#are you meant to chew oysters
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Solace in Solitude Ch 11
Emily Prentiss x reader
warnings: language, mentions of alcohol and tobacco, smut.
Welcome to the beginning of the time jump chapters. in my mind each ** means that it's been at least two weeks since the last bit.
“Do you ever stop working?” Emily’s voice rang through the apartment, jolting you out of your hyper fixation spiral of the day when you glanced up at her.
“Huh?”
“You look like you’re cramming for finals right now.” She swiped a pastry off the counter, dropping down into the chair perpendicular beside the couch as you glanced around the room, letting out a small, embarrassed laugh.
“Oh god.” You dropped your hand into your face for a moment while she chuckled, what had started out as some research to combat the boredom of the day ended up with a bit of an explosion, and Emily was right. You had multiple pages open on your laptop, tablet beside you with a medical journal open and a pile of notebooks and textbooks spread out on the couch and coffee table. “Sorry, I didn’t meant to turn the apartment into a dorm room.”
You began to flip closed some of the books you were no longer working, piling them up so you weren’t taking up so much of the shared space. Groaning when a handful of high lighters toppled from inside a notebook to the floor.
“Don’t worry about it.” Emily shrugged, leaning forward to scoop them back up, dropping them into an empty coffee mug on the table, “what’s got you so invested?”
“Boredom.” You replied with a huff of a laugh.
“Okay but when I’m bored on a day off I end up numbing my brain with stupid tv not pouring over case files or true crime. You should’ve gotten out of the house, take advantage before the weather turns to shit.”
“I’m not just bored on days off, that’s the problem.” You sighed, relaxing back into the couch as you started to stretch out your body, realizing just how stiff your muscles and joints were.
“A trauma surgeon who’s bored at work? Okay, we definitely have a problem.” Emily half teased from her chair and you rolled your eyes.
“I don’t get a lot of patients out here and honestly being on your feet for that long is tedious enough but when you aren’t really in it anymore, it’s even worse.”
“Looking for a career change?”
“No.” You laughed, “before I got shipped out here I was working on start ups for a couple of different trials and I’ve always been super passionate about those kind of things. The medical field is incredible already but there’s so much that we either don’t know or can’t execute properly and figuring those things out just makes my brain happy.”
“You were a really big science nerd in high school, hey?”
“Oh shut up.” You tossed a pad of post it’s at her with a laugh.
“The hospital have any programs like that here?”
“Not really.” Your nose scrunched, “that’s what the other half of the research was, finding a home base to set up. There’s one in Germany that has insane tech but the language barrier has been tough enough trying to get information, a handful across the UK and a couple in France but nothing here.”
“Are you looking for an out?” She asked, cocking a brow in your direction and you shrugged.
“No... I mean as far as I know I’m here ‘til you’re cleared, I just… wanna have a back up plan, ya know?”
“Yeah…” she nodded, tugging her lip into her mouth and chewing on it as her gaze drifted out the window. You watched her for a minute, the way her brow scrunched, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly as she began to get lost in thought.
“Are you gonna go back?” You asked, almost timidly, continuing to watch her and her head tilted when she registered your voice.
“Hmm?”
“To your team? Or like, DC in general. From what I’ve gathered the world is basically your oyster.”
“It’s complicated.” She replied, her eyes still latched on the afternoon sky, “they were my family and I felt more at home with them than any place before but I don’t know how things are going to go… or if that’ll ever be home again.”
“Mmm.”
“Does that make sense?” She asked, suddenly looking up to you and you nodded.
“Yeah. But hey, Federal Agent means federal, you could pick up a job anywhere in the country. You’ve got tons of options.”
“Yeah...” She smiled tightly over at you before standing from the chair, “I was thinking stir fry for dinner? Use the rest of that chicken?”
“Sounds great.”
**
Emily jumped when the apartment door slammed shut, looking up toward the door to see you dropping your bag to the floor, kicking off your shoes and tossing your coat in the direction of the closet before you instantly disappeared into your room. By the muffled yell it was safe to assume that you’d dropped face first into your pillows to let out a scream. She thought about leaving you be, but you had left the door completely wide open and maybe you needed to talk, or a smoke and she’d be lying if she hadn’t been jonesing for one.
So she put down her book and tentatively approached the door, a chuckle escaping her lips as she found you having not moved an inch, face buried in the pillows, flat on your stomach. You were still in your scrubs, which she had never seen, you almost always changed at the hospital. It didn’t take a profiler to figure out that you had wanted to get out of there and home as fast as you could.
“You okay in there?” She asked with a smirk, crossing her arms over her chest as she leant against the door frame.
“Uggghhhh!” Was the response you gave without moving a muscle.
“I’m sensing a little bit of anger here… I’m guessing this isn’t a lost patient kinda thing?”
“No.” You grumbled, rolling onto your side to prop yourself up on your elbow, “just the most terrible, impatient, demanding, nit picky bitch I have ever met.”
“What was she in for?”
“Lipo.”
“Seriously? Why were you working with her?”
“She needed a couple of incisions redone, her doctor was out today and the resident didn’t want to go near her. I figured after you no one could be that bad, but boy was I wrong…. No offence.”
Emily barked out a laugh, “none taken.” Her arms dropped to her side as she stepped into the room, “you seem pent up, I think I may know how to help.” With a smirk she crawled onto the bed, gripping your hip to flip you fully onto your back.
“Oh?” You raised a brow.
“Yeah.” She nodded, her fingers delicately undoing the tie on your scrub pants, “think of it as an apology for being your second worst patient.” You laughed softly, your breath hitching in your throat at the feeling of her fingertips on your skin as they snuck into the waistband of your pants, “relax…”
With a gentle smile Emily tugged down your pants, tossing them to the floor before her hands softly glided up your legs, thumbs rubbing relaxing circles as she went. She massaged lightly, continuing higher up your thighs as you let out a satisfied breath and your legs easily fell open for her. She tugged at your panties, nudging at you to lift your hips so she could rid you of them, tossing them over her shoulder before she settled on her stomach between your legs.
Her lips softly kissed up your inner thigh, breath just barely hot enough where you were already craving it before she repeated the action on the other side, her hands soothing across your skin as she went. You let out an impatient whine and she chuckled, choosing to nip at your inner thigh instead, resulting in a gasp leaving your lips. Not wanting to frustrate you further her tongue darted out, flattening and licking through your pussy. The gasp you let out this time was louder, a hand shooting downward to tangle into her hair as your hips rocked upward. She chuckled softly into your cunt, kissing it gently before she began to eat you out.
Pleasure almost immediately began to soar through you, there was no doubt Emily was skilled at this and it wouldn’t take her long to figure out exactly what it was that made you tick. Her tongue sank into you, coaxing out your arousal, letting it smear across your pussy and down her chin. She licked up again, flicking at your clit and you moaned, fingers tightening in her hair.
“Fuck…”
She repeated the motion, her tongue slowly dragging through you before circling around your pulsing nub, creating a steady rhythm as your hips began to rock up against her mouth. You could already feel your pussy fluttering around nothing, the sparks flying through your body relaxing it, making all the worries of the day completely melt away. Your eyes slowly shut, letting the moment take over as you practically melted into the mattress, little moans and whines escaping your lips as Emily continued to eat you with expertise.
“Oh God…” You groaned when her lips wrapped around your clit, sucking it into her mouth, “more…”
You could nearly feel the way her lips curved up into a grin against your body, her tongue dancing patterns across your pulsing clit. A hand snuck up between your legs, the tips of her fingers toying with your juices before sinking into your pussy.
“Yes!” You moaned, nails scratching at her head, your hips jolting up off the bed.
Emily’s fingers pumped in the same pattern that she sucked on your clit, sucking harder when she curled them perfectly to hit the sensitive spot inside your pulsing walls. It didn’t take very long before you let out a soft cry, your thighs clenching around her as your orgasm washed over you. You heard her laugh softly as her lips finally popped off you, her fingers gently fucking you through your orgasm. She pressed a light kiss right above your clit before her tongue cleaned you up, careful not to overstimulate you before she nipped at your thigh again.
“Feeling any better?”
“Much.” You replied with a relaxed sigh as Emily shifted between your legs, sitting up at the edge of the bed so she could toss your clothes back to you, “could probably still use a drink though.”
“Yeah? How ‘bout a smoke?” She raised a playful brow and you laughed.
“Why the fuck not?”
“I’ll pour the wine.” She swatted at your calf, “grab a sweater, balcony’s a little chilly.”
**
You were standing in the kitchen, laptop open in front of you as you chewed on your lip, scrolling through page after page of recipes. Every so often your movement would catch Emily’s gaze over the top of her book and she would watch as you pulled open the pantry, staring into it. You’d shuffle a couple of cans or bags around, pulling things to the front before letting out a huff and moving back to the laptop. Her eyes would flick up again when only a couple of minutes later you would repeat the process with the fridge this time.
“Didn’t you pick up groceries like two days ago?” She finally asked and you let out a huff, dropping onto your elbows on the counter.
“Yeah. But my sister called a couple of days ago, freaking out cause she couldn’t find mom’s stuffing recipe. I didn’t even realize Thanksgiving was this weekend and now I feel like I’m missing out.”
“You wanna make a dinner?” She asked and you snorted.
“For just two of us? We’d be eating leftovers til Christmas. Besides,” you glanced over your shoulder, “a turkey isn’t fitting in that oven.”
“It’s overrated.” She shrugged, placing her book down on her lap, “everyone knows the side dishes and dessert are the best part of the dinner.”
“Yeah.” You sighed, your chin coming to rest in your palm, “but without it, the stuffing’s always dryer than it should be.”
“Could use a chicken?”
“Nah. Not enough space for how much stuffing a person needs.” Your nose crinkled and she laughed.
“Your mom make one of those over the top gourmet kinds with apples, cranberries and shit?”
“Ew, no.” You laughed, “bread, spices and practically a pound butter, the way it should be.”
“Well,” she pushed off the couch, padding over to the kitchen where she pulled open the fridge and pantry, “let’s figure this out. What do we need to go pick up?”
“Bread, potatoes,” you ticked off on your fingers, “gravy mix if we’re not actually gonna cook any meat, carrots… maybe brussels sprouts? I don’t like green beans, but if you want them.” You glanced over to her and she shrugged.
“We were never big on Thanksgiving. Wasn’t that much of a priority, and by the time I was an adult I was always working.”
“You never did dinner?” Your brow scrunched.
“Oh there was dinner.” She laughed, “mother would never waste an opportunity to host or show off, but she wouldn’t have even raised a finger when it came to cooking. Most years I’d finish a small plate, ask to be excused and go hide in my room.”
“What? No board games, football?” You asked and Emily barked a laugh.
“I was the only kid. This wasn’t like, a family gathering thing, this was my parents coworkers and people to make connections and network with, it was a place for a kid to be seen and not heard. Until of course my Mother was insistent I share what I was thankful for.”
“Ugh, the worst part of the meal.”
“Yeah, let’s get back to the best parts.” She grabbed the pad of paper you usually used for grocery lists, sliding it across to you, “you do main course I’ll do dessert.”
“Sure, as long as by main you mean sides.” You teased and she laughed.
“Of course.” She tossed you a grin, “and Carter…you’re not roping me into any fucking football.”
“Please,” you mocked, “you’re not ready for combat sports right now and I don’t wanna have to fix your rib again. I will however absolutely destroy you in Scrabble.”
“You sure about that?” She smirked.
“English words only!”
**
Emily shivered, pulling the blankets tighter around her and tucking them up right under her chin as her eyes wandered to the window. The weather had taken a turn for the worst, thick fluffy flakes of snow drifting through the air and coating the city. She’d already swapped her regular pyjama shorts for a set of pants, pulled a sweater over her shirt and grabbed a pair of wool socks. She’d stolen one of the blankets from the couch and still couldn’t manage to get warm enough in order to fall asleep.
You were faintly aware of noise outside your bedroom door and you did your best to ignore it, curling tighter under the blankets to hold onto sleep. Instead you heard your door open then swing shut and felt the weight of someone on your bed and you let out a small grumble.
“It is fucking freezing!” Emily’s groggy voice broke the silence of your room and you gasped when she pulled up the blankets, letting in a blast of cold air, “shove over.”
“What the fuck...” You grumbled, moving backwards on your side on the bed as Emily dove in next to you, quickly fitting herself right next to your body.
Letting out a reluctant sigh you wrapped yourself around her, spooning her from behind as you knew there was no fighting it. She snuggled deeper into your arms as one of her hands adjusted the blankets and you realized she’d brought the blankets from her room too. Her hand grabbed at your wrist, pulling it around her body in an attempt to get more body heat and you nearly shrieked.
“Jesus you are frozen!”
“I wouldn’t be in your bed if I wasn’t.” She replied, burrowing into the pillow.
You held back an eye roll, letting your arm settle around her body, hugging her closer to you as you readjusted back to a comfortable position, your hand softly rubbing at her arm. As you settled against her your hand slid down her waist, wrapping around the hip she had against the bed, making sure she was snug to you before it rested there, just barely sneaking under the hem of her shirt. Your fingers moved absentmindedly, drawing what you thought were soothing patterns on her skin, movement that would lull her to sleep. Instead Emily let out a soft sigh, her back beginning to arch into the touch as her ass pushed backward into you and you couldn’t help but let out a dark chuckle.
“You know..” you murmured, your lips nearly brushing the shell of her ear, “I’ve got an idea that may just warm you up, even relax you to sleep.”
“Is that so?” She asked and you just knew her eyebrow was raised.
“Mmhmm.” You nipped at her neck and her breath caught in her throat.
“Whatever you’ve got in mind, go for it.”
Your hand easily slipped into the waist band of her pants, sneaking down until your finger tips found her clit, starting to lazily rub it until she was letting out breathy moans, her hips gently rocking in time with your hand. Even with you barely touching her she could already feel the heat beginning to spark through her body, each brush of your hands on her skin warming her up, her pussy tingling, sending different kinds of shivers through her.
“That’s it…” you murmured, lips kissing at her neck as you coaxed her to keep rolling her hips and she let out a moan.
“More…”
A small laugh escaped your lips, nipping at her earlobe as your hand sunk further between her legs, fingers swiping through her folds before they sank into her pussy, earning a gasp from her. Emily tossed her top leg over yours to spread herself open for you and you took full advantage. The heel of your hand continued to grind against her clit while you fingered her, thrusting faster and harder than you had been before. She was already squirming in your arms, little whines breaking free from her lips, ones that turned into moans as your other arm wound around her so you could start to play with her tits through her shirt.
“Oh god…” she groaned, hips grinding down against your hand, practically begging you to never stop.
Your fingers curled inside her, hitting that sweet spot right as you pinched at her nipple and she gasped, her body jolting in your grasp. Your lips formed a smirk against her skin, continuing your motions, beginning to suck on her neck as your fingers thrusted in and out of her dripping pussy. Not wanting to leave her hanging your thumb shifted, starting to rub at her clit in time with your thrusts and she let out a louder moan.
“Fuck!” She muttered through gritted teeth, “oh god, don’t stop. I’m gonna come.”
Her hips continued to grind down on your hand, her pussy fluttering around your fingers as you curled them a few times more, your hands toying with her body in just the way she needed it. It didn’t take much longer before she reached her peak, shaking in your arms, whimpers leaving her lips. Your hand slipped out of her pants, settling against her abdomen again as you felt her fully relax into your embrace.
“Christ…”
You certainly had warmed her up, a sheen of sweat coating her skin under all the fabric that brought warmth to the both of you. She was fast asleep minutes later, finally content with the temperature in the room and you weren’t far behind her.
_____________
@mickey-gomez @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @leftoverenvy @dextur @supercriminalbean @daffodil-heart @its-soph-xx @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @peanutbutterprincess @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @scorpsik @happenstnces @sapphicprentiss @geekyandgay98 @pagetboobstarcomments @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @desperate-gay @amypoehlfey @overtrred28 @regalmilfs4me @ara-a-bird @five-bi-five-mind @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @hotchs-bitch @ollysmulti @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @romanoffsho @ratsnestinmyhair @assgardangod @originalbrunettecharacter @hopedoesntknow @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex@imlike-so-gaydude @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx @lesbodietco @momily
#emily prentiss#emily prentiss x reader#criminal minds#solace in solitude#emily prentiss x you#emily prentiss x female reader
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octonewton 👀 wywutmsequel 👀👀
octonewton is a Pacific Rim fanfic in which Newton is a merperson, but with an octopus lower half instead of a fish. He saves Hermann after a fall on the beach and romance ensues. I unfortunately never got farther than the little flashback scene at the beginning in which Hermann and Newt briefly meet as children. Here's a snippet:
He bends down to examine the pearly underside of a mussel shell. When he straightens, there is a boy in the water, waist-deep.
The boy smiles at him and waves. He doesn’t look any older than Hermann. “Hi!” He calls out. “What’s your name?”
“Hermann,” the boy on shore answers automatically. He doesn’t think to ask the same question.
The boy smiles wider. “That’s a funny name. I like it. Are you collecting shells?”
Hermann looks at his little bucket and hugs it to himself protectively. He has to share nearly everything with his brother, and the shells are his alone. But the boy is far away, and it isn’t nice to lie, so Hermann finally nods. Yes, he is.
“What’s your favorite kind?” the boy in the water asks.
Hermann loosens his grip on the bucket slightly. “Sea snail.”
“They don’t taste as good as oysters,” the boy in the water says.
Hermann wrinkles his nose. “I don’t want to eat them, I just like the shells. They follow the golden ratio. That makes them prettier than oysters.”
Even from the shore, Hermann can see the boy roll his eyes. “Well, oysters are cooler because they look like rocks but they’re alive.”
“What’s so cool about a rock?” Hermann demands, but the boy just sticks out his tongue.
Then he dives under the water and disappears.
Hermann frowns to himself and listlessly sorts through his shells. He didn’t mean to pick a fight with the other boy, and now he wishes that he hadn’t.
wywutmsequel is the sequel to When You Wish Upon the Moon, a sequel that I have been plotting for ages and writing draft after draft and throwing each one away. I don't know what my problem is, probably I have put too much expectations on myself. Anyway, here's a snippet that is just as likely to be thrown out as every other iteration I have written, so don't get too attached:
They had been wandering the Gettysburg Battlefield, a site purportedly haunted by its many fallen soldiers. Pitch loved visiting “spooky” places and watching the humans make fools of themselves trying to get proof of ghosts with their phones and cameras. Sometimes Pitch would give a paranormal enthusiast a jolt of fear, and Sandy never protested because they were adults, not children, and it was admittedly a little funny to watch someone jump in the air and scream.
But on this particular night, Pitch had been more pensive than mischievous, his gaze wandering over the monuments, shadows trailing behind him. He paused to look over a statue of a man on horseback, his wide brow creasing in thought. “Sandy… when you were a star pilot… did you ever meet him? The General?”
Sandy blinked and read the monument’s plaque in confusion. <i>Winfield Scott Hancock?</i>
“No,” Pitch hissed, before recomposing himself. “No, I meant me. Him.” He looked away, as if embarrassed. “Kozmotis Pitchiner.”
Oh! <i>Only once</i>, Sandy replied quickly, turning his attention to Pitch. <i>I was a cadet out on patrol when I spotted a large fearling. I tried to take it down but it was too big for my ship and likely would have destroyed me if it weren’t for General Pitchiner. He swooped in and saved the day.</i> Sandy gave a little smile at the memory before adding sheepishly, <i>He chewed me out afterwards for being reckless and taking on more than I could handle.</i>
Pitch snorted. “Sounds familiar,” he murmured, half to himself, but his smile didn’t quite meet his eyes.
<i>He also told me that I had some of the best moves he’d ever seen for such a young star pilot. I was so starstruck that I could barely thank him afterwards. We helped one another out a few times over the years in battle, but that was the only time he ever spoke to me.”
“I see…” Pitch turned away, as if disappointed, and added acerbically, “Must have been devastating to lose such a heroic figure…”
Sandy floated up so that Pitch could see his sand writing. <i>It was. But as much as I admired him, I didn’t know him. He wasn’t my friend.</i>
Something warm and vulnerable flickered in those tarnished silver eyes before something past Sandy’s shoulder caught the dark spirit’s attention. “I can’t believe it. That idiot over there brought a <i>ouija board</i>.” Pitch’s mouth curved up into a nasty grin. “A moment, Sandy, while I give him a little lesson in spirit etiquette.”
And that was that. Pitch never brought up the General again.
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🍄 🥀 for minovae!
Thanks for the ask!
🍄 What are your OCs favourite snacks? Their favourite comfort food which always cheers them up when they’re down? Favourite meal to make? Do they enjoy baking and cooking and are they any good in the kitchen?
I mentioned this recently, but one of Mino's very ganzi-like traits is she cannot stand bland food. When she wants a particular flavor, she wants it ALL the way. Salty foods must be SALTY. Sweet foods must be SWEET. So on and so on. She mostly prefers really bitter sweet foods and really spicy sweet foods, stuff in that line. She's not a big snacker because she's often busy, but her go to snack would be extremely salty fish jerky. Something not messy, easily portable, something she can chew on while she's thinking. Her favorite indulgent snack would be chocolate covered coffee beans which are hard to find in Mendev, but I feel someone would be able to find them for her and they wind up in her belongings some way or another.
Her favorite comfort food is whole fried softshell crabs with fresh lemon and lots of spices in the breading. Growing up poor in Westcrown meant eating a lot of 'peasant' food the nobility wouldn't touch, so worst catch of the day and ugly shellfish/seafood, fried and cheaply breaded to make it more palatable. She has cravings for it all the time. Really cheap whole fried oysters and mussels are also among her favorites, drowning in spicy sauce and grease.
As for cooking, I headcanon that all Hellknights sent to wilderness missions are issued basic survival and cooking manuals. Morale is important and subsisting off hardtack, while necessary in horrible situations, is also a morale killer. Really she is capable of what I call "dad cooking." Give her basic ingredients and some basic spices and she can make a hearty meal that's nothing fancy but delicious. Fried eggs with a bunch of paprika and pepper and salt. Thick, salty stews. Whole roasted fish encrusted in rock salt and a bunch of spices. Pancakes! That's one she's kind of proud of, is big dense pancakes haha.
When she becomes a mom I do imagine she learns a little bit more about cooking. Devotes a little more attention to it.
🥀 How would your OC decorate a notebook or journal? What kind of things are written in there? Could you give an example of a nice entry?
Mino does journal! Or did, at least. Her journals were filled with lyrics to songs and impromptu sheet music in the margins or in the back (working backward to the front), but this became rarer the longer she was removed from her previous life as a bard and joined the Hellknights. Her final journal before her capture and death when Areelu gets her hands on her for experimentation (Second Crusade) has very, very tragic and heartbroken rambling lines along the last few pages she managed to fill. The desperation of a broken woman.
"For in another life where I am yours and you are mine
I think I would even believe in lords above,
Those wings those halos, what azatas sing for
All that others call divine is unworthy in my eyes
For such a word is for yours and mine, the idea of us entwined
Because what is Heaven and Elysium without us there
But a mockery of paradise, sacrosanct made profane
Beauty turned twisted, turned horror, torture for me and mine
For that's a world, a life only in dreams
Far from this waking nightmare, truth unto reality
This bedroll the Abyss, this tent Hell
Only big enough for me and mine."
After the Crusade and Worldwound, she kind of scribbles down whatever comes to her, not really caring if it's "good" or "bad", just finding peace and joy in the act of creating because she has that luxury now. Very sappy romantic stuff is her go to, and it still takes her a long time to actually sing, so it's more like the idea of a song with lyrics rather than the real thing.
#silversirenwrites#oc: minovae arangeir#Mino is a talented singer and performer but not necessarily a creator if that makes sense#she can repeat things and put embellishments on things#she finds joy in the act of creation though - especially sheet music
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Flawless (10)
Con Artist AU. masterlist.
This ending of this chapter has existed since the very beginning. To those of you who have stuck around to read it: thank you and I love you.
The painting mentioned in this chapter— “Woman-Ochre” by Willem de Kooning—is a real painting that had an exhibition dedicated to it in the Getty this summer. The story I tell about it is true; it was stolen from the U of A Museum of Art in 1985 and was recovered in 2017. The rest, of course, is fictional.
*****
“Let’s do a job,” Riley announced over lunch, causing Leanna to choke on an oyster.
They were at a Santa Monica seafood restaurant that overlooked the ocean and, since they’re both rich and could easily afford it, had gone all out on today’s lunch. They ordered a trio of appetizers—oysters on the half-shell, miniature uni tacos, and an off-menu surprise selected by the chef (an ex of Cage’s that the Five Eyes remained on good terms with)—and split a plate of caviar nachos. The tiny patio was packed with customers dressed in L.A. finery: well-made clothes that were a mix of trendy and timeless, paired with Rainbow flip flops and dark sunglasses.
Things between her and Leanna had officially returned to as normal and not-weird as they were going to get, so all that was left was to entice Leanna to come back to the fun side. Leaning forward, Riley conspiratorially whispered, “Tonight.”
Dropping the empty oyster shell onto her plate, Leanna hissed, “Are you crazy?” Her eyes widened and her head cocked slightly to the left—an expression that, after a decade of being on the receiving end of it, no longer fazed Riley. However, that didn’t make her judgmental stare any less annoying.
“Stop looking at me like that. And also stop worrying. I already have the whole thing planned out.” She tossed back an oyster.
Leanna muttered something that sounded like, “Good for you.”
The job came to Riley, quite literally, in a dream. After hearing on the news last night that a da Vinci sketch had been stolen from the Getty Museum, Riley reached out to a few of her old contacts—contacts she met through Nikki—to see if they knew which of LA’s lowlifes pulled off the job.
They did.
Unfortunately for her, Riley happened to be well acquainted with this particular group of lowlifes, on both a professional and personal level, although she hadn’t spoken to any of them in years. And for good reason.
The Getty job was pulled off by none other than the Coltons, a notorious take-no-shit crime family and Riley’s ex- potential in-laws.
The only positive was that thanks to Mama Colton’s desperate attempt to recruit Riley to the family business, she knew exactly how they operated. Which meant she also knew how to con them into screwing up their own con. Riley left that part out of her explanation, but Leanna likely knew her train of thought anyway.
“Ri, this isn’t a good idea.” Leanna chewed her lower lip—a nervous habit she broke years ago but had apparently returned. Her eyes flicked to each of the nearby tables, checking for eavesdroppers, but no one paid them any mind. Riley had already checked.
Despite Leanna’s doubt, Riley refused to be deterred. “Sure it is. Listen. It’ll be easy. All we have to do is—” Leanna cut her off before she could explain her plan.
“I’m not participating in this.”
“Sure you are.”
A measured sip of water. “How many times do I have to tell you? I’m done with that life.”
Disbelieving, Riley’s voice fell to a near whisper as she said, “But you came back.”
“I came back for my friend. Not to be a criminal again.”
“Sorry to inform you, your friend is a criminal,” Riley spat. She’d had enough of Leanna’s new holier-than-thou attitude. She was no less of a criminal than Riley. The only difference was that one of them had a rap sheet and the other a government paycheck.
Leanna covered Riley’s hands with her own, and Riley stiffened. “You don’t have to be. You can leave, just like I did. Get a real job with a steady paycheck. Have health insurance and a retirement fund.”
“I don’t need a retirement fund.” She didn’t bother to hide the bitterness in her voice.
Rolling her eyes, Leanna pressed, “It’s about the principle of it all.” She squeezed Riley’s hands. “Let go, Ri.”
Riley pulled away, folding her hands in her lap. “I can’t.”
“Why.” It came out as more of a demand than a question. Leanna slurped down another oyster, her endlessly calm demeanor only pissing Riley off more.
“I like what I do. I like living on this side of the law.”
Leanna scoffed, “You’re an adrenaline junkie who likes attempting impossible things just to see if you can pull them off.”
“And I can,” Riley said, gritting her teeth.
“You got lucky.”
“Last I checked, you’ve spent years benefitting from that luck.” When Leanna didn’t rise to the bait, Riley muttered, “Whatever.”
Where did Leanna get off thinking she had any right to judge her? Her best friend of eleven years was no better than her, despite Leanna’s newfound superiority complex proclaiming otherwise.
Just growing pains, Riley thought. We’ll get through this.
But a petty argument wouldn’t sway Leanna. It never had, nor would it now. She would have to be strategic to convince Leanna to give up her 9 to 5. Riley resumed eating, pretending she didn’t feel like their friendship was fraying at the seams, and said, “Well, the offer stands if you change your mind.”
“I won’t.”
Riley let her have the last word, biting her tongue hard enough that it bled.
*****
Perched on top of a hill overlooking West L.A., the Getty Museum was a haven for tourists and locals alike—at least those willing to brave the 405 in order to get there. Since it was technically autumn—although it still felt like summer—the gardens were in a sad, but natural stage of half-brown, and smoke from a distant wildfire plumed on the horizon. It was far enough away that Riley wouldn’t have to worry about evacuating.
Fires burning in the distance always led to fires burning at home. The stress of waiting for everything to go up in flames was a breeding ground for strife.
Living in L.A. her whole life, the scent of wildfire smoke in the air set Riley on edge. It was a slow kind of anxiety—always waiting for the other shoe to drop, prepared for the worst-case scenario to become reality. She’d only been at risk of losing her home once, as a child, but after her fair share of evacuations, even the slightest risk brought her childhood fear back to the surface.
She ducked into the museum quickly, not lingering in the gardens like she usually would, and the filtered air was a sweet relief.
To avoid suspicion, Riley planned on doing a lap of at least two wings of the museum, one of which would include the scene of the crime.
Ironically, one of the exhibits she passed featured a painting called “Woman-Ochre” that had been recently recovered after its theft in 1985. According to the plaque, it had been cut out of its frame; a man cut it out while a woman distracted museum security. Nikki probably knew more about it, including the identities of the thieves.
The rest of the exhibit detailed the restoration process, which Riley didn’t care about. Instead, she studied the painting itself to figure out what made this one theft-worthy. Depicting a woman’s torso, it was mostly abstract except for the boobs, which were perfectly clear. Riley rolled her eyes and continued walking.
She wound her way through the halls until she reached the area blocked-off with police tape, an empty space on the wall.
She thought about sandpipers and the risks she was willing to take for a reward. After two years of being clean, it was no wonder Leanna’s threshold of acceptable risk was so much lower than before. It was no wonder she hesitated. But for Riley. . . those two years only made her risk tolerance higher, not lower.
Automatically, Riley’s brain mapped the museum, cataloging potential ways in and out until she determined the most probable path the Coltons took to steal the sketch unseen. The LAPD had no leads on the thief, but Riley knew the Coltons’ style, and an immaculate job such as this was one only an elite few could pull off—a group that included both the Coltons and, until recently, the Five Eyes.
Maybe Leanna had a point, but at the end of the day, this was Riley’s life. She couldn’t just give it up. She didn’t know anything else.
She might’ve once, back when her teenage self discovered the power in hacking. She was good too, but all her attempts to get a job that would actually challenge her skills were ruined by doubting, sexist interviewers who saw a beautiful young woman and decided there was no way that face matched her resume.
Her friends at the time—Kai and Peyton, also hackers—diverged; privileged Peyton landed a nice job with assistance from a little nepotism, and Kai broke the trio’s promise of being “the good guys” and became a black hat hacker.
It was Riley who tried the longest, who kept applying to job after job, went to interview after interview, all with the same result: No.
Not to say that was all for nothing, because it was walking home from yet another failed interview that Riley met Nikki.
She stopped applying for jobs after that.
Entering Nikki’s favorite wing, Riley continued to wander, fantasizing about how good it would feel when Billy Colton realized she ruined his perfect job.
*****
She texted Leanna. Offer: meet me at this address in an hour. We’ll intercept the Coltons before they can finish the job
Leanna replied immediately. Counteroffer: Meet me at your apartment in an hour, and I’ll help you get back on the right side of the law.
Riley didn’t respond. Leanna would come around eventually. She was sure of it.
*****
Nails drumming across glossy red paint, Riley sat on the sun-warmed hood of the truck, leaning back against the windshield, and waited. The truck was sleek. New. Well, it probably had thirty thousand miles on it by now, but the Coltons bought it to replace their previous gas guzzler right after she’d broken up with Billy, right before she’d gone to prison.
The point was that Riley had never ridden in it, and thus it was new to her.
It was parked in an average suburban parking lot, part of an average suburban strip mall which housed an average suburban bank. It was one of the national chains, with locations in cities big and small. Riley kept her money in a better one, but she could see the appeal for a family who never stayed too long in one place.
When they weren’t thieving, however, the Coltons ran an art forging business out of their backwoods diner. While the diner certainly wasn’t as lucrative as their dealings in the art world, it had a most loyal customer base.
There was a time when Riley was one of them.
Now, however, she’d like nothing more than to take a chunk out of the Coltons’ profits, rather than contribute.
Oversized purse slung over her shoulder, none other than Mama Colton herself exited the bank, her daughter Jesse in tow. Upon spotting Riley, her immaculate red manicure vanished as she momentarily clenched her fist around her purse strap. Good. That meant Riley caught her off-guard.
Riley’s lips curved into a satisfied smirk. “Nice to see you again, Mama.”
“Can’t say I share that sentiment,” Mama replied. Behind her, Jesse slowly reached for the gun Riley knew she had concealed beneath her leather jacket. She wouldn’t shoot—or even take aim—without an order from Mama. And while Mama likely still hated Riley, murder wasn’t her style. Riley was perfectly safe.
Mama and Jesse walked all the way to the front of their truck, but Riley didn’t budge from her perch on the hood. Instead, her sneer only grew.
“I’ve always wanted to do a job at the Getty,” Riley drawled, “but all that driving on the 405 never seems worth it.”
“Funny,” Jesse replied, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Please.” Riley hopped down from the hood. The metal was starting to burn her skin through her black jeans. “I just came to see if you still stash stolen art beneath the backseat. A horrible idea, really. Anyone could break in and steal it. You wouldn’t want that, now would you?”
But Mama didn’t balk at her thinly veiled threat. Worse, she laughed.
“Bless your heart for looking out for us, but there’s nothing to worry about. The boys already fenced it.” Mama had a poker face that could fool God, but the victorious gleam in Jesse’s eyes made Riley inclined to believe Mama’s claim.
Riley was too late.
“Now,” Mama continued, “you best be running along. You’ve already screwed over one of my children, and there will be consequences if you come after my family again. Now kindly get away from my truck.”
For the record, what happened between Riley and Billy was not her fault.
Mama walked past Riley like she wasn’t even there, but Jesse shoulder-checked her—she learned that from her older brothers—and held up a middle finger behind her back. Mama couldn’t see the gesture, but Riley couldn’t miss it, and for a few horrible seconds she was right back in prison. Standing in the cafeteria, standing in the yard. Before she knew better. That move was the precursor to a beating, and she knew damn well that Jesse could brawl with the best and win.
Once, there was a time when Riley was beloved by the Coltons, instead of hated. Once, she found herself as the lynchpin in some of the family’s most ambitious jobs. Once, Jesse even worshiped her as the older sister she’d always wanted.
But breakups were between more than just the couple in question, and no matter the truth of the situation, family would always side with family, which means Billy would always have their full support and Riley would always be the villain of that story.
Just another example of people who swore they cared, and then left.
Riley watched them drive off, alone and empty-handed.
*****
She was thirty minutes late meeting Leanna back at her apartment. The key was barely out of the lock and she could already tell Leanna was pissed. She sat on one of the barstools, arms crossed and glaring hard enough to put a hole through Riley’s chest.
“You’re late,” Leanna snapped. The old Leanna did appreciate punctuality. Riley supposed the scolding was warranted. Sort of.
“Hello to you too.” Riley dropped her keys on the counter. Poured herself a drink of water.
For a moment, the only sound was the clinking of the ice in her glass.
“You went after the Coltons, didn’t you.” It wasn’t a question.
Refusing to give her the instant satisfaction of being right, Riley opened the fridge in search of a snack. She did a double take. Leanna had reorganized the whole thing, throwing out old leftovers and labeling everything else. It was immaculate. Nothing was where Riley had put it. Bristling, Riley challenged, “So what if I did?”
“It was a bust, wasn’t it?”
Damn her, for knowing. For figuring it out. Damn her. Damn her. Damn her.
“Who was there?”
Rapidly losing her appetite, Riley closed the fridge without taking anything out. She answered, “Mama and Jesse.”
“Describe their body language.”
“Jesse looked entirely too pleased with herself, but that’s normal for her.”
“And Mama?”
“If Mama Colton lied, we’d never know. She’s too good. You said so yourself years ago.”
Leanna persisted anyway. “That was before I became a trained interrogator for the CIA. Now tell me exactly what she did. No detail is too small.”
The reminder of Leanna’s new job stung. Especially after Riley had done such a good job not thinking about it. But even she had to admit Leanna’s new skills could come in handy.
Closing her eyes, Riley replayed her exchange with the Coltons. “She was holding her purse with one hand. Relaxed posture. She put her free hand in her pocket when she was done speaking.”
“She lied.”
“What?” Riley’s eyes snapped open. “How the hell do you know?”
“The oddly-timed gesture,” Leanna explained. “If she were telling the truth, she would’ve put her hand in her pocket before or while speaking, not after. Liars tend to have delayed hand gestures.”
“Damn, okay,” Riley said, impressed, but that feeling quickly melted into annoyance at being lied to. Thinking out loud, she said with increasing speed, “We can still salvage this. Even if they’ve already fenced it, I know what dealer they sold it to—they always use the same one—and we can convince him the Coltons sold him a fake. He’ll believe it too, since Frank and Billy run that forgery business on the side. It’s—”
“Riley, I don’t think—”
“—not that hard. Nikki and I have done it before and—”
“Riley!” Leanna yelled.
“What?” Riley yelled back.
They mirrored each other now, standing on opposite sides of the counter, arms crossed. Both used to the other listening when they spoke, not whatever the hell this was.
“For the last time, I’m not doing a job with you. Stop fucking assuming I’ll change my mind.”
It was her most blatant rejection yet, and it hit like a punch to the throat. Gasping for air, Riley scrambled to figure out why. This wasn’t like Leanna. This wasn’t who she was.
“I’m CIA. I can’t do shit like this anymore.”
“You’re a wanted criminal in seventeen countries,” Riley reminded her. “For grand theft.”
“I’m a wanted criminal in twenty-four countries,” Leanna corrected. Riley raised her brows. “You didn’t think I had a desk job, did you?”
Riley snorted. “You’re not the type.”
Finally, Leanna uncrossed her arms. “I’m serious though. I don’t do that stuff anymore. And maybe you shouldn’t either.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re a criminal, Riley! And since you clearly didn’t learn anything in prison, maybe you need to go back.”
Riley couldn’t believe what she was hearing. And after what she’d done. . . “What the fuck is wrong with you? I went to prison to save your ass! And Nikki’s! You know damn well it could’ve just as easily been you in there instead of me.”
“And I’m sorry that happened to you. What I’m trying to say is that I learned from that situation, and I had hoped you did too.”
“What,” Riley snarled. “What was I supposed to learn?”
“That what we did was wrong!” Leanna’s voice cracked. “God, Riley. Are you that blind? We’ve been awfully lucky for a lot of years. It was only a matter of time before that luck dried up and we were worse off than when we started. We can’t be criminals forever.”
Riley laughed, but there was no humor in it. “We can’t be criminals, so you decided to become a professional liar instead? No wonder your boyfriend dumped you.”
“I don’t blame him for not wanting to go through all the lies again.” Leanna clamped her hand over her mouth, but that only made Riley’s mind lock onto that last word even more.
Again.
“What do you mean, again?” Tears started to fray the edges of her accusatory tone, and Riley fought to hold them back.
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit.”
“Forget I said it.”
“Not likely. Start talking.”
“Fine.” Leanna sighed. “I knew it was only a matter of time before Bozer got suspicious, but it’s not like I could confirm or deny anything. I could get in huge trouble for just the little I’ve told you. But it kept getting harder as my assignments got longer and more frequent, and then he figured it out about Mac, and—”
Mac.
Mac.
Nikki’s Mac.
Nikki’s Mac who was a spy. A spy who lived right here in L.A.
“You work with Nikki’s ex-boyfriend?” The pieces didn’t add up.
“Different agencies. I met him through Nikki, but sometimes our work paths cross, yes.”
“And how does your boyfriend know him?” Leanna winced at the word ‘boyfriend,’ but Riley didn’t give a shit how she felt anymore.
“They grew up together. Been friends most of their lives. They still live together.”
Riley took a step back. And another. And another until she backed right into the cabinets.
“I cut ties with everyone when Mac was reintroduced to me as a spy. He’s a smart guy. I knew Nikki wouldn’t be able to fool him forever, and I wasn’t about to risk my new life by associating with all of you.”
Reeling, Riley gripped the counter for support as the world rocked under her feet. Leanna didn’t just leave. She left because the Five Eyes were no longer advantageous to her. That selfish bitch.
She knew Mac. She abandoned her best friends because of Mac.
Mac.
Mac, who was at the Louvre that night. Mac, who nearly ruined the heist of Riley’s dreams.
The heist, which Leanna knew about. Because Riley told her. Standing on the porch of her boyfriend’s house, which was also Mac’s house.
How was Paris? Leanna had asked.
Leanna knew perfectly well how Paris went because she fucking set them up.
“How could you?” Riley screamed. There was no stopping the tears now, and they ran down her face in steady streams, blurring her vision. “After everything we’ve been through together, how could you do that to me? To us?”
“I did it to save you.”
“From what? Because clearly it wasn’t from going back to prison.”
“From yourself! You could do anything with your life, be anyone, yet this is what you choose? Riley, as a thief you will never be able to stop running. Never be able to live an honest life.”
“An honest life. That’s rich coming from you.”
“At least I can be proud of what I do now. I don’t have to live with that sinking feeling after a job anymore. You know, when the adrenaline has finally worn off and you have to face the fact that what we did was wrong. I hate that feeling.”
“It doesn’t bother me.” In truth, Riley didn’t experience the guilt at all anymore. She hadn’t in years.
“I’d hoped prison would change that. Change you.”
“Well it did fucking change me. Just not the way you wanted it to, apparently.”
“It’s still not too late to help yourself.”
“Go to hell.”
Leanna stared. Riley stared back.
A decade of friendship lay between them, dead.
Hammering the final nail into the coffin, Riley growled, “Get the fuck out of my house.” Leanna flinched. “And stay out of my life while you’re at it.”
Shaking with hurt and anger and betrayal, Riley could do nothing but watch as Leanna calmly packed up her stuff. Then she fished around in her bag for something small—Riley couldn’t tell what it was—and approached the kitchen counter once more.
“This belongs to you,” Leanna said, dropping her copy of Riley’s apartment key onto the granite.
When she let herself out, the door softly clicked closed behind her.
Since the Louvre, Riley had been balancing on a knife’s edge. She could go forward or backward, but either way she’d end up sliced and bloody. So she kept to the straight and narrow, just like she promised her parole officer. She kept moving forward. Better to hurt herself in the future than do it while dwelling in the past.
But if this was where the future led, it fucking sucked.
Betrayal, on both ends of the line.
Even standing still, the knife’s edge cut deeper into her feet. She felt the sting, felt the metaphorical blood slicking the metaphorical blade.
To her side was the abyss. To her side was no knife at all. No moving forward or backward, but no pain either.
Jump, the voice said. It’ll be easier.
For once, Riley didn’t question it. She simply let herself
fall.
.
~ Tag List ~ Want to be added? Send me an ask.
@improvidus / @holbytlanna / @hellishrose / @mylifequotesshowallofthem / @thecarrieonokay / @whumpflumpthump / @fandoms-and-sunshine / @bluedrew12 /
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Vincent Griffith at the farmer's market fanfic Ep 2
Vincent
" Got a fresh batch of spring onions Vince"
the vendor Sagine uttered while walking out of her van. I sped towards her and grabbed the wooden crate packed with a few herbs and radishes, and carried it over to her tent. I grunted from the feel of the heavy vegetables pulling down my arms. Behind me, Miss Sagine's feet shuffled on the grass
" Where do you want em?"
" You can put them on the table, it'll make the work easier with my back and all"
" No problem ma'am" I said , catching my breath and running a hand over my throbbing palm. I've been helping Sagine install her tent at the annual Black farmer's market since this morning—-an initiative the council chewed, argued, made casual threats on behalf of the people it would benefit to make it happen.
With agricultural oppression blowing so much breath at the back of our necks and the blinding indifference of white folks in this forsaken town, there was only one way to effectively pull this off and get everyone on our side— get Marcel invested. Urge him to see the light. Which is exactly what I did. I still remember the gleam in his eyes, that devilish grin that lived beneath his features waiting to be summoned at the right time, for the right ideas. This wasn't just about good will, although for me that would've been enough. Except, being entangled with the supernatural, I've learned long ago that for some, righteousness is hardly a motivator to enact good deeds. Money does, blood and the promise of status —-and dealing with someone like Marcel Gerard? Well, let's just say that the odds were leaning dangerously in my favor. How predictable.
Marcel knew in order to maintain the peace, he needed to apply pressure for every member at the city council to say yes. He knew catering to Black farmers in this city meant preserving the wealth of his blood empire, keep the human factor and witches wrapped around his finger—-which are the demographic this affected the most—-it meant more money flowing into the local economy, depends on how well that went, it meant more curious outsiders seething to get their hands on our local goods, to invest, travel and food influencers coming in. More buzz, more tourists, more tourists, more blood. We gathered 22 ay, only 9 nays at the final vote— My plan had worked.
Dozens of farmers and fishermen traveled from nearby counties to be here. Their laughter glazed over the early afternoon, while they replenished their supplies of cheese, bread, oysters, local honey and a ridiculous amount of veggies—Some I hadn't had the chance to taste myself. My cooking has been a bit rusty these days. Occupying my newest role in the community had its perks and equal sets of downfalls, a haze between meetings, counseling youths, long nights and days relying on takeout and boxed mac and cheese while revising old spells and developing new ones —not for the faint of hearts but the job had to be done. People were counting on me to maintain order not only in the ancestral realm but in the household of people who made up the 9 covens.
Sometimes that included making housing arrangements for those who needed it and making sure they had food on their table, that bills were being paid and their children were safe. I admit, it was at times emotionally draining. The shit going on around here, the housing crisis, the wage gap, stuff the average tourist had absolutely no idea about.
I clenched my teeth then released. Take a breather Vincent, you're good man, shoulders relaxed, your breath is a bundle of rosemary let the scent appease you, your heart your soul, every muscle.in our body. Feet to the ground, feet to the ground
I repeated this mantra a few more times in my head, allowing every syllable to penetrate every fiber of my being like smoke. When I cracked open my eyes, the trees, the clouds and dwellings in the distance became sharper. My feet settled, my heartbeat slowed and i can feel the ground beneath my toes. I was suddenly in the mood for coffee.
" I'm gonna go ahead and grab a cup of joe, miss Sagine can i get you an—"
The old woman waved me away before i could even finish. I grinned, amused by the annoyed expression on her face. She swatted flying mosquitoes lingering on her wrinkled arms " Get outta my face boy, you've done enough, go on stretch those legs, it's good for the health"
I raised my palms up " that's all i needed to know. Doctor's orders then"
" you're damn right" she offered.
The aroma of caramel and roasted coffee beans rocked me into an unusually good mood. I stirred some brown sugar into my americano with a wooden stick, examining the scene before me. Pedestrians carrying bags wandered, pointed and ate samples on paper napkins and plastic ramekins as they went.
Across the street a tent with bouquets of some of the healthiest eucalyptus i had ever seen sat in white buckets. They were wrapped in clear plastic sheets and pulled the attention of anybody that brushed past them. Adjacent to the aromatic plant was an installation of small jars filled with whipped butters I had seen Eva use around the house, soap bars and other toiletries laid on a riverbank made of colorful satin cloths. A woman with a flowy black dress cut to her upper thighs engaged in conversation with her customers. The matron I suppose, the woman with the orange hair I saw at the bar just last week. Her hair was wrapped in a bright purple headwrap today and she wore a series of earrings along her earlobe that flowed down to meet her bare shoulders. I don't think she could ever look any more stunning than the last time I saw her. Oh but she did. The frothy drink moved down my throat, to my chest like a warm and cozy hug.
The woman picked up a product on the table, showed it to the interested parties before proceeding to demonstrate the pasty substance on their skin . The golden bangles at her wrists moved up and down as she rubbed the product in and watched it melt. Whatever she was doing, had her focused on trying to make this thing work. That charisma alone was enough to make any customer fold, I know I would. Passionate people always had a way about themselves, I can recognize them from a mile away. That flame had once burned within when it came to my gift, the magic running in my blood. I'm not sure when that changed but sometimes i feel myself hovering on the edge of that void.
The woman's brows knitted in dedication, bringing a kind of intensity to her face that seemed foreign—her features struggled to adjust, not knowing what to exactly do with it but it looked good on her. I found myself admiring the dip at her cupid bow, particularly the bubbles of sweat piling up in there from the Saturday heat and labor. She reminded me of old books, a craft table smeared with old paint, suggestions of geranium leaf and metal still pungent in the room, more importantly she reminded me of dragonflies dancing with the southern sun on a summer afternoon. Something funny awoke in my stomach. I straightened my shoulders, zooming out to look for any sign of Marcel. He wasn't here. At least not yet. As much as I appreciated him vouching for this, I don't think his presence would've necessarily been a good idea. We were not on the best of terms, if ever. Our relationship was strictly business, and tie to a common cause. I avoided places he frequented as much as possible, carving new ones of my own.
So I plumped down on the grass, feeling the weight of the world hesitating to come down with me. This distance that I so often denied myself was perhaps a good thing, a necessary thing.
The woman counted money and pulled change from a fanny pack wrapped around her waist. She smiled and waved at her customers, excited by their brand new purchases. I reveled in their joy. They were a family of three. The little girl with afro puffs was blowing bubbles at her dog's face while her parents beckoned her over. I chuckled. When my gaze left them i was met with something so unsettling, earth shattering or maybe even pleasant. Pleasant? I thought. But that didn't make the woman staring at me any less intimidating. This could end here if I choose to. I could walk away, go about my business and never think of her again—-if i could get my legs to work. That was the power she iminated, without ever touching people . A goddess standing on her own, reeling you in towards her altar. A faint voice—-the irrational part of myself, the untouched, sanctified in innocence —who didn't care about my footmarks in this world wanted to see about this religion, its jubilees, its sacred texts—-i wanted to worship her.
Mélisse
The last thing I heard myself say to Simoli was something about me taking 5. I didn't linger much. I handed him the fanny pack, the car keys and trusted his common sense to hold it down while I was away, on a so-called coffee break. My toes plunged into the bed of grass coursing up the small hill, making my red painted toenails look like ladybugs. Just for a moment, I can pretend the beignet stand is the thing calling to me and not the guy who finally made eye contact with me at Rousseau's just last week.
I'm starting to think he's a weirdo that one, or a loner of some sort. Somehow, he strikes me as a religious man, or a man bound to a lifestyle that keeps him closed off, isolated and intense. Everytime i see him hanging around these parts he is always by himself. Something about him reminds me of bayou tree barks, incense, and old ancestor songs from the countryside back home. When I imagine safety, to hold someone's hands in the early mornings and being made love to by a running river, I think of him. I can't really explain it but the feeling is equally exhilarating as it is suffocating—-a pulse of peace i can't seem to necessarily wrap my head about. The plush and gentle expansion of it leaves me weary. An ache throbs in my underwear, circling around my needy clit and I am aware of the sweat trailing down my back. Great
When I make it to the small wooden table serving desserts and coffee, I place my order, and try to focus on the powder sugar dusted treats that await me and not the guy sitting a few feet away sipping on his coffee. On instinct i pull one of my coils and starts to mindlessly twist it around my fingers, i arch my back a bit more and start to think Mélisse what the fuck are you doing? Maybe I'm just a fan of the dress I am wearing today, that my ass surely looks good in and want others to notice it as well.
My heart thumps while I think of a million scenarios where me and stranger guy would be talking. I come up with none. Idiot. I bite on my lower lip whirling in this sudden interest I have to speak to him. Gosh I have a crush don't i? I groan, rolling my eyes at my own predicament. It's been a minute since I've had one of those. One forgets how tedious all of it can be, the yearning, the guessing, the tiptoeing at the beginning and knowing me, I hang on to people for a while. Once a person falls under my radar, I obsess over them for months, sometimes years. That's why I chose to be single for this long and try to keep my head down so I can make jardin the best that it can possibly be while i heal some of my shit out.
Doing so has allowed me to discover things that i liked outside of a romantic scope, like cooking, beading. In the past few years i've discovered a liking for dancing, reading, masturbating and oh how could i forget the joy of attending carpentry workshops so i can learn how to make my own furniture— mainly because i was obsessed with interior design and the shop has been my main domain to experiment with it. It would take a special kind of person to infiltrate all of this now. It has taken me a long time to build this nest around me, the heavens would be melting like candle wax out of the Louisiana skies before I ever let anyone barge in and ruin my focus. Maybe this is what i've been reading about, Old patterns is it? Abandoning the margins of my spiritual books to be more than just a theory, a conspiracy that happens to other people. A nuisance, a ghost long buried gearing up to take breath over my life. Fuck this.
"Medium coffee with milk and three beignets"
I jerk up and cease my rambling. I take the neatly folded white paper bag from the young cashier and my cup of coffee. I can smell the vanilla extract and fried bananas concealed inside. I look forward to sinking my teeth into them and forgetting about all of this. I am tossing the layers of temptations over my shoulders, shedding the flashes of his angular face and dark eyes, the thought of a smile meant for me spread across his face. I am determined to forget all about him by tomorrow morning when I hear someone shouting behind me, with running feet following. I pick up my pace, fixating my truck and table ahead. " Hey" the voice a panting mess comes into my periphery, I turn around to meet it ,startled but ready for a confrontation in case this is a catcalling situation.
My brows softened when the stranger came into view " Oh.." It's him. As I feared.
" Didn't you hear me calling you back there?" He says with a reprimanding tone, huffing and puffing. I tilt my head and narrow my eyes . What the hell? " No i…"
" You dropped a 20" he says, thrusting the crumpled bill in my direction. His thick brows shoot up to meet his hairline, his look expectant. I smile and shake my head, flushed with embarrassment. He's just trying to be nice. Be nice. I tuck my guards away
" I'm sorry" I say, grabbing the retrieved item from his hand, our fingers accidently touching the other's, sending a sliver of electricity towards my pussy. " it's been a long day" i chuckle " thank you."
" No big deal, we all have our days" he says with a plain shrug. My toes wiggle for more room inside my leather sandals. For a brief moment he looks at the paper bag still clutched under my arms. Then back at me. We wait for one another to speak, for someone to break the ice, but none of us do. I'm too busy averting my eyes, focusing on the things around him, the canopy of trees, the cloud patterns in the sky, the lint on his shirt, the way black beads adorn his neck, anything other than his thin umber lips that i so want to be claimed by. His gaze runs across my face with something like staggering awe ,caressing my cheeks like a florist examining a delicate flower. I swallow, my mouth dry. " w-well um i have to get back….thanks for this"
I flash him the now sweaty bill. He nods, clasping his hands behind his back " it's my pleasure"
" Kay. See you around… i'm gonna " my thumb darts towards my truck, my legs taking slow strides backwards
" of course…" he replies. I turn to leave.
" You're a regular at Rousseau's right?" His words bring me to a halt. The hairs at the back of my neck rise, the air suddenly crisp against my forearms. So he noticed. " I go there sometimes. You know the owner or something?" He smiles, tiny wrinkles creasing at the corner of his mouth and eyes. It's so contagious I can't help but smile too.
" No…but we go way back" he hesitates, then continues " a close friend of mine bartended there for what feels like centuries ago"
" That's nice. Friends are good, God knows I forgot how to make those " i supply rocking on my heels. It's true. The older I get the more difficult connecting with others has become, like a dormant muscle I can't seem to make flexible again. I quickly recover, biting my bottom lip " and you're the regular who has a habit of stuffing his face with french fries while reading shitty classics… very neat"
" Excuse me?"
I click my tongue, resting a palm at my waist.
" So was it not you?"
" W– well, technically yes, yes…. minus the shitty classics part"
" Oh! So you weren't diving head deep into some of the most boring volumes literature has ever seen?"
The space between his brows knits with tension, his lips curling up in amusement. He licks his bottom lip " You seem to have strong opinions about Marcel Prousts"
I take a sip of my drink, anxious that it might go cold amidst this conversation but more than anything I could use all the reinforcement that i can get. My heart lifts at the coffee's warm touch " There's no beef there at all, i just find your talent to skip over the good stuff fascinating" i drawl.
" Fascinating huh" he replies seeking comfort in the pockets of his jeans " i guess i deserve that. And the criticism over my reading habits is on behalf of?"
I smirk. Oh he is smart, more reason for me to give him my name. " Mélisse" .
He nods, trying to collect the name with the woman standing before him. " Mélisse" he repeats " Beautiful name…very botanical"
" What can I say, I have a green thumb!" I beam
" Mmh"
" I didn't catch your name?"
" Vincent" he responds with eagerness. Vincent, Vincent. " Nice to meet you Vincent"
" Pleasure is all mine Mélisse"
Not once have I ever seen him smile at that bar, not when he's alone or with friends and yet standing here talking to me, he couldn't help himself but do just that. I have a hard time associating this jovial side of him with the one I've previously been exposed to—- Intense, removed and always pensive as if measuring the weight of the world on his shoulders.
I cut the conversation short, making an excuse to rejoin my cousin, despite every part of my body instructing me not to. I was a bit disappointed when he stood behind and didn't fight back. I wanted him to, to insist more, to impose himself against my better judgment. I wanted him to ask for my number, invite me out for a drink, and I wanted to have exchanged more than a few words with him.
Throughout the remainder of the afternoon I searched for him, to no avail. When we pack I scout the perimeters one last time, hoping to say goodbye, but my assumptions tell me he had already left. What a shame.
Later that night, when I came home, took a shower and scrubbed the day off of me, I summoned him from my memories. His gentle fingers washing my hair, the stream from the shower head cascading over us, his beard oil and the scent of tree moss dissolving from the steam while we swap stories and long kisses. When I finally reach my bed and melt within the sheets, the aftershocks of my orgasm are still reverberating through me. I sigh, and close my eyes, Sade's voice serenading on the radio, weaving along the lace curtains. I drift into a peaceful sleep, knowing full well soon enough this man would become a delicious problem.
Photo credit: pinterest
#black writers#black tumblr#writblr#writerscommunity#the originals#tvd fandom#vincent griffith#black witch#the originals fanfiction#vincentgriffithfanfic
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Your body is a machine, and for it to work at its best, you need to give it the proper fuel. Good nutrition is the basis for a healthy body, and a healthy body is the foundation for a full, rich life. This article is loaded with great advice to help you eat better and feel great.
If you're looking to improve your nutritive intake, but aren't yet ready to make huge changes, start with small ones. For example, if you like white bread, it's completely painless to switch to one of the "soft wheat" breads currently available. Some brands are as white as their low-fiber white-bread cousins, yet they provide much more fiber per slice.
There are healthy alternatives to many of the food products that we all eat. For example, try using a balsamic vinaigrette for dressing, instead of something fattening like Italian or Caesar. You can avoid cake and ice cream by substituting other sweet treats, such as yogurt, fruit or even a combination of the two, in the form of a parfait.
제철식단표 is to start drinking green tea. Green tea is rich with antioxidants, and studies have shown that green tea can actually delay fatigue during harsh exercise. Drinking green tea also provides us with more energy and causes more fat to be burned during exercise.
What you eat really does matter; good nutrition is essential to good health. When it is possible, you should choose items that are made with brown rice, barley, oats, or wheat. You should steer clear of white bread and flour products, whole wheat is really much better for you. Whole wheat provides more fiber and may potentially reduce the risk of cancer, diabetes, stroke, and heart disease.
You can boost your chance for conception with some super foods like oysters, yams and berries. Oysters are a concentrated source of the zinc, which is important for conception. Research has suggested that yams may stimulate ovulation. Berries contain antioxidants, which can protect the body from cell damage, including the cells in your reproductive system.
Do not deprive yourself of having desserts because it will only make you crave them even more. You can have a dessert after dinner each night if you choose a low-fat sugar free option. Buying sugar free Jell-O is great because it is inexpensive and is not high in fat.
Switching from white bread to wheat bread is good because it will cut down on the amount of sugar that your body will need to process. It is also a good idea to see if you can find light wheat bread because it will save you even more calories and fat.
People that are big fans of snacking sometimes find it hard to give up chips even though they are greasy and full of salt. Instead of giving up chips you can switch to baked chips. They are much lower in fat and they are not greasy, but you will need to keep and eye on how much sodium they contain.
Always try to have sugarless chewing gum on hand since chewing that can help satisfy sweet cravings and general food cravings. When you get hungry, popping a piece of gum in your mouth actually seems to take the food cravings from you right away and you can wait to eat until it is time for your next meal.
Add some fruit to your morning cereal instead of choosing sugar filled ones. Buy a plain cereal and then add fresh strawberries, bananas or blueberries to get that sweetness you crave. Sugary kids' cereals will only leave you with a crash later. Fresh fruit will fill you up better and not cause you to crash later.
If you really must eat a burger and fries from a fast food place because you just cannot resist, it would serve you best to get a meal that was meant for a child. Instead of getting a full size meal you can have a small burger with a small order of fries.
As stated in the beginning of the article, you have to give your body the proper fuel if you expect it to perform well. If you begin to think of food as fuel for the most important piece of machinery that you own, then making the right choices becomes a whole lot easier.
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Your body is a machine, and for it to work at its best, you need to give it the proper fuel. Good nutrition is the basis for a healthy body, and a healthy body is the foundation for a full, rich life. This article is loaded with great advice to help you eat better and feel great.
If you're looking to improve your nutritive intake, but aren't yet ready to make huge changes, start with small ones. For example, if you like white bread, it's completely painless to switch to one of the "soft wheat" breads currently available. Some brands are as white as their low-fiber white-bread cousins, yet they provide much more fiber per slice.
There are healthy alternatives to many of the food products that we all eat. For example, try using a balsamic vinaigrette for dressing, instead of something fattening like Italian or Caesar. nutritionist auckland can avoid cake and ice cream by substituting other sweet treats, such as yogurt, fruit or even a combination of the two, in the form of a parfait.
A good nutritional tip is to start drinking green tea. Green tea is rich with antioxidants, and studies have shown that green tea can actually delay fatigue during harsh exercise. Drinking green tea also provides us with more energy and causes more fat to be burned during exercise.
What you eat really does matter; good nutrition is essential to good health. When it is possible, you should choose items that are made with brown rice, barley, oats, or wheat. You should steer clear of white bread and flour products, whole wheat is really much better for you. Whole wheat provides more fiber and may potentially reduce the risk of cancer, diabetes, stroke, and heart disease.
You can boost your chance for conception with some super foods like oysters, yams and berries. Oysters are a concentrated source of the zinc, which is important for conception. Research has suggested that yams may stimulate ovulation. Berries contain antioxidants, which can protect the body from cell damage, including the cells in your reproductive system.
Do not deprive yourself of having desserts because it will only make you crave them even more. You can have a dessert after dinner each night if you choose a low-fat sugar free option. Buying sugar free Jell-O is great because it is inexpensive and is not high in fat.
Switching from white bread to wheat bread is good because it will cut down on the amount of sugar that your body will need to process. It is also a good idea to see if you can find light wheat bread because it will save you even more calories and fat.
People that are big fans of snacking sometimes find it hard to give up chips even though they are greasy and full of salt. Instead of giving up chips you can switch to baked chips. They are much lower in fat and they are not greasy, but you will need to keep and eye on how much sodium they contain.
Always try to have sugarless chewing gum on hand since chewing that can help satisfy sweet cravings and general food cravings. When you get hungry, popping a piece of gum in your mouth actually seems to take the food cravings from you right away and you can wait to eat until it is time for your next meal.
Add some fruit to your morning cereal instead of choosing sugar filled ones. Buy a plain cereal and then add fresh strawberries, bananas or blueberries to get that sweetness you crave. Sugary kids' cereals will only leave you with a crash later. Fresh fruit will fill you up better and not cause you to crash later.
If you really must eat a burger and fries from a fast food place because you just cannot resist, it would serve you best to get a meal that was meant for a child. Instead of getting a full size meal you can have a small burger with a small order of fries.
As stated in the beginning of the article, you have to give your body the proper fuel if you expect it to perform well. If you begin to think of food as fuel for the most important piece of machinery that you own, then making the right choices becomes a whole lot easier.
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Going Angst Week 2021: Birth
I wrote a short five part fic for this year’s Going Angst Week! Fair warning as the event suggests, no one in this fic will make it out on top.
Chapter One: Birth
---
“Don’t think of it as a death, think of it as a sort of rebirth.”
That’s what Vlad had told him anyhow, after he discovered who—or rather what—Danny was at their college reunion.
“Who were you before this? A nobody, right? Just some little hormonal fourteen year old from the weirdo family, unpopular and bullied. No real hobbies or activities to speak of, aside from…” Vlad’s red eyes pierced down at him. “Video games, am I correct?”
Danny diverted his gaze to the floor. Vlad’s aura only increased in amusement.
“But now,” the ghost continued. “Now you’re something else. Something different, more powerful. The world is your oyster, and all you have to do is reach down and take it.”
“I don’t know,” Danny finally spoke up. He had been hoping that speaking to the older halfa would begin to patch things up between them, but so far every word out of Vlad’s mouth seemed coated in poison.
He knew that deep down he shouldn’t trust a damn word Plasmius said, but Vlad was the only person in the world who he could relate to. And according to the Vlad, there was no one else like them in the Ghost Zone either.
“What is there to be afraid of, Little Badger? You’re a half ghost, you can do whatever it is that you want and nobody, nobody can stop you.”
“It’s not that I’m afraid.” Lies, lies, all lies. “It just doesn’t seem right, is all.”
Plasmius leaned down, forcing Danny’s eyes to meet his. He grinned, bearing his fangs at the boy, as if he could see through all the fear that Danny was desperate to mask.
“Oh Daniel,” Vlad said. “Your parents will never accept you. No good you do in your ghost form could ever convince them that ghosts aren’t all evil, that some are good, that you are good. Don’t you see?”
“No, you’re wrong. My parents will accept me. I just have to—”
“Oh, will they?” Vlad laughed. “Your parents? The same ones who’ve dedicated their careers, their lives to developing ecto-weaponry meant to kill our kind? The people who have written countless academic papers as to the dangers of ecto-life on Earth?”
“If I can show them that we’re not all bad, then maybe they’ll see.”
“Ah, so I bet that explains why you haven’t told them about what really happened in the lab, right? You just wanted to wait for the ‘right time’ to tell them. Foolish boy, don’t you know?” Vlad’s cocky tone died down, as did the power of his aura. In the first moment of sincerity Danny had witnessed from the older man, he turned to Danny and warned, “Your parents are too blinded by their ignorance to ever see the truth.”
---
Danny had been alone the day of the accident. He wasn’t sure why he did it, why he strapped on the hazmat suit (not before ripping off the Jack sticker), why he stepped in the portal, why he tried to figure out how to turn it on. Was it boredom? Teenage rebellion? Curiosity?
But delving into his reasoning was too little too late. Because the moment he tripped over the wire and hit the misplaced power switch, his life ended.
Literally.
Dying hurt. It was terrifying, waking up as something else entirely, and passing out all over again.
At first, he could almost pretend that he was okay. But then he woke up the next morning and felt like he’d been hit by a truck.
And then he fell through his bed, hitting the wood floor below his bed frame.
And then he dragged himself out and saw the extensive scarring on his arm.
And then he knew. That what had happened in the lab wasn’t just a fluke, that whatever the portal did had changed him forever.
That he wasn’t okay.
Still, he tried to carry on as normal. Eventually, the lightning scars snaking across his arm faded (even though they remained when he transformed), and the aching of his muscles subsided (but the coolness in his chest never went away), and his relative anonymity at his school meant that people hardly noticed a change in him (even though his two best friends seemed to hover more now than before).
Everything was going to be normal. Even if he wasn’t okay anymore. Even if he wasn’t human, even if he was...some monster.
What even was he?
“Danny?” Sam poked his shoulder. “Hey, space case? You haven’t touched your food. Are you okay?”
The world snapped into focus, and he realized that he was in the cafeteria at school with his untouched lunch tray splayed out in front of him. He couldn’t even remember getting out of bed this morning, much less making it all the way till lunch.
Regardless, he picked the cardboard excuse for pizza from his tray and took a bite, chewing slowly, and tried not to choke as he forced the food down his parched throat.
“I’m fine,” he said.
He’d been saying that a lot lately.
“We’ve been trying not to pry, but…” Sam looked helplessly at Tucker. “Danny, is...is something going on with you? You’ve just seemed off lately.”
“No, nothing happened. I’m fine.”
“You sure dude?” Tucker asked.
Danny set his school-issued pizza back down on his tray. “Guys, seriously. I’m your best friend. If anything happened, I promise you’d be the first to know. I’ve just been stressed about school, it’s nothing.”
Sam and Tucker exchanged a glance, evidently not looking too convinced. Regardless, Sam gave him her best fake smile and a, “If you say so. Just know we’re here if you wanna talk.”
But he didn’t want to talk. They were human, he...wasn’t. They wouldn’t get it. They’d think he was a freak, they’d stop talking to him, they’d tell Jazz who would tell his parents who would kill him trying to save him.
No one could help him.
They finished lunch in silence, and then it was back to class where Danny managed to fall out of his chair twice and drop his pencil too many times to count. In biology class a glass microscope plate flew past his fingers, shattering against the tiled floor, and in English class when Lancer handed him papers to pass out he dropped those too, sending them scattered along the ground.
He saw the way Lancer peered at him as he stumbled to the ground, hands shaking as he desperately tried to grab the papers while everyone laughed at him. He felt cold—he was always cold since the accident—and he was sure that he looked just as much of a mess as he felt.
Mr. Lancer sent him down to the nurses office after that.
But he couldn’t go to the nurse because his heart rate was slower than a human’s and he didn’t need to breathe as much and he was so cold.
And he was fine.
So he took the hall pass and hid in the bathroom for the rest of the class period.
“Think of it as a rebirth,” Vlad had told him.
Except Vlad was wrong. Danny wasn’t stronger now, he wasn’t more powerful. In fact, Danny Fenton had never felt more powerless, lost, and alone in his entire life.
If this was the start of a new life, then he was terrified to see what would follow.
---
next chapter>
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“you are the best thing, that’s ever been mine”
Hi! If you could can you write the dorm leaders squishing/reacting to their s/o’s soft and adorable cheeks, or just them cupping their cheeks in their hands (like those vids with the dogs fitting themselves in their owner’s hands)
- from Anonymous
A/N: Hi Anon~! Thank you so much for this! I listened to Taylor Swift’s whole Speak Now album to get into the vibe... and “Mine” seemed to suit it... so that’s where the title is from! ... This almost got called Chubby Bunny but... I never liked that game xD
--
"Uwawa~ Riddle this is delicious!” You had hummed, a fork pressed against your lips, and a hand on your cheek as you chewed happily. Riddle was torn between being incredibly pleased or embarrassed at the amount of praise that you were casually throwing at him.
“Of course!” Riddle decided, as he puffed his chest out and straightened his back.
“You definitely learnt from last time.” you giggled, as you remembered how he had actually taken Trey’s statement seriously about the oyster sauce...
“That was Trey’s fault.” Riddle defended himself and you giggled again.
“Either way, this is delicious~” you pop another slice of it into your mouth. “Ish really good~”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” He scolded lightly, as he brushed a gloved hand at the corner of your mouth to remove pie crumbs. At the action, you beamed at him brilliantly, and his heart melted at how adorable you looked.
Unconsciously he found himself cupping your cheek as you chewed your pie. You blinked at hm in surprise, and as you swallowed, you closed your eyes and leant your face into his palm. He felt his face flare up in response.
Under the light of the hot afternoon sun, surrounded by the red roses of Heartslabyul and the colorful tea set prepared for the Tea Party...
You--serene, eyes shut, and the way you leant into his touch so naturally--his pulse leapt in response.
Resplendent.
“You...”
When Riddle began to speak your eyes opened to peer at him curiously.
“...”
“Riddle?”
“I’m glad I met you.” Riddle said, his heart pounded in his ears.
“Hrm?”
“If it weren’t for you... I don’t think I could be myself.”
“You give me too much credit... Ace, Trey, everyone... they were there too.” you laughed lightly, but he shook his head.
“Yes but... you’re here right now.” he said very quietly, as he reached his other hand to lace with your own. “You’re by my side. You’re my friend, and also my...” here he paused as his blush brightened, and you couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face in response. “My lover...” he whispered.
“Thank you.” he smiled gently, “for helping me find who I want to be... and for accepting me as myself.”
“Silly Riddle.” you giggled as you leant forward to press your forehead against his. “That’s not something you need to thank me about!”
“So you say but...”
His eyes fluttered shut, and his heart might be beating fast--but he was at peace with you by his side.
‘Thank you, [Name]... for being mine.’
--
Leona felt something tickle his nose, which made his whole face twitch. As he jerked his head away from the ticklish sensation, the light of the morning sun hit his eyes, and he blinked rapidly.
‘Morning.’ he sighed, already exhausted just at the thought of it. When he looked away from the wide windows of his dorm room, he glanced down to see your head lying on his right arm. ‘No wonder I couldn’t move it.’
Since he couldn’t move (not that Leona wanted to move), he decided to watch you until he fell asleep again. He raised a hand and began to brush it through your hair--aimlessly choosing to untangle your hair. He snorted softly to himself as you let out a particularly loud snore against his arm.
He resolved to tease you about it later... but for now.
He spent the morning admiring the way you looked in his arms, in his bed--in his room, greeting the dawn of a new day by his side.
To be honest...
‘It’s not a bad look on you.’ he decided, ‘it’s something I can get used to.’
His tanned hand trailed down, from your hair, and cupped your cheek gently--brushing the pad of his thumb against your cheek.
Your cheek was soft against his touch, and from this close he could see the way freckles dotted your skin. He loved to nap in patches of sunlight, and since you constantly spent time with him--he had, on more than one occasion--dragged you to lie with him under the sun. When his thumb brushed underneath your eye, your lashes twitched.
“Mhm... Leona...” you muttered, and his ear twitched in response to that.
“Are you dreaming about me, herbivore?” he asked lowly, at which you didn’t respond. You did however turn your head. Originally you had tucked your head underneath his chin, and had tangled your legs with his at some point in the night. You turned your whole body so that all your back was pressed against the bed--your head still on his arm.
As the light of the sun illuminated your whole form, he could see the way your eye lashes twitched, but determinedly stayed shut. He chuckled at that. He slowly slid his arm out from underneath your head and moved to straddle you.
His other hand still cupped your cheek, and he leant down to brush his nose against yours.
He cherished this quiet moment.
He knew he wasn’t the best person at expressing his happiness with you being by his side. It was just... difficult for him.
You--ever so kind, and understanding--you knew these things without prompting. You had never demanded more of him than he was comfortable giving--even if (and this is something he would never tell anyone--) he would push himself--if it was something you truly wanted.
“When did I become so smitten with you?” he asked, underneath his breath as he stared at you--as if your sleeping face held all the answers to his problems.
And wasn’t there a sense of truth in that?
When he had asked the universe for a mate who would see him--
The universe had delivered you to him.
Under the morning light of the sun, as he pressed a brief kiss against your forehead, he renewed his promise.
‘You will never be left wanting,’ he thought, ‘you are mine.’
--
You had been standing with Azul next to the huge window of Octavinelle’s Mostro Lounge that peered into the depths of the sea when you feel something enter your eye.
“Ack--!” Azul’s head whipped in your direction when you start making uncomfortable noises.
“[Name], are you alright?”
“Hngh... Yeah--just--something got in my eye.” You rapidly begin blinking, but the irritation causes you to start crying. Azul twitched at that--he hated seeing your tears. So he reached forward and gently cupped your face in his hand before he leaned in.
“Which eye?”
“This one.” you point at your left eye as you rapidly blink. “Blow please?”
“Of course.” Azul gently brushed the tears away, as he raised his lips to gently blow at your eye. “How’s that, my love?”
“Still there.” you said as you blinked again. Azul repeated the process until you finally confirmed that it was gone.
Azul had chosen not to let you go though, and as you blinked your tears away, he would gently swipe them at them with the pads of his fingers. In the process of that, Azul began to grow lost in thought.
Azul hated your tears as much as he hated his own.
He had always hated that he was quick to cry about almost everything--especially about anything that made him feel upset.
He hated your tears because it meant that you had been hurt. He (and the twins really) always fell into an overprotective state whenever your eyes would turn glassy.
You--who had chosen him despite all his flaws...
Despite all of his mistakes, his faults, his imperfections...
He had long accepted that he wasn’t worthy of your love, to have your presence at his side.
But for some reason you chose him--you had still chosen him.
It’s because of that, that he was so grateful you were willing to stay by his side.
The least he could do is make sure you will never cry.
The least he could do is be the best person he can be, so you would be proud to call him your lover.
And if in your future you would cry--then Azul will do everything in his power to at least make them tears of joy.
You stared into Azul’s eyes. You could tell he was a million miles away, deeply reminiscing...
“See something you like?” He flinched at you suddenly speaking, and realized he’d been holding your face for a socially inappropriate length of time.
“Sorry I’ll--”
“You mean you don’t like what you see?”
“That’s-- of course not!” His face brightened, going from the lightest shade of pink to a brilliant shade of red. You giggled in response.
“You--why must you keep teasing me like this?” he sighed, as he rubbed his fingers against your cheeks. “You didn’t use to do this.”
“I got it from Jade and Floyd.” you chirped back, and you giggled at his angry mutterings of ‘corruptions’ and ‘why I oughta--’
He’s distracted from his ramblings when he felt you lace your fingers with his hands.
“Such gentle, caring hands.” you hummed. “the hands of the one who makes me happy.”
You thought it was impossible for his blush to intensify--but it did.
The way your eyes fluttered close in bliss, the happy smile on your lips and the way that the ocean’s waves illuminated your skin made him think--
‘You belong here, right by my side.’
“I’ll,” he paused as he cleared his throat, He blinked rapidly, and hoped that he wouldn’t start crying. “I will do my best to be someone who can make you even happier.”
“I’m already happiest by your side Azul.” you beamed up at him, your eyes contained the endless depth of your love, and he felt like he could drown in them. “Just never let go.”
“I have no plans too.” He said, serious, at which you giggled.
“I think this is the part you kiss me.” you said, all cheeky, and though the red on his cheeks flare up again, he leant down to kiss you.
If Azul used contracts to make a deal with other people--what you had were his kisses.
Azul’s tender kisses were his promises to you--of never letting go, and of happiness in your relationship.
--
"Do you like the food [Name]?” Kalim beamed at you, and you couldn’t help but beam back--your cheeks filled with tasty treats from the Land of Hot Sands.
“Mhm! Kalim ish good!” Kalim only laughed at how adorable you were when you spoke with a mouth full.
“I’m glad you like it!” Kalim nodded happily as he too began to eat, “Jamil cooks very well after all.” Jamil twitched as he was mentioned, and when he looked up from his meal, he’s instantly blinded by both of your brilliant smiles.
“Jamil! Thanks!” Jamil felt his brow twitched as the both of your spoke with your cheeks filled with food.
“Stop talking with your mouths full.” he reminded, while he thought ‘these two were made for each other.’ You both simultaneously swallowed your food, cleared your throats and spoke in unison again--
“Jamil!~ Thanks for the food~!” you both beamed.
‘Ugh, bright.’ he thought, as he sighed and looked away, his hand tugging at his hoodie. “Yeah yeah, just eat already.”
In response the two of you promptly dug in and kept eating.
“Mhm~ I really love the spices used.” you hummed.
Kalim couldn’t help but just smile at how much you enjoyed spending time in Scarabia and taking a part in his culture. He wanted to bring you home with him for sure during one of the breaks--he would love to share with you the culture of his home.
You were adorable already in your enthusiasm for his culture, he can’t wait to write a letter off to home to ensure that you would have clothes from his culture too. He was sure you would be thrilled with it.
You chewed happily, but when you looked up you noticed that Kalim was looking at you with a really goofy grin.
“Hrm? Is something up Kalim? Do I have something on my face?”
“No, you’re just really cute.” he said with a grin (a few seats away, Jamil thumped his head against a table and groaned in disgust).
You felt your cheeks flare up in response.
“Aw! You look even cuter with red cheeks!” Kalim declared as he reached forward to cup your face in his hands. You swallowed, nearly choking in the process as you felt your face become hotter.
“Ungh! Kalim! Don’t embarrass me!”
“But I can’t help it! I adore you!” he said, with a wide grin and your heart pounded in your ears because this boy was going to be the death of you.
“Kalim is cuter than me!” you protested, as you reached forward to press your hands against his cheeks.
“No, you are!” he mushed your cheeks together, and laughed as you struggled against his hands.
“No you are!” you pinched his cheeks in response, and when both of your gazes meet, you shared a giggle at how silly you two probably looked like.
“You two...” you both flinched as you see Jamil give you both a death stare. “Finish your food or so help me...”
“Sorry Jamil!” you both yelped as you dug in back into your meals--though that didn’t stop the two of you from sharing a glance, and giggling to yourselves.
--
"Hold still, my sweet potato.” Vil ordered with a roll of his eyes. “I need to put this eyeliner on you.”
“I just don’t like things close to my eyeballs.” you tried to defend yourself. “It scares me.”
“I’ve been doing make up for a long time, sweet potato.” Vil chided gently. “Do you not trust me?”
“Yes?” you would’ve shrugged if Vil would’ve let you but he didn’t. “No? Yes? It’s me? It just... makes me uncomfortable.”
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you say you didn’t trust me.” Vil huffed, before he quite literally used his other hand to keep your face still by cupping your cheek. “Do not move, or we’ll have to start from the top.” he threatened, you let out a whiny sound.
“I mean it, sweet one.” Vil said, “I’ll have to reapply the moisturizer, the foundation--”
“Alright, alright.” your fist clenched as you tried to hold your position.
“Close your eyes.” you obeyed, and you caught the satisfied smile that spread on your lover’s pink lips, before you completely closed your eyes.
Vil leant in as he began to line your eyes with a deep violet color. He could see your eyelids quiver at his movements, and the way your lips twisted downward in discomfort. Despite that, you put up with him. It made his smile slip into a much gentler one. When he pulled away, he immediately warned you not to open your eyes yet so that the liner could dry. You mumbled out a protest, but kept your eyes shut.
Vil couldn’t help but chuckle underneath his breath.
You were truly--
peculiar.
His hold on your face slackened, and though you twitched in response to that, you didn’t open your eyes. He leant forward, and began to gently blow over your lids so they’d dry faster. He could see the minuscule twitch of your eyes, and nose at the sudden sensation. He pulled back a little to admire your face against his palm.
Don’t get him wrong--you were always going to be splendidly beautiful in his eyes--whether he was waking up in the morning to see you snoring away, or when you were busy stuffing yourself away with your favourite food but--
But because he was a social media celebrity, he knew that some people didn’t like you. There were people out there with ugly hearts who refused to acknowledge your relationship because of it.
You always told him you didn’t mind, that what mattered was that you both loved each other.
While that placated Vil, there was just one thing he wanted to do.
He wanted to show you off.
He was very happy to be taken, and proud that you were his partner.
He wanted people to realize how amazing you are.
He wanted them to realize that you were a steal--and that you belonged to Vil as much as he belonged to you.
So when he’s painting your eyelids lavender to match the tips of his hair, and your lips the matching pink shade on his own lips--he’s declaring that to the world--
‘This person is mine. Just as must as I am theirs. They are the best thing I have and no criticism you throw our way will get in the way of that.’
“Vil, are you done?” you asked.
“Let me just put the finishing touch.” he said, as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, and leant in to press a soft kiss against your lips.
A soft one, just so he doesn’t have to redo anything.
When he pulled back, he’s delighted to see the red tint rise to your cheeks.
“Beautiful.” he smiled, “you can open your eyes now.”
Your eyes fluttered open, and his heart leapt--
you looked so good in his colors.
--
You eagerly stared up at the monitor, back at Idia, and repeated this several times before the Ignihyde dorm leader finally gave in.
“Alright.” he sighed very deeply as you cheered. “I’ll help you make your character.”
“I want them to look like me please!” you requested, and Idia nodded.
It was easy enough for him to maneuver the mouse around to make sure that the character model had your hair, and body type. Then he zoomed in on the face.
“Come closer.” he instructed with a tone of confidence that you normally didn’t hear from the Ignihyde dorm leader. You blinked in surprise, but shrugged. Once you had pulled your chair closer to him, Idia wasted no time and cupped your face with his hand. He brought his face close as he began to customize the character’s face to look like yours.
“[Name]’s forehead is small, but cute...”
“Their brows should be like this...”
“[Name]’s eyes are sparkly, I can get blinded by them...”
“Cute. Nose.”
“I love kissing their lips... The shape are like this...”
“The jawline--yes, soft and adorable...”
You could feel your face heat up as he muttered all this lovingly underneath his breath--as if that would make it so that you couldn’t hear it.
“Alright, I’m done.” Idia’s smile was wide and pleased as he turned back to you.
Your face was red.
“Are you okay, [Name]?” he tilted his head in concern.
“That is...” you muttered as you lowered your face to hide your expression.
That’s when it hits Idia that he’s holding your face in his hand.
“Eeek! Sorry!” he yelped as he pulled his hand away from yours.
“No--no it’s fine.” you squeaked in response as your hands flew to your face, as you hoped you can get the red flush on your cheeks to calm down.
“I’m sorry! I held your face without permission!”
“No--no it’s not that Idia!” you protested.
“Then--what, what was it?” he asked, his own hands covered his face. He felt his heart get hit by a bunch of arrows when you shyly look up at him through your lashes.
‘Cute! You were so cute! If he had just a bit more confidence, he’d tell you that everyday and kiss you!’
“I...Idia... did you...” you glanced away awkwardly at the monitor, and he followed your gaze to the 3d model of a character made to look like you. “Do you... often, mutter under your breath?”
“Uh well--Ortho tells me I do it a lot but I normally don’t realize I...” Idia froze in response.
“[Name]...?”
“Yeah?”
“You mean I... was I thinking out loud?”
“Um. Yeah.” you squealed lightly, and his whole body turned red.
“Oh no! Ortho! Your brother is on fire!”
--
Malleus stared expressionlessly up at the sky as he waited for you.
“Tsunotaro!” you had greeted when you had seen him earlier in the halls. “Are you going on a walk tonight?”
“I will.” He nodded, beside him Sebek bristled at the nickname.
“Cool~ Wait for me okay?” you beamed, before you skipped off. “See you Tsunotaro!”
“Lord Malleus,” Sebek hesitated. “If I may be allowed to ask...?”
“You’re already asking.” Malleus arched a brow as Sebek sputtered quickly.
“My apologies.” he said, as he quickly jerked down to bow, “but I must ask--why do you let that person call you nicknames?”
Malleus stared down at Sebek who began to sweat at the intensity of the young Lord’s stare. Malleus sighed, and he looked up in the direction you had left.
Truthfully it was because...
(”Who are you?” an innocent question, and the curious face of a person who didn’t know him.
I didn’t want this person to realize who I was because--)
“Who knows?” Malleus hummed, before he turned away.
A faint sound disrupted his thoughts.
Malleus blinked, and turned his head to see you creep up on him. You were hidden behind a tree, the shadows overwhelmed your form. (He frowned--you did not belong in the shadows.)
“Ah, you heard that?” Once you made eye contact, you stepped away from the shadows, and walked right into the moonlight. Malleus could feel his face smoothen at the way the iridescent, soft glow of the moon kissed your features. (’Better,’ he thought to himself.)
“Were you attempting to sneak up on me?” Malleus asked, a smirk grew on his lips. Ah, weren’t you just so adorable and amusing?
“I tried.” you shrugged, before you finally paused to stand before him. “Hey, why is it that even when sitting down, you’re still taller than me?”
“Perhaps you should sleep early.”
“Eh? Then won’t that mean I can’t accompany you on your walks?” Malleus stood slowly, and carried with him such elegance that makes your breath catch in your throat. Malleus was just too pretty.
Your thoughts halt when Malleus reached forward to cup your face with a hand. Instinctively you lean in, and pressed your cheek against his large hand.
“You are not afraid at all.” No matter how much Malleus knew this, it never ceases to amaze him.
He--is a dragon fae.
He--is the fifth strongest magician in this world.
He--is the heir to the throne of the Valley of Thorns.
He is a terrifyingly powerful immortal--and you were a soft, delicate mortal with a body that could break and a spirit that could be lost if he is not mindful of himself.
Yet you let him touch you like this.
He stared into your eyes, tiny windows to the galaxy of your soul. He wished he could read your mind, spend time exploring all of which that made up every facet of you.
You were so dazzling.
Your fingers laced with his, as you pressed his cool hand against your warm cheek.
“How could I be afraid?” your eyes flickered upward shyly as you look into Malleus’ bright ones.
“This hand could kill you.”
He said, as nonchalantly as he would speak about the weather.
“No,” you disagreed. “this is the hand of a kind person.”
His eyes widened, and he felt his heart skipped a beat at that.
“This is the hand of a person who helped me despite not knowing me,” you continued. “this is the hand of a lonely man, who has a pretty smile when I make him laugh.”
He could feel his face heat up at that.
Malleus Draconia--blushed.
“I’ve never been called kind before.” he commented idly.
“Well, people should see that you’re a kind person, Tsunotaro!” you exclaimed, as you puffed your cheeks in frustration.
He only laughed in response, as he gently squeezed your cheeks.
“I don’t think I need anyone else to know that.”
“Huh? but why?”
He hummed and chose not to answer you. Instead he leant down to pull you in a warm embrace, his hold on you tightened as you tentatively wrapped your arms around his body.
‘That’s because... I need only hear it from you, my bright light.’
--
#aiwrites#aiscenarios#twisted wonderland#twst#twst scenarios#twst riddle#twst leona#twst azul#twst kalim#twst vil#twst idia#twst malleus
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Is this where your life was meant to go, Daisuke Jigen? The world, he tells you, is your oyster, and that sounds so much more decadent these days than it did once upon a time, even when some days, the closest thing you get to good seafood is in your cup ramen. You’re not going to complain—you might complain, but you don’t mean it, jaw working on the tough little curls of shrimp and trying not to smile when his voice goes a little higher, when his cockamamie schemes start sounding the right amount of off-the-wall for you.
Your oyster. You’ve handled your share of pearls at this point, things bigger than pearls, things you’d never dreamed of even seeing in person, and you’ve held them in your hands. You’ve howled laughter, thrown diamonds around like plastic beads, lain on beds of cold, hard cash, lost it all in the next breath.
Lost him all in the next breath, until he’s come back.
You’ve punched him for that. You’ve gotten him bleeding. You’ve shot the air beside him and pretended it was a miss, that it was serious this time, that you meant it just a bit to the right. He never flinched, and he wouldn’t flinch now if you did it again, because he knew the moment he met you that you never miss. Never a flinch, but his hands thrown up not in fear but placation, words quick like he hasn’t got all the time in the world to waste with you standing there, both of you insisting it’s the last time, one way or the other.
He’s always sorry. He always means it. He finds you when you’re up that night, washing the taste of bad tobacco out of your mouth with the taste of bad scotch, washing both out with the sound of rain coming in where you’ve left the hotel balcony open. He sits on the arm of the couch you’re laying on, and he waits for you to sigh, and he offers you a pack of the good smokes, a lighter, a smile with that shade of regret to it that took you years to be able to identify in the first place. You sigh again and let him light you one straight from your lips, his own in the same flame.
He comes back, and the money comes back until it’s gone again. The jobs get bigger until they get smaller again, and the cities get louder until you’re driving down country roads without a word between you except check the map for me, wouldja, Jigen Dear? And it’s its own version of peace, even with those roundabout routes and the Magnum on your belt. Your dirty shoes are on the dash, and the music is low, and you can’t pretend there’s anything normal about it all, but you weren’t built for normal. You’d chew your nails off at normal, now.
You doubt if anyone’s life is meant to go this way. You sure as hell don’t think yours was, but you’ve been trying harder these days to not think about where it was meant to go. For now, you’re stopped at a roadside motel for the night and you’ve got the curtain cracked to see into the parking lot, and he’s on the floor tinkering with a gadget he hasn’t gotten around to explaining yet. It’s quiet except his humming, but he’s got his shoulder pressed to your leg, and it’s familiar.
#boggle writes fic#boggle lupin-blogs#(i don't know how to feel about putting things in the main tag for this fandom yet but anyway)#there's no point to this. i have simply been trying to write all week and a song gave me a vibe and this popped out.#i will say it's not edited so enjoy shdjkfgthjgds
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Miss Writer
Pairing: Brian Kang x female reader
World: To Be Continued
Genre: writer au / fluff
Warnings: none
A/N: So I had no intentions of returning to the TBC world so soon, but as you can read below, I had a bit of trouble trying to write something for 2021 and this is the result of my nonsense thoughts at the time. I really am happy I wrote this as it feels like a good opening act for what’s to come this year!
Word count: 1558
“Hey! Did you hear about the writer who didn’t want to write?”
“They what?”
“She sat there for hours on end, just avoiding every idea that came to mind.”
“But why? Aren’t writers meant to write?”
“Why am I writing this?” you complained out loud, sighing heavily and leaning back in your computer chair. Staring at the basic dialogue in your word document, you groaned.
Why was it so hard to write?
You had been through this before. Where the words wouldn’t flow the right way, and your characters felt hollow.
But that was because Brian wasn’t in the story at the time.
You couldn’t solve this the way you had back then either. Once Brian had gone back into the world he had stepped out of, you finished the story without any further mishaps. In this case, you didn’t have any other fictional characters stepping out of any novel you had written to send back in. You didn’t even have a character to write about.
That was no doubt the whole problem.
“Miss Writer,” a voice called out, and you turned, smiling warmly at the man leaning against the threshold. Brian tipped his head in your direction. “How’s it going? Is your next bestseller getting ready to leap onto the pages?”
“Ha! At the rate I’m going, I might as well retire.”
“What?” Walking over to your side, Brian then leaned down to inspect your laptop’s screen. “You’ve written only four lines in two hours.”
“Four lines are better than none, though, I can’t say they’re four impressive lines,” you muttered, pouting up at the man. “I’m broken.”
“Shall I fix you?” he murmured, leaning down to kiss you. His lips were almost on yours when the doorbell rang. Brian heaved in a heavy breath. “If that’s Sungjin, I swear…”
“It’s probably Lily,” you mentioned with a knowing smile, climbing out of your chair and heading down to the front door to answer it. When you swung it open, however, you merely stared back at the woman standing there.
“Can we help you?” Brian asked from over your shoulder, right when you gasped noisily. “Y/N?”
“You’re… you’re… no way.”
Sungjin leaned around the side of the house and grinned. “Y/N! You need to stop making people so realistic that they come to life.”
“I’m confused,” Brian announced as you began to bounce with excitement, reaching out to touch the woman’s hand before you.
She grabbed it warmly and grinned at you. “I’m so amazed to finally meet you!”
“Ella,” you murmured and then glanced at Sungjin standing all too protectively at her side. “You found your Constable.”
“Ella?” Brian echoed and then lurched forward, leaning over you. “Ella from the Protector story?!”
Ella nodded and held out her hand to Brian. “You must be the first of our kind, Brian Kang, right?”
“Our kind?”
“Well, I had to explain it somehow to Ella,” Sungjin admitted with a chuckle. “It’s not every day that characters step out of documents, now is it?”
“Maybe that’s why I can’t write,” you murmured, watching the instant despair cross over your friend’s face, whilst a smug smile appeared on your partner’s. Rolling your eyes, you shunted Brian in the side before stepping aside and letting them inside. “Come, I promise this time I’m more equipped to dealing with my characters in the flesh. I won’t be fainting this time.”
“I’m starting to get worried now,” Brian confessed later in the evening as he carried your cat Binks around. “If Ella’s here too, who’s going to be next?”
“Well, considering I can’t seem to create anyone, you won’t have a problem any time soon.”
Brian pointed at you in warning. “Don’t you dare go opening Destined’s file.”
“Ooh, now there’s an idea!” you teased, grinning at Brian as you approached him. Stretching up to kiss him softly, you shook your head. “I doubt I could love anymore more than you if I tried.”
“And you always say I’m the charmer yet here you are causing my heart to go erratic with lines like that,” Brian stated with a giddy smile, his eyes disappearing and turning into little crescents.
“Well, you can’t be the one with the upper hand all the time.”
“Miss Writer.”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t think Ella is the problem this time. I think you’re just putting too much pressure on your shoulders.”
“Pressure?” you repeated with a frown and Brian placed Binks down before nodding at you. “Of course, I’m under pressure! I have to get my first chapter to Lily by next week, and I have nothing, not even a name.”
“You’re trying to write the next best thing, aren’t you?”
“That’s the whole concept of being an author, Brian. Writing something better than your last story. We’re always on the path of personal growth during this journey, Brian.”
“I know,” he agreed initially, rubbing your shoulders affectionately. You let out a small whine, not realising how tense your body was until he touched you. Brian instantly moved behind you and started working out the knots residing there. He stopped, leaning close to your ear. “But can’t you just write something for fun?”
“Fun?”
“Isn’t that the whole point of writing? To enjoy the world you create. You’ve been non-stop since I’ve known you. Before my world, you write a four part series with Jinyoung, then a three part series with me and Charli. Right after that, you completed Protector, and now you’re looking to follow that up as quickly as you can even though it’s only in the publication stages.”
Brian stepped around to face you, his face growing concerned. “Why don’t you slow down? Write something just for yourself.”
“I have. I wrote you into existence,” you reminded, and Brian slid his hands around your waist and tugged you closer. Placing your palms upon his chest, you gazed up at him lovingly. “I have to write something worth publishing.”
“Do you?”
“Huh?”
“Why not write something that the world will never see?” Brian offered and you chewed on your bottom lip in thought. “I think you’ve forgotten the joy of writing just for yourself, Miss Writer.”
The following morning, you sat at your desk deep in thought. Brian’s words had played over in your mind throughout the night and still were at the forefront of your mind now.
Did he think you had lost your personal enjoyment along the way as an author?
“Hey, that can’t be right,” you hummed, shaking your head before posing your index finger back up to your lips.
Had you?
The last time you had written something just for your own pure enjoyment was Destined. Sure, you had been excited by your ideas ever since, and laughed, cried, grown frustrated and been endlessly happy with the words you had crafted. But you were also contracted to write down those words. Since the third part of Destined, you had been signed under the publishing house you belonged to and had written consistently since. You hadn’t taken any time to write for yourself, aside from short stories here and there when you didn’t feel like working on a bigger story.
Even though you had enjoyed the journey thus far, it hadn’t been one you took alone.
“Maybe Brian’s right,” you said, blinking a couple of times before reaching into the top drawer of your desk for your external hard-drive. Glancing at the clock to see how much time you had left before Brian got home from running errands, you took in a deep breath, opening up your older fiction files.
Back here you were full of naivety and fresh ideas. The world was your oyster, as the saying went, and you had been hoarding many of them. As you scanned the title of projects you once hoped to write, you shook your head in amazement.
“There’s so many ideas here that I haven’t tried yet,” you breathed, stopping on one and clicking to expand the notes on it. “Wow, an enemies to lovers story.”
You continued to make your way through, finding an assortment of ideas. From fluff to angst, and all those in between, you had ample inspiration here to fill an entire year of stories.
“Should I indulge myself in writing these for a bit and come back to writing my next novel at a later date?” you wondered, your smile growing as your computer’s cursor hovered over an idea that piqued your interest.
“I’m back!” a voice called out and you spun around in your chair, leaping up and dashing into the arms of the man you loved. Brian chuckled. “Well, I missed you too!”
“You were right! Instead of looking for the best idea for my next story, I need to take some time off and write for me.”
“I was, huh?” he mused with satisfaction, cupping your face within his hands. “So what do you plan to write next?”
“I have so many ideas! There’s general domestic stories and a murder mystery, some periodic pieces about pilots and regency era based ideas. Of course, there’s a bunch of fluffy ideas, with a few royal au ones and even pirates! But you know, there’s one I really want to try first.”
“Which is?”
You grinned before poking his nose fondly. “You’ll just have to wait and find out what’s to come.”
_________________
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#kwritersworldnet#kdiarynet#young k fanfic#young k scenarios#young k fiction#young k fluff#young k au#young k#day6#day6 fiction#day6 fanfic#day6 scenarios#day6 fluff#day6 au#pwyl; to be continued#kpop fiction#kpop fanfic#kpop scenarios#kpop fluff
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my dinner date last night, middle aged man, had asked me if i was on the spectrum after a month of talking to me. it went like this:
> lengthy conversation on why i should set my sights on 💰career growth💰 related to my major so i’ll be rich and happy
> me, holding a salad fork, offering him a cut slice of ribeye, looking amused
“i’m glad you think highly of me, and maybe i could make real money, but I’m probably not meant for corporate life. i would be really lucky working for free on 3d-printed houses and artificial oyster reefs. paychecks are… just a nice bonus to me right now. I’m surprised i make this much at my job doing little to nothing.”
> flummoxed, but chewing on steak, he watches as his date sorts vegetables and eats them in an unspoken order. This repeats with a salmon, as she takes apart each layer like a little surgeon. She makes a barely-discernible sound before each mouthful and doesn’t seem to be aware of it, because she has been affectionately playing footsie under the table and making eye contact the entire time.
> everything clicks. cue the “hold on. you really are one of those—uh, on the spectrum” (i nod, confirming the phrase.) “Woah I see it. i just caught it behind your eyes. you operate really fast, but really messy. You’re horribly subjective.”
> i grin.
#*BANGS TABLE*#i have been telling him for WEEKS#IVE BEEN TRYING TO EXPLAIN#and he just INTERRUPTS me#but a salad??? my desire to be poor??? THATS what convinces him#i scolded him afterwards for not listening#but i played myself because he asked me to dinner again#i said yes because we both had fun#story time#mine
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Possibilities, Part 2
Pairing: Rafael Barba x Lucy Huston
CW: language, fluff
WC: 1750
AN: I am so stoked that so many people enjoyed part one and this pairing. It was meant to be a one-shot, but here we are. I am excited for this ship, toot toot!
Tags: @melsquared79 @madpanda75 @ottosuricato @delia26 @dreila03 @sass-and-suspenders @amirightcounselor @glimmerglittergirl @mommakat32 @garturbo @southern-magnolia @neely1177 @niyashell @tropes-and-tales @imjustreallynosy @whyissvuruiningmylovelife @sweetsummertime99 @evee87 @scarletsoldierrr @kscarlett1 @cesarofangirl78 @redlipstickandplaid @zoeykaytesmom @differentshadesofgray @redlipstickandblacktea - anyone else just ask.
****
It had been three months. Three months of texting, secret dates, and hidden, flirty looks when in each other’s presence. It would take every fiber in Lucy’s being to not jump into Rafael’s arms when she saw him - whether it was at Liv’s apartment or at the precinct when she was picking up Noah. Likewise, for Rafael - he would be in the middle of discussing a case with Liv when he would simply lose train of thought at the sight of Lucy. Even if she didn’t say anything, Rafael knew her scent intimately - and his olfactory receptors would go into overdrive.
Rafael was tasked to a particularly tough case and it meant many days and nights into the office. It was to his surprise when Lucy showed up at his office.
“Cariño, what are you doing here?” Rafael murmured, shutting the door to his office.
Lucy pressed her lithe body against Rafael’s and he wrapped his thick arms around her, enveloping her completely. Her hands pressed against his chest, tugging slightly on his suspenders and she stood on her tip-toes to press as kiss to Rafael’s lips. Rafael used the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue darting again at hers. She sighed, melting into his embrace and they enjoyed their private moment before breaking away.
“I miss you, that’s all,” Lucy replied softly as she used the pad of her thumb to rub off her lipstick that had smeared onto his lips.
Rafael pressed his face into her hand before kissing it. “I know. I miss you too.”
A staccato knock on the door interrupted their reverie, causing them to jump. “Barba—“ Liv charged into the office. She halted when she saw Lucy.
“Lucy? Hi? What are you doing here?” Liv questioned, her brows furrowed.
Lucy felt her face flush and her mouth went dry as she wracked her brain to formulate an answer.
“She thought you were picking up Noah here—“ Rafael jumped in, glancing at Lucy. Lucy gave him a half smile, nodding along.
“Right! And then I realized I got my days mixed up,” Lucy continued, mock hitting herself on the head. “I was just on my way out to go get Noah from the precinct.” She ducked her head and rushed past Liv, grabbing her purse from Rafael’s couch. Liv opened her mouth to reply but Lucy was gone. Rafael was certain if this moment was a cartoon, smoke would be emanating from her heels.
Liv looked at Rafael who shrugged in response. Liv shook her head before focusing on why she was there - she needed a warrant and fast.
***
A week later, Rafael and Lucy walked onto the vibrant green grass in Central Park, where the waited for the Philharmonic to perform. Rafael opened up the large blue checkered blanket. Lucy sank down to her knees, smoothing out the blanket before she began to remove the plethora food items they brought with them: mixed berries, soft cheeses, prosciutto and salami, and a loaf of French bread. She sat out the Bolero wine and Rafael opened it with the wine opener. Rafael grabbed the two glasses and sat them on the blanket gently, before he removed his shoes and socks. He sat with his knees up, legs spread apart and Lucy sat against him, her legs outstretched. Unbeknownst to them, they were spotted by curious eyes from a distance.
“Mom? Who is Uncle Rafa with?” Noah asked, pointing from the path he was on with Liv. “That’s Uncle Rafa, right?”
Liv squinted. “Yes,” she replied. ‘But I can’t see who he is with.’ “Let’s leave them be - we have to go.” Noah nodded before continuing on his bike, slowly pedaling away. Liv squinted one more - the face of the woman was familiar, but she was too far away. Liv cocked her head once more before chasing after Noah.
***
“I insist you stay for dinner,” Liv told Lucy. “Noah’s been asking.”
“Well, if Noah has been asking, how can I say no?” Lucy replied, bending down to smile at Noah. “Come on, let’s go get washed up.”
As Liv finished setting out the table, there was a knock on the door. She wiped her hands on the towel hanging off her stove before making her way to the door.
“Rafael,” Liv greeted brightly. “To what do I owe pleasure?”
“Wanted to bring over the Jackson case file...” Rafael began, stopping short at the sight of Lucy and Noah who had returned. Rafael tried to stop his mouth from twitching into a smile.
“Uncle Rafa! Uncle Rafa! Are you going to have dinner with us?” Noah pushed passed Liv to greet Rafael. Rafael smiled at the young boy before looking at his friend.
“Rafael is very busy—“ Liv began but Rafael cut her off.
“I think I can stay for dinner.”
“Hooray!” Noah shouted, running back to Lucy. Lucy met eyes with Rafael and she smiled.
***
“So Lucy, are you doing anything fun tomorrow night?” Liv asked as she passed the salad to her. Lucy nodded, chewing thoughtfully before she answered.
“I have plans with a friend.”
“Do you have a boyfriend?” Noah asked, his mouth full of spaghetti.
Lucy flushed. Rafael coughed on the wine he was drinking, red droplets splattering everywhere.
“Noah!” Liv chastised, as she handed a napkin to Rafael. Rafael patted himself, annoyed that his clothes were sprinkled with red wine, but he was curious to see how Lucy would respond.
Lucy let out a small laugh. “He is a special friend, yes.” Briefly, her eyes met Rafael’s once more. “Very special.”
Later, as Lucy tucked Noah into bed, Rafael helped Liv clean up from dinner. He scraped the remains of the salad into the trash.
“So I saw you the other day at the park,” Liv commented. Rafael’s back was to hers, and he froze momentarily. He turned around, relieved that Liv hadn’t turned around herself.
“You seem happy,” Liv commented. “I want that for you.” She turned around and gave Rafael a genuine smile. “Where did you meet her?”
“A coffee shop,” Rafael replied. “Just pure happenstance.”
Lucy was walking up the hall when she heard the two of them speaking. She paused in her steps, and craned her neck to listen. Her heart pounded in her chest as she heard Liv quip about having dinner together.
She rounded the corner, and tried to appear jubilant. “Liv, Noah’s in bed - if you don’t mind, I’m going to head home.”
Liv nodded. “Thanks for everything. I’ll see you Thursday. Get home safely.”
“Do you want to share a cab?” Rafael suggested. “I’m almost done.”
Lucy shook her head. “No. I’m okay. See you around Rafael. ‘Night Liv.” Lucy rounded the hallway and let out the breath she didn’t realize she was holding once the elevators doors shut.
***
Lucy padded around her apartment, dressed for her date with Rafael that next night. She wore a black long sleeve, mock turtleneck bodysuit that had a thing bottom. The body suit was sheer except for the sleeves and panel at the breasts, that had lace details. It had an open back and she paired it with a pair of black skinny jeans and black booties. Stacks of bangles adorned her wrists. Her hair was normally pin straight, but she used her curling wand to create large, bouncy soft curls. She lined her eyes and was in process of finishing applying her lipstick when her buzzer sounded.
“Be right down,” she spoke after Rafael said hello through the speaker. Rafael wore dark fitted jeans and a burgundy cashmere sweater, with the sleeves pushed up. He was leaning against the cab, hands in pockets. Lucy’s breath hitched at the sight of him.
“Counselor,” she greeted with a wink.
“Te ves muy hermosa,” Rafael purred in Lucy’s ear before pressing a kiss to her lips. His breath on her ear, sent a warm shiver down her spine. “Thank you,” she squeaked. “Where are we going?”
Rafael climbed into the cab after Lucy. “Want to get out of the city?”
***
Lucy and Rafael were cozied in a booth in the back of Hotel Delmano, a cocktail bar in Brooklyn. The bar was outfitted with opulent chandeliers and old, smoky mirrors. The various rooms had turquoise or muted red walls adorned with portraits of old, stately-looking people.
Oysters and other small plates like olives, cheese boards, and pâtés rounded out the many drinks that were had. Rafael’s had one hand wrapped around the lowball glass and his other hand rubbed concentric circles on Lucy’s thigh. Rafael moved her hair to expose her neck. He nuzzled the sensitive skin, pressing small kisses along the slope of her neck.
Rafael cupped Lucy’s chin, and drew her to face him. “I knows it’s only been three months — I knew the we started talking at that coffee shop, that there was something about you I needed. But it wasn’t something about you. All I really, truly needed was just you. You make me happier than I thought I could be.”
“Oh Rafael,” Lucy began before the shrill of Rafael’s phone ringing interrupted her. Rafael gave her an apologetic look as he glanced at the phone. He held a finger to his lips and mouthed ‘Liv.’
“Barba,” he answered sharply. Rafael furrowed his brows as he listened intently and Lucy instantly knew their night was over. Lucy motioned for their check. The waitress brought over the bill and while still on the phone, Rafael took care of it. “Actually I am close by — that’s another story for another time.”
He hung up, and gave Lucy an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry. I’ll need to rain check.”
“It’s fine. You’re needed. Go.” Lucy pressed a quick kiss to Rafael’s lips and gave him a small smile. “Be safe.”
Rafael turned to leave but then stopped and swept Lucy into a deep, passionate kiss. “I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”
Lucy watched Rafael leave and opened her phone to order an Uber home. As she grabbed her clutch, she noticed Rafael’s phone was on the table. “Fuck,” she grimaced and ran out of the bar.
“Rafael! Rafael!” Lucy shouted running after Rafael. She burst out of the bar, and noticed him rounding the corner. Lucy continued to run after him. “You forgot your —“ she caught up to him and realized he was standing in front of someone — and that someone was Liv. Lucy was horrified.
“Lucy? What are you doing —“ Liv began, confused but the realization hit her like a ton of bricks. She pointed her finger back and forth.
“So how long have you two been fucking?”
TBC.
#rafael barba fanfic#rafael barba fanfiction#barba fanfic#rafael barba x lucy huston#rafael barba x lucy#barba x lucy#my fanfiction#my writing
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Love’s Pure Light
31 Days of Ineffables Day 7: Silent Night
Dedicated to the lovely and talented @alltheprettygirlsintheworld
On AO3
On Wattpad
Somewhere in New Zealand, 1990
The starry night was silent, or as silent as nights generally get, which is to say there were the sounds of wind, bugs, sleepy sheep noises, and, in this case, cursing and pleading.
"Turn around, just fucking turn around, you stupid bloody sheep, I--"
Glory streamed from the sky. Golden light pulsed, trumpets sounded, choral music swelled. An angel descended, white wings spread, arms held out, their face concealed by radiance too great to look at. "BE NOT AFRAID."
"Fuck fuck fuck--" The shepherd, if that was what it was, scrambled back in panic, utterly failing to be not afraid. "Look, don't get mad, can see you're busy, I'll be getting along now, popping back to Hell, no need for a fight."
The glorious angel tittered. Distinctly tittered, as the radiance faded and they took a more ordinary, if immaculate, human form.
"*Aziraphale." Crowley hesitated, torn between relief, fury, joy and amusement, and settled on the last one. He flung his head back and laughed and laughed. "Oh, you bastard. Come here." He lunged himself forward and his arms around the angel, and it was only when Aziraphale stopped giggling and stood suddenly stock still that Crowley realised he had never embraced him before. He stumbled back for the second time this evening, and they stared at each other. For lack of anything else not revealing to say, Crowley repeated "You bastard."
Eventually they found themselves sitting side and side on a log, staring at the sheep. "You really are a bastard," Crowley said. "I thought you were Gabriel, coming to announce the next messiah. Or Sandalphon announcing the first. Did you ever get a firm confirmation from Headquarters on that one?"
Aziraphale pursed his lips, wrinkled his brow and looked unhappy, which Crowley knew well enough to read as She doesn't talk to us about things anymore. He felt slight compunction over his urge to keep prodding, keep encouraging Aziraphale to question, keep--keep what? He didn't really want his angel to fall. Just to keep him company. That would be more evil than even a demon could contemplate.
He wanted to apologise and couldn't. Instead he rambled on. "Or Michael. You have no idea how terrifying that would be."
"Why Michael?" Aziraphale, looking curiously at him, sidelong under perfect long lashes. Crowley wished he wouldn't, and wished he would, and couldn't sort it out at all. "You always seem to have it in for her. She's a bit strict, but she's not so bad, really."
"You imagine sitting in a paddock full of sheep and your Dad shows up. Especially when she's a straight-laced wanker."
"Oh." Those pretty lashes blinked. "I don't know why that surprises me. You had to be Created somehow. Born from tears, eh?"
Crowley would do anything to stop Aziraphale looking at him in that tender, compassionate way. "So what are you doing here, angel? I thought you hated this neck of the woods." Aziraphale hummed under his breath and didn't answer. "On assignment?" Aziraphale stared at his plump fingers, twining and entwining, and still said nothing. Crowley was very good at seeing in the dark, and he was almost sure there was pink creeping up from Aziraphale's neck.
Is it me? Did you come see me? Oh, angel, it's been twenty-three years. Tell me you missed me. Tell me that was slow enough. Tell me you came looking. To New Zealand, of all places.
"What are you doing? You seemed to be yelling at some sheep."
"Oh, yeah. Well, it was a great idea." Crowley beamed. "This was practice. Do you know there's thirty-nine million sheep in this place? Imagine how much terror and chaos it will cause if one morning the humans wake up and every sheep is facing in the other direction."[1]
"Brilliant, my dear," Aziraphale said politely.
"Yeah. Only they're stubborn, sheep. And apparently have no terror of demons. Or at least of me." Crowley sighed, resisted with practiced skill the impulse to take Aziraphale's hand, and leaned back, staring at the sky.
"I'm sure you're very intimidating."
"Oh, shut up." Crowley felt ridiculously happy. Here, under the stars, the baaing and bleating of sleep, the warm presence of his angel by his side. He felt a surge of courage.
"Let's have a picnic tomorrow," he said casually. Aziraphale tensed by his side, and he rushed on. "The cheese here, it's amazing, you need to try it." Every time he had tasted some, he had thought of Aziraphale, what he would look and sound like taking the salty creaminess into his mouth. "And they have these coffees--flat whites. Ristrettos with the glossiest, most velvety textured milk. They think they invented them."
"Didn't they?"
"The Australians think they invented them." Crowley grinned to himself. "Simultaneously. But each thinks they are first and the other country tried to steal the credit. You have no idea the amount of bickering and bad feeling between the nations it causes."
"And who invented them, or do I really need to ask?" sighed Aziraphale.
"I always did like coffee." Crowley grinned. "And pointless hostility and resentment between otherwise friendly nations. Ask me about pavlova some time."
Aziraphale gave him a suspicious look. "No flavoured syrups in flat whites?"
"Who do you think I am? I'm not that evil."
"I think you are someone who has four sugars in your tea. Pure chaotic wickedness."
Crowley laughed, tried not to hug him. "Come on." He couldn't manage puppy-dog eyes, not with these yellow snake-like things, but he was good at pleading eyebrows. "A picnic. You promised."
Aziraphale's mouth and brow were worried, but his eyes were very soft and liquid. "All right. See you tomorrow night. Here, at the same time."
And he was gone, leaving enough time for Crowley to panic thoroughly and over-cater. Even if you could over-cater for Aziraphale.
* * *
Aziraphale oohed and aahed satisfactorily over the local cheeses Crowley produced. Buffalo mozzarella,, camembert, burrata, maasdam, washed-rind, ash-coated goat's cheese, ricotta, haloumi.
"I wasn't sure what you'd like, so I bought them all," he said nonchalantly, pulling out some old gouda and blue cheese. Bread, crisp around the edges and fluffy white inside. Manuka-smoked cultured butter. Local honey. Crayfish salad. A pavlova, creamy with cheese and miraculously unsquashed, adorned with berries and kiwi fruit. Flat white coffees, miraculously still hot and velvety. And in pride of place--
Pan-fried pāua, nestled back in their shimmering blue shells.
Do you remember Rome, angel? The first time you approached me, rather than the other way around. The first time you asked me to spend time with you and seemed eager for me to agree. I was so sad, so sickened, on the point of giving up on the humans and going back to Hell--and then you. Luminous, kind, and taking such joy in those damned oysters, so much pleasure, so that I kept forgetting to eat and just kept watching you. My light, hope to a demon. Look at these, Aziraphale. Pretty oysters--well, pretty snails, I guess. Gleaming like you. Remember, remember.
He has no idea if oysters in Rome even meant anything to Aziraphale.
"Oh, it looks all delightful," cooed Aziraphale, spreading gooey camembert on a stick of bread, and Crowley tried not to smirk bashfully. He leaned back to watch the show.
It should be daylight. He should be watching his angel lit up by sunshine, playing in the pale curls, warm and golden on the soft curves of his cheeks and neck. But if moonlight and starlight was what he got, he would take it. Aziraphale unselfconsciously gathered up some camembert on his finger and licked it off, and Crowley shivered. Yes, he would take it.
He watched in fascination as Aziraphale tried everything, chewed and tasted and made small sounds of appreciation. He wondered if the angel had any idea how enrapturing he was in his unabashed enjoyment.
"Won't you eat too, dear?" Aziraphale asked softly. "You went to all this trouble."
Crowley cut a slice of aged cheese, popped it in his mouth, savoured the umami and salt as he chewed slowly and swallowed, but the real pleasure was in Aziraphale's increased joy, the gentle lifting of his thin expressive lips.
"Are you happy, Crowley?"
Crowley blinked. He had never, in his entire existence, been asked that except in angry, blaming tones. Now he was here with Aziraphale, looking at him kindly, looking as if his happiness was important. He wasn't sure how to handle it.
"Demons aren't supposed to be happy. Pleasure and enjoyment, yeah. Happiness, no." Aziraphale's face fell, the wrinkles in his forehead deeper, and Crowley reached out, clutched his hand. "Yeah." He passed a thumb across the back of Aziraphale's hand, and told the truth. "I'm happy."
"I'm so glad." Aziraphale was actually glowing in the dark. "Do try this honey, it's amazing." He dipped a spoon in the honey and held it out to Crowley. Honey. RIch and golden and sweet and--oh, it felt like Aziraphale was offering himself, and that was a ridiculous, insane, dangerous thought. Crowley parted his lips, and let the honey pass into his mouth, held it there, let it dissolve.
"It's beautiful." His voice was thick.
"Try the butter." Aziraphale's voice was strange too, his movements quick and jerky as he spread butter on bread. "Here." He broke off a piece, and held it to Crowley's lips.
Crowley had imagined, so many times, hand-feeding Aziraphale. Dreamily imagined it, as they shared meals together. Meltingly, when he saw something his angel would like. Desperately, frantically, ashamedly, alone and consumed with craving, carried away with the thought of doing something, anything, that would mean he was causing the angel pleasure, admitting to himself that he would rather make Aziraphale made a pleased sound with than any carnal pleaure with anyone else, admitting to himself that desire was fiery and demonic and, yes, carnal.
Crowley had never imagined Aziraphale hand-feeding him. He felt vulnerable and exposed, and saw the same expression in Aziraphale's face. Eating--eating was special to Aziraphale. A special pleasure. And he was sharing it... Aziraphale's hands were trembling, which was only fair, because Crowley was trembling from head to toe.
He took the bread into his mouth. The cultured and smoked butter was tangy, nutty. Sweet from the honey, creamy. And the salty, burned taste of the smoking, a whiff of Hell in all the heaven. Not ruining it. Making it better.
"I've missed you," breathed Aziraphale, and Crowley surged forward and kissed him.
Too much, too fast, he warned himself, but Aziraphale's shoulders were rounded and warm under his clasping hands and Aziraphale's lips, sweet and salty with cheese and honey, were returning the kiss, warm solid arms coming up around him as if helpless to do anything else. He was kissing the angel, and the angel wasn't kissing him away, he was returning the kiss so sweetly, so tenderly, so longingly. Crowley didn't dare deepen it, didn't dare risk losing this miracle, the lips against his, the arms around his back in the quiet night.
Just let me have this moment, he prayed, to--God? Satan? Aziraphale? I can live in this moment forever, whatever else happens. I love him so desperately.
Aziraphale pulled away eventually, and Crowley stared into his face, so pale in the moonlight, his eyes looking dark for once--night time or desire? He didn't know, could only hope. "Aziraphale," he whispered. "Please."
Aziraphale shook his head violently, the moment passing, fear coming back. He dropped his arms. "Not here. Anyone--anyone could see."
I want to kiss you here, Crowley thought rebelliously. Kiss you and kiss you and claim you, right under heaven, so they can see you belong to me, see you choose me, see you are mine.
And then what? his conscience asked. And why did he even have a bloody conscience? The pathetic angelic remnant was just a disadvantage to a demon. You want to take being an angel away from him?
"Come back to my hotel, then," he said, anyway. He was a demon. Selfish. "We can be alone--angel. Please." He was pleading without hope.
Aziraphale shook his head. It was inevitable, but it still hurt. "Don't make this harder. We are enemies--with an Arrangement."
Crowley wouldn't cry. Wouldn't manipulate Aziraphale that way. "Then let me buy you coffee tomorrow. You haven't drunk yours."
He thought Aziraphale would refuse. The angel was chewing his lip and looking down as if he was going to say no and flee.
"Yes. You worked so hard on flat whites. I owe it to you to taste them."
"Thank you."
Aziraphale's mouth twisted, as if Crowley wasn't the only one trying not to weep. "Don't thank me." He took a breath. "Anyway, I should thank you. This picnic, it was marvellous."
"Don't thank me," Crowley echoed, bitterly.
Aziraphale stood, fussily brushed crumbs off his neat trousers--and what was wrong with Crowley that watching those pampered hands brush Aziraphale's wonderfully thick thighs still sent fire lancing through him?--and looked down at him.
"Well. At least let me show my gratitude." Aziraphale flicked his fingers in the air, and there was a disturbed bleating.
All the sheep in the paddock were facing in the other direction.
"Angel." Despite all his mixed emotions, Crowley felt a grin creep over his face. "Just here?"
"All over New Zealand, I'm afraid." Aziraphale paused, then a glimmer of a smirk crept across his face. "And Australia."
"Angel," Crowley repeated, adoringly.
Aziraphale's smirk increased, then Crowley was alone in the silent night.
* * *
Something like thirty years later, when there had been many kisses, and many picnics, and much much more, when they could walk openly together hand in hand under the sky, and kiss there, Crowley stopped at a coffee stall and bought a flat white.
Aziraphale made a face. "They don't make them properly in England, you know that."
"Don't care. " Crowley looked at the slimy mess that was supposed to be milk microfoam, and sipped it dubiously. They had used a long shot of espresso, not ristretto, and burned it to boot. "It's a good memory."
"Yes, it is. The first time my husband kissed me."
"My glorious, terrifying angel."
Aziraphale pouted. "Oh, you make have quaked a bit, but you've never been afraid of me."
"No. No, somehow I never have been." Crowley snapped his fingers to dispose of the awful excuse for coffee, and went for Aziraphale's mouth, which was much sweeter instead. "But don't pretend to be Gabriel again."
Aziraphale shuddered. "Never." He smiled up at Crowley, whose heart turned over and over. "Shall we have another picnic today, my beloved?"
"Only if you promise to hand feed me," he said, and Aziraphale laughed happily, and, oh.
All was calm, and all was bright.
* * *
1 Inexplicable phenomena were not in themselves unusual on the Discworld. Rains of fish, for example, were so common in the little landlocked village of Pine Dressers that it had a flourishing smoking, canning and kipper-filleting industry. And in the mountain regions of Syrrit many sheep, left out in the fields all night, would be found in the morning to be facing the other way, without the apparent intervention of any human agency. --Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man.
Notes:
1) I've never actually been to New Zealand, but gosh, their cheese. Fun note: I'm lactose intolerant.
2) Pāua are incredibly beautiful mollusks (of your choice). Fun note: I hate seafood.
3) Seriously, thank you again for all this support for this series of fluffy first kisses.
4) See you tomorrow for "Choir"!
@drawlight
#31 days of ineffables#azicrow#Aziraphale/Crowley#Good omens fanfic#Ineffable husbands fanfiction#silent night
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Independence Day (Colt x MC)
A/N: This was a request from @skipperthetechgirl , who wanted “happy couple goals Colt x MC.” I hope this manages to make you happy! Thank you for the fantastic prompt!
Pairing: Colt x MC, ROD
Length: 1416 words
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Ellie and Colt are free from the horrors of the past, but what of the future?
Tags: @deimosensblog @alegria1580 @choicesarehard @thefarrari @client-327 @moonlit-girl-wonder @going-down-downtown@soniadotalves@jolietmaraud @hazah @flowerpowell@poeticscolt @powdesiree1986 @brightpinkpeppercorn
At least her eyes had adjusted enough to make out the path; the moon wasn’t bright enough to light her way and she had lost track of what was actual path and what Colt had improvised, pushing through bushes and over tree roots as he led her up the hill.
“Hey, why am I holding the backpack still?” They had left their helmets and jackets with the bike, the warm summer air plenty comfortable, even as darkness fell.
He dropped her hand and looked over his shoulder, rolling his eyes. “Would you rather I carry the bag, your highness?”
She stopped, watching him trudge on. With a wide grin, she ignored his confused “Ellie?” and ran forward, leaping onto his back with a triumphant cry.
“Aah!” Colt managed to stay upright, barely, and circled his arms around her calves as she wrapped her hands around his shoulders.
She leaned forward, so they were cheek to cheek, laughing. “Well, your highness would like a lift up the hill, thank you very much.”
He kissed her cheek, smiling wide, as she settled on top of his back to enjoy the ride. At least they didn’t have far to go as, just past a turn in the path, over a log, the woods opened up onto a large field. The view wasn’t much; unfortunately, the ocean was behind them, through the trees, but she could see Los Angeles sparkling in the distance.
She hopped down, surveying their spot. “Are you sure we can see it from here?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Now come on! If we miss it, you’re walking home.” He slipped the strap of the backpack off her shoulder, kissing her forehead.
She rolled her eyes, following him to the middle of the grass where he opened the bag and dug around for a bit. “That is no way to treat a queen.”
“Oh, excuse me,” he grabbed a blanket, shaking it out onto the ground. “I would have brought a throne but, you know, it wouldn’t fit on the bike.”
“This will have to do.” Ellie sprawled out, reaching for him. “Come on, come here.”
“One minute, jeez.” He turned back to the bag, digging around as she watched him. She crossed her arms, watching him, feeling incredibly lucky. There had been a time earlier this summer where she wasn’t sure that they both would live, or that she would go to Langston, or that he would be a free man, but it all worked out, amazingly, in the end. After her dad helped them spring a trap for The Brotherhood, they were able to start the slow process of rebuilding. For her, it meant closing out senior year and securing her placement at the summer session at Langston, moving into her dorm on July 8th. For Colt, it meant figuring out what to do with the remnants of Kaneko Auto Body and testifying against Jason and The Brotherhood under immunity.
She smiled to herself, thinking of the last month, after she no longer feared for their lives. It almost like they were any normal couple, happy, carefree; the world was their oyster, markedly different from the circumstances that brought them together. Finally, he emerged from the backpack, clutching a paper sack that she recognized all too well. “Kelso’s! Oh my God, tell me you got fries!”
“I got fries.” He sat down next to her. “For me.”
She leaned over him, falling into his lap to get at the bag. “Gimme...”
“Oh, fine, fine.” He laughed, a full belly laugh that Ellie had the privilege of heading only a few times. He had softened, slightly, especially when it was only the two of them; he would never be the most cheerful individual, but the horrors of the last few months had started to thaw.
Ellie leaned against his shoulder, staring at the sky, chewing slowly. “How much longer?”
“Probably a few more minutes.” He turned his head, dropping a kiss on her forehead, eyes considering her before he spoke again. “Are you excited for school?”
“Yeah, you know that. I am. It’s finally feeling real. I started packing and everything.” She sat up straight to look at him. “You gonna miss me?”
“No, not at all. Why would I miss ingrates who steal my fries and demand piggy-back-rides?”
“You’re so gonna miss me.” She elbowed him, grinning wider, but stopped when he didn’t smile back. In fact, he started to frown, his gaze turning serious.
“Colt?”
He took a breath, looking down. “I have to tell you something.”
Her heart stopped. She tried to cover the gasp but didn’t know if she succeeded; this was definitely not how she imagined tonight going. She pulled back, edging away from him, angling so was looking over the city and not at him, anywhere but him.
“Wait, what’s wrong?” Colt sounded confused, which irritated her even more.
“What do you mean what’s wrong?!?”
“Ellie?” She felt his hand touch her back, cautiously,
“Did you seriously bring me here to dump me?” The words came out in a rush, harsh, angry.
When she looked at him again, he was staring at her, mouth agape. “What? To dump you?”
The anger was slowly giving way to sadness. Don’t cry. “You said we needed to talk! That’s prime dumping language!”
“But, that’s not what I said! I said I had to tell you something!”
“Colt, those mean the same thing!” She was willing herself, with all she could, not to cry, She knew that it would be hard, being separated by the entire country, but at least she wanted to try. She thought they could made it work, but apparently she was the only one.
“Urgh! Stop. Look.” He jumped up, stomping over the bag and fishing around again. Finally, he found it, a manila envelope, which he grabbed and, with a deep breath, handed to her. “Look.”
She stared at the envelope, turning it over in her hands before shooting him a confused look.
He rocked back on his heels. “Just look, ok?”
Finally she opened it, carefully opening the flap and sliding the papers out of the envelope. The top one was a one way plane ticket, LAX to Boston, for July 30th. Twenty-six days from now.
She looked up at him, eyebrows furrowing. “Colt, I leave in four days. What is this?”
He nodded, hands in his pockets. He still hadn’t sat down. “Keep going.”
She looked down again. The next paper was a lease, a two-bedroom in Dorchester, on the south side of Boston. In the same city, but not exactly near her dorm.
“Colt, what? What is this?”
He was biting his lip now. “Keep going.”
The next page, the last one, an acceptance letter from the University of Massachusetts Boston, school of business management, for one Colt Kaneko.
She stared up at him. “Colt?” Her heart was hammering. “Wait...does this mean...”
He still hadn’t sat down on the blanket, was still standing over her, eyes cautious. “If you want....only if you want. There’s nothing really keeping me here, not anymore, and I figured....” He trailed off.
She dropped the papers, barely registering them spilling on the blanket as she leaped up and threw her hands around his neck. He didn’t even have time to react before she was kissing him, soundly, almost knocking him over in her exuberance.
He stood there until finally the shock faded and he started kissing her back, part kiss, part smile, part laugh, all messy and perfect. Finally, he broke it off to hug her, pulling her in his arms, swinging her around in the dark.
When he put her down again, her cheeks hurt and she had tears, happy tears, in her eyes. “You’re coming to Boston!”
“I guess I’m coming to Boston.”
She couldn’t stop her delighted shriek and pulled him down again, kissing him soundly. She was so happy, so focused on him, that she jumped when the first boom sounded overhead and they both pulled back to look up.
“Whoa....” Ellie stared at the colored lights flying overhead.
Colt pulled her towards him, spinning her so he could wrap an arm around her waist as he pulled her back to his chest. “Told you we could see it from here.”
She looked back to catch his eye, one more smile between them, before she turned to watch the fireworks overhead, feeling like they were actually a celebration for her and Colt, flashing into the night.
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Keeping Up Appearances
Bucky x Reader
Fake Dating AU
Chapter 3 - All Other Parts
Summary: When an old friend comes back into your life you struggle to maintain the lies you've told. Bucky Barnes has no idea what he's gotten into by agreeing to be your fake boyfriend, but you have no idea what to do about the very real feelings you have for him.
Back again in the relative safety of Bucky's car you let out the breath you had been holding since leaving La Bernardin with Bucky, hand in sweaty hand.
"Holy fuck." You cried burying your face in your hands. You voice echoed through the parking garage, its range extended by the open driver's side door. Bucky had yet to enter the car, a worn leather jacket he had pulled from the back seat sitting in his place. The blue button up came sailing into the car, settling in a wrinkly ball on the center console. The arm of the shirt landed on your leg and you reached out to touch the fabric unthinkingly. The leather jacket disappeared and the seat was filled by a now jacketed Bucky.
"Hey, look at me." Bucky called in a gentle, calming voice. You turned your head without bothering to hide your distress. He pulled a half smile that stole your heartbeat for a few skips.
"Its all over. You survived." He whispered in the same calm and gentle voice. You scoffed and turned your head to face the windshield and the blank, concrete wall just beyond the car.
"I don't know." You said lowly. You knew it wasn't over, because when Pepper was standing with you, smiling and laughing and sharing her joy, you felt like you used to. You didn't want that feeling to end but there is no way in hell you'd survive this.
But how you used to feel...well that feeling existed because you could afford it. Now, you were making dumb, costly decisions with long term effects, and dragging Bucky along from the ride.
Bucky tried to meet your eye, but you were steadfast in your staring contest with the wall ahead. You couldn't look at him, couldn't admit you fucked up. Your eyes flicked to his hand as it reached toward you but stopped just short of your thigh to encircle the gear shift and put the car in reverse.
"I don't know about you but I am hungry for some real food." He said in a purposely lighter and louder voice. You nodded absently.
"Look, no offense, but oysters taste like snot."
You weren't offended, you thought they tasted like snot too.
-
A large pizza, fresh and hot, sat upon your lap. It smelled divine and you couldn't wait to get home, get out of your dress and into some sweats, and head over to Bucky's and Sam's and eat this giant, greasy pizza. You wanted to hear about Sam's date. You hoped your friend had a better time than you did. As if Sam knew you were thinking of him, his name appeared on Bucky's phone, which lay atop the pizza box in your lap.
"You got a text from Sam." You told him and he distractedly picked it up. He read the message at a stop sign, only taking a couple seconds to take in the contents and let his face fall into a slight frown.
"That bastard kicked me out of my own place!" Bucky exclaimed, dropping the phone back onto the box. You smirked at the dark screen. Sam's date must be going really well.
"Looks like you're sleeping in the hall tonight." You teased.
"Nah, I'll just stay at my girlfriend's for the night." He countered. It sent a jolt of panic through your chest, thinking he had a girlfriend you didn't know about, but just as quickly as your body tingled with nerves had they settled into bashfulness at the realization that he meant you. You were the girlfriend he was talking about. He intended to stay the night with you.
"Yeah, yeah of course you can." You managed to stutter out. He turned into the garage under your apartment building and suddenly let out a laugh, like he just remembered a joke.
"I'm gonna finally see what you were hanging up on your wall. It is the reason we are together after all. Better be a Monet or some shit." He winked, a brief and blurry vision in the darkness of the underground car park.
Bucky had never been in your apartment, you always going to Sam and his instead, so when he walked in behind you carrying the pizza you were nervous. You had manage to salvage a few pieces of decor and furniture from when you lived in Manhattan; a nice large L shaped couch, your bed frame, and an ornate, gold-framed full length mirror. All the other items in your apartment where either provided by the building manager or purchased from consignment shops. It was an eclectic mix of quality and convenience.
Whatever comment you thought Bucky would make was not spoken out loud. He simply parked himself on the couch like he owned the place and opened the pizza box. Without waiting for you to grab plates he dug into a hot and greasy slice of pepperoni pizza. He moaned loudly as the taste flooded his mouth. The sound sent a shiver down your spine and you busied yourself with gathering plates and napkins until your face felt less heated.
"This pizza is way better than any other food we had tonight." He said as you settled in on the other side of the couch. You nodded in agreement.
"Cheaper too." You added offhandedly. You wouldnt have said it if you had known it was bring you into a discussion you didnt want to be having with the fake boyfriend you had a very real crush on.
"So how did you get yourself into this mess? To me it seems like you used to be loaded like them and now you're not but you dont want her to know?" Bucky's finger moved between invisible points in the air between you as if he was connecting the dots to a larger picture.
"That's basically it yeah." You admitted. You had no intention of telling him more than you had to. You ate your pizza slowly, it was good but the taste in your mouth was dampened by anxiety.
"But how does she not know?" He asked incredulously.
"She's been traveling all over the world since college. We've only communicated through letters and they were very infrequent. Only one or two a month."
"Does she not have Facebook? Instagram?"
"She does," you leaned back against the couch, chewing thoughtfully as you reminisced on the days leading up to her departure. "She said she wanted to be pen pals while she was gone. She thought it would be more exciting to anticipate a letter than an email. Pepper is the kind of friend who will create something special just for you and make you feel like you mean something. She wanted to write letters, they meant something to her. And to me." You realized with a slight bitterness that now that Pepper was back that special connection would be gone.
"If your friendship is so special why hide things from her? Why lie? I dont get it." Bucky's voice broke into your head and along with bitterness you felt a pinch of guilt.
"I'm in too deep now. I've been lying for months. About my living situation, my job, my family-"
"Your boyfriend." Bucky interjected, his tone accusatory though his expression was nothing but playful. You nodded and leaned forward to drop your pizza crust onto a chipped blue plate before sinking back into the couch.
Bucky put down his slice as well and closed the distance between you. You tensed as he invaded your space, his shoulder pressed against yours heavily as he leaned into you.
"Ya know, she's probably going to be using social media more. Might not hurt to take some pictures together. Just to really sell it?" He asked it like he wasnt sure you would see his reasoning and you were doubtful, suspicious even.
"You're willing to do that for me? What about other people? What if you actually like someone and they think you're with me?"
He shrugged and pulled out his phone pressing his thumb to the camera icon. You took in the image of your two faces. You were close but not boyfriend girlfriend close. You angled your head closer and tried to smile naturally but it was obviously strained.
"No, no come on my ma's gonna see this you gotta look like you dont hate me." He laughed, staring into the phone instead of your face. You shoved him and pulled your head away to look at him.
"I don't hate you." You said in your defense, "I just dont think we look-"
"Like a couple?" He finished. He was really good at finished your thoughts.
"Here." He said and shifted into the middle of the sofa. Once he was settled he all but dragged you onto his lap. You felt like a ragdoll in the way you let him maneuver you, but when he pulled up his phone again you could not be upset at his manhandling. You two looked cute. You looked like a couple. You smiled, a small, shy smile and Bucky hit the big white button to capture your image.
"Better. Right babe?"
You smiled wider and another photo was taken. His free hand dug into your side and you laughed and the button was pressed again. His lips pressed against yours, only a peck, enough to produce one more photo. You sat frozen on Bucky's lap as he brought the phone close to his face and scrutinized the images. His hand rested warmly on your hip and occasionally his thumb rubbed back and forth.
"I like this one." He finally declared, showing you the screen. It was the one where he tickled you unexpectedly. Your head was thrown back, eyes closed and mouth open in laughter. Bucky was looking up at you, the corners of he eyes crinkled in delight as he smiled widely, and there was a crinkle in his nose. You bit your lip to suppress a smile.
"I like it to." You whispered, moving your finger over the screen to glance at the other photos. You wanted to see all of them but you mostly wanted to see the kiss, to make sure you didnt imagine his lips on yours. The proof was there, clear as day, but you didn't linger too long on the photo. You were afraid of what Bucky would think, if he would regret kissing you because you were being weird about it.
"I'll send these to you. We need to post a few online."
-
It was hours later as you lie in bed that you had a chance to really take in all the pictures Bucky had sent. You drank in each image, zooming in and out on your face, then Bucky's. Bucky was right, the laughing photo was definitely the best. It seemed natural and fun. But your favorite was the one where he kissed you, because he had kissed you! Your mouths were off center and the muscles in your neck were too tense. His eyes were scrunched tight too. It was a really terrible picture.
You locked your phone and plunged yourself into darkness as a creaking sound emerged in the silence. Bucky was spending the night on your couch, his attempt to persuade you to let him join you in your bed had failed almost immediately as nerves overcame you. You thought if he had been there in bed, all warm and hard against you on your queen sized mattress, that you would not be able to sleep a wink. Your instincts were right; you weren't able to sleep now with the man crashing in your living room, how could you have handled him in your bed?
The bedroom door opened slowly, bathing your dark space in light. You squinted against the sudden brightness, attempting to make out Bucky's expression but he was silhouetted in shadow.
"Its late enough. I think I can sneak into my own apartment."
You nodded and sat up, but Bucky was already beyond your doorway. You turned the corner into your living room just in time to glance his backside as he closed you front door gently behind him. He didnt turn back, didnt even say goodbye. You locked the door with a dejected sigh, suddenly feeling like your apartment was dark and cold without Bucky's bright, warm presence. You shuffled your way back to your bed. It took a minute to get settled but once you were snuggled in the blankets you pulled up your phone again, swiping through the images of you and Bucky. Somehow these moments already felt so long ago.
Knock knock knock
A gentle rasp of knuckles on drywall near your head stole your attention. You smiled and bit your lip, bringing your clenched fist to the spot where you heard the knocks.
Knock knock knock
He knocked back twice more. Your face was split wide in a grin as you posted a couple photos of you and Bucky to Facebook. You decided to keep the picture of your first kiss with Bucky to yourself for now.
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