body, a forbidden hunger that had overtaken you.

You looked up at him with your eyes hooded with desire, and he lifted you up in his arms and carried you to your bedroom.

***

Laying you gently on your bed, he covered you, his legs straddling yours as he started to unbutton your dress. You lay still, your fingers gripping his shirt as he stripped you, working his way down your torso, kissing you until he got the last button undone. Pulling you up into his lap as he sat on the edge of the bed, he tossed your dress aside. You were straddling his legs, just in your slip and undergarments, breathing shakily.

“Get up, darlin’. Take that slip off for me,” he commanded as he guided you to stand before him. You did so, and instinctively moved to cover yourself. He grabbed your wrists and shook his head.

“Do as I say,” he said gently, and released your wrists. You took the shoulder straps and slid them down, slowly revealing your skin and bra and panties to his starving gaze. The slip pooled at your feet, and you stood still, waiting for his next command. Reaching out to your panties, he glided them down your body, his thumbs caressing your thighs as they went. You stepped out of them as they fell to the floor, and you looked back up at him. He gestured for you to climb onto his lap again, straddling his strong thighs, your core hovering over the bulge in his pants.

He kissed your neck, then your shoulder. Then he started to work on your bra.

Feeling like you needed to catch up, you started to unbutton his shirt.

“Hold on,” he said, and grabbed your wrists. “I call the shots. Now you sit there and just do as I say, alright?”

“Yes, Arthur.”

He held your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Good girl,” he rumbled as he ran his thumb along your lips.

Then he slid the bra off your shoulders, flinging it away. Grabbing a hold of each of your breasts, he kneaded them, bending his head down to lick and suck on each of your nipples in turn, making you sigh and whimper, your body aflame with the desire building inside you. His hands then slid down your body slowly, until he was grasping your hips. One hand slipped between your legs, gliding up and down both your thighs, teasing the sensitive skin.

You moaned.

“I knew you’d sound pretty when touched,” he muttered, and teased your opening with his fingertips. You gasped at the feather touch, two of his fingers gently caressing your nether lips, spreading your juices around. Then he pushed a finger inside of you.

“Ahh!” you cried out, your hips jolting forward, loving the way he was exploring you, his eyes watching your reactions intently.

“Such a sweet cry.” He pushed another finger inside you. “Wonder what other sounds you can make?”

You made all kinds of sounds when he finger fucked you, his thumb alternately pressing and stroking your clit, controlling your highs and lows as he played you like an instrument.

Just as you were reaching that delectable peak, he pulled his fingers out, and you whimpered in loss. 

“Now now, darlin’. Just gettin’ you ready for the main event.” Arthur lifted you up by your waist and sat you down on the bed. You watched as he unzipped his fly and pulled out his long, thick manhood. He grabbed your hand and wrapped it around his cock; you marveled at how it felt like heated velvet against your skin.

He wrapped his hand around yours, teaching you how to stroke him, quiet murmurs of instruction as you got the hang of caressing him, where his sensitive spots were, how to pace yourself as you switched hands after one was starting to get tired. As you were stroking him, he took off his clothes, stopping you just long enough to lose his pants and kick off his shoes.

“Lay down on your back and spread your legs,” he ordered once he was fully naked. 

“Yes, Arthur.”

He stood above you, his shaft hard and ready for you, as you laid down with your legs spread, feeling like a wanton woman. He looked so powerful and imposing as he looked down at you, an arrogant smile on his face.

“Perfect.” He leaned down and nudged your wet entrance, pushing forward as your body resisted the invasion. You took deep breaths to relax yourself, but it still hurt, he was so big.

“Arthur…” you whimpered.

“You can take it,” he crooned, grabbing your hips and pulling you towards him as he shoved himself forward.

You screamed; he was filling you, breaking you on his huge cock.

“There ya go,” he crooned. He pulled out a little bit and rammed back inside. “So tight.” He fell forward onto his elbows, his hands on your shoulders, tucking your arms next to your body. You were covered entirely by his burly torso, trapped underneath him.

And then his hips started to thrust in a steady rhythm; you felt his every movement, every inch of him taking you, making you his. You felt a hand grasp your hair, pulling your head to one side as he breathed on your neck, licked your earlobe.

“Yer so good, darlin’.”

You could feel Arthur’s heavy breath against your skin as he fucked you, crushing your body beneath his as he reached for your throat. He gripped you just enough for you to know how big his hand was, how small your neck was. He could break you so easily.

Then he let go, lifting up enough so you could breathe easier as he slowed his pace, watching your eyes flutter as he pushed in to the hilt and ground his hips against you.

“Fuckin’ beautiful,” he growled. Pulling out of you and standing once more, he flipped you onto your stomach, your legs hanging off the bed. You felt him slide inside of you once more, the new angle making your body quiver with pleasure as you let out a high pitched moan. He wrapped an arm around your neck, arching your body, pulling it against his hard chest. He kissed your temple. 

“Moan more for me,” he ordered, his lips against your ear. You cried out as he drove into you hard, the slap of flesh against flesh resounding in your small bedroom. The sounds you made were music to Arthur’s ears, and he slowly lost control, his grip on your body becoming rougher with each melodious sound he wrung from your throat.

Each time he shoved himself inside of you, the lust ravaging your veins pulsed louder and louder, your whole being tied to the erotic rhythm of his thrusts until you felt like your heartbeat began to match. As he took you faster and faster, driving both of you towards a cliff that you heartily wanted to fly off, he took his arm away from your neck and grabbed your hips instead, pumping harder than ever before. 

Then he pulled your hair and growled into your ear. 

“Mine, yer all mine, little bird.”

You came from his possessive words and the way he was grabbing you, your strangled cry of release eliciting his own intense grunt followed by cathartic moaning as he came, his hips jerking as he poured everything he had into your welcome heat.

He collapsed on top of you, but quickly rolled over so he wouldn’t suffocate you under his weight. Keeping his arms around you, he lay on his back, draping you over his body. For a little while, you were both silent, the room filled with your entwined breaths.

“Arthur?”

“Hm?”

“Did you mean what you said?”

“That yer mine?”

“Yes.”

“Of course I did.” He reached down and began to rub your pussy again, making you mewl in his arms. “I ain’t givin’ up a pretty little songbird like you.”

It was going to be a long night. But you were glad you invited him in for tea you didn’t have.

——————–

End Notes: I DON’T KNOW WHAT I’M DOING, I’M SORRY. I hope this sort of fulfills your request, @pixieisonline????

Also, using Billie Holiday’s song “It’s That Ole Devil Called Love Again” because it’s on the LA Noire soundtrack (hey, linkin’ back to Rockstar games, lololol)

[scribeofmorpheus]

Reflections by the Water

Paring: Newt x Plus Size Reader

For the SPOOKTOBER 2018 Competition

Requested by @gruffle1 :  Could you please write 50: “ We’d make such a cute couple. ” with Newt (from The Maze Runner) x reader? Also if it’s not too much trouble could you please make them plus size? Thank you in advance.    

Words: 3125

Warnings: None

A/N:  Writing a story for a plus size reader was very much a new endeavour for me (which I thank you for requesting because it helped me learn new things). I read a few articles and other people’s fics in order to get a feel for Do’s and Don’ts. I’m not skinny but I’m also not plus size (and simply being friends with plus size people doesn’t make me an expert so I refused to slap on an ‘Oh I know someone like xyz’ and then write something stereotypical) so that’s why this piece was late. But also, I’m still learning, so your criticism would be greatly appreciated to make sure I know what worked and what didn’t with this fic!

Prompts in Bold-Italics.

You woke up early that morning to prepare for your supply run with Minho. Supplies were getting low and he had made a subtle comment about not wanting to be stuck for hours in the wasteland with Brenda's permanent sour expression and dry sense of humour, so you took that as his unofficial way of asking you to come with. You always enjoyed Minho's humour and he always said he felt safer with you watching his back.

As you snaked your arms into your favourite leather jacket, you noticed the layers beginning to peel and the seams loosen with age. You'd have to replace it soon, a notion you weren't all too thrilled about. Finding supplies and clothes weren't easy lately. You had asked Newt to teach you how to sew so you could easily mend any tears because it was easier than trying to find new clothes that were comfortable and not tight.

As you made your way over to the beat-up vehicle you noticed Newt give something to Brenda before she headed towards a sleepy/eyed Minho. Newt ran up beside you, a big open smile on his face, his sandy blond hair ruffled by the wind. The smell of the saltwater clinging to the morning air.

"Hey, Y/N! Hold up..." He called after you as he hobbled slightly at a faster pace than his leg was comfortable with.

You turned towards him, squinting from the morning sun, "Hey Newt, what are you doing up so early?"

Newt let out a gentle laugh as he shyly rubbed the hairs on his nape, "Uh, Minho said the three of you were going on a run..."

When he didn't immediately finish his sentence, you tried to help him along, "Did you want us to keep an eye out for something?"

"Not exactly," he looked up at you a little uncertain. "I just wanted to say be careful, is all."

You found his concern sweet. It was no secret the two of you got along. In fact, you had always had a soft spot for Newt, but he was always a little shy when left alone with you for long periods of time. He’d fumble for words and always give you that charming, squinty, half-smile.

"Always," you reassuringly caressed his lithe arm, running up and down the length of his biceps.

"See you when you get back, yeah."

"For sure," you waved goodbye and then headed to join Minho and a very cranky looking Brenda.

***

While in a desolate old-world building, you, Minho and Brenda went searching for supplies.

"Okay, I'll run ahead, do a quick search of things. Meet back in ten?" Minho asked.

"Uh huh, yeah sure." Was all Brenda said after she pocketed that list from before and hauled her body on top of some fallen debris onto the second floor.

"Be careful, and remember: stay quiet," Minho nodded at you as he ran down a corner and out of sight.

You worked your way through desolate rooms that held damaged manikins and destroyed artefacts of all kinds, keeping an eye out for essentials. About a few minutes past the agreed-upon rendezvous time, you carried your haul to the vehicle, the sound of Brenda's shrill scream pumped adrenaline straight into your veins like it was an intravenous transfusion. You grabbed your trusty metal bat and ran back to the building. When you finally got there, you noticed an abundant number of infected screeching and heading towards a struggling Brenda who was pushing the dead weight of one such infected from her body.

Brenda looked over at you, relieved to see someone, anyone, that wasn't infected. After a moment of letting the ice in your veins freeze your muscles, Brenda shouted with a slight hint of agitation: "A… little… help… for fuck's sake!"

You regained your senses and looked around for a way to get up to her level quickly. You spotted the stairs on the other end of the building and made a break for it, bashing your bat against any infect body that tried to claw its way to you. When you got to Brenda you had to practically wrestle the infected off her and use as much of your strength as you could to throw it off the ledge. Its body landed with a crunching thud, missing Minho by inches as he yelped from being startled.

Brenda dusted at her jacket before her eyes went wide in horror, "Oh shit!"

"Uhh, guys," Minho looked frazzled. "Better get down here quick!"

You looked in the direction Brenda and Minho were staring and saw a hoard of infected clamouring over each other in a seething rage and practically foaming at the mouth.

"Fuck!" You swore.

"Quick, through here!" Brenda shouted after you as she slid under a crack in the wall that led to the lower levels.

"You kidding, I can't fit through there!" You said with annoyance. You rolled up your sleeves and looked back to the smaller hoard you had previously struck down to get to Brenda. "Guess, back into the killer hoard I go!"

You focused more on making a break for it than using your energy for your mean swing. As you ran, you were annoyed by how haphazardly your tits bounced about against the weak bindings of your bra. It was a bit of a hindrance, especially given the life or death situation you were in. You would have to make a note to fix the straps or maybe make a new one altogether.

When you finally met up with the others, you made your way out of the building, making sure to barricade the door shut.

As Minho held his knees and tried to catch his breath, Brenda rested against the door which rattled from the bombarding hits from the infected on the other side.

"That's the last time I do Newt any favours," she said apprehensively.

"Favours?" You asked.

She just looked at you and shook her head, "It's not important. Let's get out of here."

As you walked back to the vehicle, you noticed a tear running across the length of your arm.

"Shit!" You mourned your jacket. "No amount of needle and thread will fix this!"

"Don't be so dramatic. Anything can be patched back together!" Minho gave you a heartfelt smile.

"It's a lateral tear!" You whined.

Brenda sighed, "I'm sure you'll be able to replace it."

You closed your eyes and sighed into your hands, "Easy for you to say." You whispered too low for anyone to hear.

***

When you got back to camp, you decided to go and lay by the beach for a moment. You'd be lying if you said all this excitement hadn't left you a little winded. Hell, you could see Minho grabbing an impromptu nap on a hammock he set up with Thomas the other day. You also noticed Brenda take something to Newt's workshop by the edge of the beach strip. Newt noticed you staring at their exchanged and beamed a bright smile at you as he awkwardly gave you a quick wave before disappearing into his workshop.

A part of you wondered what exactly Newt asked her to get. Another part was irritated he asked Brenda instead of you. The two of you were closer for starters. At least he always gave you that impression.

As you lay by the ocean, hearing the waves lap, Thomas jogged to your side.

"Y/N, hey!" he said.

"Hey, Tommy. What's up?" You asked as you noticed a group of people collecting by the heart of the camp and stacking firewood.

"Hey, a few of us are gonna have a little bonfire. Trade scary stories. You in?"

You mulled his invite over for a bit, weighing your fatigue against your need to socialise. Your gaze shifted to a now snoring -and drooling- Minho swinging on the hammock. He was dangerously close to falling over. "I think I'm going to follow Minho's lead and get some shut-eye before meal time."

You stood up off the ground, dusting sand off your trousers.

"I hear you guys had quite the exciting day?" Thomas remarked.

You huffed, "A little too exciting if you ask me!" Your eyes Thomas for a moment and then asked skittishly: "Hey you mind if I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"Have you noticed anything weird between Newt and Brenda lately?"

You question made Thomas shift his stance. You didn't know whether that was a tell or not. You chose to ignore it when he guffawed and slung his arm casually around your shoulders, "I have it under good authority that Newt and Brenda are strictly friends. Maybe friends is pushing it… More like friendly."

Thomas smiled at you as though he knew something you didn't.

"I'll see you later tonight?" Thomas asked as he walked back to the ever-growing fire pit.

"If I don't sleep like the dead… Or Minho!" you jested as you made your way over to your shack.

***

Everyone around the campfire was tense. Bated breath and bulging eyes all set on Gally. His eyes lingered on you for a moment before he clapped his hands and made screeching noise.

"And then, just like that, they never saw her again. Some say her haunting screams can still be heard if you wander too close," Gally muttered with a sinister edge hanging to each vowel. His eyes wild and unnerving as he finished telling his ghost story to the rest of the crowd.

Thomas's eyes were elsewhere, staring blankly at the flames. Newt held a similar expression from time to time, his attention bouncing back and forth between reminiscing and being in the present. Brenda didn't care much for the story and spent much of her time with her head to the stars. Minho was joking around with a bunch of boys who had decided Gally's storytelling skills were not to their liking.

Aris seemed particularly unhinged, his face downturned in discomfort.

"I think that's enough horror stories for one night," you spoke gently to the crowd. Aris noticed your eyes linger on him when you said that. He gave you a look of appreciation in exchange. You smiled warmly. Just then you noticed Newt come out of his stupor and look across from the fire to where you sat. His blue eyes reflecting the flames like clear mirrors. His gaze was intense, but his features soft and almost filled with a look of intimacy you'd never seen before. Or maybe you just never looked in his direction when he did.

You blood flushed hot and you were unsettled by how quickly your heart began to feel heavy and full against the butterflies manifesting within your stomach. From the heat of the flames to the heat emanating off your body, everything was becoming a little overwhelming.

You excused yourself from the group and made your way to the banks where you let the cold waves lap and splash across your bare feet. The moon was full, providing ample light for your reflection to be cast upon the water easily. Inching closer to yours was Newt's reflection, becoming larger and larger until you could all but feel his frame blocking the wind beside you.

"It's a beautiful night isn't it?" He asked casually, as though you'd been talking for hours before this moment.

Your eyes were glued to your reflections shimmering and distorting with the waves. The starlight appearing as speckles on the dark water. Newt's eyes were set on the horizon, glancing at another marvellous view from your own.

"The stars are unusually bright for this time of year," you agreed.

The longer you stared at your reflections, the more you began to wonder what exactly it was that made you so close. Newt had been adamant to get to know you in the beginning. To be honest, he wasn't always trusting of new people since he left the glade. At least that's the impression he gave you from all his stories and how cautious he was around new people. There was a certain irony to him being one of the few people you felt close too.

Your personalities couldn't be further from compatible. He was stoic and level headed, but there was a latent temper that simmered under his cool eyes born from the harshness of this world and what he had to endure. You could be a little hot-headed and a bit more open when it came to expressing yourself. You were like to sides to a coin. Even his small stature and deceptively slender arms contrasted to your larger build and more visibly formed muscles. And yet, the two of you couldn't have looked more normal, more fitting, standing side by side.

"On nights like tonight, I always find it calming to come out here and watch how the light casts a silver layer just where the horizon meets the sea." Newt pointed out to where his eyes were set.

You lifted your head and followed his direction.

"I've noticed." You said freely.

Newt turned to you. You simply shrugged and nudged him with your elbow.

"Just because I don't brood as you do, doesn't mean I don't notice things too."

There was a brief pause filled by the sound of the waves. Newt's left hand trailed down to his leg where he squeezed the muscles as though trying to will them to heal better. You returned your eyes to the horizon.

"When Minho told me what happened, I was worried," Newt admitted.

You glanced over at him, "Hey, you know I always make it back."

You placed a hand on his shoulder. He looked over to where your palm connected to his shoulder and gave a fond smile.

"I know. But it doesn't change the fact that I always worry. Not just for Minho, but…" Newt looked into your eyes this time. "For you."

"Newt," you said softly.

"I kept waiting for the right moment to say something, but I forgot that in this life the right moments are moments like these. When it's peaceful and you do get a chance to say something when the people you care for come back despite all the dangers they faced."

Newt turned to you, placing a hand over yours that was still connected to his shoulder.

You tried to speak but you were tongue-tied. This was most definitely a first.

"Y/N, I feel something for you. And whatever it is, it's more than friendship."

You cocked your head gently to the side, the breeze blowing your hair into your eyes. Newt removed his hand from yours and tucked those stray strands back behind your ear. The contact of his calloused fingers against your soft cheeks felt indescribable.

Before you knew what words were surfacing, you absentmindedly asked, "Why me?"

Newt smirked and shrugged, "Why not?"

You giggled to yourself, finding something comical in this sweet moment.

"What?" Newt asked surprised.

You shook your head, "It's nothing. It's just… Well, I always thought we’d make such a cute couple."

Newt gave a low grumble in agreement, "How does Thomas put it: Me with my stubborn broody nature and you with your warm smile."

Suddenly, it made sense why Thomas had looked at you strangely earlier.

"Thomas huh? Is he the reason for this confession?" You teased.

"He may have mentioned that you thought something was going on between me and Brenda. I didn't want you to get any wrong ideas about her and me so I figured I'd show you."

"Show me what?"

"You'll have to trust me," he held out his hand for you.

You placed your hand in his and let him lead you towards his workshop.

Once inside, Newt began moving things around as he lit a few lamps along the way.

"A while back, I heard this story about a past time from before. During the time of year when trees shed their browning leaves and it rained for days, they used to decorate their towns and streets with carvings and other frightening things." Newt mentioned as he bent down to retrieve something from a handmade box.

"That sounds… odd," You remarked.

"I thought the same thing. Apparently, they'd exchange gifts," Newt handed you something wrapped in a thin sheet.

You hadn't expected him to hand you a gift. A part of you felt a little bad for not having one to give him. "I--"

"Before you say anything, just open it," he encouraged.

You set the parcel on the table and unwrapped it. You gasped.

"Newt, it's..." You searched for the right words as you lifted the newly sewn together jacket and held it up against the light. It was pieced together with several different pieces of leather. Red, tan brown and even darker black patched gave it an authentic if not complementary colour scheme. You ran your fingers over the careful stitches made from thin thread to the slightly more noticeable ones made from what seemed to be twine.

"I noticed your old one was getting a little worse for wear and I figured it since I can't be with you on all your scavenging trips..."

"It's perfect." Your voice croaked slightly, pushing back tears as you motioned to set the jacket down and wrap your arms around Newt.

He staggered ever so slightly, not expecting you to hug him so quickly but when he regained his ground Newt returned your hug with just as much enthusiasm. A beaming smile tugging at his lips.

When you broke away, your eyes locked for a long minute and the amber light from the lamps cast a golden sheen upon the two of you. And then your lips met in a tender and novelty kiss.

"I have imagined doing this a lot of times. I have to admit, the reality is a thousand times better," Newt said.

You failed to suppress your blush, "That's one thing we have in common."

"Just wait until Thomas finds out. He's been pestering me about admitting how I feel for months now."

"And now you can shout it from rooftops."

"Our roofs aren't that high, or sturdy."

You laughed, "You're right. Bad idea."

"Besides, I'd like to keep this between us for now. See where we go from here. Save Gally from inevitable heartbreak."

You looked at him quizzically, "Gally?"

Newt scrunched his nose in disbelief, "What you didn't know? He was being quite obvious about it."

Your mouth upturned into a half moon, "Maybe I don't notice everything."

"You noticed me," Newt said before placing a kiss to your cheek.

"How could I not?" You placed your forehead to his. "Let's go back and look at the stars."

***

Note: The bra thing was something I got from my own experience being someone who gets assaulted by her own boobies if I even think of running without a sports bra. I hope it didn’t come across as crass.

[rosalind-of-arden]

Worldbuilding: The High Garda

As I work on this young Wolfe/Santi fic, I find that I need to work out some details about the High Garda. I figured I might as well share notes for anyone else who might be able to use this stuff.

Canon notes:

Uniforms are black with Library symbol in gold, multiple weapons on the belt, flexible armor built in. Centurion uniform has Horus eyes on the collars (Stormcrow had Horus eyes on the captain’s uniform, too). Vest, underwear, jacket, trousers, socks, boots, weapons belt. Library symbol on collar. Camouflage versions of the uniform exist.

Jess observes “a full squad” of about 80 soldiers in England. But this is Jess, before he was assigned to the High Garda. Later, Jess says Santi took a half century to Oxford. Inconsistency? Unreliable Jess? Not all the soldiers hanging out around the Translation Chamber actually went to Oxford? After the battle, Wolfe says 12 soldiers died in Oxford, a large enough number to justify changing routes.

Soldier names to possibly reuse: Costigan, Rijuta Khanna ("a small Indian woman”, Morgan’s guard), Yeva Dudik (taller, broader, East Asian, Morgan’s guard), Shi Zheng (recruit in Glain’s squad), Captain Feng (probably in ex-Archivist’s pocket, possible traitor/defector?), Helva Svensdotter (Scandinavian, recruit in Glain’s squad), Zelalem (tall, thin, Muslim, recruit in Glain’s squad), Garrett Wu (recruit in Glain’s squad ), Violet Bransom (sturdy and muscular woman, recruit in Glain’s squad), Sergeant Reynolds (prison guard in Rome, acquaintance of Santi’s), Wu Xiang (Blue Dog), Phoena (Blue Dog), Ariane Daskalakis (prisoner with Wolfe), Sarven (Blue Dog), Vickers (English, with Santi in Stormcrow - old friend?)

I am not going to try to figure out the guns. There must be a wide variety of options. Some only nonlethal, some lethal, some can do both. Rifles and handguns. Thomas thinks the stun gun engineering is impressive.

Transports: a tight fit for 7 students plus driver and gunner going to Oxford. Big enough for a full squad plus gear at the training ground (who drives there? who knows).

In war zones, Library teams carry very visible black and gold banners that can easily be folded up and stowed away.

Titles for top position include Garda Magnus, High Commander, Lord Commander.

High Garda compound is “very large, very complicated.” Includes bar with alcohol and various things to smoke, tattoo artists. Far enough from Ptolemy House to require a train or carriage ride. Secured gates with guardian statues. Sphinxes on patrol. Single barracks rooms for recruits. There is at least one watchtower. Training grounds include buildings and entire mock neighborhoods. Restricted area at the far western edge surrounded by a high stone wall, only one gate. Huge storage warehouses.

Contracts available: 5 year starting as sergeant, bracelet color not specified (silver? gold is permanent, isn’t it? So when does Glain get gold?); 1-year starting as private, copper bracelet

Relaxed attitude toward nudity, at least in the context of changing clothes and showering. At least in the field, showering and bathroom facilities seem to be gender neutral.

Some kind of rules exist restricting soldiers’ relationships: Jess and Glain both have concerns about rumors spreading that they’re sleeping together. Maybe officers can’t sleep with privates? Recruits in training aren’t supposed to date? There does not seem to be any restriction on soldiers and Scholars dating. Wolfe doesn’t think twice about asking to have the soldier he’s falling in love with permanently assigned to work with him.

Veterans call new recruits “Corpse Squads” but not to their faces.

Soldiers are expected not to ask questions about their missions

Squad size: in the training exercise, Jess, Glain, Tariq, Helva, two down, one in a store, three in a defensive position - ten total; also, in Smoke and Iron, there’s carrier space enough for 50ish, Santi assigns four squads to carriers, plus Wolfe and the kids

Squad names: Blue Dogs (Blue Squad), Green Squad, Harpies, Shadow Team, Mars One

Squads not kept together after training. Once in a company, squads do seem to stay together and develop team identity.

Company size: Santi’s has 500 soldiers total.

Support staff: armorers (in charge of supplies), Medicas

Ranks: private, sergeant, centurion, lieutenant, captain. There are multiple “top lieutenants” in Santi’s company.

“’No messages on missions.’ Jess should have known that.” Standard policy?

Promotions take time? Zara is only “acting captain” in Ash and Quill, weeks after Santi’s defection. Glain doesn’t expect her field promotion to lieutenant to stick.

Library rules have High Garda outranking Scholars in transit and combat, Scholars outrank High Garda otherwise.

Speculation and Headcanons:

@thegreatlibraryfangirl made the interesting suggestion that Jess’s observation of 80 soldiers in a “squad” might suggest that as in ancient Rome, a century is made up of 80 soldiers and 20 support staff. Some possibilities for handling support staff:

Integrated into each company, either in their own squads or as members of fighting squads. At least some, like Medicas, must be, they would need them on missions. A Medica might fit in with a squad specializing in rescue operations. Maybe a dedicated squad for building and fortifying camps? When stationed in Alexandria, company support staff get assigned to work with whatever servants are employed on base?

Outside the company, brought along on missions as needed, but not organized into squads or given ranks. Probably some like this for tasks that they usually don’t need people for outside the High Garda base?

Uniform variants: The standard black and gold is used for most duties: policing in Alexandria, walking into war zones to collect books, etc. Camouflage versions for more secretive operations. There must be a dress uniform. Probably black and gold with more ornamentation?

Usual weapons: handgun, rifle, combat knife. Handgun has stun and kill settings. Not everyone gets to carry Greek fire, maybe only specialists and high-ranking officers? Santi frequently seems to have it on hand, but Jess and Glain never do.

Company composition: 500 soldiers. 5 centuries. Each century has 10 squads, 50 squads total. Numbers of officers might vary a bit, but with lowest ranks possible, it would be 50 sergeants as the squad leaders, 5 centurions, two lieutenants, one captain. Santi’s company skews higher on the ranks, with at least a few squad leaders as lieutenants, so probably more centurions and sergeants as well.

Squad composition: Ten soldiers, at least one of them is an officer. Squad Leader position is designated based on rank and seniority.

Contemplating the abundance of lieutenants in Santi’s company. Some options (leaning toward the first myself):

Ranks are awarded based on multiple factors. Promotions automatically come with leadership positions, but soldiers may also be raised in rank for years of service or battlefield valor. Santi has lots of lieutenants around because his company is that good. Does Santi have squads of nothing but officers? Sure, why not. For all we know he has squads of all lieutenants.

Lieutenant is both a formal rank (2nd and 3rd in command of a company) and an informal term for someone in a leadership position. 

There are multiple levels of lieutenant. Something like the US Army having both Lieutenant and Lieutenant Colonel as ranks. One is the top in charge of the company with the captain level, the other is squad level?

Squads are usually kept together, but they may be shifted around for some missions, especially if the company is being split up. Squads develop team identity and get competitive with each other.

Some squads are specialized. On the combat side of things, some probably specialize in siege weaponry, stealth operations, and so on. There are also specialized support squads: Medica, equipment maintenance, etc.

New squads are named by colors (blue, green in canon). Some stick with that name and/or base their squad name on it (Blue Dogs). Others develop new names for themselves.

Tattoos: most soldiers get their company symbol tattooed on. Many squads get a squad symbol tattoo as well. Are there century symbols? If so, those make good tattoos too. When someone new joins a squad, the rest of the squad goes with them to get their tattoo and buys them drinks after.

Santi has a book and cobra on whichever arm the lion tattoo isn’t on. He also has a cobra coiled around somewhere - leg, forearm? He has a couple squad tattoos from different squads he’s been on.

Glain promptly gets the cobra and book and a blue dog tattoo post canon. She’d have gotten them already if there was time.

Wolfe has a cobra somewhere. Smaller than Santi’s?

Troll had the book and cobra and a very large blue dog.

All titles for the top position are valid. Lord Commander is the more formal option, used in official ceremonies. High Commander is more casual. Garda Magnus is an older title, rarely used. A commander’s preferences may impact which one they use more often.

[duchessofostergotlands]

Maybe I'm just really negative, but I was super surprised to see that the collection is only for sale for two weeks... it just seems so short for it to actually make the impact they want? But what do I know? 🤷‍♀️ love your blog btw, hope things are going well! Also, not sure if it matters: Reitmans is a Canadian clothing store/company that has a few subsidiary stores, one used to be Smart Set (I think those are closed now?).

Waaaaaaait a second, TWO WEEKS? Did I read that right? What a bunch of miserly jerks these companies are. It’s basically free advertising for them and all they have to do is give 1:1 (at cost not retail) for ONE ITEM each and they’re only going to do it for TWO WEEKS???? I hope it didn’t come off as if I was blaming Meghan or her strategy there! I was just trying to point out how stingy these companies are being (in my opinion). I hope it didn’t come off as if I was blaming Meghan or her strategy there! I was just trying to point out how stingy these companies are being (in my opinion) /// While I do think the Smart Set could be a bit better it seems to be a wonderful start! One thing though that I adore about Meghan is that she seems to be so excited about everything that she does and that excitement is definitely infectious!!! /// Something I really dislike is the type of garments. The dress is very flattering, but the pants have a high waste that in overweight people like me gives us the “crotch chub” effect lmao. Most of the clothes only look good on a certain type of woman. Add that to the limited sizes and 😬😬 /// So it looks like that shift dress comes in hot pink (it looks red to me?) but only blue and black dress purchases get donated to Smart Works? Weird. The Jigsaw jacket and pants they’re linking to are part of Jigsaw’s pre-existing Paris line of work wear. While the shift comes in extended sizes, I’m not impressed the jacket and pants only go up to a UK 16. And I’m interested in how the 1x1 will work. Idk it’s all weird // I’m honestly disappointed with the line. It’s a great cause but all the pieces were existing in at least one of the retailers, just re-done for the line, it’s only 5 pieces, sizes go up to 16UK (14US), they’re made in polyester and the campaign for smart works will only last 2 weeks? Idk it just spiralled into a “let’s make it look like we’re good” kind of line // I don’t know why but I thought each brand was launching a “look” for smart works, is it just one place has the shirt, another the trousers, a third the purse etc? // I really want to love Meghan’s idea, I really do. But I can’t.

Ok so I decided to combine all the messages I got about this in to one kind of master post. My plan is to go through what I liked and what I’m not too fond of. I don’t know which one should go first so I’ll put headings and you can read them in your preferred order haha. I should hopefully hit most of the points:

The Good

I talked about this before but I think Meghan’s really underrated skill is being able to spot gaps and understand where she can add value. Having worked with public donations, I related to a lot of the issues she pointed out and I think it’s very astute of her to be able to quickly pick that up for each organisation 

Once again, women of colour were front and centre. The women modelling in the campaign were representative, they had different body types and attitudes too. I think that commitment is really impressive

Although some things are in more limited sizes- I think one of the items anyway- most things go up to a Size 24 which is more inclusive 

I think we’ve already seen that there’s going to be a huge uptake in the clothing line so I expected that they’ll report a really big result

Her behaviour around the collection so far has been pretty adorable. From the behind the scenes videos to today, she has seemed genuinely excited and passionate. She’s obviously worked hard on the project and when you watch videos I think you want to back her up!! 

She’s doing what I have complained about royals not doing in the past. She is doing something with a tangible end result. They will be able to say they gave x pieces to the charity whereas most royal projects have no clear outcomes or outputs. It still doesn’t tell us the impact but it’s better than we normally get from royals!!! More of that please. 

The Less Good

I don’t like 1 for 1 models and that’s just an unavoidable fact. I’ve talked about it before and my opinion hasn’t changed since: https://duchessofostergotlands.tumblr.com/post/186776510814/hi-jess-you-said-you-didnt-like-the-one-for-one

I don’t like the clothes. I’m not going to go into a huge amount of detail because this is exclusively personal preference and nothing to do with the merits of the project but I know someone will ask so let’s get it out of the way. They’re too old for me personally. I do get why they went the basic route and re-used things though as it’s quicker and easier  

“It’s not a hand out, it’s a hand held.” I mean, it is still absolutely a hand out. I know what she was going for but the dictionary exists. And it’s still a project where vulnerable women are supported by the whims of the privileged. I am a bit concerned at some of the narrative emphasising the purchaser which plays in to what I talk about in point 1 

 The things she pointed out when she was at Smart Works were that donations “can be a potpourri of mismatched sizes and colours, not always the right stylistic choices or range of sizes.” Now I don’t know if her project actually addresses that issue. It provides high quality clothing but with a one for one model it means that whatever people are buying, that’s what the place gets. It isn’t saying “how many of each item of each size do you want and need to create a more cohesive wardrobe?” and then providing it to them. Something that’s interesting about relationships like this, as a Fundraiser who has managed similar relationships, is that a lot of times when they say “10p from every product will go towards x charity” that’s not true. We have a relationship like that with a corporate organisation and they tell us what they’re going to give us in advance based on projected sales. The money you pay doesn’t come anywhere near us. For smaller projects it might be different but that’s how we do it so we can budget and forecast. It’s possible that Meghan has actually done that but that leads me on to my last point….

The “Doesn’t Fit Into Either Category”

I have quite a few unanswered questions. I’m sure that some of these are answered and please do share links with me but I don’t know where I’m supposed to be going for the fine print, the terms and conditions. So:

I read in one article that proceeds would be going towards the charities rather than just products. Is this true? 

If it’s not true, where is the money from sales going?

Have they had an agreement like the one I mentioned above that guarantees a certain number and mix of items for the local branches and uses the 1 for 1 thing as more of a selling point?

If it is a 1 for 1 model, does that extend to colour choice and size?

Are each of the pieces being sold in a different store or is everything available in every outlet?

This isn’t Meghan’s fault, there’s no reason to think she knew about this, but it is so shady of M&S to put a pink version on that is exactly the same but doesn’t benefit the charity. After Meghan saying they put purpose before profits, that’s a dick move from them 

Overall

Meghan has clearly put a lot of heart and soul in this project and I think identified a real gap where she could have a meaningful contribution. I personally don’t think that a 1 for 1 model is the most effective way of meeting that gap and although there are plenty of positives I think the cook book was a more comprehensive project than this one 

[atinyidea]

A Promise To The Sea | Ateez | To Sea | One

TO SEA – ONE

→ note! story one is told in the pov of Wooyoung’s sister with occasional pov shifts to one of the boys but! CHANGED TO THIRD PERSON

→ note 2! parents names in the story are all made up!

→ 3.8k words.

→ ml | prologue | next

Birds fly overhead in a cloudless blue sky. She had always liked birds, free to fly where they pleased when they pleased. She aspired to be as free as a bird, unshackled by tiresome duties as a human being. Jung Jiwoo sighed, propping her head on the palm of the arm leant in her balcony. Being a free bird was all her head could wish for however, her heart had a different desire. Shaking her head to rid herself of the thought of her missing brother she was reminded of something her father used to tell the two of them.

“Birds are the symbol of freedom, are they not? Everyone believes that they are.” Jung Woosung spoke loud and clear. His back faced his children as the three walked through the gardens. He didn’t turn to face them as he continued, pointing to a small bird that had landed on a nearby branch.

As a young girl, Jiwoo simply adored her father, she listened to his every word with nothing but praise and curiosity. Her brother, on the other hand, never seemed to truly listen to your father. Jung Wooyoung’s eyes never focused on his face when he spoke instead, they looked distant like the mere tone of their father’s voice was sending him into a slumber.

“But that simply isn’t true.”

“How can everyone be in the wrong father?” Jiwoo asked, confusion washing over her thoughts.

“Because, little one, not everyone understands the plight of a bird; their downfall.” Her father paused. He kept his arm raised, finger still pointing at the small bird. She had stopped walking now. Wooyoung had yet to speak.

In the next second, the bird’s chirping ceased to sound out, a small silver knife punctured its breast as it itself ceased to exist. The only sound in the garden now was the sharp intake of breath from the brother and the small cry that left the sisters lips. Your father then, and only then, turned to face his children.

“Birds are weak. They have no purpose but to fly around, be caged and get killed.”

Then he walked away, leaving Jiwoo to sink to her knees as tears streamed down her face. She was six years old when she witnessed her father kill an innocent bird for a metaphor. Wooyoung had picked her up and let her cry into his shoulder, still not saying a word.

Jiwoo was ten years old when she witnessed her father kill a man and she was eleven when she witnessed her father make her brother kill a man for the first time. Wooyoung was only fourteen.

Jiwoo was fifteen when she witnessed her father kill an innocent child in the name of justice. That was when Wooyoung finally spoke up and informed her of how wicked a man their father was. He disappeared a few days after that.

She could hear the excitement of the people down in the city her house overlooked but she couldn’t bring herself to share their sentiments. One says house, but it would be a rather big understatement to say the least, for Jiwoo lived in a castle. She could never be a free bird. Jiwoo was caged by her duties as a princess.

Today was her brother’s birthday. The city always celebrated a royal’s birthday — whether they were missing or not. She could never find it within herself to join the festivities. The day marked Wooyoung’s twenty-third birthday, adding another year to his age and another number to the years he had been missing.

Five years.

She was starting to give up hope that her brother was even still alive. He wouldn’t really leave her alone with their father, would he?

Jiwoo retreated from her balcony, gently closing the glass doors so she couldn’t hear the people anymore. She walked slowly across the room, bare feet almost tracing the marble tiles of the floor. Her fingers traced the silks and fabrics of her bed and the garments laying on it. Her handmaiden, Hayoung, had laid out a grand dress for her earlier in the day - the cream fabric quilted with golden patterns, the corset with golden laces. Gold had been Jiwoo’s favourite colour and now, she felt sick just looking at it. She looked down at herself, standing in the middle of her bedroom in nothing but a man’s button-down shirt, the white cloth covering all of her frame. She wiggled her toes when her eyes caught sight of them, and a small smile was brought to her lips. She looked over her shoulder at one of the open wardrobes, staring at the set of trousers one leather and the other linen.

She let her eyes flicker between the trousers in the wardrobe and the dress on her bed, once, twice, before she made up her mind. She wasn’t going to let her father dictate her life anymore.

Her fingers brushed over the linen and the leather. Her heart was beating out of her chest. It wouldn’t be the first time she had worn them, they were specially tailored for her when she started horseback riding but, fear still struck her heart at the thought of her father hearing she had skipped out in the celebration of her brother’s birthday. Not that the bastard actually cared for a more than a second.

Jiwoo’s next thought was strange. The idea of running away and never coming back. She had played around with it for almost four years, after the death of her mother. Could she really become an orphan? Her father would never welcome her back into the castle.

No. She couldn’t live like this anymore. She was going to become the bird she’d always aspired to be. Jiwoo fisted the leather trousers before slipping them over her legs, linen was easier to fold.

She grabbed a pair of leather boots, not bothering with the linen socks Hayoung often implored her to wear. The leather slipped over her feet and she plopped them down on a nearby chair to lace them up properly. The leather wasn’t the firmest, but it meant it was easier to run in them. She folded the tops of the shoes down, fastening them around her calf with brass buttons. They weren’t the fanciest of shoe, but she was sure they were fancy for the port she was headed for.

She then grabbed the linen trousers and made a beeline across the room to where a bag made of firmer leather was hung over a door. A spare set of clothes was always needed. Jiwoo folded the trousers quietly, picking out two more shirts from the drawers to her left and packed them at the bottom of the bag. As she moved around the room her eyes caught sight of her dressing table, where jewels and pearls lay in strings. She grabbed the pearl necklaces and laid then in between a set of undergarments. They would be helpful in case of a money shortage. She was about to turn away when her hand brushed against another necklace. It was the royal family jewel. Her mother used to wear it every day and had gifted it to her in her will. She knew it was important to the throne. 

Which is why she took it too.

She set the bag down on her bed, searching her thoughts for anything else she may need. In the calm silence, she finally tucked her shirt into the leather around her waist, securing a thin belt through the loops: it would help with carrying things on her waist. She grabbed a few books, laying them on top of the clothing before closing the bag and sliding it over her head to lay on the opposite shoulder.

She didn’t have a jacket, nor did she have a hat. Figuring she’d just buy them on the way, she picked up a medium sized sack of coins as well as an empty smaller sack and attached it them the belt on her hip. Now all she needed was to get to her horse, Jax, without being spotted.

                               ✦❘༻༺❘✦

“Lady Jiwoo?” She heard a voice, freezing her in her stance as she was petting Jax. Turning slowly her eyes met the confused ones of the stable boy called Gunho. She wasn’t allowed to learn of the staff’s last names, courtesy of her father’s rules, but Gunho had once let it slip in conversation after Jiwoo had come home late in the night and decided it was better to head back to the castle in the morning than wake everyone up. Jeong Gunho was a good friend. She turned to him, a frown framing her features.

“I’ll be back before the celebrations, Gunho, I promise.” She pleaded, eyes flickering to the bag against her hip, conveniently hiding the sacks of coins.

“But you’ve got a bag packed?” His voice was light, one could hear the confusing lacing his soft tone. Jiwoo had never been a very good liar, but now she had to try.

“I’m just feeling restless right now, there’s nothing more than a couple of books and a few apples for Jax.” She smiled. It was small and broken and if Gunho noticed he refrained from commenting. So, she continued. “You know how father hates it when I leave the festivities early because I’m restless. I’ll be back soon. I promise-”

“Okay, Lady Jiwoo.” He cut off her ramblings. She nodded and gave him a stronger smile before mounting Jax. The horse had no saddle, she figured you would simply set him free once you reached Gilway Wharf. In her haste to leave, she hadn’t noticed that Gunho had now set his sights on the sacks in your hip.

“Gunho?” Jiwoo asked after a few seconds, looking down at him from her heightened stature.

“Yes, M’lady?” She almost frowned. She hated that he had to be polite and formal right now.

“Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”

Then she left and, somehow, Gunho knew she wasn’t going to come back.

While the day was good today, during the past week it had rained. The grounds were wet and as Jax cantered through the lanes she could both hear and feel the up-splash of mud. Jiwoo let a smile grace her lips as she urged him to start a gallop, the wind brushing through her long dark hair, blowing it behind her in a wave-like shadow. She was doing it.

It didn’t take long to reach the port town of Gilway Wharf, but Jiwoo knew Jax would be tired after all the galloping. The two of them slowed down to a slow trot before she stopped next to a market stall.

“What can I get you for, young lass.” The man behind the stall smiled. It was a kind smile, she knew that was the intention anyway, but the squint of his eyes and scared face threw her off a little.

“A couple of apples, please,” Jiwoo answered, reaching down to grab the three coins he asked for in return. She hadn’t been to Gilway Wharf very many times at all, any smaller town for that matter, so when she handed over three coins the reaction it warranted from the man startled her. His eyes had grown wide and he practically fell over his own feet. Jiwoo smiled as kindly as she could before moving on, not completely understanding his reaction.

When they reached a more secluded part of the town she dismounted from Jax, holding an apple in the flat of her palm and letting him eat. Once he had finished both apples she smiled fondly at the white-grey-speckled stallion. She petted him gently, letting her fingers brush through his mane. She wanted to remember how he felt before she set him free.

The town was bustling, busier than she remembered from the last time she had been here. Then again, she was seven and only passing through with her mother to send your father off on a journey and today was the birthday of a prince.

Jiwoo made her way down the main street before she stopped as a leather coat caught her attention. She walked slowly towards the shop, entering through the open doorway, door missing.

“Hello?” She spoke out tentatively, sticking her head around partition walls within the run-down shop. She wandered around more when she wasn’t answered, coming to stop before the coat that caught her eye. The leather was dark, darker than her trousers but not quite black. It was long and showed off two deep pockets, one either side around half way down. The collar was thin, but she found it quite stylish. She lifted a hand to run your fingers over the silver buttons that lined the bust of the jacket. Around the waist was a fastening, a flap covering another pocket on the right side.

“See something you like, my dear?”

Jiwoo jumped, startled, dropping her hand to turn on her heel to confront the person who scared her. It was an older woman, curling grey hair framed her face which was free of scars. Her skin looked worn, but it was smooth despite the wrinkles that lined her eyes and lips.

Jiwoo silently nodded.

Since the two women were in such close proximity Jiwoo’s eyes caught sight of the change in her own: from curious to delighted.

“Oh! Lovely!” The old woman exclaimed. “This coat’s the one I take it?”

Jiwoo nodded once again.

“I made it myself- quite a- many years ago.” The woman’s words struggled to come out of her mouth coherently as she stumbled over them like she couldn’t make up her mind what she wanted to say. Or that she forgot what she was saying. “Made it for someone special- yes you are special- just for you.” She grabbed the jacket with one hand and Jiwoo’s wrist with the other, pulling her further into the shop. Jiwoo could no longer hear her mumbles. “A princess wants a coat- a princess will get a coat.”

Once at the back of the shop she stopped abruptly, almost shoving the garment into Jiwoo’s hands. “Put it on!” She cried with a grin, “put it on! Let us see if it’s just right.” So, Jiwoo put it on. She slipped the coat over her arms and was pleasantly surprised that it fit the length of her arms perfectly. She fastened it at the waist and smoothed out the fabric. It was perfect. She looked up at the woman with a perplexed expression.

“It fits perfect.”

“I know”

Jiwoo didn’t want to ask why her tone sounded like she had made it specifically for her instead of a tone of amazement that it simply fit exactly.

“How much money do you require for it?”

“How much do you think it’s worth?” She asked. There was a second of silence before she began cackling. “That matters not, a handful of coins from that sack on your hip shall do the trick. Enjoy it, My Lady.”

                                                 ✦❘༻༺❘✦

A couple of hours later Jiwoo sat in a tavern. The table she sat at was more secluded than she intended but it was the closest one to the window, where she could see both the sea and the setting sun. Her jacket kept her warm every time the door was opened and the cool breezed wafted through the room. She had a tankard of what she assumed was Gilway’s finest alcohol, not that she had drunk much of it. The reason she came here was not to drink anyway.

Jiwoo had always been good at being quiet, to hear everything around her. She wanted to know which boats had just docked and which were about to leave. She wanted to know who would have a problem with a woman on board or if she would have to tie up your hair and pretend she was a man. She was about to put away her book – which she was only pretending to read – and leave when she overheard a conversation from a young man that just entered and the woman behind the bar. Jiwoo shifted her position, so she was facing them, head down and eyes still on the book she held as she flipped a page as if she had suddenly become uncomfortable and needed a small change.

“Getting ready to leave then?” The barmaid asked, preparing a drink for the man without being asked.

“Today, The Poseidon is all fixed and ready to depart again.” The man sounded like he was already drunk and loose-lipped. Or perhaps he just carefree. How Jiwoo craved she could be carefree.

“That was quick.”

“Indeed. Our carpenter is very quick.”

Jiwoo let her gaze raise to watch them then. The man was wearing a brimmed hat, hiding his face from her gaze but she could still make out the tuft of hair that escaped it. His hair was a light brown, or maybe a dusty blonde - Jiwoo couldn’t tell from this far away. She couldn’t tell if he even knew the barmaid - not that it mattered since he’d be leaving today.

“Couldn’t you stay a little longer?” The maid asked, pushing a glass towards him, resting her chest on her arms as she leant against the counter. That answered Jiwoo’s previous question - they must know each other to some extent.

“Sadly not.” He replied, taking a swig. “We have a journey to finish. My sister would skin me if we were late on our orders.” He spoke slowly like he was trying to convey a different message with the same words. Jiwoo’s attention was thoroughly grasped now, she had unconsciously lifted her head to face in their direction instead of just her eyes. His sister? A woman?

Before anything else could happen a drunken man slumped on the bar next to them lifted his head. His eyes widened and his voice was loud and slurred. “I recognise you!” He pointed, tried to point, a finger in the man’s face. “You’re that pirate! There’s a bounty on your head!” He had stood out of his chair, falling down once on his feet.

The man with the hat stood too, tilting his head to look at the drunk man yelling in his face. Now Jiwoo had a look at his face clearer, well what wasn’t still hidden under the brim of his hat. He was quite handsome with a small face and a defined jaw, hair around his neck that was longer than the rest.

“You might be mistaken, sir.” His tone was not kind, but it wasn’t particularly threatening. The tavern had become a hush of the same word. Pirate was all anyone could say. Jiwoo was shocked that she didn’t particularly care.

“I ain't! I’ve seen them eyes before! With my very own ones at that!” The man was wailing now. He grabbed the pistol from the gun strap around his gut and pointed it right at the man’s head. He didn’t flinch like one would expect most men to. Maybe one gets used to guns when you live on the seas as a pirate. He moved the gun at a surprising speed for a drunk man and moved the right sleeve of the man’s arm up with the barrel of the gun.

“You are a pirate!” He exclaimed. The man must be branded, Jiwoo thought.

As if everything wasn’t tense enough, another man burst through the door, panting and waving his arms around in a panic. “The princess is missing! The king has put out a kingdom-wide search!” He cried between breaths.

“What?!”

There was an uproar. Jiwoo didn’t think many people would care. She froze in your seat.

“First the Prince and now the Princess?” She heard someone shout. Without a word, she packed her book in her bag and stood to leave.

“What shall we look for?”

“Well, she’s got the long black hair they all had, don’t she?”

“Yes! and her horse is missing too! A white and grey stallion!”

“Well if we find the horse surely, she wouldn’t be too far.”

“I bet the King’s giving a reward too!”

Jiwoo left a single gold coin next to the practically full tankard of liquid and made a beeline for the door. She slipped out easily enough, but the streets were a different kind of mayhem. She paused in her steps for only a second before turning away and heading for the docks. She’d just slip on a random boat and plead ignorance if she was found.

Jiwoo hadn’t made it far before a hand wrapped around her upper arm, pulling her to a stop. She didn’t know what to do but all thoughts of fighting back disappeared when her gaze came to see the man named a pirate.

“You disappeared quite quickly there.” 

She didn’t answer him. Her eyes scanned his face, determined to remember his face so she knew to avoid it if she ever came into contact with him again. “You were also quite quiet when everyone became concerned over their princess.”

It took everything in Jiwoo not to flinch at the word hissed from his lips. “Why should I be concerned? It’s not like I’m going to find her.”

His laugh was shallow. He looked over his shoulder for a second, but Jiwoo’s eyes followed them nonetheless. Two more men stood behind him, she recognised then slightly, from the tavern, but she didn’t know they were with the pirate. One had artificial green hair, the colour changing under the sunset and the shadow. The other, the taller, had what she assumed was naturally dark brown hair, a singular braid twisted with metal hoops hung on the side of his face. That one looked somewhat familiar although she was sure she had never met them in her entire life.

“I think I just did.”

Jiwoo couldn’t stop the gasp that left her lips as her eyes snapped back to the man that held her.

“Well, now I know I did.”

Again, like a chain of events that could only get more unfortunate, they were cut off by a loud shout and a gunshot. Or three. Jiwoo couldn’t tell because she was encompassed in a great amount of pain.

“I’ll kill you! You… You pirate!” It was the drunk man from before. He had finally had the thought to use his gun. Sadly, for Jiwoo, he was still pissed drunk and one of the bullets had lodged itself into her knee cap. Another in her shoulder. There was another gunshot, where it came from Jiwoo couldn’t determine. She was in shock. Her head pounding as blood flowed from both her shoulder and knee on her left side. She stumbled, vision blurring. She had never been shot before - she didn’t think she liked it.

“Captain. We have to go. Pick the girl up! Let’s get out of here!”

Jiwoo had no recollection of what happened next.

[jovialyouthmusic]

Two’s Company, Three’s Allowed

Boundaries part two

Queen Lucy Valois Rys is legally married to King Brad Rys of Cordonia and his childhood friend, Drake Walker. How exactly does their relationship work?

This fanfic based on Choices The Royal Romance follows on from ‘Together, Apart. You can read it here; part one, part two,  part two a,  part three

Disclaimer - some of the characters and locations are the property of Pixelberry. I am just borrowing them for my own pleasure and hopefully others will enjoy it too.

Word count 2333

Not suitable for Under 18s

Please note that I do not have first hand experience of what Lucy and Brad are doing together - but I did some research...

The next day, Lucy got the limo to stop at the post office on the way to the Palace, and went inside to collect the parcel. The King had left the evening after he revealed the fantasy he wanted her to help him with, then summoned her for ‘urgent’ business’ in the morning. Drake was a little peeved, but wanted to stay behind as Lucy had predicted, to welcome the new foal when it arrived.

Brad had put his order in the morning before, and trusted that the parcel would arrive in time for her to pick up, which it had. She was of course recognised wherever she went, and the Queen suddenly turning up at a post office was newsworthy, so she wore a headscarf and dark glasses, even though the limo parked outside was a bit of a giveaway. Luckily the postmistress was too busy to pay her much attention and she got back to the car without incident.

She arrived at the Palace and was greeted by the staff, and ushered to Brad’s study for a private lunch. She had opened the parcel in the back of the limo and taken out the butt plug and some lube for him. She got up as he entered the room, and slipped the articles into his hand as she embraced him and kissed his cheek. He blushed a little as he drew away from her, putting her gift into his jacket pocket. She had made sure that they were alone and Brad had said that apart from someone bringing food, they were to have no interruptions.

‘Is this – what I think it is? He asked, and she nodded, grinning.

‘Maybe you’d like to try it on – I mean in for size’ she smirked ‘Then you won’t be trying to hide it from anyone’ He swallowed hard.

‘How about the other…’ he ran his finger round his collar, trying to loosen it a little ‘package, can you keep it secret?’ She nodded

‘It’s in my suitcase, which is locked, I have the only key, and I’ll put it in a safe place after we eat’ she replied. She gestured toward the bedroom, where the ensuite bathroom was. ‘Do you want any help?’ Brad shook his head

‘no, I umm – I’ll be okay, thanks’

‘There were two’ Lucy explained ‘That’s the smaller one. Use plenty of lube’

‘Keep your voice down’ he hissed, and she bit her cheek to stop herself from laughing out loud.

‘You’re so adorable and awkward’ she smiled ‘I love you so much’ He grinned nervously.

‘I – I’ll just pop to the bathroom’ he said, and disappeared. Lucy summoned the staff to bring in the lunch, and waved them away to set it out on the table by the window that opened onto the balcony outside. There was a tureen of hot soup, fresh bread, soft butter, salad and fresh fruit. It wasn’t long before Brad reappeared, a strange expression on his face. He sat gingerly and took a while shifting about until he was comfortable.

‘How is it? asked Lucy

‘it – it’s a little strange but pleasurable – if I can get comfortable. I’ll have to make sure I’ve got a nice soft seat for the meeting this afternoon.’ Lucy raised her eyebrows

‘You’ll leave it in for the meeting?’

‘If I can. I’m eager to follow it through’ He gave her a lust blown glance, and she felt heat between her thighs. She lifted the lid to the soup and served them both. They ate in silence, Lucy throwing glances at him from time to time.

‘Stop it’ he grinned ‘I’m perfectly fine’ She smiled and continued eating

‘So am I invited to the meeting?’ she asked ‘the message did say it was urgent’ Brad put down his spoon – he had eaten sparingly.

‘You know why the message said that’ he said ‘But you can if you like. You may need to cover for me if anything – goes wrong’ he coloured slightly. Lucy reached over and patted his hand.

‘I’m sure everything will be fine, but I’ll be there for you’ she smiled.

The meeting was reasonably uneventful, if made more interesting knowing that Brad was adjusting to his sex toy. She noticed him losing concentration from time to time and made sure to pull him out of it. He was eager to leave the meeting, and vanished into the bathroom before dinner – obviously to try the slightly larger buttplug. There was no time to talk before they sat down to eat in state with a few visiting members of the court and a diplomat from Monaco, and again Lucy kept a close eye on Brad. He ate little and again was distracted, but he was polite and attentive enough to make the diplomat feel as if he was welcome, and Lucy made sure to augment that by engaging him in conversation whenever Brad looked uncomfortable. At last the meal was over, and Brad rose, as did everyone else, as per protocol.

‘You must excuse me gentlemen, I am fatigued’ Brad said ‘Please feel free to gather in the library for drinks and cigars, I have a busy day tomorrow.’ He bowed slightly and the others followed suit. As they left the dining room, he loosened his collar and made his way as quickly as he could to the Royal suite, again leaving instructions that they were not to be disturbed unless there was an emergency.

‘Dear God’ he gasped, taking his tie off ‘I thought that would never end.’ He put his hand in the small of Lucy’s back and guided her along their private corridor to her room ‘I think we had better use your quarters for our - experiment.’ As soon as they had entered her room and closed the door, he pressed her against the wall and kissed her deeply, then dropped to his feet to kneel and look up at her urgently.

‘Lucy, I’m all yours. I am eager to go to the next stage’ She smiled and reached down to ruffle his hair.

‘Good, I did some research of my own in the limo. Go to the bathroom and wait until I call you – and you can undress for me while you’re there.’ Brad disappeared, and Lucy went to open her suitcase. She had a few extra items apart from the harness, and laid them out on the bed before undressing.

Brad stripped in the bathroom and eased out the buttplug to check that all was clean, then eased it back in again. It had been stimulating wearing it to the meeting, and it was not hiding it that had been the problem, but the tenting of his trousers. Before he had left the table he had made a supreme effort to think of the most unappealing and boring thing he could think of – which luckily was the very matter they had been discussing at the meeting, but as soon as he was back in their quarters he was rapidly hardening again.

His heart pounded with anticipation as he waited, and he wiped his sweaty palms on a towel when he heard Lucy calling him through. His knees very nearly gave way when he saw her standing wearing the strapon harness, along with stockings and suspender belt and a black and red bustier that thrust her breasts upwards and gave her a spectacular cleavage. The ensemble was completed by a pair of black stilettos that accentuated her long slender legs. He fell to his knees and crawled toward her.

‘Lucy, my goddess’ he croaked ‘You look spectacular. How am I so lucky?’ She gave a sly smile.

‘I like this role’ she said ‘It’s very powerful - I have the King on his knees’ she ruffled his hair again, then bent down on what seemed impossibly long legs to whisper in his ear ‘and I’m going to fuck you’ He shivered and hardened.

‘I’m all yours’ he croaked ‘What do you want me to do?’ A slow haughty smile crept across her lips as she straightened up, towering over him. He noticed the skimpy matching thong that she wore, which sent a delicious shudder through his body.

‘Get on the bed’ she said ‘Lie on your back’

‘Yes ma’am’ Brad said, and did as he was told. Lucy followed him, crawling on all fours onto the mattress, gently nudging his legs apart and straddling one of his thighs. She sat up and looked down at his arousal

‘Hmm, this is a real turn on for you, huh Brad’ she said, and he nodded vigorously

‘You have no idea. I do hope it’s at least pleasant for you’

‘It’s stimulating to be in a position of power’ she said ‘but I’m aware it comes with a certain amount of responsibility’ Brad grinned

‘Welcome to my life’ he said ‘and I’m giving that power and responsibility to you because I know you won’t misuse it’ Lucy leant over him and his breath hitched as he caught sight of her impressive cleavage, her hair falling over his chest. She lowered her hips and brushed her sex to his length.

‘Do you want this?’ she asked, and he groaned ‘You have to have this’ she sat up and stroked the strap on ‘before you can have me’ He nodded.

‘Whatever you say ma’am’ he said huskily. Lucy knelt between his thighs and lifted his knees up, examining the butt plug. She reached over to the bedside table where she had left the lube, and made a show of opening the tube and putting some on her palm before liberally coating the dildo strapped into the harness she wore. Brad watched with fascination and some trepidation, biting his lip and reaching up to the bars of the bedstead behind him to have something to hang on to.

Lucy gave him a slow smile, and reached down to the end of the buttplug, twisting it slightly. Brad groaned and gripped the bars.

‘What have we here?’ She murmured ‘It looks like you’re all ready for this bad boy’ she stroked the dildo and he gasped ‘Is that right, your Majesty? Do you want this?’ He nodded vigorously.

‘Yes ma’am’ he answered hoarsely, and she tugged gently on the buttplug. He hissed through his teeth. ‘If you want to stop’ she said before giving it another little tug ‘Just say ‘maroon’. Can you say that for me now?’ Brad nodded

‘Maroon’ he hissed, and braced himself. ‘Go on…’ Slowly Lucy twisted and pulled until the butt plug came out with a ‘plop’. Her eyes widened at the size, and put it carefully to the side before positioning herself ready to use the dildo, applying more lube around his anus. As she had pulled, Brad arched his back and cried out in a sound that was part pain, part pleasure. ‘Please’ he begged ‘Use it now, Lucy’

Lucy lined the dildo up and started to ease it in. Brad groaned, and she continued to push slowly in, checking that it was moving smoothly, the lube ready by her side. Brad shook and shuddered, gripping the bars at the head of the bed, and Lucy became a little concerned. She got a little more lube ready as she pulled slowly out. She applied it and slid back in, a little more smoothly. Brad’s length was hard and he writhed and groaned with pleasure as she set up a slow shallow rhythm, loving the look on his face and his reaction. She reached down and wrapped her fingers around his manhood, and he arched his back off the bed.

‘Oh god Lucy’ he shouted ‘don’t stop!’ as she stroked steadily but gently into him, she gripped his length firmly in synch, and it didn’t take long before she could see he was about to come.. She leaned forward over him, her soft breasts overflowing the bustier and  brushing his chest, and with a final arching of his back and a shout he came long and hard, a warm jet of semen shooting high up over his belly onto his chest and her clothes and breasts. Gently Lucy sat back up and withdrew carefully, unstrapping the harness and putting it to the side, resting it on a clean towel then detaching the dildo, padding out to the bathroom to wash it and the butt plug and fetch washcloths to clean the two of them down. Brad lay back breathing hard, eyes unfocussed gazing at the ceiling. She went back out to wash out the cloths, then returned to lie next to Brad. He curled his arm around her and pulled her close, kissing her forehead.

‘That was – incredible’ he murmured ‘Thankyou so much – I hope it wasn’t too unpleasant for you?’ Lucy laughed.

‘No, it was hot watching you, and I got some idea of what it’s like for you boys. I don’t know how you can maintain all that thrusting though, I’ll probably feel it tomorrow.’

‘Oh Lucy, I hadn’t thought of that my love, let me draw you a hot bath.’ He murmured. I’ll join you and return the favour – anything you like, my darling’

‘You can start by snuggling’ sighed Lucy ‘Right now I don’t want to move.’

‘Okay, but just for a short while.’ Brad conceded ‘A hot bath and a massage will help – you wait and see’

After the frantic, passionate and almost savage session they had, everything changed – it slowed and became tender and loving. Brad drew a deep hot bath and got in, Lucy following him to sit between his thighs while he gently washed her body and hair and massaged her shoulders. When they got out he laid her down on the bed and massaged her hips, thighs and lower back with scented oil. That soon changed to a slow sensuous exploration of her body with fingers and tongue, and she found her release once - twice – and they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

Tagging anyone who liked, reblogged or writes poly

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[ialwayscomewhenyoucall]

The Storm

ten x rose 

(~1.7k words, rated mature for allusions)

*

“G’night, Doctor.”

“Good night, Rose.”

Rose closes the door of the little bedroom and looks at the giant bed. Looks like it’s just you and me, she thinks. A tiny sigh escapes her lips.

Closing her eyes, she listens to the sea pounding on the shore just outside. They’re on the Maine coast, in the attic suite of a bed and breakfast. It’s August of 1962. They’ve been here for three days, sunning on the beach, eating lobster. The water isn’t warm but the air is hot, humid and heavy, so much so that the cool water is a relief. Their attic rooms are overly warm as well--not much air conditioning in 1962--but Rose refuses to leave to stay in the TARDIS. She loves the smell of the sea through the open french doors, even if the sun does fall across her eyes to wake her up in the morning. Even that’s not so bad; once she’s upright they have tea on the postage-stamp sized private balcony.

Rose crosses the few steps to the balcony to take one last look at the sea before crawling into the massive bed. The full moon and a smattering of stars cast a cool glow over the incoming waves. Several times during the day locals mentioned a storm on its way, but Rose doesn’t see anything. There’s not a cloud in the sky.

*

“G’night Doctor.”

“Good night, Rose.”

He smiles at her as the door closes between them, but as soon as it closes his face falls. He hates saying good night to her. She needs sleep, he can’t deny her human needs, and he can certainly find ways to amuse himself during the overnight hours. But he’s better in her presence. He dwells less in his mind and more in the world when he is with her.

It’s so faint he almost wonders if he imagines it, but he hears Rose sigh on her side of the door. He raises a fist to knock, to see if she is alright, but he lowers it again almost immediately. He doesn’t want to pry. They just said goodnight. She’s probably just homesick anyway. In the morning he’ll ask her if she wants to pop to London for a visit with Jackie sometime soon.

He wanders to the balcony doors to gaze out at the sea. He’s enjoying their time here, lazing on the beach with Rose. She blooms in the sun, as is proper. Looking out now, he realizes how beautiful the waves look in the moonlight. Tomorrow he’ll suggest a walk on the beach after dark. His lips quirk up in a smile as he pictures Rose with silver in her hair.

The air feels heavy with promise.

On second thought, maybe the moonlight stroll will have to wait an extra day, he thinks, cocking his head to listen to sounds no one else can hear. I think the locals were right about the storm.

But there’s nothing to do but wait. So he grabs the top book off the stack on the coffee table and stretches out on the sofa. After a few minutes he takes off his jacket, tosses it over the back of a nearby chair, and kicks off his trainers. He hopes the storm will bleed off some of this heat.

*

The crack of thunder is so loud Rose thinks the building may have split in two. After she comes fully awake, that is. Her first thoughts are more like What?! Doctor! Dark! Loud! Hot! ...although perhaps not in that particular order. But when she does manage to wake up and clear her brain her eyes still can’t make sense of what’s going on.

It is dark.

Completely dark.

Her eyes open wide, searching for any scrap of light, but there is none. The nightlight is gone, or not working. The lights on the beach have gone out. There is no moon, no stars. She can hear the waves, pounding fiercely on the sand, but she can’t see a thing.

Nothing.

There is another boom, and Rose shrieks.

“Rose!”

Just before the Doctor crashes into the bed Rose realizes that the latest noise is much smaller, and it is inside the room; it is, in fact the Doctor bursting into the bedroom. But since he doesn’t have any light either--she wastes a fraction of a second wondering why he’s not waving his sonic around--he runs headlong into the bed and is sprawled on top of her before she can even wonder what he’s doing there.

He’s laying on top of her. Her brain isn’t quite sure what to do with this information.

His entire body is pressed against hers, his face mere inches from hers. Maybe less. She can feel his breath on her cheek, can feel his hearts beating against hers, but she still can’t see a thing.

They seem to be stuck, frozen in time, but somehow it also feels like hours have passed. Logically she knows it’s only been two or three seconds, everything happening too fast to process. flick-flick-flick

“The locals were right about the storm,” the Doctor says, somewhat unnecessarily. “The power’s out.”

She resists the urge to ask if he’s sure.

“I didn’t mean to land on top of you.” His hand brushes against her arm, and she is suddenly very aware that while he seems to be fully dressed--he was probably reading before the power went out--she...isn’t. The attic rooms have been so hot and close that she went to bed in a tank top and her knickers.

“I couldn’t see,” he says, again stating the obvious. “It’s dark.”

You sound apologetic. Like being pressed up against me is bad. But you don’t go anywhere. It’s like everything between us, Doctor. Stuck. Going nowhere.

Rose shifts uncomfortably. She moves her hands to the Doctor’s chest, ready to push him away--

--but before she can apply even slight pressure there is a flash of lightning so bright it lights up the entire room, and what she sees puts all thoughts of pushing the Doctor away out of her head.

His voice had been calm, neutral.

Not so his face.

His face is a picture of longing so intense she almost forgets to breathe. The room darkens again, and thunder rattles the glass in the windows, and rain lashes at the walls and even blows into the room where she left the door open, but all she knows is his face, burned into her memory.

“Doctor?” she whispers.

“Rose,” he says, and with that one word he gives himself to her.

“Yes,” she breathes, although it is redundant, because her lips find his almost before the word is complete.

His mouth is soft, gentle, but becomes more insistent, almost frantic. His hand traces up her arm to tangle in her hair, and her skin alights under his touch. She had thought the room was warm before. Now she is on fire. Her hands still rest against his chest; she fists his shirt and pulls him closer, deepening the kiss. His other hand is under her tank top, thumb gently brushing the bare skin of her stomach. When did that happen?

It lasts a lifetime and no time at all.

Too soon he pulls away; their mingled breath is loud in their ears when he says, “I wish I could see you.”

“I can make that happen,” Rose says, her voice coy, “if you promise to kiss me again.”

“Honestly, Rose Tyler, until you tell me to, I’m not going to stop.”

Her belly flips at the desire and need in his voice.

I never, ever want to leave this bed, Rose thinks.

She wiggles a bit, trying to reach for something beside the bed, and he groans. “Rose…” It’s almost a warning. She giggles.

“Sorry. But you’re going to have to let me up, at least for a moment.”

“I’m firmly against this arrangement,” he grumbles, but dutifully rolls off her, flopping himself into the middle of the bed.

Rose rolls onto her stomach, aching at the lack of his weight on her; she gropes for the drawer of the bedside table and the objects she remembers the innkeeper showing her, “just in case, dear,” before plumping the pillows one last time and bustling out again. Her fingers close around them in the dark. She sits up, careful to push her hair back; there’s a scratch and a hiss and the room fills with a soft yellow glow as she puts the lit match to the candle in her lap.

Biting her lower lip, almost shy in the light, she says, “Will this do until the lights come up again?”

“Who needs lights?” he says, and his wink does nothing to mask his complete love for her. She wants to hide, the force of it is so strong, but she keeps her eyes locked on his. Steady. “This is perfect. Look at you, all golden. Although I do think we should probably close the door. I’m guessing there’s a puddle.”

The reality of the storm comes rushing back and Rose shrieks again, this time with laughter. They tumble out of bed, closing the door against the wind and rain, mopping up the water and, somewhat slyly on Rose’s part, managing to fling the wet towel onto the Doctor so he ends up having to lose the shirt. And the trousers. (She knows he would have anyway, but his yelp is completely worth it.)

Rose takes her Doctor’s hand and glances toward the bed, then realizes they are standing almost exactly how they were hours earlier, when they said good night.

“I hate saying good night to you,” she blurts. “Not saying good night, exactly, but saying the words and then closing a door between us.”

“Me too,” he says, tucking an errant lock of hair behind her ear. “I read and I tinker and I wander the TARDIS through endless nights, but for so long now all I’ve wanted is you.”

Wordlessly she steps into his embrace, tilting her face up to find his lips again. Once upon a time she met the Doctor, and it was like coming home. Loving him, and being loved in return, is finding her happily ever after, and realizing it’s not an end, but a beginning.

*

“G’night Doctor.”

“Good night, Rose.”

It is actually much closer to morning than night, but they are drifting off to sleep, limbs tangled together.

There is nothing between them but love.

**

for @doctorroseprompts 31 Days of Ficmas || day 4 - lights