#//the color on the left is supposed to be a deeper shade of pink but the camera made it look red for some reason
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giving him an outfit like he’s an anime character that gets a new outfit at the start of every arc (he gets embarrassed two minutes later and changes back into his old clothes)
#//idk if this counts as a warm up but i wanted to get these out of my head#//the color on the left is supposed to be a deeper shade of pink but the camera made it look red for some reason#//the caption on the second pic is also just goofing around so dont mind that lmao#//although i do like the idea of seeing the clothing that lambda feels attractive in#//its very interesting even if it likely wouldn't make a lot of sense to the average person#//so for him to be wearing something like this he's going to think 'ok well i feel like a doofus so im changing back'#//its a hot boy outfit to him do you feel me#mocha's art
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Fallin’ for ya
Characters/Ships: Tattoo artist!Ei x gn!reader
Synopsis: Of all the customers who walk through your door, the cute tattoo artist from across the street is your favorite. Or in other words flower shop x tattoo parlor AU (Note: Because this is more of a modern AU, Ei is mortal)
Warnings: Light angst (happy ending)
Despite the fact that Ei is mortal, she finds the concept of eternity quite beautiful. It lead her to an interest in tattoos; the idea of choosing something meaningful to be a permanent part of your body resonates with her on a deeper level. There is a forever peace in a world that’s constantly moving, changing. The very store across from hers has already rid itself of the “For Sale” sign. Gone was an old, outdated convenience store that Ei would occasionally but snacks. The space was now called “Fresh Florals”.
Flowers, how fleeting she thought. Their beauty is bittersweet, radiant for only so long before they inevitably crumble. Sure, the romanticization is nice, but holds no importance over Ei. That is until she gets a particular request from a client.
Tulips…rose heads…Calla Lillies? The appointment gets made a week later with the promise of going over the details within that timeframe. Sensing her change in mood her coworker, Kujo Sara, questions her on what’s wrong.
“Just booking another appointment is all”. Her lack of interest in florals has finally come to bite her in the ass. Honestly, she’s surprised she hasn’t gotten a request like this sooner. Yet all this time has left her without the proper preparation. Her eyes land on the bright blue sign from across the street and an idea sparks.
Your day had been very average for the most part. You haven’t been offered any big orders lately and the foot traffic nowadays is mostly for young and elderly couples looking for something to surprise their significant other. Suffice to say today has been extremely boring. That is until the bell to the door jingles and in comes a beautiful, purple haired woman. Your eyes meet and she gracefully strides up to the front desk.
As she gets closer, you begin to notice her more clearly. Her eyes are a light violet, similar to her hair and she also has a small mole under her eye. Cute.
“Do you have any tulips? Roses and Calla Lilies? I need these in the upmost importance”. You mentally sigh, of course someone as gorgeous as her is taken.
Ei raises an eyebrow, “If you must know, I intend to study them for the sake of a client. I on the other hand, ahem, have no one of interest”. You don’t miss the way her cheeks tint a light shade of pink.
At least it’s not as bright as your own as you realize what you thought in your head was said out loud. “Right, um, let me get those for you”. You wrap her desires flowers in a lavender colored ribbon, “Here you go Mrs…”
“Please, call me Ei”.
“Here are your flowers Ei”, you pass the very small bouquet to her and after paying, she goes on her way. You on the other hand bury your head into your hands and groan.
“They’re dead”. You look up from the book you’ve been reading, not even noticing her entrance. Ei is holding the flowers she picked from the other day but they’re much more lifeless than before. It’s only been two days since you’ve last seen her. “I’m not quite sure what happened to them. This was the state they were in when I awoke this morning.”.
You examine the flowers closer, “Did you put them in water when you got home?”
“No, they’re dead are they not? Isn’t water supposed to sustain living creatures?”. You shake your head and examine further, “How much sunlight did you give them?”
“I left them on a windowsill”. You turn the flowers over in you hands, “Theres a chance they can be saved but in the meantime, I have most of the flowers you are searching for on display. You can come by anytime if you’d like”. And so was the start of it all.
Ei stops by daily during the afternoon determined to get the tattoo just right. The details will be up to the client but Ei insists that she should study the basic forms first. Yet even when the date for the appointment had already passed, she still finds herself coming back to your shop everyday. Most of the time you’ll find yourselves sharing your interests, hobbies, and other things you hold dear. Other times you’ll sit in silence, the both of you occupied with your own thing. The weeks that have flown by bring more realizations to Ei. She has spent so many years alone in silence, but learns that it isn’t so bad when she has someone to share it with.
On your days off you’ll surprise Ei with fun outings to commemorate the work you’ve both accomplished. Most of the time it involves having a picnic underneath pink cherry blossoms, your head on her lap and Ei taking full advantage of the sweets you packed. On one of these days your eyes flutter shut and Ei is debating on what to do with your sleeping form. She tucks some hair away from you eyes and admires you sleeping face. Her hand drops. Her heart beats faster.
Ei still has issues from her past. The death of her twin sister Makoto still haunts her years after her passing. Her isolation has kept her from so many things, and now she fears it’s keeping her from you. In the small moments, when you and Ei are working quietly or fighting over the last piece of dango, Ei fears.
It hits her on any other average day. When she comes by unsolicited yet you’re already waiting for her arrival with a bag of snacks to eat and stories to tell. She remembers the you that she first met, and realizes how much time has passed since that moment. How close your relationship has gotten and now she’s suddenly a child wailing for her sister to return to her. She carries on like she would normally do but you can sense something is off. The afternoon is cut short by Ei muttering something about an emergency appointment and leaves you be.
Isolation has always been her coping mechanism. When Makoto died she would spend months shut in her home replaying the memories of what once was. A day passes without contact. Then two. A third. By the fourth day Ei misses you. She misses the deep conversations and your rants about flower symbolism which she’ll never understand but will always listen to. She misses the way your eyes look in the sunlight and how you smile at her without reason. You were only across the street, so why did it feel so far away? Ei decided right then and there she can’t self sabotage what you two have created. You aren’t Makoto, you are still here with her and she wants that to last for as long as possible.
Ei sends Kujo Sara off and decides to close up early. She’s never really been the romantic type so she’ll need more time to figure out how to make up her absence to you. Her movements are on autopilot as she’s locking up before she feels a light tap on her shoulder.
From behind your back, you pull out a large bouquet of handmade purple flowers. Ei only recognizes a few: tulips and asters and, baby’s bottom? Or was it “baby’s breath”? “I’m not sure what I did to upset you, but I’d like to offer this as an apology for whatever it may have been.” you say.
No, no there was nothing you did wrong. “You shouldn’t be the one apologizing when I am at fault,” Ei holds your hands lightly, “There are sorrows from my past I have yet to overcome. Sorrows that, when the time is right, I would gladly share with you. But…I realize now the damage that can be done when I give the past so much power over oneself.”
She lifts your chin to better meet her eyes, “I want to be better, not just for you but for myself. There’s so much I’ve missed because I wanted things to stay the same but that all ends now. It’ll take time but, through it all, will you allow me to love you?”
The answer “Yes” gets lost between your lips as you pull her close.
#genshin impact#genshin x reader#raiden ei#ei#ei genshin#Ei fluff#ei x reader#ei x you#ei x y/n#raiden shogun#raiden baal#why so many names#raiden shogun x reader#raiden shogun fluff#genshin imagines#genshin fluff#🫀#🥀
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Lights of Hallownest
This is just some head canons of mine about how lights and the bright gods of Hallownest work. I suppose I should probably start with listing the bright gods from canon.
Bright Gods of Hallownest:
Unn, the fading light, the green light
PK, lord of the buzzsaws, king of Hallownest
White Lady, horny plant lady, kinda mean
Grimm, the wandering nightmare, the nightmare king, the heart of terror
The lifeblood entity, the thematic partner to the void possibly? Strange little fella.
Flukemarm, oddly enough I think she counts as a bright god, albeit a weak one. Her children and her have a washed out pink light. She might just be a particularly powerful higher being. Definitely a lesser god.
Vespa, queen of the hive, the golden light. Weaker than Grimm but still stronger than lesser gods and higher beings.
Hornet: she’s a fledgling light, and is unknowingly a pale being by birth, like all of her siblings would be without the void tarnishing them.
Dark gods of Hallownest:
The void, night incarnate, lord of shades
THK, god of nothingness. Has trace amount of lights left from their parentage
Mister mushroom, the herald/The mycelial network. Keeper of records and passer of ages. The god of decay.
The qualities of light:
The light of a god has several specific qualities which determine its impact and general uses.
Temperature: this is essentially how hot the light burns to mortals stood before it. The pale king has a cold light, physically chilling beings in contact with it and causing frost buildup. The radiance one the other hand has an extremely hot light, although it used to be far milder, coming so close to death and her change in affinity caused her light to burn far brighter and hotter.
Affinity: This is best thought of as the elements lights are most sensitive to, this is determined mostly by temperature and color in combination with depth. This is generally the last quality to develop for most gods.
Range: This is how far a light spreads from its origin point before it becomes so diluted that it doesn’t have a tangible effect on the world. The Pale king and has immense range on his light as befitting a wyrm who traditionally used his light to mark the edges of his vast territory. The radiance has a light that reaches roughly to the midpoint of the ancient basin, although in the part her light had far less range. Unns range is currently about the size of greenpath and queens gardens but could spread much, much farther. She at her peak had a light that ranged farther than any other god native to Hallownest.
Depth: Depth is effectively the staying power of a light, ie how long it lasts after an owner dies or leaves an area. It also determines how deeply impacted those exposed to the light will be, and how many physical changes and side effects they undergo. PK and Radiance have lights with increadible depth, though his has less of a physical effect than hers. His light is deeper overall, but like most things since the infection the Radiances light has gotten deeper.
Color: This one is pretty self explanatory, it’s just the color a light takes on as a god grows or ascends. The color of a light can be shifted via prisming, which is generally the act of either consuming higher beings or other gods and taking elements of their light to shift the color of your own. Additionally staying in areas with higher elemental affinities of different types can shift this. The lifeblood entity did this via exposure to water and the void. The Radiance also did this by staying in areas with higher exposure to natural daylight and the warm energies of the crystals. The Pale king is a pale being and thus underwent a different style of prisming to become what he is, while the white lady was born a pale being.
Brightness: How bright a light burns, it also tends to correlate(but not always closely) with the longevity of a light. The Pale king was a blinding light for the vast majority of his light, outstripping even the radiance at her peak. Unn on the other hand is a very dull light but an extremely long lived one, she’s older than Hallownest and will outlive each and every one of its other bright gods. Possibly even Grimm with luck. Interestingly Grimm is an another dull light, but a very hot one, on par with the radiance in heat. This combination has served him well.
The Star connection: The gods of Hallownest can also be correlated to different stars, though it’s not necessarily my favorite way to categorize them.
PK and The White Lady: These guys can be compared to white dwarf stars and have according longevity, baring outside interference they would be among the longest lived gods in the world along with other Pale Beings.
Radiance: She’s a main sequence star, burning bright yellow like our sun and its relatives. Her being forgotten and nearly dying before springing anew is best compared to a Nova, this action is responsible for the change in the qualities of her light. If she had managed to win and control Hallownest completely via her plague her natural lifespan would be dramatically reduced.
Grimm: Grimm is a red dwarf star and has the accompanying lifespan. In the same way red dwarves might harbor life far into the cosmic future so will Grimm once the age of bright gods nears its end.
Lifeblood: This god is correlated to a blue supergiant star, and accordingly is essentially dead by the time of canon with only its “stellar remains” scattered across Hallownest in the form of lifeblood cocoons. It was an extremely bright light in its heyday, and being near it would’ve imparted a palpable sense of moisture, like stepping into a greenhouse. it’s temperature was actually mild though.
Unn: She’s a strange star, which is a stellar body made of super dense and stable quarkmatter. It’s theorized these stars could effectively change other stars into them. They’d be essentially immortal. In a similar vein Unn could(and did in her youth) subsume other lights by applying her affinity conceptually and over growing them.
Pale Prisming:
This is the version of Prisming the pale king underwent. It involves eating a truly titanic amount of other lights, to the point that they all blend together into a white light. That’s only the first stage however, because containing so many different lights with conflicting qualities quickly becomes deadly and even explosive, in order to avoid dying dramatically the god attempting to become a pale being needs to winnow down and weed out errant qualities and aspects. The goal is to eventually achieve a state of a frighteningly bright, cold and colorless light, with no inherent leaning towards elemental affinities and extreme stability. Once a being becomes a Pale being/Pale light they can’t deviate or shift the color of their light towards anything else, they can however dim. The main motivator for becoming a pale being is being functionally unkillable, even by the standards of gods. So long as a shred of your light survives you do as well
There’s more to this whole deal in my mind but I’ll post it later if you’re interested!
#hollow knight#Gods#hk pale king#hk radiance#Hk Grimm#Hk Unn#hk headcanons#headcanon#worldbuilding#speculative biology#maybe?
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inertia
gravity part six: y/n found out something she wasn't supposed to and she wished she could take it back
wordcount: 10k+
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(Y/N) had been filled with butterflies in her tummy and cotton-candy clouds since Harry picked her up for a lunch date before he had to go into work. He had told her he wanted to take her somewhere he loved, which made her all the more excited for the date than normal. She noticed he tended to plan around everything she liked (aside from the scary movie date, of course), taking her to places he knew would make her happy and centering the conversation around her. She was bubbling at the idea of getting more of a peek into his life outside of the classroom, hoping to add another piece to the green-eyed and curly-haired puzzle that made up her Harry.
"I've never been down here before," (Y/N) prattled as she walked with Harry down the sloping sidewalk a couple of blocks away from campus.
Harry swung their joined hands between them, a serene smile on his face as he took in the leaves falling around them. He was bundled comfortably in one of his knitted jumpers, this one a bright fuchsia shade that matched the laces he had threaded through his shoes, the heavy sleeves periodically falling over their hands. "I used to come out here all the time m'first year. I had a lot of time on m'hands, so I liked to explore. Only a little further down," he mused, peering through the slowly baring trees, "Y'can see the awning from here, actually. 'S that green one down there."
(Y/N)'s eyes followed the finger he pointed out towards an emerald green awning that had fading letters in a font that resembled wood grain. She couldn't make out the words, but she could see why Harry was drawn to a location like that. Just from that glimpse, she could see how well he would fit into that sort of environment.
As they drew closer, she found a coffee shop directly next door, a conjoined sign between the two spaces showing they were in business together and stop by the other if you go to one. A cute patio space was arranged just to the left of the business strip, leaving the wrought iron frames to be glazed over in the orange of the falling leaves with a couple seated at the middle table, cups of coffee in hand.
Mumbling, Harry pulled her along inside the store adorned with the green awning, an old-school brass bell dinging above their heads, "This is where I used to come study if I wasn't at the library. There's a corner in the back with these really soft pillows y'can sit and read at."
Looking around, (Y/N) took in the rich, warm tones that decorated the space. The high shelves were made of clean, stained wood to show off the intricate grain. Hand drawn signs were posted on the bookends of each shelf, delegating which genre was housed on the shelves, decorated with hallmarks of that specific category. Potted plants in shades of soft green were dispersed throughout the shop with the pots decorated to match the jewel tones accenting the space. Bright pops of gold mixed in with burnt oranges and the deep green that colored the awning, giving the space a soft-focus vintage ambiance that drew (Y/N) in.
"It's cozy," she whispered back, Harry's dimples digging deeper into his cheeks.
"Hi, Harry! How are you? We haven't seen you here in a while," the girl behind the checkout desk bubbled, a genuine smile on her features as she set down the book she was paging through to give them the full of her attention.
The tips of his ears were tinted pink, the dusting matching the flush that climbed up his cheeks. Harry glanced down at her, mumbling under his breath, "I didn't think I came here that much."
A breathy laugh was drawn from (Y/N) as she dropped her gaze to their joined hands as Harry greeted the attendant. She could hear that pleasant small talk happening beside her though she was hooked on the volumes lining the shelves. This wasn't the kind of place she usually found herself—not for years, anyway. She used to be a bigger reader when she was younger, but now she barely picked up a book for fun now that she was too tired or too busy to do so. (Y/N) hadn't even realized she was drifting towards the stacks until her grip on Harry's hand slipped an inch before he rushed to replace his hold.
"Don't go without me," Harry quietly laughed, catching up with her after putting to rest the small talk with the girl up front.
"Sorry," she smiled over her shoulder, gazing at the spines of the classics they were currently perusing, "What do you usually read, Harry?"
For a flick, she swore she saw his eyes pause on the romance shelves across from them with his nose gaining a dusting of blush before he paid his attention to her. "Usually fantasy and silly things like that, I guess."
"I'm surprised," (Y/N) started, letting go of his hand to drag her finger over the spines but not without a bump of her hip against his, "I thought you only read scientific journals and research papers."
An easy smile bloomed over his features at her teasing, the deep dimples on his cheeks stealing the show. "Oh no, I only read those to relax."
She shook her head with a curl stretching her lips as she drifted through the shelves and out of view of his friend up front. Classic titles were designed with fairytale-esque covers, with a few new additions being treated with the same grandeur that made (Y/N) want to shell out the money for a hardback copy of a book she didn't know anything about. Nineties paperbacks dominated the lower shelves of the romance stacks while contemporary pieces she remembered from her teenage years were shelved along the top. All the while Harry followed closely behind, his eyes glancing at her more often than they flicked to the shelves.
Just when she was about to steer the two of them towards the fantasy shelves, hoping to peek into Harry's life, she saw one of the smaller shelves towards the back, full of books covered completely in opaque brown butcher's paper. Each spine had the simple title scrawled along the length with peeks of sticky notes stuck to the covers. (Y/N)'s eyes widened when she realized what she had found.
Letting out a soft gasp, she rushed over to the concealed stacks, only halfway aware of the laugh Harry let out as he followed her.
"Harry, look," she rushed in a hush tone, "It's like those ones on instagram and Pinterest—those surprise book shelves."
She pulled out the first book she could settle her eyes on, the title including something about a court of flowers and grime or something. The sticky note pasted to the front denoted the genre of book with a few key points, detailing a side plot of a love story with fantastical elements and world building. The print of the cover was completely sealed, leaving only the librarian's praise and recommendations handwritten along the back and the short sticky note to help determine whether or not the book was her cup of tea.
"I know," Harry smiled, looking down at the addition in her hands, "I always want to grab one of these, but 'm too scared I'll only pick something I've already read or won't like."
(Y/N) looked up at him with what she was sure were wide eyes with hope swimming through the irises. "Could we pick books for each other? I'll try to pick something you haven't read!"
His smile turned lopsided as his softening eyes flitted over her features. "I'd love that. Pick whatever y'want for me—I trust you."
Practically bouncing in her spot, (Y/N) reshelved the book in her hand and didn't waste a second before her eyes were scanning over the covert volumes before her. She could feel Harry's gaze linger on her for a moment, the line of her body feeling the heat of his eyes before he averted his attention to the shelves.
"What do y'like to read?"
(Y/N) rolled her eyes, a lopsided smile catching at the corner of her lips that Harry had a hard time taking his eyes off of. "Would it surprise you if I told you I like romance or whatever it was that Twilight was considered?"
"Not at all," he teased. His own grin tugged at his lips; it's not like he could blame her, he liked the same stuff if he was being honest. He liked the thought of her curled up with a book in her small bedroom, heart fluttering over soft words and a world built off of romance.
She mumbled some retort he didn't quite catch before she fell into her job of finding the perfect book for Harry. He was just as eager to find something for her, hoping that with all the time he'd spent getting every story, every anecdote, every inside joke out of her that he could find something fitting for his flower.
At the thought of his secretly appointed nickname for her, Harry's finger stuttered over the parchment covered spine of a book entitled with something about broken hearts. He'd been trying his best not to think of her with that name, fearing the word would slip out when he was actually with her. He wasn't sure she was ready to explain why he'd been adorning her with new nicknames in his head; half the time he was unable to think of her without calling her by one of the affectionate petnames.
"I think I found it!" (Y/N) chirped, standing the full of her height from where she had fallen to her knees searching through the bottom few shelves, "This one is yours!"
A bright smile stretched across her cheeks, lifting the rounded apples to cause crinkles to fold around her eyes and bring a glow to her skin. That smile was one of the first things that caught his attention when he saw her that first time in Prof. Stanfill's lecture hall. Naomi had made her laugh with a whispered joke under her breath while Stanfill was droning on at the front of the room, causing (Y/N) to brighten up and make him falter in his notes. That's why he took that seat beside her when he realized her friend was no longer showing up. He dreamed of making her smile like that, and now he had her looking up at him with stars in her eyes and her teeth bared in joy.
"Let me see, then," Harry requested, taking a half step towards her before she pulled the book tightly to her chest.
"No," she shook her head, "I want it to be a real surprise. I don't want you to know until you get home. I really think you're going to like it, Harry."
He didn't doubt for a second that he would like whatever she chose to give him.
With her eyes directed squarely on him, he felt flush. A blush crept up his cheeks as he dropped his gaze to the book he had absently pulled for her. Reading over the daffodil colored sticky note, he found the details of a supernatural romance recommended by the librarian working up front (her name was Erika, if he remembered correctly) between an enchanted human girl and a mysterious male. Not much else was given about the story, adhering to the blind date rules that went along with the nature of the shelves, other than how sweet it was and how "he falls first!". This would be perfect for her—or at the very least, be better than the physics texts she skimmed over with barren interest.
Though he tried to keep his brain in the present, Harry couldn't help but picture her bundled up in the bay window he was lucky enough to have in his bedroom (he was very lucky with apartment hunting he found). He could picture the makeshift cushions that lined the sill he had fashioned out of blankets he took from home when he moved out, nested around her while she had the book he had picked for her in her hands. In his head, he saw her with her eyes rounded out as she read the epic, a gasp falling from her mouth at a particularly romantic part or her hand fluttering to the base her neck when something broke her heart (in the best way possible of course, he wouldn't want her to read anything that made her sad). Maybe, she'd even let him read with her.
"I think I found yours, too, flower."
The second he processed what had come out of his mouth, Harry's cheeks went up in flames. The crimson coloring trailed over his neck and painted the tips of his ears while his heart worked double time in embarrassed beats. He knew he needed to be more careful.
Across from him, (Y/N) canted her head with a slightly narrowed gaze. Her smile sat unshakable on her lips. "Flower?"
He swallowed thickly at her small question. "Um—I don't know, I—," he floundered, feeling like a gaping fish under her gaze, "I shouldn't have said that, 'm sorry."
"But, why flower?" she prodded, her tone still quiet between the shelves. She hadn't looked at the book in his hands for even a second, her attention placed solely on him.
Harry was grateful for the fact there was no way for him to catch his reflection at that moment. He was sure the sight of him with his skin growing more and more red would only make him feel even more embarrassed as he stumbled for his words. He ran a heavy hand through his hair, itching to find anything to occupy his fingers before he resorted to picking his nail polish.
"I—You're jus'... You're pretty like a flower," he choked out, his tongue feeling lazy as he tried to voice the words, "and you're soft, and-and kind. And, y'always smell really nice too." Harry had never wished for anything more than a chasm to develop under his feet and swallow him underground in that moment. It appeared he couldn't be trusted to watch himself around her anymore. "'M so sorry," he stuttered out, "That's not what I meant to say. That was weird of me to tell you, 'm so sorry."
(Y/N) let out a bubbling laugh that rang through Harry's ears. The sound wasn't at all teasing or tormenting like the would have thought would happen after he minced his words so drastically. He peeked through his dark lashes to find her with glittery eyes and a her glossy lips drawn into an enchanting smile.
"Don't say sorry, I really like that, Harry. That was cute, thank you," she whispered to him, finishing the half step he had taken towards her, "I liked hearing you call me that."
An airy haze clouded his thoughts, the puffs tinted a sunset pink. They filtered through his body, making Harry feel light and lighter with every beat of his heart. Biting on the full of his bottom lip, Harry felt his smile return to his face. "Yeah?"
He watched on as she nodded her head softly, the curl of her lips mimicking his own with the white tips of her teeth peeking out as she bit at the pillow. She was backlit by the sun filtering through the wall of windows behind her. The decals that decorated the shop windows cast shadows in the shape of twirling vines and woodland grasses all around her. Orange and golden hues haloed her form, giving her the appearance of a long forgotten goddess who had returned to form right in front of him, ready for worship.
God, did he adore her.
The smallest of flaws could be picked at the top of her cheekbone, though it was no fault of her own. An eyelash had fluttered from the crown around her softened eyes and fell on the top of her cheek, clinging to her glowing skin.
He suddenly felt breathless as he tried to speak though he couldn't tear his eyes from her face. "You-You've got an eyelash on your cheek," he whispered out, his eyes reluctantly slipping from her own and falling to the offending hair that had taken home on her cheek.
A huff of a laugh was exhaled through her nose, "Where?"
Harry worked on auto-pilot as he lifted his hand to brush his fingertip against his own skin. "Right here," he directed.
A light entered (Y/N)'s eyes as she took a small step towards him. If Harry took a deep enough breath, he was sure his chest would brush against her. "Can you get it for me?"
Without thinking, he dropped the book he had picked for her onto a vacant section on the shelf beside him leaving his hands free to gently hold her. He looked for any sign of rejection as he cradled her cheek softly in his hand, though all he received was her leaning into his hold with her eyes trained on his face. Ducking his head to be level with her, he used his free hand to brush over her soft skin and glowing cheekbone. The dark lash stuck to the tip of his finger, a gentle curve to the hair that stuck up from his skin.
"You're supposed to make a wish now."
His fingertip was level with the full of her lips as he caught a glance she cast him through the vignette of her lashes. She pressed her lips together in a pout before she blew the lash off his fingertip. He assumed it fluttered to the ground somewhere behind him like the seed of a dandelion, but he was too transfixed with the vision in front of him to care.
"What did y'wish for?
Rising to the tips of her toes, Harry didn't get an answer before (Y/N) pressed her lips to his. His hand on her cheek tied him to the moment as he found it much too easy to float away when she kissed him. She'd never done this in such a public place, he realized, the thought only causing his muscles to liquify and relax further into her. They'd kissed in the university parking lot by her car and just outside her apartment before, but never in such a place where anyone could walk by and know that she was just as infatuated with him as he was with her.
By the time she pulled away from the short contact, Harry's face was surely flushed a deep red. He left his hand cradling her cheek, unwilling to fully step out of the moment they curated between the shelves.
(Y/N) looked up at him with a satisfied smile.
"My wish just came true."
Harry felt weak in the knees as he shook his head, looking for any slim grasp on stability he could find before he toppled over. He reluctantly dropped his hand to his side, though he'd rather she didn't feel how clammy his palm was growing as he tried to regulate his heartbeat. "Ar-Are y'ready, then? Or did y'want to look at anything else?"
"I'm ready," she smiled, looking a little too proud of herself over the flush that still colored his skin, "Are you? You picked something out for me, too, right?"
"Oh!" Harry puttered, having momentarily forgotten about the book he had stowed away on the shelf for her, "Yeah, I have one for you. Do y'want to see it?"
She was quick to shake her head, hugging his book closer to her chest, "No, it's okay. I want it to be a surprise for me, too."
Harry nodded his head with a shallow dimple denting only one of his cheeks as a lopsided smile tugged his lips. "If y'want, I can take care of all of this and y'can go next door and get us a table and some coffee?"
He'd found in the handful of dates they'd been on, that (Y/N) typically agreed to him paying for things a bit faster when he gave her something to do that she equated to paying him back. He thought she was the sweetest thing he'd ever come across, her big heart making him that much more smitten for her.
"Okay, I'll see you in a second then," Harry mumbled, hesitating for just a second as he reached for the book in her hands, "flower."
The same glow he had been hoping for settled over her skin at the return of the petname. He liked knowing he could draw those reactions from her.
"Okay, Harry," she smiled, handing over the book before rising to her toes. She planted a sweet kiss to the soft of his cheek, right over his dimple, before she turned towards the door. "Don't peek at your book!"
"I won't. I promise," he muttered after her, unable to tear his eyes off of the gold-soaked vision of his dream girl as she drifted through his favorite place.
She waved to him and said a quick thank you to the girl behind the register before she left for the cafe next door. Harry worked on autopilot, the butterflies in his tummy giving him enough gusto to carry him through the shop and towards the check-out.
Erika, the so-called expert librarian as her nametag appointed her, gave him a polite smile as she ran through her customer service script. Harry nodded along, only halfway listening as his heart was in the next store over along with his attention.
"So," she started, breaking from the familiar script Harry was used to, "Who was that? I've never seen you come in with anyone before."
Without permission, a large grin stretched over his lips despite the way he tried to bite it back. His eyes were trained on the book she had chosen for him; knowing she had thought of him as she grabbed the volume made his heart stutter. He didn't know how to introduce her when he barely had the words to describe how much she already impacted his heart.
"She—uh... She's m'(Y/N)."
A bubbling laugh left Erika's lips, "Oh, she's your (Y/N), I see. I should've known."
Harry didn't know what else to say but an airy yes, and a nod of his head. He watched as she bagged up the books and read off his total. He all but floated through the motions as he paid and waited as patiently as possible to return to his flower.
"Well, I hope you and your (Y/N) enjoy these, Harry," Erika smiled, passing off the paper bag that now held his most prized possession.
"Thank you," he sighed, already edging towards the doorway.
He decided in that moment that, though he still loved his Secret Garden bookshop, his favorite place now took the shape of a girl from his physics class.
—————
"Flower, I really do need to go to work now."
Harry's words fell on deaf ears as (Y/N) hooked her arms around his neck. She held him against her, pressing lingering kisses to the full of his lips in an attempt to persuade him to stay. He'd been hard pressed about studying this afternoon, their textbooks and notes splayed across the foot of her bed, but (Y/N)'s attention waned the longer they went on. He had struck a deal with her when they started reviewing the chapters, that he would reward her with as many kisses as she answered questions correctly.
In truth, she'd only got about seven out of the thirteen questions right, but she'd successfully drawn the last half hour worth of kisses out of him. With his arm wrapped around her waist while the other cradled the full of her cheek in his palm, she was warm in his hold as she tugged him to lay halfway atop her on her twin bed. He took very little convincing to let his lips linger over her's and twine his legs between hers.
(Y/N) knew their study session was meant to end when he had to go to work, but she couldn't find it in herself to pull away. Even when Harry whispered half-hearted reminders, he still drew his tongue along the seam of her lips, tightened his fingers around her waist and melted into her form. She wasn't going to stop him.
"Do you really need to?" she mumbled against his mouth, a slinking smile growing on her own as she ran her fingertips through the baby hairs on the back of his neck. "I was hoping you could stay and get dinner with me tonight."
His kissing mouth slid from her own to the full of her cheek and along her jawline. The length of his lashes felt like a butterfly's wing against her skin. "I know," he sighed, regret coloring his tone, "But I really can't miss tonight. Usually they're easy with me, but I have to go in."
Sucking in a deep breath, she finally relented. Her arms around his neck loosened until her hands slid to settle on the broad of his shoulders. "Fine," she sighed, reluctantly pulling away from his attention.
"I wish I didn't have to go," he mumbled, the full of his lips gently brushing against her skin before he dotted a single kiss on the apple of her cheek. He drew away with a soft smile on his face as he gazed over her features, his hand on her waist flexing around the curve. "You know I would stay if I could, right? I don't want to leave either."
(Y/N) dropped her eyes to where her hands gently adjusted his clothes she had ruffled and the curls of his hair she had dismantled from the careful waves around his neck. A crooked smile curled over her lips as she flicked her eyes to his through her lashes, "Maybe I could come see you tonight? On your lunch, I could come by and bring dinner and everything?"
If she hadn't been scanning so diligently for his reaction, (Y/N) would have missed the way the set in his shoulders tensed at her suggestion. The motion was minute and temporary as his muscles relaxed a split second later, though his features stayed stiff under the guise of nonchalance.
"I don't know, love," he started, untangling his limbs from hers, "I don't want to rush through m'lunch with you. I don't really have an uninterrupted break anyway, so I wouldn't get to spend too much time with y'even if y'came by. 'M sorry, flower."
His irises melted in apology, his hand on her face caressing over the bone in her cheek before he pulled away from her completely. He moved to sit on the edge of her bed, reaching for his collection of textbooks and notebooks at the foot of her bed. (Y/N) followed after, curling her feet under her bottom as she sat against her pillows. His motions seemed to be dipped in guilt, and (Y/N) almost felt bad for asking. If she had known he would feel this bad about rejecting her, she wouldn't have asked.
"It's okay, Harry, really," she crooned, settling a delicate hand on his bicep, "I was only wondering since we aren't able to see each other Friday night either, so I wanted to spend time with you. But, I understand, don't worry."
A lopsided smile tugged at Harry's lips, his fidgeting hands slowing now that his supplies were in a neat pile on her comforter. "I know, flower. 'M sorry that 'm busy this week; work can be a bit weird sometimes so it's easier to get through it before I make plans. I promise I'll be free soon, and we can see each other properly without school or work getting in the way."
"You don't have to promise me, I trust you," (Y/N) smiled, kneeing over her mattress to sit beside his dip in the mattress.
"I'll see you in class on Friday, anyway, right?"
"Right," she affirmed, beaming up at him, "And we still have our date for Saturday night."
Harry's own features brightened at the mention, nodding his head with his curls flopping over his forehead at the movement. "Can't wait, flower."
(Y/N) waited on him as he packed up his supplies, offering her hand when he was ready to be walked to the front door. Ny bid him her own goodbyes from where she was bundled on the couch, her phone pressed to her ear with Trystan's contact displayed across the top.
"Goodnight, Harry," (Y/N) said once they made it to the front door, her hand still cuddled in his as he stood just across the threshold, "Let me know when you get to work safe, okay?"
Harry's eyes dropped to their joined hands, a soft squeeze being delivered to her palm. "I will, flower. Goodnight."
She reached to her tip-toes and drew him in for a tender kiss, the contact lasting for only a moment before Harry broke. She watched as he made his way to the elevator. With the way he wasn't able to meet her eyes, even when he waved at her before the lift doors closed, she hoped she hadn't made him feel too bad about not being able to see him on his lunch.
—————
Now, when (Y/N) logged into the cam-site and tuned into one of H's streams, she couldn't help but feel a different kind of guilt layer over the usual skeeziness she experienced. With Harry in her life now (it had been almost a full month since their first date, actually), with him being the comforting, romantic presence that she had been craving when she found the site in the first place, she felt as if she was cheating on him in a way every time she watched the intimate moments of another man.
She made a point to rationalize it with herself whenever she felt especially bad. It's not like she and Harry were having sex at all—the most they did was heavy kissing for a few moments before pulling away—and she knew she wouldn't be upset if she found that he was still watching porn.
And, it's not like she could lie, H still did it for her. Until she had another outlet, she was going to take advantage of his content.
There wasn't much room for guilt at the moment anyway, she decided. Her muscles were entirely too lax and her mind too buried in a pleasantly fuzzy state to be worried about anything as she came down from her orgasm. H had just done his signature outro before the screen went black, leaving (Y/N) to work through her own aftercare with a dreamy smile on her lips. He had dipped into every little thing she loved this show, leaving her a puddle to be scooped up to be put back together.
Despite the fact that she sought out H to bring her to this state, now that she had Harry, he was her main focus afterwards. She wanted nothing more than for him to be with her, pushing out all thoughts of the performer that had graced her screen. She decided she couldn't feel too guilty about tuning into the shows when all she wanted in the most vulnerable moments was her Harry.
With lazy limbs, she reached for her phone that was charging on her side table. She quickly pulled open Harry's text thread, typing out a message telling him that she missed him and couldn't wait until the next time she could see him.
He was at work at the moment, but maybe her text would be a bright spot during his shift.
—————
"Harry, are you sure you're okay? You promise you're not sick or anything?"
Harry let out a breathy laugh at (Y/N)'s prodding. He was walking her to her car with a slight slump to his shoulders, her bag hanging off his elbow with her extra textbook tucked under his arm. "I promise 'm okay, was jus' up late last night, that's all. You're making me nervous that I look bad or something, flower."
"No, no, that's not it at all!" she rushed, quick to take her things from him as they approached her car, "You look perfect! You're just not usually so forgetful with everything, so I worry about you. I even got to class earlier than you, and that's how I know something is wrong."
He shook his head, the curling tendrils of his hair catching on the frames of his glasses he forgot to take off. The tips of his ears tinted pink as he dropped his gaze to where her hands brushed his as she pulled her book from his grip."I promise 's nothing more than lacking on some sleep, okay? You're very sweet to worry about me, though."
(Y/N) shut her car door with her class materials stacked in the passenger seat. She lent against the frame, twining her hands together as she looked up at Harry. "So you're going to go home and sleep then, right?"
"Unless I get called into work, yeah," he murmured, his toes kicking at the pavement under their feet, "But no matter what, I'll call y'tonight, okay?"
"Okay," she smiled, satisfied with his promise. He gave her a soft smile, the apples of his cheeks tinted a baby pink as he nervously adjusted the heavy cardigan on his form.
(Y/N)'s eyes followed the path of his hands, looking at the details of the rainbow, patchwork pattern of the garment. Each square was knitted from a thick yarn, colored in deep oranges and reds with bright yellows and earthen greens breaking it up. Black boxed stitched in made for the rainbow pattern to pop, all tied together with strips of blue making room for the heavy black buttons to sit. Only one of the buttons was fastened at his waist, leaving the cardigan to slip off his shoulder if he wasn't paying enough attention.
"What?" he mumbled, speaking through a small smile when he noticed her lingering gaze.
"Nothing," she smiled, shaking her head with her own cheeks growing in warmth at being caught, "I just really like your sweater. It looks soft."
"Yeah?" he bubbled, brightening at the compliment, "M'sister made it for me."
"She made it?!" (Y/N) perked up, now looking with a more scrutinizing eye at the garment, "Like, she knitted the whole thing and put it together?" Harry nodded his head with a hummed affirmation, pride tinting his features at the praise of his family. "Did she use a pattern or anything like that?" (Y/N) pressed, catching the way the emerald green on Harry's fingernails almost completely matched the squares on his cardigan.
"Nope! Jus' her. She's really good at this kind of stuff—whenever I need something stitched or fixed, I send it to her and she has it done even better than before."
"Well, she's very talented," (Y/N) beamed, looking up at Harry's blushing face, "I really like it, Harry."
"Y'can wear it sometime, if y'want?"
"No, no," (Y/N) declined, shaking her head with fluttering hands, "It's your's, I can't take that from you. I just think you look really cute in it, that's all."
"Thank you, flower," he sighed, his voice wrapping around the petname that made her heart race, "I'll have to tell my sister how much y'love it."
She could feel her own skin beginning to glow at the thought of him mentioning her to his family. With her attention fixed on the butterflies swarming her tummy, she almost missed the way Harry took a step towards her. He placed his hands tenderly on her hips, fingers gentle against the curve as he dipped his head down.
"I'll call y'later, okay?" he reiterated, leveling the tip of her nose with her's in a cautious puppy's kiss in case she pulled away.
"But, only after you take a nap," she insisted, resisting the urge to tip her head and press her lips to his. She wanted him to know she was serious about this—there would be no exceptions to his health, not even her.
He did the job for her, kissing her through the smile on his lips. He gave a pulse of his fingers around the thick of her hips, a tickling sensation that drew her own smile to the surface.
"Bye, love," he mumbled to her, "Get home safe."
After finishing their goodbyes, (Y/N) lingered for a moment before resigning to head home. In her rearview mirror, he was a bright rainbow fleck in the view. She was entirely enamored by him, she decided, even as nothing more than a technicolor dot behind her, he made her heart skip a beat.
—————
(Y/N) sighed, falling into her bed after she finished putting away laundry. She felt restless in her own skin, an itch creeping through her muscles she was too familiar with. It was a growing trend now that after seeing Harry, she was left with a yearning need.
He had her stomach churning in the softest way possible every time she had to leave him. He was so cute and sweet and cloyingly memorable that she wanted nothing more than to kiss the life out of him and get tangled in her sheets with his limbs adding to the web. He was too loving for his own good, she decided; if he wasn't careful and smiled at her with his eyes too soft, she was going to have to jump his bones, there was no other choice.
Though she understood why nothing further had happened yet, it still left her muscles tight and her brain foggy when he would cut her off in the middle of kissing on his couch or in the tufts of her bedding. They had only been together exclusively for just over a month, making it a little soon to do too much more than indulging in kisses, but it still left (Y/N) with a pit in her stomach as she searched for relief. Even now, after seeing him in class and stealing a handful of innocent kisses in the parking lot, she was still plagued with the need for more.
She didn't think too hard about it before she pulled for her laptop and opened up a private tab. Her fingers worked lazily to type in the URL of the cam-site, going through the motions in an effort to distract herself from that lingering guilt she felt when tuning into H's shows. But, nothing in that moment could have compared to the relief she felt when she saw he had started a stream only seven minutes prior. She hadn't missed any of the good stuff.
With Ny out for the afternoon, (Y/N) skipped any of the drama of her usual set up, instead burrowing into her bedding and clicking the link. She planned on leaving any thoughts of her day behind in favor of throwing herself into whatever storyline H was displaying for the next hour, but the second he popped up on her screen, her mind went completely blank except for one thing.
The usual camera work of him sitting with his head out of frame and his clothed torso taking the main view greeted her. But, the only thing (Y/N) could manage to concentrate on was his clothes.
A heavy cardigan was draped over his torso, leaving his chest completely bare underneath. The knit of the chunky sleeves was caught in his hands, patches of color coming together in bright slashes that worked together harmoniously. She halfway heard his voice echoing through her speakers, detailing the mood of the day as being soft and gentle, that nothing would make him happier than to take care of the viewer. (Y/N) barely heard anything as her eyes were trained on the way he adjusting the falling shoulder, the green paint on is fingernails glinting in the low light
She knew that cardigan. She had just left that cardigan on campus after he had told her he was too tired to hang out tonight, but he would call her later tonight.
It was Harry's cardigan.
But that couldn't be right, could it?
Harry had told her his sister had gifted the garment to him, knitted it herself without the help of a pattern to imitate. H's nails were even painted the exact same shade of green she remembered was on her Harry's nails just a couple of hours prior. But, all of this had to be a coincidence, right?
Because that couldn't be her Harry.
Her Harry asked permission to touch her for months, and even now was unsure before he kissed her. It took him two dates to fully be able to hold her hand without asking to twine their fingers together! There was no way her Harry was the same guy that recorded himself jerking off for strangers. There was no way that the same sweetheart that took months to grow the courage to talk to her and begged for cheek kisses in the middle of study sessions could be the same person that called himself daddy for others and had sexted with her only a month prior.
But there's no way it could be anyone else, and she knew that.
Just as the performer started to shed the knitted cardigan from his body, (Y/N) snapped the lid on her laptop shut. She recoiled from the device like it had burned her, pushing the computer to slide to the foot of her bed as she curled up by her pillows with her knees to her chest. Her mind was swirling like a twister, too fast for her to comprehend anything before another bubbling thought worked its way in the mess.
As soon as she reasoned out some kind of coincidental explanation (maybe his sister had made a duplicate and gifted it to someone who just so happened to put on cam shows?) the vision of H—or should she call him Harry now?—draped with the unmistakable pattern over his shoulders shocked her again.
What was she supposed to do now?
—————
(Y/N) didn't realize how long she had sat curled up by her pillows until her phone buzzed with a thrumming pulse that pulled her from her thoughts. She jumped in her spot, finding the device bundled in the tufts of her bedding with the screen lit up and Harry's contact plastered across.
She hesitantly reached for it, her heart racing. Did he know she knew now? Was he calling to interrogate her and see why she'd never said anything before, as if she was supposed to have known the whole time?
Pushing her irrationality to the side, she shakily swiped her finger across the width of her phone and answered his call.
"Hello?" she started, hoping she had schooled her voice enough to hide the waver.
"Hi flower, what are you up to?" She could tell he was smiling on the other end. She could picture his dimples so clearly dented into his cheeks, though now the rest of the picture of him didn't make much sense.
"Just getting ready to work on that creative writing assignment I was telling you about," she lied, her nervous gaze unable to settle on anything for too long before darting across the room, "What about you?"
"I jus' got off work—got called in for a short shift, so I thought I'd give you a call before I went home and slept." In the background, she swore she could hear the sound of clothing rustling like he was bundling up a pile that had been discarded. "I miss you, love."
"I miss you, too, Harry."
He was at work, huh?
—————
(Y/N) felt off-kilter as she walked into Stanfill's lecture that Monday. Though the guilt followed her, she had canceled on her plans with Harry for the past Saturday since she didn't trust herself to sit with him and not blurt out the new suspicions that had taken root in her head. Today would be the first time she'd seen him since last Friday (both in class and on her computer screen it would seem). But, she had taken all weekend and coached herself through the newfound information.
Maybe it was naive of her, but she'd reasoned with herself all weekend, finding enough explanations (she didn't care how thin) to turn the whole thing into a weird coincidence in her mind. Now, all she needed to do was believe them.
In his usual spot beside her own unassigned-assigned seat, Harry was perched with a giddy smile on his face. A bright orange sweater was draped over the back of his seat, the piece assumedly having been used to cover him through the chilly morning, leaving him in only a thin, white t-shirt that was stretched over his chest, fitting of the heat that now dominated the afternoon. His grin only brightened when he caught sight of her scaling the stairs, his eyes following her.
"Hi flower," he crooned, his gaze warm as he tenderly flitted his eyes over her form and the planes of her features.
"Hi Harry," she smiled, taking her spot beside him. Before she had a chance to set up her materials, he fit an arm around her waist and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek in greeting.
"You're feeling better from this weekend, right?" Harry asked when he pulled away, referencing the excuse she had used to get out of their plans.
Her heart stuttered over the guilt that pumped through her veins at the mention of her sordid excuse. She nodded her head with her attention spent on setting up notes. "Yeah, I think it was just one of those twenty-four hour things, so I'm feeling better."
"Good, I was worried about you. Almost came over with some soup or something for you." He ended with an airy laugh, the warmth of his gaze trailing over her form.
(YN) finally chanced a look in his direction since sitting down. The thin material she had spotted at the landing of the stairs was much more see-through than she had realized, allowing black designs inked onto Harry's skin to shine through. Thanks to the heavy sweaters and thick knits he typically wore to class, this was the first time she had noticed he had any more tattoos than the fading cross etched on his hand.
She hated to think that she already knew what designs decorated his skin.
"What?" Harry smiled, catching the way her eyes lingered over his chest, "Is there something on m'shirt?"
"No, no," she shook her head, rolling her lips between her teeth before growing the courage to start the conversation she was scared to hear his side of, "I just didn't know you had so many tattoos."
"Really?" he laughed, angling his body towards her as if to give a full view of the muffled ink, "I thought y'knew. Have y'never seen the one on m'hand?" He offered up his hand as his to prove there was a tattoo on the skin, the stretch allowing for an inch of the ink on his wrist to be revealed as the sleeve rode up.
"Well, yeah," she smiled though the curl was tight, "I can just see a lot more than I ever have before through your shirt. How many do you have?"
He shrugged nonchalantly, curling up the sleeve of his shirt to reveal the details of the darkened spots that had shone through his top. "I lost count, but I've got the most of them up this arm, then a few on m'chest and ribs, and some on m'legs."
The farther up he tugged the fabric, the more designs (Y/N) recognized. The topless mermaid she had seen stretched over taut muscles and thick veins, a beetle looking bug on the delicate underside, a large rose inked over his elbow, and the beginnings of the anatomical heart on the inside of his bicep. The small tattoos inked on his wrist and the delicate scripts that detailed out names of people she was sure were close to him rounded out the tattoos she recognized in the form of pixels through her laptop screen.
She resisted the urge to trail her fingers over the ink and catch the texture of the skin she had been admiring for longer than she had realized, instead flicking her gaze to his own. "What do you have on your chest?"
He brightened at her question leaning back to touch his fingers to the spaces just under his collarbones, "I've got a pair of birds on m'chest,"—his touch slid down to his tummy—"a butterfly right here, and a set of laurels on m'hips."
From the neckline of his top, (Y/N) was able to spot the very tips of the wings of his inked birds. Though her face was stuck in a pleasant smile, her heart was thrumming like a hummingbird's and her mind was quickly dissolving to something close to a plate of twirled spaghetti. She couldn't act naive anymore, she knew that.
This was the confirmation she had been looking for, but feared finding. Now she couldn't just write this off and forget what she'd seen.
"That's really cool, Harry. I had no idea."
—————
(Y/N) had to psych herself up as she approached Stanfill's door Friday afternoon. She and Harry hadn't seen much of each other since Monday's lecture, Harry having been conveniently busy with work leaving them only a spare couple of hours on Wednesday night to meet up at the library before he rushed out after claiming to be called in by his boss. (She tried to ignore it, but (Y/N) couldn't help but notice the way that the cam page was suddenly full of new content with promises of more coming soon that lined up a little too well with Harry's demanding hours). She was grateful for the distance, honestly.
Now that she had resigned herself to the truth, it was better for her to limit her time around him in case she suddenly burst out with an accusation. (She didn't know what was more embarrassing: being accused of being a cam-performer or admitting to being an avid viewer of one). She had prepped herself heavily, schooling herself into keeping her mouth shut around him in case she let something slip she wasn't supposed to, but she still felt a little too close to the edge for comfort. Despite her hesitation, she knew she didn't have much choice but to show her face for class and get through the lecture.
Harry, as per usual, was already set up and perched in his seat when (Y/N) drew the courage to quit pretending to look at her phone and step through the heavy doors to her physics course. He held a beaming smile on his features, his dimples only deepening the farther up the stairs she went.
"Hi, love," he crooned once she was close enough, reaching to pull her chair out for her like the gentleman she was familiar with.
"Hi," she murmured, a small smile on her face as she peeked at him through her lashes. As much as she was shocked by her revelation (and a bit perturbed at the ease of which he lied to her with), there was still a soft spot in her heart for him she didn't see hardening anytime soon.
"I've missed you," he whispered, leaning closer with a careful eye on her reaction before planting his lips delicately against her cheek, "How was your morning?"
"Good, good," she prattled, setting up her laptop even though she knew she was only going to copy off of Harry's notes later, "Just tired and everything. What about you?"
"'M much better now," he flirted, a shy pink tint coloring his cheeks, "But it was fine, jus' been waiting to see you."
Her heart stuttered in her chest as she processed his words, the beat fluttering like a pair of wings on a bumbling bee. Yeah, he still had her—definitely.
"You're sweet, Harry," she smiled, melting into her seat.
She was vaguely aware of him recounting a tale of one of his friends (she thinks his name is Niji, but Harry wasn't the best at reminding her of his friends she had never met) as her eyes trailed over his form and to the typical spread that covered his work station. His notebooks were neatly organized as she'd come to expect, though there was a new development with a tattered pencil bag now holding all of his pens and highlighters he was fond of. She could tell it was old with the graphite dusting that stained the canvas material and etchings of a bored teenager who doodled in class.
One of the blackened markings on the bag caught her eye and made her freeze for a beat.
It was a small spot with the letters scripted in a familiar handwriting: TPWK.
It was one of the more loved spots on the bag, the acronym having been traced over and over enough to have embedded the lead into the weaving. (Y/N) recognized it in an instant, the letters being the signature ending to majority of H's (or should she just start calling him Harry now, at this point?) posts on his site. She had figured it was nothing more than a reiteration of his username, but (Y/N) didn't think Harry would be etching his cam-site username into his school materials as a teenager. At least, she hoped.
"Are y'even listening to me, flower? I didn't think I was as boring as Stanfill, but you're really humbling me right now."
Harry's soft laughter pulled her from her mind, drawing her eye from his pencil bag to find him with a shrewd smile on his lips and a soft aura circling his iris.
"Sorry, sorry," she rushed, flicking her gaze back to the acronym without thinking, "I was just... What does that mean?" Without permission, her traitorous words slipped free in conjunction with her finger pointing out the etching on his bag.
"Oh," he sounded, his brows coming to a furrow as he realized what she was referring to, "It was jus' something my mum used to say to m'sister and I growing up. It means treat people with kindness."
Glancing through the frame of her lashes, (Y/N) rolled her lips between her teeth as she listened to his explanation. Her anxiety heightened as she realized this might be her only chance to confess to the knowledge she'd been holding back. This wasn't the best place—right in the middle of a lecture hall with their professor gearing up to start class—, but she didn't think she would ever have the courage again before the burden deteriorated her. She could barely even look at Harry, for crying out loud! She couldn't keep this in if she wanted to stay with him.
"Oh," she parroted, nodding her head as she directed her gaze to the letters, "I thought it stood for—um—treat people with kisses."
Harry's muscles immediately stiffened at the mention of his username, his hands becoming restless as he fiddled with the glasses perched on his nose. His eyes were clear as he scanned over her face, gauging for a reaction in a way she wasn't familiar with. "And why did y'think that?"
The sound of her heartbeat rang through her ears along with the sound of rushing water as her blood pumped through her veins. It was now or never.
"I've seen some things, and—um—there's someone who uses something really similar to that on their website, I've found." She capped her mouth before she could reveal any more in the middle of a packed lecture hall, sealing her lips together as she anticipated Harry's reaction.
That was when his facade seemed to crumble. He was realizing that she knew, that much she could tell from his expression as Harry nodded his head. He let out a string of mumbled okay's before he dropped his head to stare at the linoleum lining the floor, a heavy hand skimming through his hair. His fingers twitched as he delivered a tight tug at his roots.
"Fuck, okay," he swore, the first time (Y/N) had ever heard her Harry curse, "(Y/N), I—"
Before much else to fall from his lips, Professor Stanfill started class with a boom of his monotone voice. Unlike usual, Harry didn't rise to attention, his posture staying slumped with his gaze looking helpless as he fought for words. (Y/N) took the opportunity to break and face forward; she couldn't look at him struggle like that anymore, especially knowing that she was the reason he was having to face this in the middle of lecture.
As Stanfill started on the unit, (Y/N) could only halfway listen when her attention was placed on the boy beside her who couldn't seem to get comfortable in his own skin. His leg was restless as it bounced under the table, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, and his teeth chewing his bottom lip. She could feel his eyes flicking to her every few seconds, his gaze unable to settle before it was flitting across the room once more.
Harry had made it only ten minutes into class before he crossed the space between their chairs, leaning close to her though he didn't dare touch her. His lips were level with her ear, though she knew he was making a point to keep a distance, with only a tickle of his breath being felt against her neck.
"(Y/N)... I can explain. I jus' need t—"
"Mr. Styles, is there a problem back there?"
He froze for a moment under the attention, (Y/N) fully expecting Harry to back down and offer a polite no, sir, before melting back into his seat. Instead, she was shocked to find him shoveling his things back into his bag with frantic hands.
"Actually, sir," he started, giving (Y/N) a pleading look, "(Y/N) and I need to be excused. My apologies."
Harry grabbed for her elbow, urging her to grab her things in a scramble before he led her from the silent lecture hall. Not once did (Y/N) see even a tint of blush climb Harry's features.
Out in the hall, the clang of the heavy doors falling shut echoed loudly through the empty space. Harry didn't stop there, continuing to tug her through the doors leading to the quad, the corridor seemingly too small for the extent of his whirlwind feelings. Out on the green, only a small study group could be seen gathered in the far corner meters away beside the grandiose fountain (Y/N) passed on her way to the library, leaving them virtually alone.
She stayed back under the cover of the portico, her book bag tucked under her arm as she watched Harry pace over the grass that surrounded the building. His hands were relentless, digging through his hair and throwing the strands askew.
And, she thought she felt guilty keeping the information from him.
"So," he sighed, his feet coming to a standstill planted in the grass, "You know?"
"Mhm," she gulped, nodding her head despite the fact his eyes were trained on his feet, "I found you a few months ago but I just realized it was you."
When he raised his hands, (Y/N) expected another round of messing his hair, but instead he dug the heels of his palms into his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. He couldn't even look at her.
"And?"
She struggled with how to put her thoughts into words, unsure of how to make any of it make sense to him when it barely made sense to herself. "Well, it's definitely not what I expected... I never thought you'd..."
Her useless words trailed off, her half explanation hanging in the air when she realized she didn't know what else to say. What a supportive girlfriend she was; she couldn't even reassure him when he had so clearly taken her spot on the edge.
Harry's chest expanded with a shaky breath, his head shaking in jerking nods at her half-baked sentence. "Okay," he breathed, the words breaking under the weight of his anxiety, "Okay." When he finally managed to pull his hands from his face and look at her, his tear-sheened eyes were tinged with a red that matched the embarrassed hue of his cheeks, "I—uh—I have to go, (Y/N). I'll... I'll talk to you later."
"Wait, Har—"
Before she could even finish, he was rushing away with his bag banging against his knees and his hand visibly tugging at his curls. He didn't stop or even slow at the sound of her protest—(Y/N) could have even argued that he walked away faster.
Shit.
—————
inertia is the law that dictates if any outside force is given to an object, its course will change
only one part left:( this one def has a lot of what everyone was waiting for and speculating over so I really hope it measures up to the ideas I heard!!! thank you so much for reading and sorry for any mistakes! lmk if you have any ideas for the next part or requests of your own!!
#writing#harry#harry styles#love on tour#harry one shot#harry imagine#harry blurb#harry au#harry prompt#harry fanfiction#harry concept#harry styles one shot#harry styles blurb#harry styles imagine#harry styles au#harry styles prompt#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles concept#dont worry darling#pleasing#one direction#fine line#golden#watermelon sugar#adore you#falling#lights up#tpwk#cherry#to be so lonely
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human!yoongi x mermaid!y/n
➼ pairing: human!yoongi x mermaid!reader
➼ genre: fluff,
➼ summary: when yoongi stumbles across a mermaid, treasures found under the sea don’t really feel like junk anymore... not coming from you, at least
➼ word count: 6k
➼ what to expect: “look! he gave me a shiny.”
➼ totally willing to write more parts to this, just lemme know if that’s something you guys would want
➼ BAHAHAHA THIS GIF IS PERFECT-
yoongi is not excited to be here
his friends have dragged him out of the comfortable confines of his home to the beach
unfortunately for him, all of his friends are outdoor, social people
taehyung, especially, who orchestrated this operation to get yoongi away from his music and into the sunlight
for once
he desperately needs to see the sun
sometimes, yoongi wonders why he lives so close to a beach when he won't even take advantage of it
"... no one would believe you're 28 right now."
yoongi stands, bored, with a towel in his left hand and his laptop in his right, an excessive amount of sunscreen smothered wherever his skin is showing, a hawaiian button down shirt adorning his torso, buttoned all the way up, with colorful shorts and a bulky pair of sandals
not to mention the circle sunglasses
"what's that supposed to mean?" yoongi pulls down his sunglasses at jimin, his and taehyung's mutual friend, who shrugs innocently
"you look more like 82." jimin giggles
yoongi rolls his eyes
"i'm not dressing to impress anyone, i'm here to get this over with." yoongi grumbles as he spreads his towel over the sand, propping up one of the folding chairs the group had brought with them
to be specific, there are seven of them
some of them taehyung and yoongi knew from university, some were mutual friends with jimin and on from there
there's seokjin, both taehyung and yoongi's senior in university
then hoseok, a happy-go-lucky classmate of jimin's
namjoon, one of yoongi's childhood friends
and jungkook, who was a freshman when jimin and taehyung decided he would be their freshman, to tease and to nurture with the group
yoongi sighs as jungkook props open the umbrella behind him and sticks it into the sand, twisting it deeper
"i thought you'd rather have shade if you were going to sit here." jungkook smiles brightly as yoongi turns to face him
"thanks, kook." yoongi raises a can of soda from the cooler in a thankful motion as jungkook nods
"wanna join us, hyung?" hoseok tosses a beach ball once and catches it, motioning it toward yoongi
"i'm good." yoongi groans as he props open his laptop, quickly typing his password
hoseok sighs but shrugs, tossing the ball to jimin
"we'll be in the water if you need us!" taehyung steals the ball from jimin and dashes away quickly
"hey!" jimin takes off after taehyung and the group follows in suit
well, except namjoon
namjoon stays behind with a novel and a smile
"mind if i keep you company?" namjoon gestures to the spot on the towel beside yoongi's chair and yoongi nods
"sure. but, i would have thought you wanted to play, considering you've been working out." yoongi teases, pulling his sunglasses down his nose with a smirk
namjoon's cheeks turn pink and he rubs unconsciously at his massive arms
namjoon has always been easy to tease, although he doesn't mind much
"i haven't had much time to read my novel, thought i would get a few chapters in." namjoon shakes his novel and squats down beside yoongi
after a long moment, yoongi realize that nothing is connecting
... he should have accounted for the fact that the beach doesn't have wifi
he groans and slams his laptop shut, startling namjoon
"hyung?"
"no internet." yoongi places his laptop on the towel next to him and crosses his arms stubbornly
"maybe you should do something that doesn't include technology?" namjoon suggests with a knowing smile
yoongi scowls and stands from his chair
"fine. i'm going for a walk." he grumbles as he puts his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose
namjoon shrugs, "okay, have fun." he waves him off absentmindedly and continues on with his book
yoongi wanders, barefoot, to the shore and lets the diminishing waves brush against his feet
he wanders farther, drifting from the noise of his friends and others, carefully placing his feet in front of each other
he shoves his hands in his pockets and focuses on how the wave drifts up the sand and erases the footprints laid out before him by people walking in front of him
he doesn't know how long he walks or how far he goes until he comes to a rock formation, that seems to separate the beach into two
one side, the side he came from, seems alive with noise and moving people, colors everywhere and nothing is still
on the side he's about to cross over, it seems motionless
there's no one there, as if there's an unspoken rule that if you're going to the beach, you stay on the other side
there's no noise apart from the crashing waves and the occasional seagull
yoongi smiles widely
he found his spot
if only he'd brought his belongings with him, this would be the perfect spot to bring a notepad and steal some inspiration from the atmosphere
he takes one last look at the beach behind him before continuing on into the quietness of the other side
it seems surreal, like he's just stepped into a parallel universe
he steps up onto a sturdy rock jetting out from the bigger formation, hoisting himself onto the smoother, less slippery surface
he walks carefully, watching as the waves crashes against the rock and falls back into the ocean with a splash, disappearing until the next wave comes behind
yoongi lowers himself to sit with his legs dangling off the side
he takes a deep breath in, breathing in the salty sea air, and heaves the air out of his lungs, feeling at peace
maybe coming to the beach wasn't such a bad idea
he closes his eyes and lets the sun bathe his skin, falling victim to drowsiness as the warmth envelops his body, paired with the gentle coolness of a breeze
before he drifts off, there's a splash
not like the splash of a wave against the shore or the rocks, no
something made that splash
something alive
there's an odd stillness before yoongi cracks open one eye, trying to decipher whether or not his mind was playing tricks on him
when it doesn't happen again, yoongi begins to let his eyes shut again, when-
splash
it's gentler this time, more like the movement of water, but it's closer
yoongi cautiously moves his head to survey around him, finding nothing out of the ordinary
he hears it again, and this time rises from his seated position, determined
he tip-toes around the large, jagged wall of rocks, and peaks behind it, finding...
what he can only describe as someone spying on him
you squeak and move behind a rock, trying to hide yourself
you'd been scouting the area for treasures when you'd noticed him, pale and lanky, but most importantly, with two sticks instead of a tail
fasCinating
yoongi can still see your hands perched upon the rock you've been resting against, rolling his eyes
"i can see you, you're not slick." yoongi comes into full view with one hand on his hip
you groan and pop up into view to apologize
"sorry! i don't mean to stare, i just don't see a lot of creatures like you around." you grin sheepishly
yoongi raises an eyebrow
was... that supposed to be offensive?
he shrugs it off
"i thought everyone was on that side." yoongi points to the other side of the beach
turns out his paradise wasn't so tranquil after all
"oh, no! there are way too many people over there." you peek anxiously at the people on the other side of the beach, feeling your chest tighten with uneasiness
"yeah, that's why i'm over here. not a fan of crowds?" yoongi supposes he can deal with talking to one person for a little while
plus, you're pretty cute for a stalker-
you turn back to him, finding him seated near you and your adrenalin picks up
he hasn't been driven away by what you are, he must be one of the good ones
you had only heard of them in stories
(truthfully, yoongi hadn't even thought of glancing past your upper body)
"no, not at all. people don't like me very much." you rest your head on the rock with a pout
yoongi chuckles, "that can't be entirely true, you know."
you shrug
"how'd you end up in this spot." yoongi tries to make small talk, chewing on his lip and watching the horizon from a distance
"oh, i was looking for treasures and they led me here. i saw you when i was searching." you present him with your bag of treasures, lumpy with your findings
"wow- where did you find all of that?" yoongi notices that the beach is barren- no shiny treasures like the ones in your bag
"behind coral, in the sand, buried in seaweed, you know." you shrug, looking through your treasure bag
"do you scuba dive?" he's thoroughly confused now- you're not even wearing gear
"scu-... scrubra dive?" you repeat the word unsteadily, tilting your head
"how do you find things like that?" yoongi peers closer at your treasures, soaking and filled with rust
how did you get those?
"it's not hard, as long as the tide is high and the currents aren't strong. they're just lying there at the bottom." you grin
he seems silly, you like him
"how do you stay under that long without air?" yoongi moves closer, his eyebrows furrowed in thorough confusion
"air? silly, i don't need air. but can you imagine, not being able to breathe underwater? wow." you scoff
yoongi stills a moment
you don't breathe air?
how can you not-
oh
,,,.....,
oh
"what are you?" it comes out more bluntly than he intended it to
your face falls, "what do you mean?"
for the first time, the water stills around both of you, the beautiful clear water allowing everything to show through
he realizes that you're not just an avid swimmer
you have a tail, not legs
he rubs his eyes and glances again, but your richly colored, glimmering tail still shines brightly against the sunlight through the water
"wha-" yoongi babbles, causing your heart to sink
"wait, wait, wait! you're a mermaid?" yoongi's mouth hangs open
you nod
"i thought you knew." you tilt your head
"i'm dreaming, i'm sooooo dreaming." yoongi looks around for any other sign that this might not be real
"you are? ooh! am i dreaming too? are we in a dream together?" your eyes are wide with wonder as you watch yoongi stagger around, baffled
"mermaids aren't real." yoongi repeats, shaking his head
"of course they are, i'm right in front of you." you wave your hand near his face
yoongi settles back down with a deep breath, "how..,,. how are you-? how,,., did this happen?" yoongi pushes his hair back and exhales deeply, staring unabashedly at your gently moving tail
"how did... i happen? well, my mom and my dad lo-"
"no! no, no, no,,.,. not what i meant." yoongi chuckles as he hurries to stop you
you close your mouth and wait for him to say something else
"i.,,... don't know what i meant. this is just..,.."
"do you wanna touch it?" you interject, propping yourself up on your elbows and leaning in closer to him
"touch it? what, your tail?" yoongi chokes on a breath
you nod, swinging your tail up onto the rock and gesturing to it with the jerk of your head
yoongi is hesitant, still processing all of this in his mind
after a moment of silence, nothing but a beat, yoongi reaches towards your tail, his eyes squinted shut and his head turned away
under his fingertips, he feels something smooth, moist, scaly?
he opens his eyes and they land on his hand, softly stroking over your tail, now in awe
"i try to moisturize every day, but, you know." you shrug, lip caught between your teeth excitedly as you watch him get lost in wonder over your tail
yoongi retracts his hands and unconsciously rubs his hands together awkwardly, "well, um-"
"wait! before you go, i have something for you!" you squeal and duck under the water
yoongi leans over and watches the glimmer of your tail against the sunlight slowly disappear the deeper you get
he starts to panic when he realizes you've been gone way too long to be able to hold your breath-
oh, right- duh
you pop back up to the surface and startle him slightly
"here! you remind me of this shell, so i thought you should have it." you place the shell before him on the rock
yoongi peers at it a moment before taking it, observing the markings
it's a little jagged, but it's beautiful nonetheless, just a little beat up
he almost laughs, but he gets the feeling that it wouldn’t be received well by you if he laughed at your gift
it’s almost like a little peace offering
“it’s beautiful.” yoongi turns it over in his hands in wonder
“yeah, just like you!”
yoongi’s cheek flush a pretty pink and he stammers over his words, “i- uh, well-”
“yoongi-hyung!” he nearly jumps three feet in the air when someone from the group calls his name. you seem to be startled, too, crouching further behind your rock
“i guess i gotta go-” when he turns back, you’re already gone, the only traces left by your are the small movements of water
“oh.” yoongi frowns as namjoon comes jogging around the corner
“yoongi-hyung, there you are. who are you talking to?” namjoon peeks around a rock to find nothing
“myself. yup, myself.” yoongi cringes at how fast his response is
“okay... well, the group was wondering where you were, so...” namjoon jabs his finger in the direction of the other boys
“yeah, yeah, i was here.” yoongi hoists himself up from the ground and moves to head back when-
“cool shell, hyung. where’d you find it?”
he freezes, probably longer than acceptable, “um... over there.” yoongi points off in a vague direction and once namjoon is looking that way, he diPs
he’ll come back tomorrow... just to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating ofc
♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡
it becomes an almost daily routine
yoongi would usually find a way to sneak away from everyone and head down to the spot on the beach
everyday, you resurface with a new treasure for him
maybe it’s something you’ve had for a while, maybe it’s something you’ve just found, there’s no telling
but this time, he doesn’t get away so easily
“hyung! where are you going?” jungkook calls as he watches yoongi try to quietly tip toe away from the group
yoongi cringes
“um... the beach?” that shouldn’t have been a question
“oh... okay, i thought you didn’t like the beach?” jungkook tilts his head innocently
“i like the... sand.” yoongi tries
it’s getting worse
“um... okay, go enjoy your... sand.” jungkook shrugs as he turns back to the group
yoongi sighs and dashes off so that no one can ask anymore questions.
it’s a bit later at night, as his visits so often tend to be, because you’re not very comfortable seeing him in the daylight when other people can see you
for some reason, you trust this human
at some point in the midst of your secret little rendezvous, yoongi had finally told you his name in exchange for yours
you have a very mermaid-y name
you really like his name but you had trouble pronouncing it the first few times you called him by it
yoonie
yoobi
yoonji-
finally, he realized you might be messing with him
right now, you call him yoonie. he thinks it’s your favorite
“hi, yoonie!” you seem to be waiting for him with the eccentric wave of your arm in greeting
“hi, y/n.” he greets fondly upon arriving at your shared rock
“i have something for you today!” you plop a slightly damp bag onto the rock and start digging through it
“don’t you always?” he grins
“it’s squishy and it makes noise and it’s super cute! i thought maybe you might know what it is.” you slam a rubber duck on the rock with a pathetic, distorted squeak
yoongi gawks at the treasure, “how on earth did a rubber duck end up on the floor of the ocean?” he takes it in his hand to inspect it
“what is it for?” you subconsciously squeeze it, resulting in high-pitched squeaking as you wait for yoongi’s explanation
“ah well, humans, um... bathe... with it?”
“what is a bathe?”
yoongi snorts at the innocent tilt of your head, “well, a bath is when a human washes themselves with water. you know, to stay clean.”
“oh! how do you wash yourself with this?” you rub the duck up and down your forearm, expecting it to leave a clean wake
“uh, well, you don’t really... it’s kind of just a toy.” yoongi chuckles fondly as he watches you with the duck
“mm. interesting. well, i wanted you to have it. it keeps trying to go back up to the surface and it’s really difficult to keep down here so, here!” you gently place the duck in his hands
“that would be because it’s filled with air.” yoongi squeaks the duck once
“ah, air. i will never understand why you humans stay so dry.” you shake your head with mock disapproval
yoongi sighs, “i actually have something for you today.” yoongi digs through his pockets
“oooh.” you marvel at the circle of metal in his hand
you carefully pick it up, inspecting it with a thoughtful expression
“... what is it?”
“oh- right, sorry. it’s a ring. you wear it on your finger.” yoongi demonstrates, gently taking the ring and sliding it on to the most fitting finger
“oh! it’s beautiful! shiny.” you flourish your now decorated finger with flare
“i thought it was only fair, since you bring me stuff.” yoongi scratches the back of his neck awkwardly
at least you aren’t aware of the social implications of giving someone a ring
“thank you, yoobi.” you giggle, playing with your new piece of jewelry
so we’re onto yoobi, now
nice
♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡
“yoongi-ah! are you joining us for the beach today?”
“yup!” yoongi hops off the couch nearly before jin finishes his sentence
“uh...” seokjin’s eyes follow yoongi as he dashes out to the car and is the first one to get strapped in
“alright, then.”
arriving at the beach, the youngest group members and hoseok take off with boogie-boards and jump straight into the waves without a care in the world
namjoon, of course, settles under the umbrella with his novel and seokjin settles in next to him for a cat nap
“i’m gonna... take a walk.” yoongi mutters under his breath, hoping no one would have heard him to know which direction he’s going
“i might join you later.”
yoongi freezes at namjoon’s voice and turns to meet his questioning eyes
“you really don’t have to do that...” he sighs, avoiding eye contact
“nonsense. i’ll join you later, you go ahead.” he waves yoongi off
hopefully namjoon won’t be able to find him
he carefully sneaks off and arrives at your spot
he might have to wait around a bit, it’s a bit early in the day and broad daylight doesn’t typically bring you out
luckily for him, you happen to be scavenging for new treasures nearby at this time in the murkiest water so no one can see you
when you spot movement by the surface, you freeze and take a careful glimpse of what you thought to be an ordinary human
but no
it’s yoobi
you gasp and hastily pile your treasures into your bag and race to the surface
you pop up unexpectedly
“hi, yoobi!”
yoongi nearly screams, flinching so hard he almost falls off the rock into the water
“jesus, y/n! don’t scare me like that.” yoongi clutches his shirt where his racing heart is, panting
“besides, no one is supposed to know i’m over here.” he lowers his voice considerably
on instinct, you hunch your shoulders and mimic his volume
an action that yoongi finds endearingly adorable; his heart swells
“you brought your friends today?” you have heard quite a lot about them
“well, they brought me and i just managed to sneak away.”
you ponder that a moment
“can i meet your friends?”
yoongi blinks owlishly at you
you... want to meet his friends? other humans?
well, of course, yoongi is a human, but still-
he thought he was your human :(
“is that... really a good idea?” yoongi rubs the back of his neck apprehensively
“i mean... are they nice?” you slightly crouch behind your rock, peeking at him with only your eyes
yoongi’s gaze softens
he’s not worried about the fact that they might report you to someone for experimenting, or the fact that they might drive you away
he’s worried about one of them charming you before he has the chance himself
he hasn’t figure out the logistics, but-
you are... half not human and he is full human so..,,.
whatever he’ll figure it out
“they’re nice... i just.,,.,” yoongi isn’t able to find an explanation for not introducing you to his friends that he’s willing to share with you
“yoongi-hyung!”
yoongi seizes up upon hearing his name called by an all too familiar voice
“joon?”
the moment he turns back to face you, you duck under the water with a frightened gasp
he groans in disappointment as namjoon comes jogging around the rocky cliff
“hey! what’re you doing over here? i heard you talking to someone.” namjoon glances around and expects to find someone
“i was talking to... myself?” yoongi even questions himself
well... if this isn’t a sign to introduce you to at least one of his friends, he doesn’t know what is
“listen, joon, there’s someone i want you to meet.” yoongi begins to search the surface of the water for you, but you must have gone deeper than he can see
“there’s no one here, hyung.” namjoon chuckles, lowering himself beside yoongi
“yeah, yeah i know.” yoongi waves him off distractedly, letting his fingertips dance along the water
“what are you doing?” namjoon snorts
“just wait.” yoongi reaches further into the water and opens and closes his hand rhythmically
“c’mon.” he grumbles, repeating the motion once more as a sign of encouragement
slowly but surely, your well-groomed hand places itself in his hand allows him to pull you to the surface
when your head breaks surface tension, you carefully peek at the second human joining yoongi
“oh my god, there’s a girl in the water.” namjoon gasps, shocked
as you carefully bring all but your waist and below above the water, namjoon comes to a second realization
“there’s a mermaid in the water.” he carefully shifts backward and keeps his distance at first
“hello.” you squeak, placing both hands on yoongi’s knee and slightly hiding behind his leg dangling into the water
“are you like... some cosplayer? cause that’s really good-”
“no, namjoon. it’s not a costume. y/n is a real mermaid.” yoongi watches you as you creep slowly toward namjoon as he retreats when you advance
“are you one of yoobi’s friends?” you ask cautiously
“yoobi?” namjoon replies, fascinated with the way you move in the water
“oh, sorry, yoongi.” you quickly correct yourself with a nervous giggle
“i knew you know my name.” yoongi scoffs playfully
“yeah, but it’s so much more fun to call you yoobi.” you giggle, pressing your cheek just above his knee and gazing up at him with an innocent smile
“how do you know a mermaid?” now more incredulous, namjoon inches forward to get a better look at you
“dunno... we just sort of.. met, and she’s been giving me treasures ever since.”
“look! he gave me a shiny.” you display your beautiful ring for namjoon proudly
“a ring, huh?” namjoon eyes yoongi playfully. yoongi shoves him in the shoulder
“just... something i had lying around.” yoongi eyes dart to the left and land on the skyline
“oh! i’ll give you a treasure, too, namoon!” you hop off yoongi’s knee and dive into the water
“namoon?” namjoon questions, glancing to yoongi questioningly
“ah... she seems to give people incorrect nicknames.” yoongi shakes his head
you resurface quickly and gently shake your hair, handing namjoon the treasure
“i’ve had this a while. i feel like it should belong to you.”
from you, namjoon takes an ancient, tattered book filled with artwork of mythical creatures including mermaids like yourself
“oh, wow... how old is this?” namjoon flips through the pages with wonder
“i’ve had it for a long time, you remind me of it.”
“good eye. namjoon does like to read.” yoongi nods, glancing at namjoon’s expression of incredulous shock
“this is in really good condition.” namjoon flips the book by the cover and smooths his fingers along the binding
“i keep most of my treasures in an air tight cave underwater. a lot of them are metal and would rust.” you shrug, hands folded under your cheek on yoongi’s knee
“i have to go get the guys-” namjoon starts to get up and yoongi pulls him back down
“i don’t know if she’s ready for five more guys yet, joon.” he glances apprehensively at you
“oh, right. sorry.” namjoon offers your a sympathetic grin
“are your friends nice?” you twirl your finger in the water near you
“they’re very nice. they’re a little rambunctious, though.” namjoon tilts his hand back and forth to show just how minimal it is
“i think... if they’re friends with yoobi, i would like them.” you squeak quietly, sinking until only your shoulders are above water
“are you sure?” yoongi places a hand over your own hand
you nod tentatively, a slow smiling tugging at your lips
namjoon is immediately on his feet giddily, “awesome. i can go get them.” suddenly, he’s gone, out of sight
yoongi turns back to you, “they’re a little much, are you sure?” he raises a brow
you nod again, “i like you, yoobi. i’m sure i can trust your friends.” you take a deep breath
“yeah? i like you too.” yoongi grins, blessing you with a gummy smile that brings a grin out of you
bringing out of your trance, you hear yelling and laughing coming closer and closer until they’re right around the bend
“i’m nervous.” you whine with a nervous smile, between yoongi’s knees and sinking farther into the water
“it’ll be okay,” yoongi swings his legs on either side of you
jungkook is the first to round the corner, a dopey smile on his face that all but disappears when he spots you and yoongi in the water
you duck instinctively, peering around yoongi cautiously as he looks over his shoulder
“hyung.” jungkook calls blindly, reaching out for seokjin, the next to join jungkook
“what-” seokjin cuts himself off when catching sight of you
the rest of the boys follow in suit- jimin, taehyung, hoseok
yoongi glances back at you a moment, “you’ll be fine.” he mouths. you nod
jimin is the first to approach you, cautiously stepping toward you and yoongi as you watch him carefully with wide eyes
“hello.” he smiles brightly, lowering onto his knees beside yoongi and offering you an eye-smile
his contagious smile causes you to give him a cautious grin, “hello.”
he places a hand on his chest, “i’m jiminie, one of yoongi-hyung’s friends.”
“nice to meet you, minie.” you giggle mischievously. jimin smiles wider at your nickname and coos
“you’re so cute.” he giggles
“i’m y/n.” you perch on one of yoongi’s knees so that you’re more visible
your tail sways back and forth under the water, catching a glimmer of light and jimin’s eye
“i like your tail. it’s very pretty.”
“thank you.” you beam, glancing at yoongi excitedly at the compliment
jimin turns and gestures for jungkook to come closer, who does so hesitantly
“this is jungkook.” jimin introduces as jungkook shifts his weight timidly behind jimin, offering you a small wave
“hi, kook.” you offer the same type of wave, earning a grin from him
“she likes nicknames.” yoongi pipes up on your behalf. you nod cheerfully
“well, aren’t you just a vision.” seokjin crouches beside jimin to observe you
your cheeks flush a pink hue, “thank you.” you nearly whine, hiding your face in yoongi’s t-shirt embarrassedly
yoongi’s breath catches in his throat at your proximity to him between his legs
as a reflex, he gently pets your hair, “shy?” he chuckles
“the flirt’s name is seokjin.” yoongi rolls his eyes as you peek at seokjin carefully, a cheek-splitting smile on your face
seokjin offers you a wink and you giggle, “you’re funny, jinnie.”
“wow...” the boy with the boxy smile marvels, inching ever so close to you as you bite your lip anxiously
“are you a real mermaid?” taehyung seriously has to restrain himself from ducking under water and touching your tail
“mhm.” you nod
“i’m taehyung. can my nickname be tae tae?” something about taehyung’s eyes sparkle, and you adore your shinys
“okay.” you giggle
“i like your eyes, tae tae.” you admit shyly, still gripping the fabric of yoongi’s t-shirt
“thank you!” he snickers with a wide grin
“who are we missing?” yoongi glances back and finds hoseok still apprehensive, mentally debating whether or not to come near
“come on, hoseok, she won’t bite.” yoongi scoffs jokingly
“i promise i won’t!” you shake your head to emphasize your point
“i know that.” hoseok rolls his eyes, coming to stand behind yoongi
“we usually call him hobi.” jimin chimes beside you
“i like that. can i call you that?” you peer up at hoseok with wide, innocent eyes, causing his heart to melt
“yeah...” he nods absentmindedly, marveling at your tail in the water as it moves gently against the current
“i’m not objecting if this is a dream.” seokjin lets his feet dangle in the water below
“even so- how did you meet a mermaid, hyung?” jimin inquires curiously
“she’s been bringing me treasures for a while... she just appeared one day.”
“treasures?” jungkook’s ears practically perk up at the notion
“i can give you guys treasures, too.” you gasp excitedly
yoongi frowns. he honestly thought that was something special between the two of you, exchanging treasures between each other
“i have the perfect treasure for you, jinnie.” you slide from between yoongi’s legs and quickly dive under water, disappearing momentarily
“yoongi-hyung has a mermaid girlfriend!” taehyung chirps with a wide smile
“she’s not my mermaid girlfriend, you idiot.” yoongi scowls, earning a giddy laugh from taehyung
as you resurface, you present jin with an elegantly decorated piece of glass with a handle - a mirror“you’re so handsome- i thought you would like to see yourself.”
for being underwater for so long, the mirror is in surprisingly good condition
“how thoughtful of you!” jin gasps, fidgeting with his hair in the reflective piece of glass and smoothing a finger over his lips
you’ve brought your bag with you, digging through it and finding a beautiful, ancient, intricate broach that you hand to jimin
“it’s pretty and reminded me of you.” you smile sheepishly
“aw, that’s precious.” jimin turns the broach over in his hands, drying the jewel on his t-shirt
you glance at jungkook with a thoughtful expression, gasping with a realization and fumbling with the items in your bag
“you’re wearing a lot of these... do you want another one?” you hand jungkook a pretty dangling pearl pendant earring
“that’s so pretty...” jungkook inspects the earring for rust or anything of the sort before slotting it into one of his empty piercings, smiling proudly
pulling out an item you’re unsure of, you carefully put it in taehyung’s hand, “i’m not sure what this is... but i’ve seen humans wearing it before.” you tilt your head
“these are glasses. really cool ones.” the glasses are rounded and almost in perfect, new condition. taehyung dries them, cleans the lenses, and slides them on to the bridge of his nose
grinning with pride, you glance at hoseok, observing him before a light bulb flickers to life in your mind, causing you to dig into your bag until you find what you’re looking for
“this thing has foreign symbols and the little pointy thing is always moving... it makes a tick noise, do you want it?” you hand hoseok an old pocket watch with roman numerals instead of numbers- surprisingly still keeping correct time
“this is cool.” hoseok dandles it by the chain as it drips and ticks away
“i love mine!” jungkook gushes as he pushes the earring back and forth while looking in jin’s new mirror
you swim back to the space between yoongi’s legs and fold your arms over one of his thighs, “just pretty things i had lying around.” you shrug modestly
jimin is the first to notice yoongi’s bitterness about the whole situation
“thank you very much for the gifts, y/n. but, unfortunately, it’s getting a bit dark... you guys wanna head back and pack up?” jimin suggests, gauging the group’s reaction
seokjin picks up on his subtle vibe, “i think that’s a good idea,” he hoists himself up, “it was lovely to meet you, y/n.” he sends you one last wink and jimin departs with a wave, the both of them gesturing for the rest of the boys to follow
“bye, y/n...”
“bye!”
“buh-bye!”
namjoon salutes you mockingly, “see ya ‘round.” he follows the other boys
yoongi is left alone, finally, with you
“that was very nice of you to give them your treasures.” yoongi acknowledges as the last group member disappears
“they’re nice boys... but i save my good treasures for you.” you admit cheerfully
“yeah? like me that much?” yoongi teases, moving his leg gently which in turn
“mhm! i like you a lot.” you giggle. if you had legs, they would be swinging back and forth
“what do humans do if they like each other?” you tilt your head curiously
yoongi chuckles, “well, i guess it depends on what kind of like.” yoongi shrugs
“well... i like you like i saw two humans the other day! they liked each other.” you gasp excitedly
“yeah? well, what’d they do?” yoongi doesn’t expect this conversation to go much further
oh, oh but it does
“i don’t know what it’s called. close your eyes!” you gasp, flailing your hands excitedly
“should i trust you?” yoongi teases. you pout and he sighs
“fine.” yoongi shuts his eyes
you grin and lift yourself by your arms on his highs, raising yourself to his height
the act you observed seemed awfully intimate for two humans to just be friends
i mean, putting your mouth on someone else’s mouth? why would you do that with just any stranger?
but, when you think about putting your mouth on yoongi’s mouth... it feels oddly nerve wracking- like you’re scared to mess up
you slowly lean in and pucker your lips, placing the softest, feathery kiss upon yoongi’s lips and lingering there only a moment
it takes yoongi a moment to process what you’re doing- but it soon clicks
are you... kissing him?
so... you like like him?
wait a second, where did you see two humans doing this-
you pull away far too early for yoongi’s liking, so he opens his eyes immediately, watching you cower between his legs with a sheepish smile
“i don’t know if humans do that with friends but i thought it looked... cool.” you settle for, smile growing wider and more nervous
yoongi smooths his hand over his lips with a grin he can’t suppress
you taste like a fresh ocean breeze- without the salt and with all of the calming, coolness
“i like you like that, too.” yoongi declares, still in disbelief
“really? yay! i can’t wait to tell-”
“now come back here so i can teach you how to kiss properly.”
you squeak as yoongi pulls you to sit in his lap, your tail draping across his thighs as he plants his lips against yours, cupping your jaw sweetly
you smile softly- you could get used to this
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#yoongi x reader#min yoongi#yoongi#yoongi imagine#yoongi cute#suga#bts x reader#bts#yoongi fluff#yoongi angst#bts fluff#bts smut#bts angst#bts imagine#bts drabble#yoongi drabble#bts writing#fluff#angst#cute#bts cute#mermaid!y/n#human!yoongi
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Made With Love
——————————————————————
'Let the heart decide.'
"Venti?" Lumine asked and turned to face the bard, who was wistfully looking out on the horizon.
"When you said you would like any flower I would choose, did you mean it?" She continued, and Venti faced her with a slightly confused expression.
"Of course! Why? Do you intend to change your choice? The festival doesn't work like that, I'm afraid!" There was the usual teasing tone to his words, to which Lumine rolled her eyes and scoffed.
"Wait here." She then stood up, and went deeper into the tower ruins. When she came back however, she was hiding something behind her, with Paimon giggling beside her, and it confused the Anemo Archon even more. Lumine lifted her gaze, revealing a shy smile, and brought out what she was hiding.
It was a teal flower, with petals akin to that of a Cecilia and designed with swirls in a darker shade of teal. It had a glowing yellow pistil, and the stem is flexible. It left Venti's mouth gaping.
"Wow! In all my years as the Anemo Archon, this is the first I've seen this flower!" He exclaimed as he examined the said object.
"Well, it is one-of-a-kind." Paimon commented.
"More like, one-of-its-kind." Lumine added.
"Traveler, where in Teyvat did you find such a rare beauty?" The bard said and stood up, looking Lumine with curious eyes. This made her shy and looked away.
"She made it, Tone-deaf bard!" Paimon said, and the shock on Venti's face grew even more.
"My! And to what do I owe you for this gift?"
"Silly. It's a Windblume flower... From me to you, Venti." She said softly, gaze as soft when they fell on Venti's blue ones.
"You- what-?" A light dusting of pink colored his cheeks, and Paimon snickered.
"Wow, Lumine. You shut up the un-shuttable." Paimon commented, and Lumine giggled.
"It was an idea that sprung in my mind when asking about what exactly the Windblume flower is. I made this before I even found out I was chosen to be the Windblume Star. I tried to put as much of you in the flower as I can. Petals like Cecilias, the color of your outfit, the wind-like pattern, and the glowing pistil, like your personality. I... Wanted to offer this to the statue but..." Her eyes flitted away.
"But?" He repeated.
"Well... This isn't a Windblume for Barbatos. This is a Windblume for you, Venti. And you alone. So I'm glad you called me out here. I couldn't bear to give this to you with everyone looking!" She flashed another of her smiles, and Venti could swear his heart was running miles.
"But- why?" Was all he could mutter.
"Why? Hmm. Because you're someone special to me. Very... Special." She whispered those last words to herself, letting it be carried off by the wind.
"I... See." He replied, and looked at the flower once more.
"Oh, I forgot we were supposed to meet the rest of the Knights in Angel's Share for a party!" The blonde exclaimed.
"I'll... I'll catch up! You two go ahead!" Venti said and waved off, sitting back to his previous position. A 'see you!' was the last he heard before he sighed heavily to the skies. And then, he smiled, looking at the flower in his hand once more.
"Thank you, Lumine. You're... Someone special to me, too."
----------------------------
"Man! You actually shut him up for once!" Paimon said and Lumine could only giggle.
"Does receiving a gift like that really shut someone up?" She pondered, and while she was occupied, Lumine grabbed something in her bag.
"Well, be the judge of that, Paimon." When the said girl turned around, the same shock in Venti's face appeared on her face. Lumine was holding out a light pink flower, with edges trimmed with gold, petal shapped that of a Glaze Lily, decorated with a design similar to Paimon's star.
"You- geh-" Paimon delicately took the flower in her little hands, looking at the traveler with glazed eyes.
"How can I forget about you, Paimon? This is my Windblume to you, my travelling companion!" Paimon can only cry and hug Lumine tightly, with the blonde chuckling and hugging her back.
"Will you look at that! Even the great Paimon got silenced by a Windblume Flower!"
------------------
Lumine's heart fluttered when Venti finally came around the Tavern, the flower she made perched on his hat, replacing the previous Cecilias.
The party was chaos. Nothing less to expect from such a lively crew. After some time, Lumine asked to be excused from the party. She went outside the walls, and to the shore of Cider Lake. She sat down, and looked at the moon. Lumine's mind went to her brother. How much she missed him. She stuck her hand inside her bag and brought out one last flower she made. A flower for Aether.
"Remember when we were children, we learned how to make these flowers for mother? And she absolutely loved each and every one we made." A sad smile appeared on her lips.
"I'm glad we did, because I made important people to me happy today. I hope you'll like this, too." She whispered and held the flower close to her chest.
"When we meet, I'll give this to you, brother. And we'll tell each other stories. I miss you so much." She hugged her knees and sobbed quietly, the loneliness she thought she kept in check finally coming out.
From a distance, a boy was gazing at Lumine from a tree. He was holding out a flower of his own out to her direction, sadness present in his eyes.
"Mother... Home... Us. I will never forget the times we were together." Aether smiled sadly, twirling the said flower between his fingers. A tear fell from his left eye.
"I miss you too, Lumine."
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A/N: I posted it;;;;;
It's almost 12AM where I'm from, the perfect time to have some fluff and angst
ALSO!!! The Kazuha scenario I posted yesterday blew up, and I can't thank you all enough for the support 😭💕
I promise to deliver so much more in the future!!! 😊
#Genshin impact#genshin impact imagines#genshin impact headcanons#Venti#venti the bard#lumine#VenLumi#Aether#Paimon#Windblume#Windblume Festival#Venti x Lumine#fluff#genshin angst
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Still Alive
dream x f!reader
PART ONE
summary | Just under 20 years ago, the world slipped from humanity’s grasp and fell into the lap of mutant creatures. While most humans hid from the variants, some, like reader, grew restless in the bases they grew up in and needed out. What will happen when reader realizes that she doesn’t stand a chance in the wild on her own, and can something deeper blossom from a survival-based alliance?
warnings | none!
word count | 1.7k
I had never seen a flower before. At least, not that I could remember. Things like that didn’t exist within the confines of the city walls, the beautiful, living things. The things that reminded you you were alive. My gaze fixated on the object before I even knew what I was looking at. Its petals swirled with pinks and purples, hues I had only seen in worn-out wool and peeling paint. Deep emerald leaves adorned a similarly colored stem, all woven together intricately and standing out amidst the field of brown. I marveled at the plant, bending down to hold it delicately between two fingers. It was incredible, even better than in photographs.
I spent months looking through the old textbooks Zoe had found, simply admiring the anatomy of different flowers and plants from the Old World. She was so excited to show me. I can still picture her jumping up and down as she entered my room in her tattered sports jersey and two-sizes-too-big jeans, a huge stack of books cradled like a child in her arms. Her tight curls were always pulled up into two buns, perfectly placed on the top of her head and bouncing with her childlike movements. I had quirked up an eyebrow at her as she wordlessly dropped her findings on my cot with a thump.
“Books,” she had said, looking at me with a newfound glimmer in her eye, “textbooks. We can learn!”
There was plenty of other information in those textbooks, but the flowers fascinated me. They caught my attention not just for their beauty, but for their mechanics, too. As I read, I began to appreciate how their roots anchored them to the earth, how their stems acted as passageways for water and nutrients, how they came in so many shapes, shades, and sizes. I wanted to know everything I could about them. I had always been that way, I guess.
A nearly foreign feeling emerged in me as a smile curled its way onto my face. The muscles were rusty from a long hibernation and they weren’t sure how to react to the sudden use. Dust found its way into my eyes as my cheeks rose with the grin, so I brushed it away quickly. That, I was used to.
“A cosmos,” I said to no one but myself. Of course, it was a cosmos.
The world before me was barren, a bleak expanse of land that seemed to never end. How the fuck was I supposed to survive out here? Despite my extensive studying, I wasn’t necessarily well-versed in survival. I had no protection out here, no roof over my head, and no soldiers with weapons on watch for intruders, or worse, for variants. A shiver ran down my spine at the thought. Variants were the one thing I knew almost nothing about, despite how hard I tried to get information from the watchmen and neighboring families. In all honesty, we didn’t know much about them, just that they didn’t seem to like us too much. One week the world was our terrain and the next it was theirs. I had never met one and I wasn’t planning on doing so, but I no longer had control over that. I chose to leave and there was no turning back.
That didn’t make it any less terrifying.
Adjusting my pack on my back, I grabbed my flask and poured a bit of water over the stubborn flower.
“Hope we make it, little guy.”
One last look at the distant confines I used to call home, then I was walking again, this time never turning back.
. . .
As it turns out, walking across one huge expanse of dust and dirt isn’t very fun! In fact, it’s fucking brutal. I had no idea where I was going, that much was clear not even ten minutes into the journey. Leave the city, that was my only plan. A shit plan, in hindsight. I reached into one of the many pockets of my pack and pulled out my water bottle. Last sip, that’s not good. If I could just go a little longer and reach the forest, I’d be okay. Much of the landscape had been torn apart over the years, but there were still occasional patches of green, at least that’s what I had been told. Just a little farther, surely I would reach it soon.
The hours dragged on, all melding together into one blurry week of sleeping in a ripped tent in the middle of nowhere and barely eating or drinking. When my eyes focused on a small dot of green in the distance, I nearly brought my hands up to rub the mirage from them, but I knew better than to do anything like that before washing. Especially after the week I’ve had, too much dust and not enough water.
I had been preparing for my lunch break when I spotted it, excited to get my hands on my tenth granola bar of the week. All desire for a break left my body, replaced by the desperate need to get to that forest before nightfall. There could be water in there, shelter, food, the possibilities were endless. I picked up my pace, feet moving with fervor despite my obvious exhaustion. My pack threatened to slip off my back, but I ignored it.
I reached the edge of the forest by nightfall, a shudder running through me at the thought of spending the night alone in the dense environment. Anyone or anything could be living here, and they could be hungry. The ground didn’t feel safe, too open and vulnerable of a place to sleep, but the sliver of moonlight shining down on me wasn’t enough to find anywhere else. This would have to do.
A few restless hours passed before I had finally fallen into a deep sleep, my back pressed uncomfortably against a tree and my pack serving as a makeshift pillow. I didn’t bother to set up camp, figuring I’d pick up and move in the morning anyways. I expected to get a few good hours of sleep at least, but that wasn’t the case. Instead, I was shaken awake by unfamiliar hands and a gruff voice.
“Get the fuck up,” the voice barked as my eyes adjusted to the morning light, peering up at the shaded figure looming over me.
“Wha-what?”
“Get. The fuck. Up.” The figure grabbed my pack from underneath my head and I groaned at the rude awakening. In my early morning haziness, I barely questioned the individual’s orders. My body moved before my brain told it to, pulling itself out of the fetal position and standing up, unsteady but sturdy enough.
As I rose to my feet, I took a good look at the person for the first time. He stood tall, towering over my frame with long legs and broad shoulders. Underneath his hood, a mask shielded most of his face from me; it looked to be made of some sort of wood and with the jagged smile that was carved into it, it was borderline terrifying. Dark blond hair toppled out and around the thing, curling messily at the ends. He sported muted green cargo pants and a thick belt bearing a multitude of knives and other weapons I didn’t even want to imagine. A black T-Shirt spread across his torso, strong arms emerging from the sleeves and gloved hands gripping a satchel against his hip. If this went south, I was outmatched.
“What made you think sleeping on the ground was a good idea?” he hissed out a few minutes later as he led me through the trees, taking angry steps at least two yards ahead of me.
“I didn’t have many other options,” I responded simply, not sure what he wanted from me and still groggy with sleep.
“Well, you picked the stupidest option.”
I rolled my eyes, who did this guy think he was? Sure, the ground wasn’t the smartest choice, but it was all I had! I huffed, kicking at a rock as he stopped to check...something — who knows what he was doing.
“You got a name, mask boy?”
He shushed me, holding up his index finger as he looked around at our surroundings.
“It was just a question-”
“Dream,” he cut me off, “now shush.”
He said it simply, like it wasn’t the most absurd name anyone had ever heard, and went right back to surveying the space around us. I poked my head around at him, trying and failing to get this mystery man’s attention.
“Is that your real name?” I inquired, making awkward eye contact with the mesh-covered eyeholes of his mask and wishing I could see his face when he answered. Maybe then I’d know if he was bluffing or not. Or if he planned on killing me.
“It’s what you’ll call me.”
There was a finality in the way he said it, a sternness in his voice that I wasn’t about to argue with. A beat passed in utter silence, me waiting for him to continue the conversation and him already three steps ahead of me on the path. Dream isn’t a chatty guy, noted.
I jogged to catch up to him, slowing as I reached his side. He didn’t seem like he was going to kill me as soon as night fell on the already dark forest, but keeping him in my sight was the safest bet.
“You’re not gonna ask my name?” He turned to face me, raising an eyebrow and bobbing his head as if to say ‘go on’. I gave him my name and he grunted in response — men.
He persevered through the forest, cutting away branches and leaving a green mess in our wake. I had no idea where we were going or why I was following his lead so easily, but he seemed confident and I trusted his confidence more than my own.
“So…” I dragged on, twiddling my thumbs and shooting him a look, “do we have a plan here or are we just gonna wander for the next five hours of daylight?”
He rolled his eyes, letting out an “ugh” as he pushed through another set of leaves. I wasn’t wrong; the sun would be setting soon, and based on how he reacted this morning, he wasn’t a night owl.
“Our camp is set up a few miles north. We should get there before nightfall.”
Did he say our?
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(the three-part folding mirror)
the denouements & the snickets, olaf, r, olivia
teen
15,985 words
The year the schism gets worse is the year one of the quarterly information costume parties is held in the grand ballroom on the third floor of the Hotel Denouement.
@lyeekha won my commission in the @asoue-network fandom against hate raffle and asked for the denouements, so i put together some shenanigans with the denouements and the snickets, with slight ernest/lemony kit/dewey frank/jacques, and a few other associates hanging around ~
some minor warnings – language; smoking; brief mention of murder; referenced parental death; identity anxiety about being seen physically and personally
title from i am alone by they might be giants
10:59 PM—The Ballroom—East Drink Table
Kit skirted the perimeter of the crowded ballroom, stopping at the side wall by the drinks, one eye on the table and the other on the dance floor. She couldn’t put her back to it. Not now. There was a tall, potted boxwood nearby, unreasonably lush, almost slouching against the decorative golden pillar beside it. She picked up one of the wineglasses, the only signal she could think of to properly get his attention. She’d have to find Lemony as well; where was he?
The plant coughed.
“J,” Kit whispered, “listen to me.”
A few of the branches parted, and Jacques’s blue eyes appeared out of the green. “What happened?”
Kit breathed slowly. Her free hand curled into a fist, crinkling up the fabric of her dress. She swallowed. It did not help. She gripped the glass. Beneath her feet, the floor gave a slight shudder as the clock out in the lobby readied itself to chime the hour.
“Someone in this very room has—”
WRONG!
7:25 PM—Above The Lobby
It was Saturday night, and Saturday night always meant one thing—Guess The Guest.
Ernest stood in the small alcove situated around the gears of the hotel clock, far above the lobby, and looked down. Like any other night, the sleek gold and red lobby was filled with people, loitering around the front desks and the fountain and each other before they made their way up to the grand ballroom on the third floor. Well, the ballroom was different. This was a work event, as Frank had so brilliantly labeled it on their schedule, so no one was a regular guest tonight. Frank, who had never appreciated the joy in making up grandiose lies or exaggerated half-truths about the strangers who came in and out of the hotel, certainly wouldn’t appreciate the thrill in watching all of his associates in costume and trying to guess who was who, either. Dewey thought the game was slightly mean, because Dewey was just too kind for this sort of thing.
It was good that Ernest was not Frank or Dewey. Not right now, anyway. Ernest knew how to get joy out of the little things.
He watched a flash of green scales move erratically through the lobby, a cheerful voice calling enthusiastic greetings that echoed all the way up to the ceiling—Montgomery. There was a reason he did undercover work so sparingly. Two women in nearly identical butterfly costumes by the door, one purple and one white, hand in hand, standing close together—Ramona and Olivia. It was nice to see them together. A woman with a deep blue dress that swept around her like a wave—Josephine, here alone. Ernest had it on good authority that the Anwhistle brothers weren’t coming. Another loud voice, but deeper, following the confident swath a tall figure in black cut through the crowd—Olaf. Ernest turned away, in time to catch a glimpse of a long red cape shifting from behind one pillar to another around the edge of the room, carefully avoiding Olaf—aha. Kit. Which meant another one was nearby. Not that the Snickets had arrived together, because none of them ever did, but where there was one there was always at least one other, ready to make a decent amount of trouble. (Ernest liked trouble. The little things, of course.) And there, near Ramona and Olivia, Lemony Snicket, a figure shaped in grey shadows.
The alcove door opened. Ernest knew exactly who it was, so he didn’t give him the courtesy of turning around, keeping his eyes on Lemony. Grey was a fitting color on him, on the long line of his shoulders, his legs. Ernest’s stomach flipped over, once.
“It looks like a full house tonight,” Frank said, standing beside Ernest. He adjusted the sleeves of his jacket and folded his hands behind his back. “I wasn’t sure.”
Ernest leaned a hand on the alcove railing. “Takes more than a murder to stop a party, I suppose,” he said.
Frank didn’t reply, but Ernest knew that for once he agreed. The double murder in Winnipeg two months ago had, like any other sudden, suspicious death they’d dealt with over the years—Ernest shuddered and flexed his fingers—barely made a ripple in VFD, except that after the funeral, everyone had closed ranks significantly tighter.
This worried Frank; this did not worry Ernest. Very little truly worried Ernest, at the end of the day. That, of course, only made Frank worry more, but Ernest couldn’t help that. Frank would find something to worry about if Ernest was still on “his side”. Ernest had much more pressing commitments than the heavy, idle worry that everyone else shuffled between themselves without any results, and it wasn’t that he’d be found out. It was change. The real kind of change, not the noble one, not the fragmentary one. Change Ernest could see.
He shifted his hand on the railing once more. If he kept thinking about it, he was going to argue with Frank, and they’d rehashed the argument so many times the past few months without any resolution that it was better, Dewey had eventually insisted, if they just didn’t talk about it at all. So they wouldn’t. Ernest stood next to his brother, and the silence dragged out between them, punctuated by the soft ticking of the clock gears, and they wouldn’t talk about it. Not at all.
“Ernest.”
Almost.
“Frank,” Ernest said back, in the same critical tone, tilting his head to the side and giving his brother a look.
Frank shot him a flat and unimpressed stare in return. At least he still did that. “Promise me you won’t do anything—” he paused, his face pinching in an aggrieved sort of way before he settled on a word. “—rash tonight,” he finished.
Ernest laughed. “I don’t intend to do anything rash, Frank.” Of course not. You couldn’t carry out a pre-established plan rashly.
“I should hope not. I—”
The door opened, again. Dewey burst into the alcove, all smiles as always, and stopped on Frank’s other side and leaned over the railing, gazing into the lobby. Like Ernest and Frank, he wore the muted red manager uniform, because somebody had said it was the “host prerogative” to not dress up for a costume party. Somebody had felt bad about it when Dewey was disappointed, but somebody had still not relented, and there they were, a matched trio, everything outwardly perfect.
“Everyone’s costumes are so beautiful,” Dewey said. “Who’s that, in the big blue dress?”
“Josephine,” Ernest and Frank said at the same time.
Ernest raised his eyebrows. Frank, stooping so low as to actually guess the guest? Even Dewey blinked at him in surprise. The tips of Frank’s ears went slightly pink, but he didn’t say a word.
“Oh, Frank, you left your name tag downstairs again,” Dewey said. He pulled the name tag from his pocket, the slim gold rectangle glinting briefly in the soft light of the alcove, and pressed it into Frank’s hand.
“Thank you,” Frank murmured. But when Dewey turned away, Ernest saw the tag disappear from Frank’s fingers, most likely slipped up into his sleeve. None of them wore their name tags with regularity—the black ‘manager’ embroidery on their jackets was really enough—but Frank’s kept showing up places, and Ernest and Dewey kept giving it back to him, every time. Ernest didn’t quite know what to make of it. He wondered about asking Frank about it, but he didn’t want Frank to take it as another argument. Ernest didn’t actually enjoy arguing with Frank. About small things, sure, like Dewey’s stupid poetry and Frank’s inane hotel schedules, the sorts of things brothers argued about. But Ernest was sure Frank would make it into another one about VFD.
Dewey was studying the lobby, one hand on his chin. Ernest watched him go from one friend to another, then stop when he got to Kit’s red cape sweeping towards the stairs. It was an unusual color for her, but Dewey, whether he thought it was nice or not, knew how to identify someone from the pieces they let slip through too. Kit was straightforward about everything, and the way she walked, determined and with an endpoint in sight, was no different.
Ernest and Frank exchanged a quick glance.
“So,” Frank drawled, “when’s the wedding?”
“I look best in black,” Ernest put in. “Take that into account, Dewey.”
“I look best in blue,” Frank said. “Take that into account.”
Dewey’s face went its typical six shades of red, flushing through to his ears as well as he jumped back from the railing and sputtered, “What—we’re not—we haven’t even—I don’t—Kit’s not—you two are impossible.” He stormed out of the alcove, shutting the door with a slight snap behind him, because Dewey had never slammed a door in his life.
Ernest enjoyed a brief chuckle with Frank before his brother fell silent again. The lobby crowd was thinning as everyone made their way to the elevators or the stairs, or to the bathroom, or, perhaps, to some clandestine hallway somewhere else. Ernest could see the ring of neatly-trimmed boxwoods lining the lobby now. He wasn’t sure, but he thought there was one more than usual, sitting right inside the door.
He leaned forward, squinting. “Did we always have a boxwood there?” he asked.
Frank moved his head down a fraction of an inch and considered the lobby. “Of course,” he said. Then he straightened his sleeves one more time, and left the alcove.
7:35 PM—The Lobby
Among the Snicket siblings, there was an ongoing discussion about the best hiding place. Kit preferred the quiet, professional approach. She stood behind newspaper stands, put her face into books and brochure racks, stayed in the shadows of a store awning. Lemony was difficult about it. He thought the best place to hide was the least likely place someone would look for you; the place you wouldn’t look for yourself. He took dangerous perches in train station windows, seats in restaurants he vocally hated, or sophisticated and cramped corner cafes that had never heard of a root beer float.
Jacques, meanwhile, with a lifetime of hiding experience, always liked to hide in plain sight. People barely ever remembered what was right in front of them as long as it appeared relatively normal. And there were a number of options—a large potted plant could be overlooked among a dozen other potted plants, people received packages every day and wouldn’t notice if there was one more oversized box, every city park lost track of how many statues were supposed to be there, even a regular man in a fine suit crossing the street or driving a taxi was expected and forgettable. Another boxwood was just another boxwood sitting in a free space in the empty Hotel Denouement lobby, slowly making its way to the ballroom for optimal eavesdropping. Another volunteer in costume was just another volunteer in a lion costume borrowed from Bertrand, for the moments tonight when Jacques had to communicate information to an associate.
That was the point of the party, after all. Jacques couldn’t deny that everyone liked dressing up—he liked dressing up, a little—but the main objective for most of them tonight was the passing of relevant information that had happened in the three months since the last official gathering (not counting the funeral). It should have been at Winnipeg, as they usually were, the organization taking over the Duke and Duchess’s sprawling, sparkling mansion, the couple’s easy laughter flowing from room to room. Jacques didn’t blame Ramona for not wanting to do it after what happened there. He doubted she’d actually been in the mansion since, although it was entirely hers. But the Hotel Denouement was a suitable replacement. It was too public to ever lose its neutral position among both sides. No one was going to get killed here, Jacques was certain. But he was mildly worried something else would happen. He didn’t know what. But something.
Especially considering Lemony was here. Not that his brother was a troublemaker—Jacques would never say it out loud, at least—but because Lemony wasn’t supposed to be at the hotel tonight. He had told Jacques that he was going to be with Beatrice and Bertrand, who were working on plans for an upcoming assignment. This meant two things—one, that Lemony had lied to Jacques. But Jacques had counted on that. He had assumed, however, that Lemony meant the three of them were finally going on a date and hadn’t wanted anyone to know. Two, that if Lemony never did anything idly, without a specific purpose, then he was here for an unknown reason. Something else was going to happen, Jacques was certain. Something Lemony wanted to be here for.
First, though, he had to get the boxwood he was hiding in from the lobby to the ballroom upstairs. The pot was significantly heavier than Jacques had counted on.
8:05 PM—The Ballroom—Main Doors
Every time they all got together, Frank was so amazed at how many of them there were. Despite some noticeable gaps—Beatrice’s overbearing presence, for one, which Frank was happy to do without for an evening—the grand ballroom had barely any free space. Every available and noble associate was here, and it filled Frank with a sense that everything was going to be alright. All these people, including himself, doing what was necessary to keep the world quiet. Tonight would be fine. Ernest wouldn’t do anything regrettable; Dewey would forgive him about the costumes and the gentle ribbing; the meeting would pass without incident. Tomorrow would come. Sometimes Frank almost thought that it wouldn’t. Typically when Ernest was being difficult, but tonight even he seemed to agree that the organization—their organization—was impressive.
He spotted a potted plant by one of the drink tables, a boxwood that matched the ones lined around the room and back in the lobby. One branch was bent out of place. Frank would have to have a word with the person responsible later. But he should fix the branch now.
Everyone he passed on his way across the room gave him a quick nod, a brief smile. Frank returned it as that familiar buzzing started under his skin, like it tended to in groups. He shrugged it aside. He gave the controlled smile of a manager with everything in place, and no one said a word.
All of a sudden, his view of the boxwood was blocked. Through the mass of associates came Olaf, head to toe in a suit and mask of black, spiky fur, smiling with all his teeth, unceremoniously pushing a woman in a silver dress painted like a large, rocky moon aside on his way towards Frank. Frank steeled himself. You never knew what you were going to get with Olaf, if he would try and charm you with a reckless humor or annoy you with a joking cruelty. It was one of the many reasons Frank had never particularly cared for him.
“Ernest!” Olaf exclaimed when he got close. He hooked an arm through Frank’s. “Lovely to see you, wonderful party.”
The cold, dark hand twisted its way along Frank’s insides. It gripped down through his chest, put a film over his eyes that made the room seem distant and wrong. The party continued around him, Olaf was still talking into his ear, and Frank couldn’t hear any of it. The name tag pressing into his wrist up his left sleeve didn’t help. Just because it was his didn’t mean it was him. His name meant nothing if no one was going to care about who it was, about what made Frank instead of Ernest or Dewey. No one should need evidence to tell the difference. No one should make a mistake between the three of them. How many times would it happen?
Time was still passing. Frank blinked once, twice, until Olaf’s voice filtered back in and the noise of the ballroom swelled up once more.
“—incredibly delicious, I have to say, but, to be frank with you—ha! This champagne has seen better days, which one of you is responsible for this travesty?”
Frank smiled, a little turn of the corner of his mouth, the professional smile of all three of them. If Olaf wanted Ernest, alright. Frank would be Ernest. “Frank,” he said. The word sounded like it couldn’t possibly have come out right, but Olaf didn’t break his stride, so it must have.
“That does not surprise me in the least,” Olaf said. “Meanwhile, allow me to take up one single minute of your time,” he continued, and pulled Frank into the shadows by the door. Frank’s stomach gave a terrible lurch as the stark terror he woke up with every morning came back, riding over the dissonant gap he still felt between his body and his brain. What did Olaf want with Ernest? Had Olaf found out about him? Frank had covered up for Ernest before, but would he be able to keep doing it if more people knew?
“Have you thought about it any more?” Olaf asked, leaning close.
The sheer relief that Olaf didn’t know battled with the swooping fear that Ernest was doing something new Frank didn’t know about, and with Olaf. He remembered, with startling clarity, the last time he talked to Kit, when she told him that Olaf had been spouting dangerous ideas about the organization and trying to rope in as many people as possible. It was one of the reasons, according to the rumors Frank had heard elsewhere, why he and Kit had ended their relationship. What was he trying to get Ernest into? Ernest needed absolutely no encouragement, and neither did Olaf. He had to say something.
“I have,” Frank said. It was the safe answer when you were pretending to be someone else.
Olaf grinned again, big and excited, which was a terrible sign. “And?”
“No,” he said, because it was also the safe answer, and the faster Frank could untangle Ernest from whatever trouble he was into this time, the better. “Sorry to disappoint,” he added, with the cool tone Ernest used.
Olaf frowned. “Really? I must admit, I am a little surprised. I mean, I know you weren’t entirely on board, but you’d given it a shot before, and I was hoping you’d come around again.”
Before? They’d talked before? Frank thought a series of incredibly inappropriate words Beatrice was always using that he would never say out loud.
“But!” Olaf pivoted quickly, in his speech and his actions, spinning on his heel away from Frank and shrugging broadly. “Who am I to bend your arm about it! I’ll keep you in mind, though, in case.” He showed all his teeth, his eyes glittering. “And keep me in mind, next time you have anything else worth sharing, will you?” He flounced off again, tearing through the crowd.
It took a few minutes for Frank’s heart to go back to where it was supposed to be from where it was thundering in his throat. He put his hands in his pockets and gripped the fabric, something real and his to hold onto.
Anything else worth sharing. Since their apprenticeships, Frank and Dewey and Ernest had been tasked with organizing a great deal of information, mostly about the history of the organization, but sometimes, and especially as they got older, the very information that was passed along between volunteers. It was part of the reason Dewey had started building his personal archives in the basement. He liked the business of collecting facts. Of course all three of them were still being given that information. Of course Ernest still had access to every single piece of that information. Ernest, collaborating with Olaf, Ernest, sneaking around behind Frank’s back, Ernest, who had promised, at the beginning of all this, that he wasn’t going to jeopardize their positions by doing something stupid.
Ernest, what are you doing?
8:40 PM—The Archives, In Progress
Dewey was not hiding. He liked parties a great deal, and he loved people, but like his brothers and everyone else, he too had his own appointment to keep tonight.
His just happened to be in the basement.
He still sort of felt like he was hiding, especially the further he went into the archives. But things always needed organizing, and while he waited, he had to do something to keep his hands busy. He searched for a set of organization accounting records for five minutes before realizing he’d already shelved it, last week.
So Dewey was nervous. Plenty of people were nervous. Olivia went around all the time being nervous and no one gave her any grief for it. But Olivia didn’t have a sister to give her any grief for it. And Dewey didn’t mind, not really. He loved it when his brothers teased, because it meant they were getting along. But this time it was slightly personal. Because he was meeting Kit, and he was nervous.
Kit was—well, normal. Like Dewey was normal. He loved his brothers, but Frank was high-strung and made it everyone else’s problem, Ernest was often disagreeable for the sake of it, and with the Snickets, Jacques was always hiding in furniture and Dewey didn’t think he’d ever seen more of him than one hand and possibly an eye at a time, and Lemony was wonderful but sometimes too cryptic and morbid for Dewey’s taste. He liked things a little more sensible, comfortable, pleasant. And Kit was organized, reasonable, quiet when other people were reading, cool under pressure. She let herself get lost in books and people she cared about, underneath all the professionalism. Her smile was a careful, slow thing, something private she only showed you if she genuinely liked you. And it meant a lot to be on the receiving end of that smile.
His brothers didn’t get it. He wasn’t involved with Kit, and he wasn’t going to ask her out, because you didn’t do that with Kit. If Kit wanted to spend time with you, that was her own choice. She never did anything she didn’t want or she hadn’t thought through first. That she wanted to spend time with Dewey, specifically, to see him, and no one else, was nice. It made the whole of him feel all tingly and weightless. He wanted their meeting in the archives to be as nice as that feeling.
Dewey grabbed a set of Agatha Christie translations he kept on hand for when things got boring (rarely, but Beatrice got bored easily, and if you gave her a translation she sat down for a while to prove she could read it) and walked to the next aisle to shelve them. His foot snagged on something in the middle of the floor and he stumbled, hugging the books close to his chest so they didn’t fall. He turned around to see what it was, and found Kit blinking up at him with wide eyes from where she sat on the floor, a thick book open in her lap, her long red dress pooled around her on the floor. Her dress had an off-the-shoulder neckline, but most of her shoulders were covered by the matching red cape pulled around her. In the wide diamond of skin left between the cape and the top of the dress, he could see the sharp edge of something black around her collarbone, a point of the nearly-finished tattoo she’d been getting done. The red sleeves disappeared into short white gloves, with her hands folded together at the bottom of the book pages. Oh. Dewey’s heart pounded for a horrible, exhilarating moment, his mouth going dry. He swallowed once, twice, a third time.
“I’m sorry,” she said, smiling wryly, closing the book and sliding it gently back in the middle shelf. “I got distracted.”
“Oh, no, that’s completely understandable,” Dewey said. He folded himself down beside her, crossing his legs, still clutching the books to him. “Happens to me all the time. What were you reading?”
Kit smiled again, and it was that slow, beautiful smile, her eyes lighting up. “Have you heard,” she said, “about the cookiecutter shark?”
Dewey had absolutely heard about the cookiecutter shark. “Isistius brasiliensis,” he said. “It can travel in schools, and it bites little circular sections out of fish, like a cookie cutter. Have you heard about the brownsnout spookfish?”
“Barreleye fish, has mirrors in its eyes. Toothless upper jaw,” Kit replied easily. “Anostraca.”
“Fairy shrimp, they swim upside down,” Dewey said. He leaned forward, grinning. “Sometimes even found in deserts. Frilled shark?”
This was his favorite game, with his favorite person, in his favorite place. Both of them were librarians, or librarian-adjacent, so he and Kit dealt in information, not only about nobility but about the rest of the world around them. And the whole world was so fascinating, and there was so much to know and share, so how could you not try and see who could stump the other first?
“An eel-like living fossil, with six pairs of gill slits. Chaunacidae.”
Dewey scrunched up his face, thinking. “I think you got me there,” he admitted.
“Sea toad,” Kit said, looking pleased, “and coffinfish. Deep-sea anglerfishes. The sea toad has fins that can be used as leg flippers.”
“Really? Wow.” Dewey made a mental note to check that out later. He hoped, on the scale of unsettling sea creature to pleasantly spooky sea creature, that it was somewhere in the middle. “So besides oceanic intrigue,” he said, “what else is going on with you?”
“I’m supposed to get something from Frank tonight,” Kit said. “But, I also came to give you this. From Bertrand,” she clarified, and then picked through the seams of her dress, which revealed themselves as hiding at least ten different pockets.
When he had the time, Dewey wanted to study clothing design. Kit and Beatrice always found the place for so many pockets that you could never see from the outside, and Dewey wished he had the same capacity in his slim manager’s jacket and trousers for all the things he wanted to carry around. Poetry; chocolate-covered pretzels; the pencils Kit always left behind; spare buttons; sturdy rope, in case he needed it; maybe a mini chess set. He’d have to work on it. Maybe he could hide them in shoulder pads, or his shoes.
Kit pulled out a book from a side pocket. Dewey finally put the Agatha Christie down, piling it in a neat stack between them, and took the book. It was the one Bertrand had spoken to him about last week—Undercover Underwater: Diving For The Truth, a truly terrible murder mystery novel he said Dewey had to read to believe. He was greatly looking forward to it.
“That was awfully sweet of him,” Dewey said, running his thumb over the cover. He looked for a place to put it, and then just put it on top of his book stack. It felt a little sacrilegious, if it was as bad as Bertrand said, to put it on top of Christie, but he didn’t want to misplace it. “Thank you very much.”
Kit shifted on the floor and put her back to the bookshelf. “Did you hear the Anwhistle brothers finished building that marine research and rhetorical advice center?”
“Yes,” Dewey said. “I guess that’s why they aren’t here tonight? Josephine was all alone when I saw her earlier.”
“They should’ve celebrated with the rest of us,” Kit said. “What a massive architectural achievement—and I wanted to hear about the leeches, too.”
“Yes!” Dewey exclaimed. “Have you seen them yet? I haven’t.”
“No,” Kit said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Not in person. Ike gave Lemony one of the earlier ones as a paperweight some time ago but I haven’t been able to see their recent work yet. I hear the teeth are impressive.”
“Cookiecutter shark impressive?”
Kit grinned. “Potentially.”
Dewey laughed. He wished he and Kit could go see them, together. For the scientific curiosity. For spending time with someone who really, really wanted to see him. No, for the oceanic intrigue, of course. “You know—” Oh no. He hadn’t intended to actually start the sentence, but it was out, and Kit was looking at him expectantly, and Dewey was rapidly losing all handles on the conversation. His face was heating up. Everyone else made talking to people whose company they enjoyed look so easy, but the words jumbled together in his mouth. “We should—go? I mean—not right now, but, soon, we could—to the research center—for the leeches, for, for science.”
Pink colored Kit’s face under the freckles along her nose. “For science,” she said. Then—“Not a date,” she added firmly.
“Definitely for science,” Dewey insisted. “Oceanic intrigue, and everything.”
“Yes,” she said, blinking quite a few times. “That would be fine.”
They stared at each other for the longest minute of Dewey’s life.
“We should probably get back up to the party,” he said. The archives were feeling much, much too close, all the books and shelves pressed up against him, the point of Kit’s tattoo still peeking out from under the edge of her cape.
Kit nodded quickly. “Yeah.”
8:55 PM—The Ballroom—Near The Piano
Next—Jacques had to find Olivia.
He abandoned the boxwood by the east wall, for the time being, out of sight near the piano, where a man with a white half-mask played a pleasant Beethoven sonata while a woman in a sharp, pointed gold suit argued with a man dressed as an octopus with a hat. They did not notice Jacques, even in his own costume, but he noticed them. He noticed everyone in the room so singularly. He’d almost forgotten so many people could be in one place at the same time. You spent a lot of time alone, hiding in small spaces, you got used to yourself.
Olivia was easily identifiable. Nothing she did could ever disguise the tightly-wound nervous energy coiled inside her, not the shimmery white butterfly wings curled over her shoulders or the mask of purple flowers on her face. Something always gave her away. Tonight, it was her hands, twisting together as she talked to someone in a large, leafy tree costume, so consuming Jacques couldn’t make out the face. He scanned the crowd, trying to locate Ramona in her reversed purple wings and white mask. He saw her making her way towards one of the drink tables. Ramona wouldn’t leave Olivia alone for long.
The tree left soon after, and Jacques made his way over to her, getting a decent amount of elbows into the side along the way. “Olivia,” he said, when he stopped in front of her.
Her eyes passed over him and onto the rest of the room, like she was staring straight through him. Jacques frowned. He’d certainly said something. He’d certainly moved, Olivia was right in front of him. People moved around them without sparing him a second glance; someone said a cheerful hello to Olivia and she returned it. His voice dried up in his throat, like if he tried to speak he’d never make a sound. When was the last time before this he’d spoken out loud? No one expected him to talk, in his line of work. When had he done it? No, perhaps she simply hadn’t heard him.
He cleared his throat a few times. That was a sound. That was undeniably a sound. Jacques existed here.
He touched his hand to her wrist. “Olivia?”
Olivia jumped nearly a foot. She turned her head from side to side frantically, and Jacques gave her a short wave.
“Oh!” Olivia pressed her hands against her chest and laughed, breathless. “Oh, Jacques, you startled me. How are you?” she asked, as unfailingly kind as always, as if he hadn’t just frightened her. She looked like she wanted nothing more than for Jacques to tell her the long, substantial answer, instead of the polite one. He almost did. But Jacques was here for business.
“Fine,” he said. “And you?”
“Alright,” she said, still smiling. “Ramona’s gone to get some champagne, would you like to join us?”
“Not tonight,” he said. “I have a message for you.”
Her bright smile faltered, her hands seizing together again. “I see,” she said quietly. “What is it?”
“We’d like you to take up the outpost at Caligari Carnival.”
Olivia blanched. “The—the hinterlands?” she repeated. Her voice trembled. “That’s, ah, terribly far away, isn’t it?”
“It is a distance from the city,” Jacques conceded, “but not far.” It was far from Winnipeg, though. It was very far. Eventually, Ramona would be back there, at least in some capacity. Things would be different, especially if Olivia was wanted in the hinterlands permanently.
“Jacques, I really—I don’t—I’ll think about it,” she said finally. “I promise, I’ll think about it.”
An assignment from headquarters was not exactly optional. Her eyes darted somewhere behind him, and Jacques knew who she was looking at. She and Ramona had just gotten together only recently, before the Duke and Duchess’ deaths. Any kind of love was difficult within the confines of their organization, but the solace here, Jacques thought, was that she and Ramona were both there. They would never be that far away. They might see each other a good deal less, but they would see each other.
“You can take your time to leave, if you wanted,” he said.
“I’ll think about it.” Her voice was firm. “But, thank you for letting me know, Jacques.” She gave him her soft, breezy smile again, and slipped off through the dance floor.
Jacques watched her go. They would see each other. That was an invaluable thing, in their line of work. Being seen. Sometimes even the best person you loved with your whole being couldn’t see the part of you that mattered. To be seen when you disappeared from the rest of the world—that was worth holding on to. It would be difficult. But he had no doubt Olivia and Ramona would do it.
The floor rumbled, like it always did before the lobby clock chimed.
9:00 PM—Room 687
Miranda raised an eyebrow. “Does the clock always sound like that? Like it’s saying wrong?”
“Incessantly,” Esmé sighed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “I think Frank’s responsible. Heaven forbid he goes an hour without reminding everyone else how little he thinks of their decisions, you know.”
9:00 PM—The Ballroom—North Drink Table
The hotel was not Winnipeg. But right now, that was exactly what Ramona wanted. The modern angles, the warm, well-lit ballroom, the dark corners and firm rigidity of it all currently felt homier than the soft, open pinks and whites of the Winnipeg mansion. She was glad to have another excuse to avoid it and the constant questions. Tonight, she was going to see her friends, and dance with Olivia, and drink champagne, because Olivia said every occasion was cause for celebration and champagne, and Ramona was going to have a good time. She picked up two champagne flutes from the table and took a sip of one in the careful way her mother taught her, so she didn’t leave lipstick on the glass. Her heart stuttered as she saw the press of plum purple streaks on the glass when she pulled it away. The hotel clock was chiming, sounding like a heavy, distorted vibration of a word. It was right. The lipstick was wrong.
Who had done it? Everyone wanted to know. The firestarters? Likely, but they had been quiet for some time, and Ramona wasn’t going to point fingers without evidence. Some older enemy? Ramona didn’t know enough about whoever that was to consider them. Someone new?
She didn’t want to think about it. Her parents were dead, and she’d found them, and she didn’t want to think about who could have done it or why they did. It wasn’t going to change that it had happened. Ramona wasn’t looking for answers. She was looking for—
An arm slung around her shoulders, jostling her and the champagne, which sloshed around in the flutes as she lurched forward. Scratchy fur and outrageous cologne bore down on her, and she knew exactly who it was.
“My dear duchess,” Olaf said, squeezing her tight. “How have you been?”
Ramona found it in her to roll her eyes. Some people didn’t like Olaf, which she completely understood. There was something about him though, as brash and outlandish and obnoxiously tactile as he was, that had to make you laugh sometimes. She felt comfortable, close to a friend. “Just peachy,” she said. She offered him the other champagne glass; she could get another for Olivia. “Champagne?”
“Oh, absolutely not,” Olaf said. He hooked his free hand around both glasses and set them back on the drink table. “Look, I wanted to give you my sincerest condolences—” And he did look sincere, sliding around in front of her, his hand still on her shoulder, the joy immediately gone from his face and replaced by an uncharacteristic seriousness. She was struck by it, by how glassy and shiny his eyes were under the dark of his mask. “I’m sorry about your parents, Ramona.”
Her mouth wobbled at the edges. She knew Olaf could understand. They’d had similar positions in the organization their whole lives—their parents their chaperones, their time split between assignments and society, the safety that existed in his manor as well, its own controlled pocket of the world, like Winnipeg had been, like the Hotel Denouement was, too. She thought of the Count and Countess, still alive. She hoped they’d stay alive.
It wouldn’t do to cry at a party. Ramona picked up her flute again and took another small sip. “Thank you,” she said.
And just like that, he straightened up and pulled away from her. Some of the mirth found its way back into the shape of his mouth and his arm found its way back around her, this time a tight grip at her waist as he steered her back into the crowd. Ramona felt slightly less consoled than ten seconds ago. Easy come, easy go, with Olaf. “I hate thinking about you all alone in that big house,” he said with a sigh. “All that room, all those things—remember when I knocked into that vase in the hallway?”
“Very vividly,” Ramona said.
“A glorious time!” he crowed. “Well! At least you’ve got all of us, haven’t you. What are your friends if not your family, et cetera, et cetera.”
But he still understood. That was what made it so important to be here tonight. What were all the people in the room, the friends she’d grown up with, people she knew and loved, if not her family as well, just as much as her parents had been? They were more than associates or volunteers, stepping in around her not to fill a void, but to offer back some little part of what had been taken from her. Her throat tightened up as she thought about it. Everything they did was hard, but it was also so special. Ramona wanted to hold it close to her and never let it go.
“And what wouldn’t one do for one’s family, am I right?” Olaf continued. “So, if you ever need me for anything—a shoulder to cry on, although certainly not in this jacket, or, say, a partner in crime, or a willing participant in any daring assignment you might come across otherwise—do not hesitate to let me know, okay?”
“Of course.”
“I mean it.”
Ramona stumbled to a halt as Olaf stopped abruptly. He looked down at her with a gash of a grin. “People like you and me, we’ve got to stick together, duchess.” He gave her a squeeze one more time and then finally let go, dashing away.
Goodness, but he was rough about things. Ramona gave herself a shake, trying to collect herself back into order. She stood up on her toes to try and see where he’d gone. She didn’t get much more height, already being in heels, but she did manage to see him already making grandiose hand gestures across the room to those white-faced triplets Ramona had seen once or twice. They were younger than she was, still in their training. The three of them stared at Olaf with three immaculately raised eyebrows. Ramona chuckled a little, dropped back down, and went back for Olivia’s champagne glass.
9:40 PM—The Ballroom—Center
Over an hour had passed, and Frank hadn’t seen any sign of Ernest. He had better things to be doing than keeping track of Ernest, and yet here he was. He couldn’t have gone far—the hotel was enormous, but it was a hotel. The whole world contained on nine floors. You couldn’t disappear from it.
Frank edged his way through the dance floor, searching for him through three separate groups of associates doing three slightly different versions of a circle dance. A snake and a tree frog whirled past, a phantom with them, a tangled shape of dark greens and blacks and bright blues and exuberant laughter. When they’d gone, Frank found himself in the center of the floor and face to face with Dewey, coming towards him from the other direction, his cheeks pink.
“Are you alright?” Frank asked immediately.
Dewey blinked. “Of course,” he said. “Just dancing. Is everything okay?”
He should have known, but Ernest had him on an edge he hadn’t expected to be tonight. He tried to look apologetic but wasn’t sure how well he succeeded. “Have you seen Ernest?”
“Not since earlier,” Dewey said. “Oh, and Kit was—”
“When you see him, could you tell him I’m looking for him?”
Dewey’s shoulders drooped down. “If I see him,” he said. “Then I’ll tell him.”
“Thank you,” Frank said, and he meant it. He smiled at Dewey until he smiled back, and then Frank moved past him, pushing back into the crowd.
He hadn’t meant to be short about it, but Frank’s worry never came out like he wanted it to. It became biting irritation instead, or a slow-simmering temper he never let boil, or professional, distant orders about hotel business, or a refusal to talk at all in case he said the wrong thing. More often than not, he still wound up arguing with Ernest. He didn’t argue with Dewey, but their conversations were so much more stilted than they should have been lately.
But it was because he feared Ernest was going to slip away from him one day and never come back. Realistically, it was unlikely. After all, Ernest was still here. Indecision entering their home hadn’t taken him away from it. But what if that changed, one day, and it was Frank’s fault, because he reacted too quickly or too slowly? And Dewey—Dewey was so sweet and so kind Frank thought the world might crush him. He had to keep them close, and he had to keep them safe. It would’ve been so much easier, though, if Ernest wasn’t so difficult about it, if Dewey understood that Frank didn’t want anything to happen to him, if they would listen.
Frank glanced at his watch. It was getting late. He’d look for Ernest on the way, but for one small hour, Ernest was going to have to wait.
9:59 PM—The Floor Behind The South Drink Table
Through typical party events, The Herpetology Squad (Plus Hector) found themselves on the floor behind one of the drink tables.
“So how do you tell them apart?” Gustav asked, stirring his drink with a spoon. “Because, and I do feel terrible about this, but I can’t do it. We’ve known them for ages, and I can’t do it.”
“Frank is taller,” Monty said immediately, and very confidently.
“What, no, he can’t be taller, they’re triplets,” Hector said. “Do genetics work like that?”
“Hey Haruki,” Monty called around Gustav and Hector, “do genetics work like that?”
Haruki leaned into Hector’s shoulder and considered it. “I’m really not sure,” they said. “But, I always figured, Ernest was kind of quiet, and Frank was kind of stern, and Dewey was kind of, well, kind.”
“But that seems so reductive,” Gustav pointed out. “You can’t just identify a person down to one base trait and leave it at that. And I say this as a screenwriter and director. You need to be creative.”
“All your characters sound exactly the same, though,” Hector said, frowning. “Or, like, so different, I don’t think you’re keeping track of them between scenes.”
“Oh, that’s awfully rude,” Haruki said.
“No, he’s right,” Gustav said. He hung his head into his hands, his glass tipping sideways through his fingers. Haruki reached over and grabbed it, twisting their arm around and up to slide it back onto the drink table where it’d be safer. “I always thought they did, and now I know for sure. I’ll have to renounce film making and go back to herpetology. Or, submarines. I can’t disparage your honor too, Monty.”
“Oh, Hector, you hurt his feelings,” Monty said. He patted Gustav on the back consolingly. “Gustav, you write wonderful scripts. I loved the, the Werewolves In The Rain.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“I can’t handle a drunk Gustav,” Hector said, closing his eyes. “Gustav, I’m sorry. To be fair, I only watched—what was it—” He waved his hands around. “—the one with the—you know—”
“Vampires In The Retirement Community,” Haruki said.
“And it was once. And—hey, weren’t we talking about something else?”
10:10 PM—The Short Hallway Between Rooms 40-45 and 46-49
Unassigned numbers within the Dewey Decimal System were not the trouble they appeared to be to a hotel based on it. They still existed in the hotel, no matter how much Ernest had protested that it made no sense to have rooms that had no theme or purpose in a hotel whose very purpose was theme—Frank and Dewey’s rebuttal was that it made no sense to nonchalantly remove numbers out of their sequential existence because they didn’t fit in neatly otherwise. They existed. They didn’t have themes, even this stretch of ten, which had been previously designated but was now just a blank space between encyclopedias and magazine publications, which left the rooms relatively blank and boring, typically unnoticed and unused, but they still existed.
In the brief, dark hallway between the two sets of unassigned rooms, Frank could sit on the bench against the wall, and he didn’t have to think about family or the hotel. Frank sat featureless in the shadows and thought about himself. Usually, it meant he felt better about everything. But tonight, with the worry set aside once more for now, all he felt was that chill through his insides again, when Olaf mistook him for Ernest.
He took the name tag out of his sleeve and turned it over in his hands. Frank was a man in a manager’s jacket, with a face that looked like two other faces, someone who could be anyone. The name tag did nothing but identify him without caring who he was. What was it that made Frank himself, the imperceptible, innate existence of him that mattered? His love for Ernest and Dewey? Visible. His organization? Trivial. The fear he was going to lose everything? Meaningless and a weakness, in the face of everything else. It was hard to say for sure. He had gone his whole life getting mixed up with Ernest and Dewey and it was exhausting to keep trying to prove he was real when it felt like the world was rubbing him out. He leaned his back against the wall.
He heard Jacques before he saw him, like always. Exact, economical footsteps, nothing extraneous, the tap of his expensive shoes on the rugs, the swish of his jacket. Everything measured, as it had to be.
Jacques appeared around the corner, that bent piece of the boxwood plant stuck in his hair. He seemed to brighten when he saw Frank, like Frank’s presence set something off inside him. Frank watched him. What did Jacques see, when he looked at Frank? What was it that made Jacques notice, over and over again, over other people? How was Jacques so certain that when he looked at Frank right now, at that moment, that Jacques was looking at him?
Jacques sat down next to him on the bench. Frank had seen him in a mask earlier, something terrible and orange, but it was gone now, and he faced Frank fully. He was inches away from Frank, and Frank could see every part of him, even in the dark—the calm, if tired, resolution in the set of his jaw, the way he waited, still and patient, as if he could do nothing else. He had the darkest eyes of his siblings, a steady and unchanging deep blue.
“That which is essential is invisible to the eye,” Jacques whispered.
Frank let out the breath he’d been holding. How long ago had he said that to Jacques? “I initially said that to insult you,” he said.
“It was deserved,” Jacques said. “And I never forgot. Do you know how I always know it’s you now?”
“Enlighten me.”
He put his hand against Frank’s jacket, resting his fingers against the fabric to the left of the buttons. Jacques kept it there, and he didn’t take his eyes off of Frank for anything, not even when the heartbeat under his hand sped up. Frank felt almost split open to the core. He always did, every time. Jacques saw whatever it was. The man who was always hiding knew exactly who he was, because he looked.
“How very sentimental of you,” Frank managed. His breath hung between them. He traced the side of his thumb over the collar of Jacques’s shirt, just below the skin. If he moved his hand just a centimeter he’d be able to feel his heartbeat as well.
“It’s the truth,” Jacques murmured. “Sentiment is—dangerous. Truth is immutable.”
“Do you know how I know it’s you?” Frank said against his mouth.
“How?” Jacques asked.
Frank finally pulled the branch out of Jacques’s hair. “You do terribly stupid things.”
Jacques laughed, and the sound vibrated all the way down through Frank’s throat.
10:19 PM—Room 366
Frank had to be somewhere. Kit was not overly concerned with finding him, but she would rather do it sooner than later. She worked from the ground floor up, combing through the hallways but finding no sight of the Denouement, until she was on the third floor again. The faster she found Frank, the faster she could, maybe, go back to talking to Dewey. About completely professional things, of course. The fact that she felt different when she was with Dewey was simply because he was pleasant, welcome company. He wanted to look at leeches with her, for the delight of science. They expected nothing from each other but a nice time.
She immediately pictured Beatrice waggling her eyebrows at her, if Kit had said that out loud. Not that kind of nice time, she thought, but the mental Beatrice kept laughing joyously at her.
“He’s a nice person,” she grumbled to the empty hallway. He was calm. Regular. Okay. The exact opposite of everyone else, Beatrice. Could she go five minutes without them all picking apart her romantic life? This was why she wasn’t interested. This was why it was strictly nice. There were other, more important things that needed her attention.
The door to Room 366 was ajar, and Kit, who had naturally been trained to investigate the suspicious, investigated the suspicious. She slid herself carefully through the gap in the door and into the dark room. She’d been in there a few times to know it was an absurdly comfortable meeting room, with plush chairs and a bookcase that spanned the length of the far wall. A figure sat against the side wall, reaching up and tapping ash from a cigarette out the open window. For a moment, they looked like a blank, featureless shadow, until a light outside the window shifted and Frank—no, Ernest’s face resolved itself in front of her. The tip of the cigarette burned bright orange against his fingers.
“I heard about you and Olaf,” he said. “Would you like an apology, since I’m sure you’ve been getting enough I told you so’s?”
Kit sighed. “I really don’t want to talk about it.” But she shut the door and walked over, sitting down on the floor beside him. She took her own pack of cigarettes out of one of her dress pockets and accepted Ernest’s lighter to light one. She never carried her own.
“He did,” she muttered, giving the lighter back. She brought her legs up and wrapped an arm around them. “Tell me, I told you so. Not in so many words, of course, but I knew he was thinking it.”
“Ah,” Ernest said. “The disappointed look of, I’m not going to say it, but I’m going to think it, in your general direction. Which is worse.”
“Exactly,” Kit said. “At least argue with me so I can tell him he’s wrong.”
Ernest breathed out a long line of smoke. “Yes.” She thought he was going to say something else, but when he didn’t, Kit pressed on.
“He acts like it was my fault,” she said. “Should I have known better? I—” It was a harsh thing to admit, but she and Ernest didn’t do this to lie to each other. “Yes. Fine. But he acts like I can’t be left alone now to make my own decisions. He keeps following me, hanging around.” She slouched against the wall. “My own brother thinks so little of me.”
Ernest hmmed. “Well—”
“Do not. Do not say I’m short. I’m not short. Jacques has one inch on me, Ernest. Esmé is short. I’m not short.”
“Sorry,” Ernest said, laughing.
“Say it,” she said, and pushed her elbow into his side.
“Ow—Kit, you are anything but short.”
“Thank you.” She took her elbow back. The two of them sat in silence, blowing out small circles of smoke as the cigarettes smoldered down. “What’s Frank disappointed about?”
Ernest waved his hand with the cigarette dismissively. “Frank’s disappointed he can’t find a tie that matches the custom paint in the lobby,” he said. “It doesn’t take much for him. I was five minutes late, I didn’t give him the mail on time, I missed a meeting, and he just—” He did an obviously perfect impression of Frank’s unimpressed stare.
Kit snorted. She had to admit, Frank did look like that a lot, even if you caught him in a good mood.
“If he wasn’t so difficult,” Ernest muttered, “he’d be almost bearable.”
“Wouldn’t they all,” Kit sighed. “Brothers.”
“Brothers,” Ernest agreed.
10:25 PM—The Ballroom—West Hors d’oeuvres Table
Dewey stood at the hors d’oeuvres table, away from the crowd of his friends, surveying the food. At least, with everything going on, there was always good food to look forward to. It was awful to glare at it like he was. He’d felt so good after talking to Kit, and now he was glowering at little rows of canapes like they were the source of his problems.
He wasn’t usually upset with his brothers. No matter what they did, he knew they had their reasons, and Dewey loved them regardless. But sometimes they really were impossible. Frank’s quiet temper and Ernest’s secrecy and indifference had driven such a wedge between the two of them that when Dewey suggested they didn’t talk about it, it had seemed like the best idea at the time to get them to go forward. Otherwise, he’d been worried that Frank was going to say something he’d regret, because he wasn’t going to change Ernest’s mind, and Ernest might’ve done something terrible. Dewey didn’t think he was capable of something truly terrible, because Ernest was his brother, and he knew Ernest. They both believed in a right way to live, just in different ways, so Dewey respected him. You couldn’t let anything change that. But he was still as worried about Ernest as Frank was, and he had just wanted the arguments to stop.
But it had led to Frank and Ernest almost refusing to talk to each other, ninety percent of the time. The other ten percent was pleasantries or conversations that skirted the edge of an argument, which was worse. Dewey particularly hated it lately, when he was asked to pass messages between them, typically from Frank. He wasn’t a messenger system, he was their brother, and he was, in fact, if either of them cared to remember, the oldest. But they treated him like someone to protect because he wasn’t as forceful as them. He frowned down at a section of tiny shot glasses of—he picked one up. Gazpacho. It looked so charming and Dewey couldn’t even appreciate it.
What it came down to was, the schism couldn’t come between him and his brothers if they didn’t let it. Just like his current irritation couldn’t come between him and his brothers if he didn’t let it. He considered it, because he was angry, but he didn’t let it change anything.
He found a narrow, palm-sized spoon from one of the other hors d’oeuvres and poked at the gazpacho with it. He thought, for a moment, about the Anwhistle brothers, sitting in their brand new marine research and rhetorical help center, probably having a lot of fun together talking about fungi and grammar. Gregor and Ike were two of the most different but most companionable people Dewey knew. Nothing got between them. They probably didn’t forget who was the oldest. Who was the oldest out of them, anyway? They probably didn’t let it matter.
Oh, Dewey was letting it get to him. He piled some of the gazpacho onto the spoon and took a bite. He wished Bertrand had been able to come. Bertrand would’ve loved the appeal of the gazpacho as well. Bertrand didn’t have a single sibling to complain about and he would’ve enjoyed the gazpacho wholesale. He could’ve stood around with Dewey at the table, and maybe they’d have brought in Lemony, too, and talked about flavor profiles. Lemony, who was legitimately the youngest of his siblings, commiserating over cold soup about how they never stopped trying to protect him either. Who could possibly think Lemony of all people needed protecting, too? There was always that quiet, competent energy around him.
Dewey finished the gazpacho and put the jar on a passing hotel attendant’s silver tray. Where was Lemony, actually? He was sure he’d seen him earlier. Dewey remembered, because it was the first time he’d seen Lemony in a long while. Wherever he was, Dewey was sure it was probably more enjoyable than here.
10:32 PM—The Ballroom—Dance Floor
“Josephine,” Olaf said, sidling up behind her, “Jo, angel of my eye—”
“The correct word for that expression is apple,” Josephine interrupted. She did not take her eyes off of her plate of puff pastry. “We’ve been over this.”
He continued, persistent as ever, his smile stretched like candy. “Would you do me the honor of dancing with me, angel of my apple?”
“No.”
10:45 PM—The Elevator
The night was passing by, and Kit still hadn’t found Frank. She’d made it all the way up to the ninth floor with no sign of him. Was he the type to be on the rooftop sunbathing salon? Unlikely. But she should check, just in case.
She had her hand against the rooftop door when the elevator dinged behind her. Kit turned to look. The elevator doors parted, revealing the gold-walled interior with rather harsh lighting, and there was Frank, standing with his hands folded behind his back. He caught Kit’s eye and gave her a slight nod. “Kit.”
“Frank.” She stepped into the elevator beside him and pushed the button for the third floor. As the doors closed, she smelled smoke for a moment, and her heart leapt before she realized the cigarette smoke must’ve clung to her gloves. She tugged them off and stuffed them into one of her pockets.
“I heard the Anwhistles finished the research center,” Frank said, as the elevator started to move down.
“Yes.”
“And the mycelium—are they still working on it?”
“As far as I know, yes.”
Frank sighed. “Do you have any concerns?”
“Some,” Kit admitted. There was no denying it was dangerous. Necessary, but catastrophic if it ever got out of hand. “If anything happens, it can be dealt with.”
“Good,” Frank said, decisively. Silence dropped through the elevator, the hand counting down the floors moving slowly from eight, to seven, to six. Frank raised an eyebrow; Kit realized she’d been staring at him. “Is something wrong?”
“I was under the impression that there was—” More, or something else entirely. It was Kit’s understanding that Frank was to give her a list. There was usually only one kind of list that mattered in their organization, and unless she had radically misjudged the ages of the Anwhistle brothers after personally knowing them for years, they wouldn’t be on that list. “—something more specific,” she wound up finishing.
Frank looked at her with his impassive, unimpressed mask. “I’m sorry to disappoint you.”
The hand moved again, six to five to four. Kit had the strangest sensation that she was missing something. She should’ve been given that list, not subjected to a brief interrogation, especially about something she was already aware of. The smell of smoke flitted in front of her again.
Disbelief shot through Kit like an arrow, pushing the air from her lungs. She felt like the floor was dropping out from under her. She didn’t want to believe it. She couldn’t. She stared at the man in the elevator, and he stared back, cool and collected. It couldn’t be. Because that would mean—but the longer she looked, the more certain she was.
“Frank quit smoking,” she said quietly, “but you didn’t.”
The corner of his mouth turned down. “I—”
Kit slammed her hand against the stop button on the button panel, and kept her hand there, boxing him in against the wall even after the elevator had halted, the counting hand stuck between four and three.
“Don’t lie to me, Ernest.”
One Month Ago—City Headquarters
It wasn’t like there was, say, an initiation ceremony or anything. They’d been through that already, there was no need to do one again. You knew what you were getting into this time, you were just, “changing sides”. And it was so subtle that it barely mattered. Nothing about Ernest’s life really changed otherwise. He ran a hotel with his brothers. He ranked tea brands with Dewey during lunch. He played loud music in Room 784. He carried a lighter in his pocket that he used for other things. He went to headquarters, sometimes as himself, sometimes as Frank, never as Dewey. He acquired messages, and took his sweet time delivering them or delaying them, spaces of time where nothing changed, either. He almost wondered what the point had been, until he overheard Frank spout off some noble patter again. At least he wasn’t like that. At least Ernest knew better.
And since nothing had changed, no one knew. Not even the “firestarters” knew there was another one, namely because Ernest hated the name and disliked a great deal of them, but also because Frank made him be so careful about it. He thought a few people in VFD suspected, or at least suspected someone of switching, because everyone could feel something was happening and they were trying to pinpoint a source, and it was only a matter of time before someone suspected a Denouement. Triplets were naturally suspicious. But it wasn’t like they could do anything, even if they ever had proof—how often did anyone know which Denouement they were talking to, anyway? It was likely Ernest could exist like this for the rest of his life.
The thought almost stopped him on his way into the city headquarters. Day after day of calculated, performative nonsense without an end in sight. Age sagged through him. His bones were too heavy and to move them another step was impossible. He kept walking.
What had made Ernest change? That, exactly that. Change. He’d lived in VFD for practically his entire life, and nothing was different there, either. There had been no great strides made towards the nobility they all talked about, only tiny little steps that were easily set back. Ernest watched his friends and his family get sucked in by this big, dramatic fight that never ended, a fight none of them had ever initially had a part in. He’d learned that you couldn’t achieve “nobility”, whatever that even was, by a bunch of absurd spy behavior and kidnapping, or by coded messages and age-old discussions that went nowhere, or by acting like information weighed more than your life, by pretending any of that was normal. None of it did anything. Ernest was going to find some way to make something happen, to make what they’d lost worth it, and if it meant Frank thought he was a traitor, fine. He’d do it even if Frank didn’t appreciate that Ernest was doing it for him.
The note for Frank that he’d intercepted said that there was a file under the fifth floorboard of the back staircase in the city headquarters. Frank was supposed to give it to Kit.
He made his way to the back staircase. It went up to the observatory, which no one had used since Esmé burned that spot into the rug with her telescope out of protest. The corridor and the staircase were, predictably, deserted. Ernest slowly lifted the fifth board, but it came away without resistance, so he pulled it up all the way and saw the slim folder waiting inside. He took it out, replaced the floorboard, and sat down at the bottom of the stairs. He opened it.
He wanted to crumple the folder in his hands but he made himself breathe and look at it. It was the upcoming recruitment list. There were some he recognized faintly, distant associates, long-lived families in VFD, but a majority of the names he’d never seen before. New families to carve apart. He flipped through the pages—addresses, dates, times. A few photographs. Ernest closed his eyes and held them shut tight. When he opened them, he was still looking at the folder.
Of course none of it mattered, he thought bitterly, shoving the folder into his jacket. He could intercept or stop a thousand messages and there would still always be more. There would always be more children, more fires, more lies, and he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t stop it.
Ernest leaned the side of his head against the banister. He thought about Olaf, suddenly. He’d been trying to corner everyone lately, Ernest among them, talking his ear off about big ideas that Ernest agreed with, but Olaf had a habit of taking an age to follow through with them. Ernest did not have the time to wait an age. He’d shared some information with Olaf a few times, on the off chance that it would spur him into action, but Olaf had hidden it away, for “later”, and it obviously had not helped.
Maybe the only way you could fight a long game was to play the long game back. Maybe that was what Olaf was doing. He was on to something, at least, with his words. Maybe Ernest could try again. Maybe he could learn to wait. Maybe the payoff would be worth it. Maybe.
Ernest stood up. He didn’t at all feel like going home, but he wasn’t going to stay at headquarters any longer.
The staircase creaked. When he looked up, he saw Lemony Snicket at the top by the observatory door, standing like he’d always been there.
“What are you doing up there?” Ernest asked.
Lemony watched him carefully. Ernest got the distinct feeling that he was being appraised. He shivered. When they were younger, you could look at Lemony and see the gears working in his head, like watching—yes, like watching change take shape and form and meaning before your eyes. Lemony Snicket was going to do anything, lead them all anywhere. Ernest hadn’t been foolish enough to believe a twelve-year-old in a brown hat was going to demolish VFD from the ground up. Then Lemony had disappeared, and in the years after resurfacing at sixteen, he looked less and less like that powerful, mythical figure everyone had worshiped and more like he’d seen too much. Ernest sympathized.
But here, Ernest finally saw it, that hunger they’d all talked about. In his eyes, bright blue in the shadows. Physical change, a juggernaut of determination. Ernest’s breath caught in his throat.
“I’m sorry to disturb you,” Lemony said softly. “Do you think we could talk?”
10:50 PM—The Elevator
Damn.
The disbelief on Kit’s face was gone, replaced by a blazing, dangerous fury, the threatening and exacting professionalism she hid inside her on full display. She wasn’t all that short, Ernest thought, inanely. He wasn’t going to be able to bluff out of this one. She knew. It was significantly more terrifying than Ernest had imagined it would be. How stupid could he have been, to forget about the way that cigarette smoke would cling, to think Kit Snicket wouldn’t notice. “Kit—”
“How long?” Kit demanded.
“Does it matter?”
He could see that it very, very much did. Kit was already disgusted over dating Olaf; that she’d spent so much time with Ernest when he wasn’t on her side was going to eat her alive, Ernest knew. He winced.
“It wasn’t personal,” he tried.
She glared at him. “What were the names Frank was supposed to give me?”
That, he was going to hold on to. They’d already burned the papers, anyway, up in the observatory. No one was going to get that list now. “I guess you’ll never know,” Ernest said.
Her hand clenched on the button panel. She stepped closer. For a wild and uncontrollable second that seemed to spin out into eternity, Ernest imagined she was going to kill him.
“The elevator is going to start again,” she said lowly. “We’re going to walk out into the lobby. You’re not going to make a sound. We’re going to go to headquarters.”
Ernest didn’t like what he was going to do next. But he was always going to have the upper hand for one distinct reason.
He swallowed and straightened the edge of his sleeve. “Who’s going to believe you, Kit?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“Regrettably for you, I am at a distinct advantage,” Ernest said. “You and I are the only two people in this elevator. You did think I was Frank. Who will be able to figure out who was who when you try and tell on me? Who can really know for sure?” He hesitated, but it was true. “Why, I could be Dewey, even.”
Kit slapped him across the face, her cheeks flushed a fierce red. The force of it stung hard, knocking Ernest’s head to the side. She removed her hand from the wall and stepped back.
“Does it help if I’m sorry?” he asked, gingerly rubbing the side of his face.
“You aren’t,” Kit said.
Ultimately, it was true. He wasn’t. He was sorry he’d been caught more than that he’d done it. Ernest regretted nothing about what he’d decided to do. Not in his line of work; and Kit was the same, too. But he was sorry he was going to lose a friend.
Kit didn’t have friends, though. You were with or against Kit Snicket, and she always made that abundantly clear. Ernest touched his cheek again, and then lowered his hand.
“I’m not,” he said. He took the elevator key out of his pocket and put it into the lock on the button panel, watching Kit the whole time. She watched him back. The elevator slid into motion, settling down on the third floor.
The doors opened.
11:00 PM—The Ballroom—East Drink Table
“Who?” Jacques asked.
Kit turned slowly back to the dance floor. Was one of them still here? Had she been followed out of the elevator? She locked eyes with a Denouement across the room. Which one? Was it Frank? Was it Ernest, again? Was it Dewey? The clock was still rumbling under her feet. The glass trembled in her hand and she felt almost sick, anger and shame and fear churning through her. She was in a nightmare and she couldn’t shake it off. The triplet held her eyes for a long moment and then walked away.
“Kit.” Jacques had a hand on her arm; he must’ve gotten out of the boxwood. “Who?”
But she couldn’t get the words out, not here. Ernest was right. She was at a disadvantage when she couldn’t prove it. If she pointed the finger now, what would be done? What could be done? How could he do that to Dewey and Frank? To put them in the position where they’d unknowingly cover for him merely by existing? Did they know at all?
What would she do if her own brothers—no. She couldn’t even think it. Kit couldn’t fathom the idea of her brothers doing anything like this.
“We have to find Lemony,” Kit said.
11:02 PM—The Ballroom—Main Doors
Frank still couldn’t find Ernest. He did not have the time for him to be hiding like a child; where was he? Frank had looked everywhere over and over and was back in the same ballroom again, scanning through the associates for what had to be the hundredth time. He caught Kit’s eye—and stopped.
There was cold and intense fear looking back at him. It was unbearable to have it directed at him, and Frank turned away after a few seconds.
Ernest. A thousand possibilities ran through Frank’s head, each of them worse than the last. He had had enough. Frank strode towards the main doors, just as he saw Ernest making his way out of them as fast as possible. Finally. Frank followed him out into the hallway and grabbed onto Ernest’s arm, whirling him around.
“I asked one thing of you tonight,” Frank said.
“Don’t do anything rash,” Ernest repeated. He wrenched his arm out of Frank’s grasp and put his hands in his pockets. “And I didn’t, thank you.”
“Apparently I wasn’t specific enough,” Frank said. “When I said that, I clearly meant, don’t do anything stupid that’s going to compromise the family and our position in it. What information have you been giving Olaf?”
“Who said I was?”
“Olaf.”
“You know, that hurts a little, that you’d believe Olaf over me.”
Frank’s jaw clenched. Fine. Olaf was less important, anyway. “Then what did you do to Kit?”
Ernest raised an eyebrow. “Did I do anything?”
It was agonizing, seeing such a carefully blank mask on your own face staring back at you. Frank didn’t hate him, but he came close. “What have you done, Ernest? Do not lie to me.”
Something fractured through Ernest’s expression. “I just—miscalculated,” he muttered. “She found out.”
“She found out?” Frank echoed, his heart skittering in his chest. It had finally happened, and Frank couldn’t protect Ernest this time. Kit wouldn’t keep this a secret, not by a long shot. By morning—by midnight, because nearly the whole organization was already here—everyone would know. And Ernest didn’t seem the least bit concerned about it. “Ernest—”
“It’s fine,” Ernest said coolly. “Considering she can’t prove it.”
The world detached from Frank’s consciousness. Kit’s fear made a sudden, terrible sense. Ernest had used him as a shield between himself and the organization, on purpose, he’d positioned Frank and Dewey as pawns whose only use was whatever Ernest wanted. Frank could feel his hands shaking. They didn’t feel like his hands.
Ernest sighed. “Don’t look like that,” he said. “You’ve pretended to be me, that’s the only way you would’ve found out about Olaf. Don’t act like you didn’t use our face as an advantage too. That’s what we do. That’s what this family does.”
Anger burned through Frank, hot behind his eyes. That had been different. A sharp fury that had been building somewhere inside him all night snapped apart. “You are not a part of this family.”
He regretted saying it the second the words were out. Of course Ernest was still his brother. That was an immutable fact. But Frank was so tired of trying to hold onto Ernest when Ernest so blatantly didn’t care. He wasn’t looking at family, he was looking at a stranger, who stole his face, who used his name, who threw it around like it meant nothing, who denied everything noble and proper and real. It wasn’t how a brother was supposed to act. But it was how Ernest acted, and now Ernest was staring at him with an open, wounded expression, something Frank hadn’t seen since they were children.
Frank ran a hand over his face. “I didn’t—”
“No.” Ernest’s jaw trembled for a second, his mouth pressing into a thin, flat line. “I don’t think I am.” He took one step back, a hard glare in his eyes, and then walked away from Frank.
11:20 PM—The Rooftop Sunbathing Salon
Ernest hadn’t figured on Frank being angry, because, primarily, he hadn’t figured on Frank finding out at all. He hadn’t figured on Kit realizing what he was doing, either. Well, that was on him, but Frank didn’t need to be so—he didn’t have to say—
Shit, Ernest thought, breathing hard. He came to a stop in the dark, empty hallway some floors up from the ballroom and let himself think it, pressing his palms into his eyes. Shit, shit, shit. He’d have a brother after this, sure, a family member who stood by him and ran a hotel with him and played nice, but he didn’t know if he’d have his brother. He would have an associate, like everyone else, a found family of people who loved on conditions, not a family. Not his family.
He had to find Lemony. Just because he’d been hiding all night didn’t mean he was exempt from this.
Lemony disliked heights, open spaces, and decently-sized bodies of water, which was why Ernest found him on the roof, sitting on one of the pool chairs, his mask discarded beside him. He was studiously avoiding looking at the pool or the ocean or the night sky, dark and enormous above him. The rooftop salon was never used at night, but there were small lights along the edge of the pool and the railing, giving off slivers of stark white light. The brief anger Ernest felt downstairs evaporated the longer he watched Lemony not-watching the world around him. He wanted to say a million and one things to him, but the one that came out was, “Why do you keep doing this to yourself?”
“What do you know about exposure therapy?” Lemony offered as a response.
“Enough to know you probably shouldn’t use it for heights,” Ernest said. “Among other things.”
“Point taken,” Lemony said. “What would you say if I told you I was now too frightened to move?”
“That you brought it on yourself,” Ernest said, but he didn’t mean it. He walked over and sat next to Lemony on the pool chair. Ernest stole a quick glance at him again, brief and fleeting. To look consistently was dangerous; Ernest always had to make a distinct effort not to touch.
“Your sister found out,” he said. “Not about you, but about me. She also hit me.”
Lemony’s head shot up. “What?” He reached out, his fingertips lightly brushing Ernest’s jaw as he turned his face towards him. They trailed warm over his right cheek, where his skin still smarted from Kit’s hand. Here in the dark, Lemony’s eyes were so bright again, full of concern, directed right at him. Ernest held himself so still, barely breathing.
Falling in love, if you could call it that, with Lemony was what Ernest personally considered the most ill-advised thing he’d ever done, even after lying to Kit. Lemony loved other people, and it was clear in everything he did, in the way he looked when they weren’t there. But Lemony understood what Ernest wanted, and Ernest craved that with a destructive ache.
Really, who else were they supposed to fall in love with but each other? They didn’t know anyone else. No one was going to get this life but them. It was probably why half of VFD had a crush on Beatrice, honestly. It was terrible, but none of them seemed to be able to stop doing it. Ernest included.
“You—” Lemony’s hand jerked back, shrinking down between them onto the chair. “What happened?”
“She knew I lied,” Ernest said. “About the information and about being Frank. I got out of it, but—she won’t trust us again, I think. And Frank—probably won’t trust me either.”
“I’m sorry,” Lemony said. “I didn’t mean for—”
Ernest shook his head. “It wasn’t your fault,” he said. It wasn’t. He and Lemony had both just wanted something, desperately. Ultimately, they’d still succeeded, in the end. They had. Change he could hold in his hands had happened. He still felt hollow about it all, everything drained out of him, but he didn’t regret doing it. Not at all. The hurt would go away and he’d do it again. “What we did—that mattered.”
“It did,” Lemony whispered. “But I never like the cost.”
“Why did you do it?” Ernest asked softly.
Lemony smiled ruefully. “I guess I didn’t want to stop trying.”
The real, noble answer, Ernest thought. Why the “firestarters” and Ernest would never get him. He raised his hand. Slowly, without looking, he put it on top of Lemony’s. Lemony turned his hand over and gripped Ernest’s tightly. He knew that the way Lemony would try from this moment forward would be different than the way Ernest would, and he wanted to have this moment while it lasted.
Ernest stood, tugging Lemony up with him, and let go of his hand. “You should go back downstairs,” he said.
11:30 PM—The Ballroom—South Drink Table
The party would be over soon, but you’d never know it, the ballroom still thronging with people. But most of the dancing had died down, and Dewey was taking mental stock of how clean up would start. He found one of the attendant’s silver trays and picked it up, estimating how many glasses he could fit on it.
Frank came back into the ballroom and made a beeline for him, pale. Dewey’s shoulders tensed up yet again. What had happened now?
“I can’t believe it,” Frank muttered, grabbing a wineglass.
“Whoa, hey, hold on.” Dewey took the wineglass back and set it off to the side. “What happened?”
“He—” Which meant it was Ernest. Again. Dewey’s patience with both his brothers tonight was wearing extraordinarily thin. “He’s been passing information to Olaf this whole time.”
“To Olaf?” That was not what Dewey had been expecting. A flare of worry burned through him and curled his hands around the tray. “But—”
“No,” Frank said. “This time, I’ve had enough. I’m tired of covering up for him, and he’s going to have to deal with this mess himself.”
Olaf was certainly a threat in one way or another, but it seemed a disproportionately vicious answer for Frank. Dewey frowned. “Did something else happen?”
Frank looked so—frantic, was maybe the word, a terrifying energy breaking out of him in quick bursts of anger on his face. He looked at Dewey, and the emotion seemed to cage itself back in.
“He was found out,” Frank said quietly. “About being a firestarter.”
Dewey had counted on it happening. It seemed unlikely that it would be able to remain a secret forever. It still hurt to hear. Things wouldn’t be the same as they had been, if people knew about Ernest. Dewey imagined the division between the three of them only growing larger, and he didn’t know if he’d be able to do anything about it if it got too wide.
Something broke in Frank’s expression again, and Dewey startled—it looked like guilt. “Don’t defend him,” Frank hissed. “Dewey, he’s going to get away with it. He’s going to ruin what we’ve worked for, what you’ve worked for in the archives—do you want all of that information in the hands of the enemy?”
Dewey clutched the tray. “Ernest isn’t the enemy,” he said, darkly. The agitation from earlier at the hors d’oeuvres table shot back into him.
“You know exactly what I mean,” Frank said. “I—”
Dewey slammed the silver plate down on the drink table. A real, genuine slam, like he’d never done before, the glasses around it rattling. Frank stared at him, gaping a little.
“He’s still here,” Dewey said. “That’s enough.”
“Dewey—”
“That is enough.”
12:00 AM—The Lobby
Jacques had never seen Kit so unsettled. Even when she’d been arrested she’d kept her composure. But she stood beside him in the empty lobby, tapping her foot against the floor, her arms crossed over her chest. He still couldn’t get out of her what had happened, but it was obvious from her face in the ballroom that whoever betrayed them had to be one of the Denouements. It was a sobering realization, the worst possible outcome of the schism that had been building for too long. One of three identical triplets being a traitor complicated matters, although it was easy to figure out which one it was that had done it. Things were going to change after tonight.
He took a small, brief moment to appreciate that Kit actually wanted to stand next to him and acknowledge him as her brother. Lately, he’d gotten the impression that she couldn’t stand him. But now she needed him, and it was a relief to Jacques to still be needed by his siblings. He never thought he did that successful a job of managing to keep them all together.
The elevator dinged, and Lemony stepped out, adjusting his jacket. The only evidence he’d been at the costume party was the mask tucked under his arm, because his suit was as plain as ever.
“Finally,” Kit muttered, and she ran over to him, throwing her arms around him and hugging him tightly, something none of the siblings had done since they were children.
Lemony froze, and then hugged her back. He met Jacques’s eyes across the lobby.
Jacques knew it, immediately. Lemony had played a part in what had happened tonight with Ernest. It shouldn’t have surprised Jacques as much as it did. Lemony had held a perilous position in the organization for years now, and this wasn’t the first time he had wound up disagreeing with Kit about recruitment. But it was the first time it had involved other people. That made it dangerous.
Lemony shook his head a fraction of an inch. Part of Jacques relaxed. The three of them might still be okay. He wondered, with a slight jolt, how the Denouements would fare.
Kit pulled away from Lemony. “Where were you?”
“Did you know the rooftop sunbathing salon has night lights?” Lemony said. Jacques couldn’t help but chuckle as he walked over to his siblings. “Very pleasant. I recommend it.”
Kit rolled her eyes, and she led Jacques and Lemony through the lobby and out of the hotel.
“I’ll drive you both back,” Jacques said. “It’s on my way.”
“You brought the taxi?” Lemony asked.
“Regrettably,” Jacques sighed. “I still seem to have it.” Headquarters refused to take it back for some reason, even after Jacques insisted he didn’t need it. It had been six months since the initial assignment with it and he was still driving it, and probably would be, for the foreseeable future. He took his keys out of his pocket.
“I’ll drive,” Kit said.
“You will not drive,” Jacques said.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard you correctly,” Kit said, snatching the keys out of his hand and walking briskly out of his reach. “Jacques, did you say something about hives? There aren’t any bees nearby.”
“Trees?” Lemony said. He jogged ahead a little and caught up with Kit’s pace. “They do look particularly lush this time of year, now that you mention it.”
“No one is in a rush, and Kit, give me my keys you are not going to drive—” His siblings raced ahead of him down the front drive, and Jacques ran after them into the night.
1:55 AM—The Ballroom
Olivia and Ramona stayed on to help the Denouements clean up. Ramona had insisted, saying that it was no trouble at all, and she owed them for being so kind to host the party. She was very good at insisting; Olivia had never seen anyone able to resist the charm of Ramona cheerfully demanding she was going to help and they were going to have to deal with it. She hid her smile in the champagne flutes she was stacking on a tray as Ramona talked with one of the triplets on the other side of the ballroom. She picked up the one rimmed with half-rings of Ramona’s deep plum lipstick and giggled.
She’d have to tell Ramona about what Jacques told her, of course. But for once, Olivia wasn’t all that worried about dealing with it. It had been an extraordinarily pleasant night otherwise. Ramona was happy, some of the glow back in her face, so Olivia was happy too.
All the glasses were stacked, the plates piled together, the tablecloths folded up, the lights finally dimmed. There was only one Denouement left in the room, and he stopped Olivia and Ramona on their way out. “Olivia, could I speak with you?”
“Of course,” Olivia said.
“I’ll wait for you outside,” Ramona said, squeezing her hand, and she disappeared down the hallway, the hem of her dress sweeping the floor behind her.
Some people expected Olivia to be able to tell the Denouements apart, and some people expected her to be as clueless as most others as to who she was talking to. It wasn’t terribly hard to tell them apart, because Olivia liked to pay attention, but what she could never remember what when she was supposed to know and when she wasn’t. Here, she knew the one in front of her was Frank, most definitely. There was a weight to the way Frank carried himself, not like he assumed he was in control, but like he assumed he had to be.
“What is it, Frank?” Olivia asked.
He hesitated, which was rare for Frank. “When was the last time you saw Miranda?”
Olivia blinked. Had she misheard him? “What?”
“Miranda,” Frank said again. She hadn’t misheard. “When was the last time you saw her?”
Miranda?
“I—I don’t know,” she said quickly. “I—” When was the last time she saw Miranda? Years and years ago, wasn’t it? Shortly after they’d been taken. Olivia hadn’t minded. Miranda was older than her, not by much but by enough, and enough that they weren’t kept together. Miranda had thought it a chore to look after her, and Olivia hadn’t liked being seen as a chore. She wanted a sister, not a babysitter. So she’d been okay when Miranda was gone. They went to different classes, made different friends, passed each other in the hall without saying a word until their apprenticeships, where Olivia was shuffled around from chaperone to chaperone and Miranda—went where? What had become of her?
The questions spun through her head, dizzying, but they kept coming. What did Miranda look like, now that she thought of it? Had she looked like Olivia at all? Would she recognize her own sibling, like she could easily identify the Denouements? Would she know Miranda if she saw her in a meeting, on the street, at one of these parties, if she was an enemy? But what made a person wasn’t appearance—how did Miranda act? What made Miranda, in the way Frank’s quiet made him? How could she not know what made her sister? Miranda was her sister and it hit Olivia, squarely in the chest, that she didn’t know a single thing about her.
She pressed her knuckles to her mouth, her gaze darting across the floor. How had she gone all this time without thinking about her? How could she not know? How much had she forgotten?
“I’m sorry I asked,” Frank was saying. “Olivia. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Olivia whispered. She took one step back, then another, almost hitting the edge of her dress with the point of her heel, and another, then made herself turn around and leave, back downstairs, through the lobby, anywhere else but there.
Olivia hurried out into the night with the front doors banging open after her; the humid air was sticky on her skin, sitting heavy in her lungs as she tried to inhale. She saw Ramona past the front archway, leaned back against her car a way down the front drive, her shoes beside her and her feet in the grass, the shape of her soft and fuzzy in the heat. Olivia tore off her mask and scrubbed her hand over her eyes, wiping the tears on the side of her dress.
There was a weight on her shoulders, more than just the heat. She had the horrible sense that she was going to turn around and see Miranda. Olivia wanted to leave. She wanted to leave the city, she wanted to go somewhere she’d be away from this. She wanted to take Ramona—would Ramona go with her? She had her own things to care about besides the violent anxiety shaking Olivia from the inside out. She had a duchy to take care of. She didn’t deserve to have to deal with Olivia.
We’d like you to take up the outpost at Caligari Carnival. The carnival was miles from the city, out in the hinterlands, flat and desolate blankness. Maybe she should go. Maybe that would be better. She would be away from the city and be one place where no one had to bother her and she couldn’t bother anyone else. Maybe.
Olivia squeezed her eyes shut again, and when she opened them the tears were gone and Ramona came into focus, all of her slender and beautiful in the moonlight. Olivia ached to look at her.
She went over to Ramona and slid her hand into hers, tucking her face into the smooth skin of Ramona’s shoulder. “I want to go somewhere else,” she whispered.
“Hey,” Ramona said, her other arm coming up and folding around Olivia, drawing her close. “We can go anywhere you want.”
Behind her, through the open front doors, Olivia heard the hotel clock starting to chime again.
#asoue#a series of unfortunate events#lemony snicket#jacques snicket#kit snicket#frank denouement#dewey denouement#ernest denouement
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Prompt: “You’re adorable when you’re mad”
It wasn’t when Ronan came home with bruises across his knuckles.
It wasn’t when Ronan came home with bruises on his arms.
It wasn’t even when Ronan came home with a fresh bruise blooming in an eye socket, more pink than purple still.
It was when Ronan stumbled through the front door of Monmouth Manufacturing bleeding. Two streams trickling from his nose. A smear of it on his mouth, lining his teeth. A whole gash on his temple, the blood thick and clotting and so apparent with no hair to hide it. And a thin slice down the column of his neck, clean as the cut of a knife.
This was when Gansey finally lost his temper.
“Where is he?” he demanded, the bark of his voice a shock to his own ears, even as he struggled to keep his hands gentle. They wrapped around Ronan, tugged him into the bathroom. They trembled as they turned on the tap.
“Gone, I’m sure,” Ronan mumbled. He avoided Gansey’s eye as he slouched on the lid of the toilet, looking more admonished than hurt. What a terrifying thought, that Ronan could appear at his doorstep looking like a bloody rag and care more about Gansey’s judgment than his own pain. What a terrifying thought, that he would ever imagine Gansey to judge him.
It sobered him. But only a little.
“Where is he, Ronan?” Gansey snarled. He wiped a towel against Ronan’s forehead, thankful to see the bleeding had stopped, but all that red only colored his vision, only fueled the fury in the pit of his stomach.
Ronan didn’t even wince, just ground his teeth tighter.
“He’ll be with his pack of dogs, if he’s even still there,” Ronan evaded again. He sniffed, running the back of his hand under his nose. He looked studiously at the smear, contemplating that part of his body that had made its way to the outside when it was supposed to stay inside.
Gansey took that hand in his own and wiped it clean, too.
“Ronan,” he said seriously, purposefully, intentionally, “Where. The fuck. Is Joseph. Kavinsky.”
Ronan caved.
Gansey had never driven faster.
The church emerged from the mist, still smelling of a fight.
As predicted, five figures slipped between the trees of the woods that began behind the building. Four of them were silhouetted, visible more by voice than by body. One of them was illuminated by the headlights of a car, parked dangerously close to a locked box of offerings. He was the only one not joking, not scoffing, not mindless to the rage of the night.
Joseph Kavinsky didn’t even squint when Gansey’s headlights joined his spotlight. He simply grabbed the pair of shades hooked on the front of his tank and casually threw them across his eyes.
Gansey killed the engine.
Kavinsky smirked.
“Don’t tell me you left the dog all by himself to lick his own wounds?” Kavinsky purred. At the sound of his voice the four other ghosts looked up. Their grins reflected the unyielding light. Four sets of bared teeth creeping through the woods.
“That you gave him,” Gansey spat, and his voice sounded foreign. What are you doing here? his real voice asked in the back of his head. You left him all by himself, all by himself, all by—
This was not a night to listen to his conscience.
Kavinsky leaned back against a tree, the length of his body unveiling muscle and power Gansey hadn’t noticed before. Like he was showing off. Like he was saying yes, I am capable of hurting, and I have hurt. And then his hand slipped into the front of his jeans and emerged with a slender pocket knife, and something fell in Gansey’s stomach.
Kavinsky said nothing. He just lounged there, staring, smirking, waiting for Gansey to say what it was he had come to say.
“Stop. Stop touching him. Stop talking to him. Stop looking at him, for Christ’s sake. I don’t want his name on your lips or his blood on your knuckles ever again.”
This is exactly what Gansey had wanted to say. But Kavinsky was not the person he truly wanted to say it to.
Still, Kavinsky was the one who heard it, who rolled his eyes and waved his hand, sending his shadows deeper into the woods, a sudden sense of privacy enveloping the fragile night.
“Dick,” he began, with a self-righteous condensation Gansey had never heard from him before, “Haven’t you ever considered that maybe he likes it? That maybe—” And here he paused to push off from the tree, to step closer until he was eye to eye with Gansey, “He asks me for it?”
No. No Gansey had not considered this, would never dream of considering it, couldn’t fathom why anyone would consider it—
But then Kavinsky’s full lips quirked up and the faintest eyelash fluttered through shaded lenses, and such a sudden fire ignited in Gansey’s stomach that he forgot his anger for a moment.
“Ah,” Kavinsky observed. “Now you understand.”
“I don’t—there’s nothing—he wouldn’t—”
Kavinsky’s skinny hand looped around the back of his neck, his thumb rubbed under Gansey’s ear, and everything inside him stilled. “You’re adorable when you’re mad,” he smirked, “But you’re sexy when you’re flustered.”
Gansey wrenched his body back, wrenching a caw of a laugh from Kavinsky with it. The fire had ascended to his face, where it burned his cheeks.
“I didn’t ask for it,” he finally stammered with any dignity he could assemble. “So don’t touch me.”
Kavinsky slouched back to his post on the tree, and then four shadows were moving through the woods again. “Noted, sweetheart.” He flicked the pocketknife open, then closed. Open, then closed. “But if you’re looking to feel something, you know where to find me.”
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Tan Lines
Pair: George Weasley x Reader; he/him.
Summary: George didn’t tell anyone; Fred just figured it out and then Fred told you. It was quiet simple. So, you take some time to appreciate the younger prankster.
Warnings: SMUT (MDI), Dirty talk/praise, bite kink cause yES but probably TRASH. If I forgot any, please dm me.
Notes: Top reader, by the waayyy
~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~
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George never liked admitting that he, sometimes, didn’t feel special. Sometimes, he felt trapped in his ever so slightly older brother's shadow-after all, Fred does initiate a lot of the pranks they were famous for before leaving Hogwarts. Fred got a lot of the credit and praise and was always the ever so slightly louder one. After all, it was always Fred and George, never the other way around. It was never Fred's fault, he did try to give the younger twin credit where credit was due, but it was like people didn't care. They were identical, basically one person to most, why did it matter who came up with one prank?
While he never voiced it to Fred, George was sure he knew. He could probably tell from his sad eyes or sleepless nights alone. George wasn’t exactly surprised when it happened, but appreciated the little compliments his twin would give him, whether it was over something as simple as tying his own tie on the first try. It was thoughtful.
While Fred had tried to help his brother by himself, you remained clueless and left out of the loop, much to George’s relief. George didn’t want you worrying yourself with his feelings and being stressed over something like this when they had the whole shop to handle. You didn’t know of his internal battle with self worth or how he was coping with it, that was, until-
“Georgie’s been feeling kinda shitty lately.”
“Wait, he’s been what?” Your voice carried easily in the empty shop. Maybe now was a bad time to tell you, Fred thought as he watched you juggle the boxes in your arms. You were helping the older shop owner stock the shelves while George took a quick break and headed down Diagon Alley for supplies. You managed to balance the bulky box on top of the counter before turning to the twin sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.
“I stated that poorly.” He looked down at his shoes. “It’s nothing too bad, just… He’s just been feeling, I don’t know, lack luster lately.” The tall male moved to fiddled with an arrangement close enough to keep up the conversation. “He didn’t want me to say anything, doesn’t want you worrying and all.”
“He told you before he told me?” You watched his now shaky hands inspect a love potion before quickly setting it down.
“No, he didn’t tell me. The bags under his eyes, the fake smile, the sudden quietness told me enough.” Fred shrugged like it was nothing. “No offense, but I thought you would’ve noticed.” He turned back to you, staring into your eyes for anger.
“I did, he just told me he wasn’t feeling well. Figured it was a bug- Why isn’t he telling me all this?” You chewed on your lip. You’d been dating the younger twin since Hogwarts, 5th year, actually. You thought he would’ve said something. Maybe he had and you missed it? Maybe he thought you’d make fun of him.
“Doesn't want you to worry yourself sick over something you can’t contro-” Fred whipped around to the door when it swung open, revealing George with his arms full of veils, bottles and tiny bags and boxes. How he managed to balance it, neither of you knew, but you both surged forward to help split up the load. “Georgie, mate, you were supposed to grab a few things from Slug and Jiggers, not buy the whole bloody store!” Fred laughed out, hoping he didn’t notice the conversation he just stumbled into.
“Well, you know how it is. Ideas came flooding in once I was inside the shop!” George stepped in deeper, allowing the door to shut behind him. He looked between the two of you when an awkward silence filled itself between gaps. “What did I miss?” He cocked an eyebrow when Fred slowly backed away.
“Nothing, lil’ brother. Don’t worry about it.” With that, he turned around and scurried to the back of the store. Once he got to the door hiding the supplies and stock, he kicked it open and rushed in. Neither of you flinched when the door slammed shut.
George just shrugged, shaking his head as he set the rest of the newest products he splurged on down onto the till counter. He sorted through them quickly, his hands moving with precision, but it began to dwindle when he felt an unmoving gaze on him. He slowly turned to see you standing there, arms still full, just kind of gazing at him.
“What?” He blinked a few times, ideas shifting behind his eyes faster than firebolts. “Come on, doll, use your words.” He laughed gently, turning back to the products, gripping one of the veils and staring at it as he thought. Did he miss a special day? No, he was pretty good with remembering dates. Maybe? “Um- Happy birthday?” He smiled at you, his neck muscles tightening when the smile turned into an awkward grimace when you didn’t smile back. He quickly turned to one of the aisles to grab one of the many firework boxes piled high.
”Why didn’t you tell me?” Your eyes hardened a tiny bit as George scoffed, keeping his back toward you. Was he really going to act like nothing happened? You dumped the stuff in your arms carelessly onto the counter before turning to him once again. Now he was fiddling with the thin but colorful box, choosing to not face you.
“What are you talking about, love?” He let out a soft chuckle that couldn’t sound any faker. George now knew that you knew, but he wasn’t going to give it to you that easily. He couldn’t admit it. He had pride. The co-owner heard your footsteps coming up behind him, but did nothing to change the distance.
“Georgie.” Your arms wrapped around his waist as your soft voice fluttered from your lips. Your chest pressed against his back, allowing you to press a kiss to your shoulder. “You can tell me anything, I can keep a secret.” You casted him a soft smile, silently begging him to share the thoughts plaguing his mind. However, he didn’t turn to you. Instead, he just ducked his head down, setting the firework box out of place on the shelf.
“Just feelin’ down, is all.” He shrugged, forgetting you were against him for a solid second before turning his head to look at you. He opened his mouth, but found his words dying before they reached his tongue. He could see the worry, the anxiety behind your eyes and he felt a coldness come across his chest. The tall red-head let out another sigh. “Ok..” He whispered, struggling to find his voice. “Just.. Feeling less than worth all of this.”
“Go on.” You encouraged quietly, turning him around so he didn’t have to crane his neck to see you. He pulled you close into his chest, hiding his head against the base of your neck as he slowly spoke about his insecurities.
Before he knew it, George’s sentences were falling apart and fielding soft sniffles. His grip on you tightened, looking for something to anchor him to a kind reality. Saying everything out loud made it feel so real compared to it just being it his head. Once you were sure he had nothing else to say, you took the reins on the conversation.
“I wish you would’ve told me sooner, bunny.”
“Please, don’t call me that-” George whispered back against your skin, a weak chuckle escaping his lips before he fell silent again. He shifted on the balls of his feet as he pressed his face harder against your skin.
“Hush, bun. You need to know that you're amazing.” You ran your hands across his shoulder blades before they traveled to hold his waist. “Seriously- you stood up against a bright pink power-hungry toad, had the best exit known to Hogwarts history and made your dreams a reality.” You kissed his ear gently. “Sure, some of it was Fred, sure some of it was both of you, but I can count many times you blew away the crowd, just like he did.”
Your heart stuttered a little when George lifted his head to look at you. He had the biggest puppy dog eyes and he didn’t even notice. You found yourself getting lost from his somewhat still sad gaze.
“Really?”
“Alright, since you don’t believe me, I’ll show you.” You stepped away from the precious hug and grabbed his wrist, swiftly spinning around and heading for the flat just up the stairs. The sudden shift in tone had George’s head spinning.
“What?” He choked out, stumbling behind you to try to keep up. He noticed from the corner of his eye, Fred sneaking behind the shelves and sprinting out of the shop. The older twin knew what this meant and it had the younger one blushing a deeper shade of red than his hair.
“I’m gonna show you how amazing you are.” You spun around, pushing open the door to the flat and dragging him inside. You shut the door behind him and spun him back around before landing a soft kiss to his lips. He let out the softest swooning noise you’d ever heard and smiled into the kiss. Your thumb rubbed along the protruding vein on his wrist while your other hand slowly wrapped around his waist and tugged his body closer to yours.
You pulled from the kiss and pulled the male closer, if it was possible. The hand on his wrist trailed up to his bicep, squeezing it gently before going up to his shoulder. You watched him shiver, his cheeks a soft pink from the kiss alone. You let out a breathy chuckle, your lips still close to his, allowing him to feel the puffs of air fan across his lips.
“Will you let me?” Your hands moved to the tie around his neck, slowly undoing it before letting it fall to the floor. Your nimble fingers then moved to the buttons of his dress shirt when he finally nodded his head. You pressed your lips against him again and pushed the shirt off his shoulders allowing it to fall to the ground. Your hands trailed down along his chest and down his sides before moving back up. You savored every shiver and goosebump appearing on his skin. “Let’s head to the bedroom, yeah?”
“Please.” George smiled a little when you let out a soft laugh.
Soon enough, George found himself laying back on his bed, your hand down his trousers. He let out a whine when your palm slid across his dick, his eyelids fluttering shut as your lips trailed along his neck. He jumped when you bit along the side, his free hand coming to the back of your head, gripping your hair tightly.
“Sorry.” You mumbled against his skin, licking across the already bruising skin. He let out a breathy moan of your name when you sucked a spot against his jugular.
"No, you're not. " he laid his head back, softly bucking his hips upward against your hand. "I know you like marking me up." he gripped your hair tighter, his lip trapped between his teeth.
"Ha, yeah." You snorted against his skin, pulling back to look at the marks scattered across his skin. You moved to his shoulder, creating another hickey as your hand trailed up his bare stomach. “You know you're beautiful, right? Like,” you paused to think, your tongue trailing across the speckles in his skin, “You’re freckles remind me of stars.” You knew he was blushing, you could feel it. He always melted because of your compliments and it was precious.
He shuddered against the bed when your nails dragged downward across his toned stomach. You’ve said it once, probably, and you’d say it again, but bless quidditch. You pressed another kiss to his shoulder before latching your mouth to his collarbone.
“Stop teasing me, (Y/n/n)! Come on!” George gripped your hair tighter, his free hand shooting straight between your legs and cupping your own hard-on. Neither of you had taken off any other clothes except for George’s belt. You chuckled against this pale skin and sat up, straddling the male quickly to tug off your shirt.
“Alright, Georgie, alright! I just wanted you to take it slow tonight.” You laughed while his hands found your waist.
“You can do that by going quickly.” George’s hands found your belt, basically ripping it free and throwing it across the room behind him. His pale hands unbuttoned your slacks and tried to tug them out.
“Georgie, that takes away the whole point.” You stood up on the bed, one foot resting against each side of his hip, slipping your slacks and boxers down. You stepped out of them, throwing them over Georgie's head to land with your belt. You jumped off the bed, causing your partner to let out a laugh. “Don’t say a word.” You pointed at the ginger, a playful glare across your lips.
You watched George’s big hands fumble with his own pants before ripping them free. That was when you noticed how his skin on his arms and legs were slightly darker than his chest. The freckled covered bloke had tan lines and not even those could hide the marks you left behind. Fred would probably be able to see said marks tomorrow.
“Like the view, love?” He asked, cockiness overflowing in his voice.
“Of course, sunshine.” You walked back over to the male, running your hand down his chest as you climbed onto the bed. George spread his legs to accommodate you between them and wrapped them around your waist. Your hands moved to his thighs before trailing up to his hips. “How do you wanna do this?”
“Just spell me ready. You’ve been going on for too long. I’d like to shag you while you're hard, y'know?” The red-head grasped your hands tightly, his hips bucking up against yours for emphasis.
“Godric, George. I adore you.” You whispered against his lips. You let go of one of his hands to seamlessly pull your wand out of nowhere and mumbled a few spells under your breath. "Oops, sorry!" you spoke out when he gasped and stiffened on the bed. "Um, it's gonna be cold."
"Yup, I got that."
"Hey, don't sass me!" You slapped his thigh playfully. You cupped the back of his knees and lifted his legs up to wrap snuggly around your waist. It was amusing to see the tall man chewing on his lip in desperation for you. "Ready?"
"Oh, no. Give me a minute." he was back to his sassy self, which had you chuckling silently. "We can just spend the next 20 minutes staring into each othhhmm-" you decided to shut him up by slowly pushing into him. You watched him toss his head back and moan when your hips finally touched his.
"Gonna keep giving me sass?"
"If it gets you to fuck me faster, then yeah." His voice was breathy and his hand was gripping yours harder. His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed hard. The ginger had forgotten how good you felt inside him and it was all just crashing down on him.
You shook your head, your laugh now becoming audible. You ground your hips into his, your own groan leaving your lips while his legs tightened aorun dyour waist. Pulling your hips back slowly, you leaned over, your chest touching his, Your hands gripped onto his and hold them beside his head. You shushed him when he complained about going too slow and bucked upwards to meet your slow thrusts.
“Just enjoy it, love.” Your breath casted across his ear as you spoke, causing goosebumps to pop up on his skin. The ginger melted into the mattress, his bottom lip stuck between his teeth, holding back his whines. While you were moving slowly, you didn’t exactly press into the male softly. You wanted to pour your soul into everything you gave him.
The posts of the bed collided with the wall with each slow hit and George found himself suddenly grateful the shop was empty- you could probably hear it through the thin walls of the flat. George let out a sob when you angled your hips just right, his legs, somehow, tightening around your hips.
“I love seeing you like this, babe. All spread out and taking me so well. Absolutely breathtaking, huh?” Your mouth was George’s biggest weakness. You grinned when he nodded his head quickly, his chest stuttering while another moan escaped into the room. “Just relax and feel me, love.”
The ginger could feel all of you, every twitch, every vein, every inch. He didn’t know if he should focus on your teeth and lips creating marks across his shoulders and neck, or every noise he managed to drag out of you, or the feel of your hips slowly pushed into him. He was slowly turning into a shuddering mess.
“Fuck (Y/n).” He whined out, his back arching when you pushed into him particularly hard. He could feel a warm pool of precum dripping right below his belly button. He tried to remember a time he leaked this much and came up blank, or maybe his brain was starting to short circuit.
“Shh, love. I got you.” Your nose nuzzled just under his jaw, leaving a soft kiss against his skin. Your hand trailed down his arm and traveled down his body before wrapping around his sensitive cock, jerking it in time with your hips and twisting right at the head. “So good for me, Georgie, so perfect, so wonderful.” Your lips moved to press a soft kiss against his cheek.
“Fuck, (Y/n), I’m-” His breath caught again when you moved both your hips and your hand faster.
“Don’t hold back.” You licked your lips. Soon enough, George was crying out, his hand gripping the sheets hard enough to make the veins in his arms pop up while his entire body went stiff. Your hips slowed to a stop, but your hand kept going, allowing the male to ride out his orgasm. “That’s it, good boy.”
Once the freckle covered male was gasping from overstimulation, you let go of him and slowly pulled out and laid next to him. You watched his face while your arms rubbed his shoulders. He let out a sigh as he melted into the plush bed once again, every ounce of tension leaving his body.
“Do you feel better, Geo?” Your eyes trailed along his muscular shoulders covered in bite marks and hickies and felt pride swell in your chest. Your thumb swept across a particularly deep bite, causing your partner to jump.
“A little bit.” He smiled at you, his eyes filled with love and pure admiration. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner. I thought I could handle the baggage myself.” He reached over to cup your cheek.
“When are you gonna learn you don’t have to carry it yourself?” You asked, leaning into the touch. His hands were rough and calloused but the gentleness of the touch had you swooning.
“Probably when the baggage almost kills me.” He snickered, leaning in to press his lips against yours. His lips were, surprisingly, not as chapped as yours. You both grinned into the kiss. His hand moved from your cheek to the back of your neck as he deepened the kiss. George was the first one to pull away.
“I love you so much, George. Seriously, you’re so perfect and wonderful and other adjectives that mean great and Godric.” You cupped both of his cheeks, planting a swift kiss against his swollen lips.
“I love you more, and if you give me a minute, I’ll prove it.”
“Godric, this is why I adore you.” and with that, you slammed your lips against his.
The next morning, George came out of the bedroom, a new prep in his step. He was practically skipping around the kitchen, almost missing his red-headed counterpart.
“So, feeling better after your alone time with (Y/n)?” Fred asked as he leaned against the counter, a smirk hidden behind the rim of his tea cup.
“Yeah, we managed to talk everything out and I do feel better.” George stretched his arms above his head before pouring himself a cup of tea, and turning to his snickering brother. “What?”
“Nothing, but just a fair warning, you should most definitely wear a turtleneck before showing yourself in the shop.” Fred pointed to his neck and shoulders before putting his tea cup in the sink. “Maybe make it less obvious you got something other than stocking shelves done last night.”
“Shut it, Fred.”
#george weasley x male reader#george weasley imagine#george weasley#george weasley smut#male reader#x male reader#hp imagine#hp x male reader#fred weasley#Ronny Writes#fic#hp male fic#hp fic
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Blood and Whiskey
Summary: washed up actor and a time-warping talk show host who likes disco walk into a bar
Aka: I was getting tired of writing one setting and the same people for forever and wrote this drabble as a break
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If you were to ask the actor standing in front of you why he did what he did, there’s seldom doubt he’d be able to clearly tell you.
A grand finale.
A final show.
A shake of his fist at the cruel fate life handed him.
Just like him, all it became was an extravagant joke.
Actor growls, shoving away the echoing feeling of shadows with eyes burning into his back, grabbing and ripping him apart, pulling him back together vertebrae by vertebrae until he danced to a vengeful tune once more.
The entity, to put it lightly, has not made it easy to escape it’s grasp. A fool, he was, to think he could use its power to his own whim and not face the consequences.
Even so, with a new body and purpose he can see it lurking in the shadows.
Even now, as he trudged through a dimly lit street in the dead of winter he can hear it ringing in his ears.
After all, it takes time to escape from memories.
God he needs a drink…
Actor stops in his tracks and looks to his side. Blaring music vibrates in his ribs, shaking and stirring his insides.
It’s a bar.
A very neon, very bright bar.
A perfect place to sulk, He thinks to himself.
Tightening his grip around the pockets of his red velvet jacket, Actor takes a breath.
And walks in.
The music is even louder on the inside than from the outside. For some unknown reason, that fact surprises him.
All around the hall people can be seen dancing in a frenzied craze. Lights flashing in a showcase of every conceivable color available to the blind eye. Under the lights, a live band was playing some indistinguishable disco with a fervor and passion Actor wishes he still possessed. He scoffs and sharply inhales through his nose.
The air reeks with the familiar stench of alcohol and mania.
Actor squints his eyes and burrows his face deeper into the black scarf tied around his neck and shuffles his way to the leather bar stool. Slamming his hand on the wooden surface of the table to get the bartender's attention.
With a sigh, they dreadfully approach.
“What can I get for you, sir?”
Actor mumbled deeply, head miserably laying on polished oak. "Red wine. Any year, I don't care."
The bartender curtly nods and leaves to get the drink. Actor's in no hurry tonight, why should he care if it's taking forever?
"Here you go, sir. Red wine, 1926."
Ah, prohibition wine. Nothing quite like tasting secret rebellion acid slipping down your throat, whispering sweet illegality and chaos in the wake of conformity.
Actor downs the wine in one gulp and haphazardly slams the cup onto the table. Beside him, a man chuckles.
"You sure needed that one, huh friend?"
Turning to face the voice, Actor attempted to hide his widening eyes in reaction to the speaker’s appearance.
A man in a silky pink long-sleeve shirt tucked into… the ugliest shade of yellow Actor had ever seen paired with white shoes, stained and worn from long nights out dancing, no doubt.
The top of his head layed home to the biggest and most extravagant pink afro Actor had ever seen in his life.
And on his face… an eerily familiar, upturned, almost pink-like at the edges mustache.
What a strange-looking person, Actor thought.
“Yeah… hey, aren’t you one of the stage performers?” He questions offhandedly. Actor was sure he’d seen him perform when coming in.
“Oh, not for tonight. Maybe tomorrow’s yesterday though…”
Actor stares at the man, trying to piece together his offputting comment.
“You… what?”
The man grins at him, swishing in his hand a martini that definitely wasn’t there before.
“What did you say, friend?”
“Your-your comment on when you’re going to perform. What did you say?”
He gazes at Actor, brows furrowed in concentration before his eyes glaze over. He sits still on his creaking barstool, focusing on nothing and everything before jumping in his seat and grinning at Actor.
“Bah, who can remember things like that? I know I can’t. Anyways, I don’t think I caught your name, fellow. Or maybe I forgot that too, it’s entirely possible.”
Actor blinks with incredulity. His words caught in his throat, unable to pass.
“My name is… irrelevant.” He finally decides on saying.
“Irrelevant, hm? Sounds french! Have you ever been there? I’ve heard it’s lovely this time of year.”
Actor raises his hand to get the bartender’s attention and signals another round. It’s going to be a long night.
“Firstly, it’s winter. Second of all I didn’t even get your name, how am I supposed to talk to you without it.”
The man sits gasps for air, dramatically arching his back in shock before responding with a curt bow in his chair.
“Oh my apologies, Irrelevant, it must have slipped my mind! Name’s Wilford Warfstache!”
“Wilford Warfstache?” Actor echoes.
“That’s what I said!”
Actor snorts, picking up his second glass of wine, inspecting it as if passing final judgement.
“Well, Mr. Warfstache, what exactly do you want with me? Out of all the seats in the bar why’d you sit next to this one, huh?”
Wilford smiles and pats him heartily on the back. “My friend, you looked so lonely sitting at the bar with nobody else around you! I-I figured you could use some good company!”
Actor rolls his eyes. “How thoughtful…”
Wilford nods brightly, looking the Actor up and down with a slight hitch in his breath.
“Say… do I know you from somewhere?”
Actor winces, tirelessly holding on to a shred of hope that tells him he hasn’t faded into obscurity.
“I’m an actor. There’s a good chance you’ve seen me on the silver screen.”
With this revelation, Wilford’s face lights up in wonder.
“An actor! That’s fantastic! What movies have you done, my friend? Was there love? Was there murder? Was there treacherous betrayal at the hands of an ally?” He questions, voice getting louder and louder with each passing query.
“You could say that… It’s been a while since I landed a good role, however.”
“Well, it doesn’t have to stay like that! I’m sure you can find something big to be in soon!” Wilford cheers passionately.
“Yeah right… the last time I did some big movie was… god I don’t even know how long it’s been since then.”
Wilford pats Actor pitifully on the back, softening his voice to the best of his ability.
“Well, whatever role you played I’m sure it was wonderful!”
Actor took a sip of his wine. “I played a detective.”
“A detective! That’s a wonderful role to act! Why, I happen to have a friend who’s a detective and he’s one of the best people you’ll ever meet, trust you me.”
Actor nods solemnly, eyes and throat caught in a crossfire of guilt and rage. “So did I. Met him on set as a professional consultant and stayed friends afterwards. At least until...” he trails off.
“Until what?” Wilford asks.
“I… did something. Something bad that I can’t take back. I got stuck with a shitty hand, tried to use it and it backfired and no matter what I try to do I can’t get new cards. It’s not fair!” Actor growls.
Wilford hums, circling the edges of the martini glass with the paper umbrella. “Such is life, my friend. You can’t always make sense of it’s chaos, hell knows I don’t.”
Rolling his eyes, Actor spits with venom. “Oh, please. What bad thing could you have possibly done?”
“Everyone has some blood on their hands, my friend. There’s no need to dig for specifics.”
“And yet, here we are. Hell, the only good outcome from anything I did slipped out of my fingers and forever from my grasp.”
Wilford held out a finger, motioning for Actor to shut it.
“Never say never, my good man! If I know anything, it’s that things always come back to you. If they don’t you keep looking for them!”
“How inspirational.” Actor deadpans.
“It’s true! I say you should keep looking for the positive, even if it’s hard!”
"I don't know…"
Wilford tuts sotfly. "Come on now, don't you trust ol' Warfy?"
"Not really, no."
He shockingly gasps, bringing a shaking hand to his chest and spilling his martini on the floor. "W-well whyever not? I give pretty good advice, why not trust me?"
"I met you tonight."
"But it feels so much longer than that, doesn't it?" Wilford sighs, leaning his head on Actor's sunken shoulders.
He shakes the afro-d man off and takes a swing of his wine.
"Whatever you say, Will."
The two sit in silence, taking in the music echoing in the hall with comfort.
"You know, I did get an offer for this television series a while ago."
"Did you, now?"
"It was for some kind of choose-your-own-adventure thing. It seemed silly at the time and I didn't say anything yet but maybe I'll give it a shot." He mumbles.
"Wonderful idea, my friend! That seems marvelous to work on."
Actor sluggishly smiles. "You think?"
Nodding brightly, Wilford responds. "I do! And if it's any consolation, my friend," he pauses and shuffles through his afro, pulling out a small, pink flower. "I think you'd make a wonderful hero."
Actor lightly picks the flower from his hand, petting the rosy petal. It's soft and delicate, smooth under his touch.
"Whatever you choose to do, you'll be great at. I'm sure of it."
He gazes at his newfound friend, eyes shining with reinvigorated light for the first time in years.
"Thank you, Will."
"Anytime, good man! Anytime."
Actor stands up and brushes his jacket, smiling at Will. "I think it's time I left. I've got a friend to pay a visit to."
"Good luck! And remember you always have a friend here!" Wilford raises his full martini glass high into the air.
"You got it, Will."
And with that, Actor left. Perhaps it's time to resume his search for a certain Mayor.
Back at the bar, Wilford chuckles into his glass.
"What a strangely familiar person…"
#Markiplier#Who Killed Markiplier#Fanfiction#My Writing#WKM#Actor Mark#Actor Mark WKM#Wilford Warfstache#William J. Barnum#Wilford Motherlovin Warfstache#dude why is wil so fun to write
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Unexpected Encounters (Eren Yeager x Reader)
Part 5: Want To Go for a Drive?
Rating: Explicit (18+ only)
Warnings: Smut and some language
A/N: Hi!! I meant to get this up earlier, but then that chapter of the AOT manga happened and I needed time to process everything lmaoo. Hope you all enjoy Part 5!
Here’re some songs I listened to while writing this, so feel free to listen while you read!
The Spins - Mac Miller | Eleven - Khalid (ft. Summer Walker) | Damage - H.E.R
...
When you woke up the next morning, you saw that you were alone. Historia’s bed was empty, so you assumed that she and Ymir had spent the night together. You had fallen asleep as soon as you got back to your dorm the night before after Eren walked you back.
Eren.
You felt a certain soreness between your legs, and you felt heat rush to your face when all of the events from the previous night came rushing back.
You in Eren’s room. You kissing him. Him kissing you. His hands all over you—the feeling of him inside you.
It had all been so amazing, and you were still in a state of disbelief that one unexpected encounter with him over the summer had led to this.
As if Eren had read your mind, you nearly jumped when you heard your phone go off from where it was on the desk next to your bed. You reached over to pick it up, and then felt your heart start to pound when you saw that it was a text from Eren.
I know we just saw each other, but can I ask if you have any plans today?
You smiled at the phrasing of his message, and your heart warmed at the thought that he wanted to see you again so soon.
You can. And, no, I don’t, you replied.
You put your phone down on your desk again and stood up to get ready for the day. You went to the bathroom to wash your face, and when you got back, you heard your phone buzz with a reply from Eren.
Cool. Can you meet me at the café later?
You weren’t sure what he had in mind, but you responded and told him that you would be there. You still had the majority of the day to kill before the time he told you to meet him, so you finished getting ready and decided to text Hitch and Annie to see what they were up to.
Hitch responded and told you that they were at the library and that you should join them. You told them that you’d be there soon, and then gathered your school supplies to get some work done while you were there.
Once you had everything ready, you walked out of your dorm and made your way to the library.
Hitch told you where she and Annie were sitting, and when you entered the library, you quickly found the table that they were sitting at.
“Hey there,” Hitch said when you sat down.
You greeted her and Annie, and then took out your laptop. You were about to open a document to start working, but you felt Hitch tap your shoulder lightly.
“So, where did you run off to last night?” she asked, raising her eyebrows playfully.
Hitch’s smug expression indicated that she knew exactly where you had gone, but she just wanted to hear it directly from you.
“Uh, Eren and I… hung out?” you said, but the statement came out more like a question.
You heard Annie snicker, and you looked at her in disbelief.
“What?! We’re in a library. What am I supposed to say?” you asked, trying your best to keep your voice down.
“Oh, come on,” Hitch said. “Just tell us what happened!”
You frowned at her, trying to find the best way to tell her what happened.
“Uh… he showed me his room,” you said.
Hitch looked at you in disbelief and let out a noise of exasperation.
“He showed you his room…? That’s it?” she asked.
“Oh my god, you know what happened!” you exclaimed. “We fucked, okay?”
Hitch smiled in triumph at finally getting you to admit what happened, and Annie looked up from her work.
“There we go,” Hitch said. “I don’t know why you’re so embarrassed.”
“I’m not embarrassed,” you replied, frowning at her.
Hitch smirked, and you knew that she was definitely not done trying to get details about the previous night.
“So, how was it?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.
You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as you remembered everything that happened with Eren.
“It was amazing, Hitch,” you replied. “He was so sweet the whole time, and even walked me back to my dorm afterward.”
Hitch looked at the smile you had on your face and grinned.
“Damn. You really like him, don’t you?” she asked.
Her words caught you off guard. While you knew that you liked Eren as a friend and certainly found him attractive, you hadn’t really considered whether or not your feelings for him were deeper than that.
“I-I don’t know,” you said. “I mean, I like hanging out with him and stuff, but I don’t know if I like him like that.”
Hitch rolled her eyes.
“Please. You should have seen your face when you were talking about him just now. You like him,” she replied.
Your face became hot after she said that. Though you couldn’t admit it to yourself yet, you knew that Hitch was right.
“I guess you just know me too well,” you muttered.
Hitch laughed and put an arm around your shoulder.
“Of course. You can’t hide anything from me,” she said.
You turned your head to look at her and smile. Hitch patted your shoulder and then took her arm off of you to get back to reading a book for one of her classes.
You turned your computer on and began to work as well, passing the time until you got to see Eren again.
---
After you left the library later that afternoon, you went back to your dorm to get ready to meet Eren.
You had your outfit picked out, one of your favorite dresses, and were about to start changing when you heard your phone buzz. It was sitting on the desk by your bed, so you walked over to it to see who had texted you.
Ymir and I will be out tonight, so you have the room to yourself ;)
You smiled at Historia’s message, and “Liked” it to let her know that you had seen it. You put your phone back down on the desk and walked back to your dresser to finish getting changed.
Once you were ready, you checked the time. You had ten minutes before you were supposed to meet Eren at the café, and you still had to walk there, so you put on your shoes and grabbed your dorm key and phone before leaving your room.
You remembered how to get to the café since you had gone with Hitch. The warm late-afternoon air was pleasant as you walked through campus and into town, and the sky was beginning to fade to a beautiful pink and orange color.
When you turned the final corner to get to the café, you saw Eren waiting for you outside. You smiled when you saw him look up at you and wave.
You waved back, and Eren began to walk towards you. He was wearing jeans, a loose-fitting t-shirt, and his hair was tied up as usual.
“Hey,” Eren said when you were close enough to hear him.
“Hi,” you replied.
Eren smiled, and you both stood there for a moment. Eren was no doubt thinking about everything that had happened the night before as he looked at you, and you were thinking about the same thing.
After a second, you both laughed at the slight awkwardness and the tension dissolved.
“Thanks for meeting me here,” Eren said.
“No problem. Did you have a shift earlier?” you asked.
Eren nodded and took another step closer to you.
“Yeah. It just ended,” he replied.
Now that you were here, you realized that you had no idea what Eren had planned. He had invited you to hang out, but he hadn’t told you what his plans were for the evening.
“So, what do you want to do?” you asked.
Eren’s face turned a light shade of red and he scratched the back of his neck.
“To be honest, I hadn’t thought that far,” he said.
You looked at him for a second, but then started to laugh. From all of the time you and Eren had spent together, you learned that he was a rather spontaneous person. You probably should have expected that he wouldn’t have a set plan in mind for what to do.
“It’s fine,” you replied. “We can just see what happens.”
Eren smiled and nodded his head in agreement.
“Sounds good,” he said.
The two of you walked away from the café and further into town. You hadn’t had a chance to go into any of the shops yet, so whenever you passed one that caught your interest, you tapped Eren’s shoulder to ask him if you could go in.
You walked into many of the little boutiques and shops, and Eren laughed whenever you tried on a jacket that was way too big for you. One of the shops in town had scented candles and other items that smelled good, and Eren helped you pick out a candle to buy even though you weren’t technically allowed to have them in your dorm room.
Being with Eren this way felt natural. You felt so comfortable talking to him as you walked into the shops and slowly made your way back to the main part of campus.
“Do you think I’ll actually get in trouble for having this?” you asked Eren as you approached the familiar buildings of your university, holding the shopping bag with your candle in it.
“No,” Eren said, and then added, “unless you knock it over when it’s lit and burn down your dorm building.”
Your eyes widened in fear as you imagined that happening, and Eren laughed at your expression.
“I’m kidding. I think you’re more careful than that,” he said.
You frowned at your shopping bag and said, “I’m not so sure.”
As you and Eren continued to walk through campus, you looked at all of the people who were outside enjoying the warm evening air. The sun hadn’t completely set yet, but you could tell that it would soon.
“The weather is so nice,” you said.
Eren looked up at the sky and smiled.
“Yeah, it is,” he replied, and then he turned his head to look at you.
“What is it?” you asked when you saw the grin on his face.
“I have an idea,” he said.
You looked at him curiously.
“What’s your idea?” you asked.
You had no idea what he was thinking, but you figured that any idea involving you spending time with Eren was a good one.
“I have a car. Want to go for a drive?” he asked.
You had to admit, you weren’t expecting him to suggest that. But now that he had, however, it seemed absolutely perfect.
“That sounds great,” you replied.
Eren gave you a warm smile, and then you followed him as he led you to the large parking lot where students were able to keep their cars.
“Do you have your keys?” you asked.
Eren patted one of the pockets of his jeans to make sure.
“Yep,” he said when he felt them in his pocket. “I had to go somewhere earlier, so I still have them.”
You nodded and followed Eren until you got to his black Honda Civic. You waited as he unlocked the door and opened it for you.
“Thanks,” you giggled as you stepped into the car.
“No problem,” Eren said, and then he shut the door and walked over to the driver’s side.
You put your shopping bag onto the floor in front of you and strapped the seatbelt around yourself. Eren got into the driver’s seat and did the same.
“Do you have a destination in mind?” you asked him.
Eren turned to look at you and grinned.
“Nope,” he said and started the engine.
Eren’s phone connected automatically to the bluetooth sound system, so his music began to play as he pulled out of the parking space and drove out of the lot.
You couldn’t help but smile as you watched Eren with his hands on the steering wheel as he navigated the streets of your university. His car was a little bit messy; there were empty cups and soccer gear in random places, but you didn’t mind. The car smelled like Eren, and that made you smile even more.
You looked out of the window and saw the buildings of your university disappear behind you in a blur. Eren drove further into the city that your school was in, and then he took an exit that led you onto the freeway. He merged onto it seamlessly and picked up his speed once he was in a comfortable lane.
“You’re lucky you have a car,” you said.
Eren turned his head and looked at you quickly.
“Yeah. It took some convincing, but my mom let me bring it,” he replied.
You hadn’t met either of Eren’s parents, and you didn’t know much about them besides the fact that his dad was a doctor. Your body warmed involuntarily when you thought about Eren inviting you to meet them one day.
“Do you like to drive?” you asked to get your mind off of your last thought.
Eren smiled and nodded his head.
“I love it. It makes me feel relaxed,” he said. “Sometimes I go on random drives for fun.”
You laughed fondly as you imagined Eren driving by himself, blasting his music over the car speakers.
“It is nice,” you said, looking out of the front window at the cars and beautiful evening sky.
Eren smiled at you. He took one of his hands off of the steering wheel to turn up the music and roll down the windows. Your hand was resting next to you on the seat, and your body temperature spiked when you felt Eren’s hand “accidentally” brush against yours as he put it back onto the steering wheel.
You looked at Eren, seeing the wind blow strands of his brown hair around his face as he drove. He really did look more relaxed driving, and he was smiling softly which gave his face a softer look than usual.
“You’re staring.”
You didn’t realize Eren had turned his head to look at you, and he had indeed caught you staring at him.
“Sorry,” you said, quickly turning your head away.
Eren laughed at your sudden embarrassment, and you slowly turned your head back to look at him.
“You don’t have to apologize,” Eren said.
You nodded at him, still feeling a little embarrassed. There was no reason to feel that way, but you thought back to your conversation with Hitch in the library. Was Eren just a friend to you, or did you like him in a different way?
As you looked at Eren, at his green eyes focused on the road and the hair blowing around his face, you realized that Hitch was right. While you enjoyed having Eren as a friend, you knew that friendship wasn’t the only thing that you wanted from him.
The challenging part now would be to find out what Eren wanted from you.
Eren kept driving on the highway until the sign for a particular exit came up. He steered the car to the right to take the exit, which led off the highway.
“The view this way is really nice,” Eren said.
You merged onto a smaller road with trees lining one side. On the other side, you had an unobstructed view of the setting sun. There were beautiful colors all over the sky, and the clouds looked luminescent from the light of the sun going down.
You continued to watch the sunset as Eren began to drive back to your university. As you did so, you couldn’t help but steal glances at Eren as he drove. He saw you looking at him from the corner of his eye, and he smiled softly to himself every time he saw you glance at his face.
Your hand was resting on the consul between your seat and Eren’s, and Eren took one hand off of the steering wheel to place it on top of yours. You turned your head fully to look at him, and Eren quickly glanced at you before turning his attention back to the road.
“What?” he asked playfully.
“Oh, uh—it’s nothing,” you stammered.
Your body felt warm from Eren’s touch, and your heart began to race when he intertwined his fingers with yours.
You almost spent the entire rest of the drive like that, but when you were a few minutes from your school, Eren moved his hand. You felt a pang of disappointment, but it quickly faded when Eren moved his hand to your thigh instead.
The atmosphere in the car suddenly became very warm, and you felt your chest rise and fall rapidly as Eren’s hand began to slowly move upwards. He grabbed the material of your dress and hiked it up your thighs the slightest bit as he moved his hand. Once your thighs were exposed, Eren ran his fingers along the bare skin. Your breath hitched when you felt his hand move all the way under your dress and further up your thigh.
Eren looked at you to see your expression. You met his eyes, and he looked at you for as long as he could before having to turn back to the road. Eren didn’t move his hand up any further, waiting to see what you would do.
The feeling of Eren’s hand on the inside of your thigh had you squirming in your seat. It was so close to the edge of your underwear, but just far enough that it made you frustrated. You knew where you wanted his hand, so you slowly brought your own hand under your dress to place it over his.
Eren looked at you again when you moved his hand up until it was fully between your thighs. Your intention was clear, and Eren turned his head back to the road to try to focus on driving while his finger brushed over your clothed slit. You took your hand out from under your dress to let Eren do whatever he wanted.
Eren’s hand quickly slipped under your underwear, and your body tensed up when you felt his fingers on your bare pussy. Still keeping his eyes on the road, Eren stroked your slit with his finger before brushing it over your clit. The feeling made you gasp, and Eren turned his head to look at you.
“Try not to crash,” you said breathlessly when you saw Eren’s gaze focused on you instead of the road.
Eren seemed to be in some kind of trance as he looked at you, but your voice brought him back to reality and he quickly turned his head to look ahead of him again.
“Fuck, we’re almost there,” Eren said. His hand was still under your dress and his fingers were still rubbing your clit as he drove, determined to get back to campus as soon as possible.
“Good,” you moaned and moved your hips to grind against Eren’s fingers.
Eren continued the movements of his fingers on your pussy, drawing small moans and gasps from you as he did so. You gripped the armrests on either side of your seat and sighed in relief when you saw the familiar buildings of your university. Eren sped through campus until he pulled into the parking lot and into the same parking space as earlier.
As soon as the car stopped, you and Eren ripped your seatbelts off. You climbed out of your seat and over the consul to settle on Eren’s lap. You had half a mind to check if anyone was outside, but Eren’s face was moving closer to yours and you closed your eyes and forgot about everything else.
You both eagerly accepted each other’s mouths, and you felt some of the pent-up tension in your body begin to dissipate when you finally kissed him. Eren’s hands settled on your ass as he kissed you, and you moaned into his mouth when you felt his hips grind up against your crotch. The friction felt so good, but you desperately needed more.
You took your mouth off of Eren’s and quickly reached down to take off your underwear. Your position wasn’t ideal for the task, as the car seat and Eren didn’t leave you with much room, but you managed to get it off and then settled back onto Eren’s lap.
“Keep doing what you were doing,” you said.
Eren understood what you were asking for, and he grinned before leaning in to kiss you again. You groaned when you felt his tongue slip into your mouth. Your kisses were messy and heated as one of Eren’s hands moved under your dress and in between your thighs.
As Eren moved his fingers over your slick center, his mouth moved to your neck to kiss and gently bite the skin there. The combination of Eren’s fingers and his mouth on your neck felt amazing, and you couldn’t hold in your gasp when you felt one of Eren’s fingers push inside of you.
“Feels okay?” he asked against your neck.
“Ugh, yes,” you groaned, moving your hips in time with Eren’s finger.
Eren seemed satisfied with your answer, and he grinned as he added a second finger with the first. You continued to move your hips up and down as Eren’s fingers scissored and curled inside of you. The skirt of your dress was covering the movements of Eren’s hand, so he used his other hand to hike it up a little bit.
“Can you lift your dress for me?” he asked.
There was something about the slight sternness of his voice, the way the question sounded more like a command, that sent a spark of arousal through your body. You knew that Eren could have lifted your dress the rest of the way himself, but it was clear that he wanted you to be the one to expose yourself to him.
You gladly did as he asked. You brought one hand to the hem of your dress and lifted it off of your thighs. Eren’s eyes glanced down to look at your bare pussy and his fingers moving in and out of it.
“Fuck,” he cursed, “you are gorgeous.”
Even though you were literally riding Eren’s fingers in a parking lot, that compliment is what finally made you feel shy. You couldn’t help the way your body temperature rose at his words.
Eren leaned forward to kiss you again, and you happily kissed him back.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” you said against his lips.
You could feel Eren’s smile as he kissed you, and he kept up the movements of his fingers, thrusting them in and out of your wet core. The ache between your thighs began to grow rapidly as you ground your hips, desperate to feel every movement of Eren’s fingers inside of you.
“Don’t stop,” you moaned, knowing you weren’t going to last much longer.
“Fuck, I won’t,” Eren replied as he thrusted his fingers even deeper into you.
Eren moved his other hand to your clit, and he leaned in to kiss you as his fingers brought you closer and closer to your release. You kissed him back eagerly, and it didn’t take much longer for the feeling of pleasure between your legs to near its climax.
“Shit, Eren, I’m gonna cum,” you groaned against his mouth.
“Go ahead,” he said. The tone of his voice was raspy and breathless as he saw you working yourself to orgasm on his fingers.
Getting fingered in a car hadn’t exactly been on your bucket list, but you wouldn’t have had it any other way. It only took a few more seconds for the tension inside of you to finally snap, and you buried your face in Eren’s neck as you came around his fingers. You shut your eyes as the pleasure washed over your body.
Once the intense feelings had passed, your body went limp and you dropped your chest to rest against Eren. You heard him laugh softly and he stroked a hand up your arm.
“You good?” he asked.
You nodded your head and sat up.
“Yes,” you replied, giving Eren a warm smile.
He returned your smile and leaned forward to kiss you. You were still sitting on Eren’s lap, and as he kissed you, you could feel his hard cock through his jeans. Even though you just came, you felt another rush of arousal run through your body.
“Eren,” you said.
He took his mouth off of yours and looked at you.
“Yeah?” he asked.
You lightly brushed your hand over his clothed erection, and you heard him take a sharp breath.
“I have my dorm room to myself tonight,” you told him. “Want to continue this there?”
Eren looked at you, and a smirk slowly formed on his lips.
“Sounds great,” he said.
You gave Eren a quick smile before climbing off of his lap and pulling your underwear back on. Eren grabbed his car keys, and you climbed back into the passenger’s seat to get the bag with your scented candle in it.
Once you both got out of the car, Eren locked it and then you began to walk towards your dorm building. You noticed Eren adjusting his shirt so it covered the area of his crotch, and you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you.
“Hey, you can’t laugh! You did this to me,” Eren whined.
You just laughed again and took his hand to lead him to your dorm. You both walked there quickly, and you hurriedly unlocked the door when you got to the entrance of your building. Eren followed you up the stairs to your room and waited as you took out your key and unlocked your door.
As soon as it opened, you pulled Eren inside of your room and closed the door behind you. Eren looked around your room once he was inside, and you walked over to your dresser to set your new candle on top of it.
“I like your room,” Eren said when you walked up to him.
You smiled and said, “Thanks.”
You reached your arms up to wrap them around Eren’s neck. He leaned his head down to kiss you, and you sighed when you felt his lips meet yours. You wasted no time and brought your hands to the button of Eren’s jeans as you kissed him.
“So eager,” Eren muttered playfully.
“Is that a bad thing?” you asked.
You felt Eren smile against your lips.
“Not at all,” he said.
You smiled too and began to push Eren towards your bed. You both kicked off your shoes as you walked, and once you got to your bed, you pulled away from Eren’s mouth so you could climb onto the bed.
Once you were both sitting on the bed, Eren looked at you. It seemed like he was waiting for you to tell him what to do, so you moved closer to him and placed a hand on his chest.
“Lie down,” you said.
Eren grinned and immediately did as you said. Once he was lying on his back, you moved to sit on his legs. You reached your hands out to finish undoing Eren’s pants, and he watched you as you pulled them down his thighs.
“Mind if I return the favor for earlier?” you asked, looking at Eren’s hard cock straining against the fabric of his boxers.
“Not at all,” Eren said.
You grinned and then moved your hands under the waistband of his boxers. Eren’s chest began to rise and fall more rapidly as you pulled them down far enough to free his cock. Your body warmed all over when you saw the hard length of it, and you adjusted your position to straddle Eren’s legs.
You slowly moved your hand up Eren’s thigh until you got to the base of his cock. Eren’s eyes met yours, and you maintained eye contact with him as you leaned down to lick from the base of his cock all the way to the tip.
“Oh fuck—" Eren groaned when he felt your mouth on him for the first time.
The noises Eren made were music to your ears, and you closed your mouth over the tip of his cock, moving your tongue over the sensitive skin there. Eren’s hand settled on the back of your head as you continued to move your mouth on his cock and used your hand to reach the part of it that your mouth couldn’t.
You took him as deep into your mouth as you could, and Eren’s hips began to move as he became even harder from the movements of your mouth and hand on his cock.
“You’re fucking good at this,” Eren moaned, and you felt your body become warm from the praise.
Eren continued to mutter more curses mixed with your name as you worked his cock and brought him closer and closer to release. After a few more seconds of moving your mouth up and down his cock, Eren sat up and put a hand on your shoulder.
You took your mouth off of him and looked at his face to see what he wanted.
“Something wrong?” you asked.
Eren shook his head and smiled.
“Nope,” Eren said and leaned in to kiss you
“I want to fuck, and you’re going to make me cum if you keep doing that,” he added.
You grinned and kissed Eren back. Your legs were on either side of Eren’s lap, and you reached down to pull your dress over your head. After you set it somewhere behind you on the bed, you leaned forward to kiss Eren again.
As he kissed you, he reached around to your back to undo the clasp of your bra. It fell onto the bed, and you pulled away from Eren to take off his shirt. He helped you tug it over his head and then threw it onto the floor.
Eren leaned back onto the bed, and you took your underwear off quickly before straddling his hips. You and Eren looked at each other and seemed to realize the same thing.
“Shit, I don’t think I have a condom,” Eren said.
You weren’t sure what to do for a second, but then you smiled and climbed off of the bed and walked over to your desk. You pulled out a wrapped condom and walked back over to the bed.
Eren raised an eyebrow when he saw what was in your hand.
“Historia is in a club that promotes safe sex. She has a billion of these that she gives out to people and she gave some to me,” you said, and then climbed back onto the bed.
Eren smiled and nodded his head in understanding. He was still lying on the bed, and you placed your legs on either side of his hips again. You took the condom out of the wrapper and then rolled it onto Eren’s dick.
Eren’s hands settled on your waist.
“Is this how you want to do it?” he asked.
You nodded and said, “If that’s okay.”
Eren’s cock twitched at the prospect of you riding him, and he used his hands to lift your hips.
“It is definitely okay,” Eren groaned when he felt his cock brush against your center.
Your breath hitched as the tip of Eren’s cock lined up with your entrance, and you slowly sank all the way down. You and Eren both moaned at the feeling, and you braced your hands on Eren’s stomach as you got used to the stretch.
It didn’t take long before you were moving your hips up and sinking back down onto Eren’s cock again. The angle from this position felt unbelievably good, and Eren helped you lift your hips and then guided you back down onto his cock. You repeated the motion over and over again, savoring the feeling of Eren buried deep inside of you.
“Fuck this feels good,” you moaned, lifting and dropping your hips even faster.
Eren began to thrust his hips up to meet your movements.
“Shit, I know,” Eren said, his voice raspy and breathless as he watched you ride his cock, both of you getting closer and closer to orgasm.
One of Eren’s hands ran up your stomach until it covered one of your tits. You groaned when he pinched your hard nipple, and then his hand moved to the other side of your chest to do the same thing. When Eren brought his other hand in between your thighs to rub your clit, you gasped and felt a surge of arousal run through your body.
You were close, and Eren could tell from the way your hips desperately moved up and down to take his cock.
“Fuck, Eren—” you gasped, chasing your second orgasm of the day.
“I know,” he said.
Eren kept rubbing your clit and thrusting his cock into you until it was enough to send you crashing over the edge. He watched as your orgasm ripped through you, and his followed close after, burying himself deep inside you and riding out the waves of pleasure.
You slumped forward to lie on Eren’s chest. He gently stroked your back as you both tried to catch your breath. After a few seconds, you mustered up the strength to roll off of him to lie next to him on the bed.
“That was amazing,” you said, and turned your head to look at Eren.
“You can say that again,” he replied, giving you a warm smile.
You both stayed on the bed for a few minutes, just enjoying each other’s presence as you laid beside one another. Eventually, Eren sat up and climbed off of the bed to dispose of the used condom.
You watched as he looked around for his clothes, and you began to feel uncertain. Was he going to leave? You knew that you didn’t want him to, but you didn’t say anything as he pulled on his jeans and shirt.
When he was fully clothed, he walked back over to the bed. It’s now or never, you thought.
“You can stay if you want,” you said, trying your best to keep the shyness out of your voice.
You sat up on the bed, and Eren looked at you with a regretful expression on his face.
“I can’t,” he said. “I have plans with Jean and some other people tonight.”
You couldn’t help the disappointment you felt, but you nodded your head in understanding. You grabbed your dress and pulled it back on so you could walk Eren to the door of your room.
Before leaving, Eren turned to look at you.
“I had a great time with you today,” he said.
You smiled and felt your body become warm.
“Me too,” you replied.
Eren paused for another second, and then opened the door to leave. He waved goodbye as he walked down the hall, and you waved back from your door.
As you watched him go, you decided that you could finally admit to yourself that you had a crush on Eren Yeager.
#eren yeager#eren x reader#attack on titan#hitch dreyse#jean kirstein#historia reiss#ymir#fanfiction#fanfic#snk fanfiction#aot fanfiction#unexpected encounters
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Crush
Modern! Harry Potter x fem!Granger!Reader
Summary: Y/N Granger, the absolute Queen amongst the students, with many admirers and even Harry himself, finds himself falling for his best friends sister.
Words: 2.7k
A/N: Requested anonymous: “heyaaa, can you make harry potter x fem reader in which the reader is hermonie's elder sister and very popular in the school and harry has massive crush on her? like the song crush by tessa violet?” I also decided to write this in a more modern style! I feel like all my Harry Potter imagines end at a party?? But who cares.
Your laughter echoed through the hall before any of them could even see you. Harry immediately felt his heart speeding up, while Hermione next to him, only let out a sigh. You turned the corner and Harry, Hermione and Ron finally made eye contact with you. You had joked with Cedric Diggory and Harry felt an even deeper sting in his chest. Quickly, you waved your goodbye at the Hufflepuff boy before joining your sister and her friends.
“Mione, you look like seven days of rain were just announced!”
Hermione only rolled her eyes, no one really fully understood how the two of you were related. Ever since beginning your education a year prior to Hermione´s, you had been crowned one of the most popular students. Unlike her, who especially struggled with making friends in her first weeks, you were at ease with social contacts. Another difference was your approach at studying, you simply didn´t enjoy spending hours and hours at the library and yet, you weren´t bad at any subjects. You weren´t class best, but at the top five. Outgoing, adventurous, funny and charming; it was no wonder why everyone seemed to like you.
Usually, your popularity wasn´t a problem for your younger sister, but lately Hermione realized a changed she wasn´t very fond of.
Harry.
Within the past weeks, he had been daydreaming a lot and barely focused on anything anymore. And unlike Ron, who was probably last to find out if he wasn´t explicitly told, Hermione quickly realized why that was.
I can't focus on what needs to get done
I'm on notice hoping that you don't run,
“Haha, very funny Y/N!” You nudged her side grinning. “So, what are you guys up to anyways? Trouble I reckon?” Ron and Harry smiled as you chatted with them.
“Hermione makes us study for the upcoming potions exam”, Ron explained, which annoyed Hermione even more and you laughed lightly. “Ron, you should start listening to her, pretty sure she´s the only reason you haven´t failed.” You turned to the boy with the glasses.
“What about you Harry? Sentenced to study as well?”
Harry opened his mouth, but before any words left his lips, Hermione pulled him closer.
“Yes, his talent won´t let him pass all the exams!”
You gave the two boys a pitiful pout, but then switched back to your smirk.
“Anyways, I´ll have a date at Hogsmead to try on the upcoming summer collection!”
You think I'm tepid but I'm misdiagnosed
'Cause I'm a stalker, I seen all of your posts,
Two hours later, Harry got a notification on his phone; Y/N uploaded a picture on Wizagram! Hermione, who was currently too focused on Ron, didn´t see how Harry sneakily took his phone and hid it beneath the desk. You stood smiling widely in the shop Feathers and Fabrics, wearing a dress from the newest collection. Even though you had posted the picture only minutes ago, the likes were already rolling in and the comments didn´t hold back as well.
Harry read your caption; Guys, this is only a small sneak peek, just wait there will be more!
And I'm just tryna play it cool now
But that's not what I wanna do now
And I'm not tryna be with you now, you now
A lot of the comments were from female students. “You look so stunning!”
But then again, a few of your male followers couldn´t hold back. “Gee Y/n, is it hot in here, or is you?”
Harry felt heat rushing up to his head, but tried to play it cool, so his friends wouldn´t notice. Quickly he hit like and put the phone away, trying to focus back on studying. But the words in front of him were beginning to blur and tumble. You weren´t dating anyone currently, but everybody knew you had enough options. Fred and George even made bets on it, secretly hoping one of them could win you for themselves. Each time the topic was discussed, Harry felt the pit in his stomach, digging deeper and deeper. He was the chosen one, but would you ever choose him?
Hermione noticed her friend beginning to trail off, but it wasn´t the right time to address it yet.
The weekend approached, the old game of Gryffindor against Slytherin was in everybody’s mouth. Harry was just getting dressed for the game, then his eyes fell back on his phone. He unlocked it and found himself back on Wizagram, you had posted a boomerang in your story with the Weasley twins. Both of them wore their Quidditch uniform and leaned forward to kiss your cheek. You wore a hat with the Gryffindor colors and a light dress in red, while grinning widely into the camera. “Rooting for my fave team!”
Both Fred and George as well the Gryffindor Quidditch Account, who was proudly run by Oliver Wood, were tagged in the story. Harry quickly scrolled past, realizing that each of the tagged Accounts had reposted your story. It was stupid to think you wouldn´t root for him, but he wasn´t tagged, was he?
It’s a stupid crush, Harry reminded himself, but even later when he stepped onto the field with the team, his eyes only searched for you in the crowd.
But you found his glance as well, offering him a reassuring smile. It´s all he needed, those very few seconds of your attention and the game started.
The game was at tie, but the rooting and shouts from the fans kept going either way. Harry tried to play cool as he searched the arena, secretly searching for you. As he found you again, you hadn´t even moved from your seat, he noticed your eyes guiding him. Just above the tower of the Hufflepuffs, the golden snitch hovered. He didn´t have time to rethink and his muscles moved on their own as he leaned forward to start rushing. Draco tried his best to follow, but he was at the other end, and Harry easily caught the snitch and held it up proudly.
“And Harry Potter proves again, Gryffindor is unbeatable this season!” The speakers echoed and the crowd went even more crazy than before. All Harry could think about however, was he had to thank you. But the moment he landed back on his feet, he was carried off to the Gryffindor room, where the party immediately started.
It felt like eternity, until he finally found you in the overfilled place. But there you stood, smiling innocently at him, like you had been waiting all along for him to approach.
“I think I owe you a thank you.”
You make it difficult to not overthink
And when I'm with you I turn all shades of pink,
I wanna touch you but don't wanna be weird
It's such a rush, I'm thinking wish you were here,
Harry had to lean forward in order for you to hear him, feeling as your hair brushed against his skin. You winked at him. “Yeah, you do, but we´ll keep it between us.”
He wanted to lean further, his hand twitched as he tried not to reach out and touch the bare skin of your arms. Even your smell felt divine to him. Before he could speak up again, Niall Atkinson, he was a year older than you, wrapped an arm around your waist.
“Y/n, let´s dance!” He offered loudly as he pulled you closer. In the same second, Ron, Fred and George swept Harry into their circle to begin dancing as well, even though it was more an uncontrolled jumping. Harry could only catch your apologizing glance, before the space closed and the two of you were pulled into different directions.
And I'm just tryna play it cool now
But that's not what I wanna do now
And I'm not tryna be with you now, you now
He truly wanted to celebrate the success with his team, but his attraction craved more of your presence. But what was he supposed to say? Sorry, I have to run after the girl, that everybody anyway wants and is also my best friends’ older sister, but my biggest crush?
No, he couldn’t.
So, he tried to overplay it, danced and jumped around with Ron, but the shine in his eyes was gone. Hermione sat on the stairs, glancing back and forth between you and Harry. She knew both of you well enough, to tell that neither of you were fully happy at the moment. An inaudible sigh escaped her mouth, what was once jealousy, turned into sadness. Yes, her best friend had the biggest crush on her sister, but what no one knew, was your crush. You had never told Hermione, or anyone for that matter, but the reason why you never accepted a date offer, was because the wrong people asked you out. Hermione didn´t fear losing Harry as a friend anymore, she much more feared that the two of you never even got a chance to be happy together, and instead ended unhappily alone. She had to do something.
Then, an idea formed in her brilliant mind.
You starred on your phone; Harry had sent you a dm on Wizagram. He had never texted you, your history simply persisted in you tagging him, when you posted stories. Usually, you hung around Hermione at the three broomsticks and more so often, you tagged the trio in your account.
I wanted to talk to you, can we meet outside at the corner to the girl’s bathroom?
Your heart skipped a beat, quickly you looked up to check, if anyone had noticed your blush, no one had. You couldn´t make out Harry either, but you quickly excused yourself from Niall. Whatever was happening, you found it quite exhilarating. You answered with a quick yes and Hermione hastily logged out of Harry´s account. Harry was a brilliant wizard with many talents, but writing down his password in his herbology book wasn´t the smartest move.
Hermione grinned, her plans always worked out.
But I could be your crush, like, throw you for a rush, like
Hopin' you'd text me so I could tell you
I been thinking 'bout your touch like
“Harry!” The brown-haired boy looked up to find his friend approaching him, Hermione smiled brightly. Almost too brightly, but Harry wasn´t focused enough to realize that something was up.
“Have you seen Y/n?”
Harry quickly shook his head and Hermione, good actress as she was, put on a thinking mien.
“I haven´t seen her as well, just wanted to make sure she´s okay, she´s been so quiet lately.”
“Quiet? I didn´t notice”, Harry explained and Hermione could literally watch how his thoughts began running around you. “I´m sure it´s nothing, but I think I´m going to check her room.”
“I can check outside!” Harry quickly announced, she had to suppress a laughter, he was easily tricked. But instead, Hermione nodded agreeing and while she only took the first few steps up, Harry hurried outside, not wasting any time. Only seconds before, you had left the room as well. Everything was coming together.
Touch, touch, touch, touch, touch
I could be your crush, crush, crush, crush, crush
I got a fascination with your presentation
Makin' me feel like you're on my island
You're my permanent vacation
Touch, touch, touch, touch, touch
You stood outside, hiding behind a corner and almost disappearing in a nook, but Harry immediately recognized your figure. You looked up from the phone in your hands and felt as a smile crawled upon your lips. Harry felt his heart fastening and he approached with swift feet.
“Hey, are you okay?” He asked with worries in his voice, your brows furrowed. Something felt off, but you pushed that feeling to the side. It was probably just your nervousness. “Yeah, I´m good, are you enjoying your party?”
Harry shrugged, his eyes traveling to the floor. “It´s always a bit of the same, isn´t it?”
You nodded agreeing and a short, awkward silence formed. “What was it, you wanted to talk to me about?”
Harry looked up, now confusion in his expression as well. He wondered, if you had noticed his change of behavior towards you. But he never mentioned it out loud, or did?
But you watched his reaction closely, something clearly was up and while Harry was still trying to piece everything together, you took out your phone again. Holding up the screen, which enlightened the dark hallway, you showed him the text.
“Y/n, I´m so sorry, I don´t know how… I didn´t send that text…” Harry stumbled over the words and regret rolled over him. It wasn´t his fault, and yet he felt responsible for pulling you away from the party. You on the other hand felt shame rising and your cheeks heated with fire. His text had seemed too surprising from the beginning on, you should´ve known better. You felt stupid and wanted to crawl into a deep, dark hole and never come out again. Stupid crush!
Letting out a loud sigh, you sat down on the bench of the nook, putting your hands to cover your face.
“Did you just say stupid crush?”
Oh, if it was heat in your cheeks before, then hell just got unleashed. Where is that hole of shame, when you needed it the most?
Harry carefully sat down next to you, with your hands still up, you only felt the slight air breeze. “I shouldn´t be saying this, you´re Hermione´s sister, but I like you.” He paused shortly.
“A lot. More than I ever should.”
Swiftly, you glanced through your fingers at him. “You do?”
Barely a whisper as you opened your mouth, but enough to watch as Harry nodded. Slowly you took down your hands, now starring at him with a blank expression.
“Why did you never say anything?”
Harry couldn´t help but huff. “Y/n, have you seen yourself? You´re school queen, nobody hates you, not even Draco Malfoy! You´re always on top of the grades and basically the entire Quidditch team has a crush on you. On the side, you´re head girl and you´re modeling for Feathers and Fabrics. And to all that, you don´t even realize, how undeniably stunning you look and how your kind words inspire me every day?”
I could be your crush, crush, crush, crush, crush
Sorry
And yeah, it's true that I'm a little bit intense, right
But can you blame me when you keep me on the fence, like?
And I've been waitin', hopin' that you'd wanna text like
Text like
It's what I was born to do
And yeah, it's true that I'm a little bit intense, right
As he spoke, you jumped off your seat, feeling a wave of way too many feelings rave inside of you. “Harry Potter!”
Finally, he looked up as well and just to find you gaping at him. “Why by Merlin´s beard, would I care about the Quidditch team? Do you think I don´t know about the bets going on, on who´s going to be my boyfriend? The only reason because I don´t have a boyfriend yet, is because the only boy I´m interested in, was too shy to ask me out! And imagine, he´s brave enough to fight Voldemort instead!”
It was Harry´s turn to search for that hole of shame and he couldn´t help, but facepalm himself. There was no way that the situation could’ve been more awkward and playing cool wasn´t an option either. You listened to your heartbeat slowing down and your chest lifted heavily after your outburst.
“If I had known about your crush…” You trailed off, your words now barely a whisper anymore.
And I'm just tryna play it cool now
But that's not what I wanna do now
And I'm not tryna be with you now, you now
Finally, Harry lifted himself off the bench as well, walking towards you. “I didn´t send that text, but maybe I can ask you out in real life?”
A shy smile was on his lips, it suited him so well in the dim light.
“I´d like that very much.”
Carefully, you leaned forward, feeling his warm breath on your skin. “But let´s not tell anyone just yet, we have to find a way to get back to my sister.”
Harry furrowed his eyebrow, but quickly realized as well, who had hacked his account.
“Sounds like a good plan.”
Grinning, you finally felt his warm lips brushing against yours. It had taken a couple of misleadings, but your crush had found its way in the end.
But I could be your crush, like, throw you for a rush, like
Hopin' you'd text me so I could tell you
I been thinkin' 'bout your touch like
#harry potter imagine#harry potter oneshot#harry potter x reader#daniel radcliffe#harry potter fanfiction#mariamermaidimagine
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𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞
leviathan x female reader smut
warnings ; possessive dom reader, sensitive sub levi, marking/love bites/hickeys, tail and horn grabbing, riding, dirty talk, thigh squeezing (even tho he got some chopstick lady legs), orgasm denial, edging, rough sex, squirting
a/n : im going to do a few dominant reader chapters, since i usually write for a submissive reader. though, ive been finding that i repeat the same actions every time i do a sub reader. so, to change things up for now, i'll do a few dominant reader chapters with different types of kinks and all. besides, being a dom writer is a bit troublesome to write for a sub reader when you have no idea what they act like when sub. whether they're bratty, flustered, blunt, or anything else, ive got no clue. all i know is how to be a possessive easily jealous dom 🤷♀️ also this was supposed to be out by last night lmao oops.
word count : 1.7k+
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sucking and biting, the endless whimpers and whines from the demon never stopped. straddling his lap, grinding against his hard erection, teasing and tempting him more. "a-ah~" a small moan fell from his lips, causing me to lift up my head and stare into his sunset colored eyes. lust, passion, love. many more emotions were held within them, tense and raw.
"levi," his name flowed off my tongue, my eyes piercing into his as the blush upon his pale cheeks grew a more intense color of redish pink. "you naughty boy."
planting my face back into the crook of his neck, i licked a spot before attaching my teeth to it, sucking before digging in the skin, not harsh enough to cause it to bust and bleed, but gentle enough to leave a deep mark. a mark to show who exactly leviathan belongs to.
seeing his horns, i reached up, gently stroking them before clasping my hand around them gently, knowing how sensitive they are. loud erotic sounds erupted from levi's throat, his face flushing an even deeper red shade then before.
chuckling to myself, i licked them softly before sliding myself from his body and to my knees. grabbing the hem of his pants, i tugged them down, revealing the tight tent in his boxers, a small wet stain with white. licking my lips, i slipped his pants off before grabbing ahold of his legs, holding them in my hands and kissing at his skin softly, before starting to suck and nibble, then leaving more marks.
planning to mark the demon head to toe, i stared into his eyes, a wicked smile spread across my lips as i could see slight tears come to the brim of his eyelids. "(y/n) please~" he moaned out softly, his forked tongue bit between his teeth as i neared closer to the tent hidden behind his underwear. "not yet, levi. you've been a good boy this far, so continue before i decided to be rougher."
nipping more at his smooth thighs, i left more marks amongst his pale skin. teeth digging in his flesh, leaving red marks that would surely bruise. licking at them softly as i left more and more behind every spot i went to, i turned my slightly to see levi's face. his hair was disheveled, his face red and his forked tongue out, saliva present on it. his eyes were closed, his neck starting to bruise and become red from the previous marks left on his skin.
smiling to myself, I continued my work down here. levi's tail was in view, a thought going through my head. reaching over and gently grabbing it, a loud moan escaped levi's lips. rubbing my thumb along his scales, feeling just exactly how cold to the touch it was. i knew he had scale markings amongst is body, seeing as i had already stimulated those on his neck.
releasing his tail, my hands grasped back on his thighs, causing him to yelp in surprise. feeling the soft skin within my hands, as well as feeling the dent of my marks on them, i looked at what i made. there were already bruises forming, some parts having red spots showing that blood would pop up if i had just bitten a little harder.
"levi, baby." i spoke softly, my hands moving up his thighs and towards his hips until my fingers latched onto the hem of his boxers. "you've been good so far. hold on a little more, alrighty?" i moved up, planting kisses amongst his stomach and up his chest to meet his lips, placing a gentle kiss upon them.
slipping his underwear off from his hips and down his legs, i made quick disposal of them. looking down to see in between his legs was his erection, standing straight up, pre-cum leaking from the tip and down the rest of his length. the veins under the skin were clear, able to be seen. biting my bottom lip, i moved to see levi's expression.
his expression was the same before, except his eyes were open, revealing those sunset eyes i had found myself to fall in love with. leaning in, i pressed my lips against his. "be patient, be a good boy for me levi." i whispered against his mouth. he let out a soft grunt, watching as i moved back to take off my own clothes.
lifting up my shirt and unclipping my bra, i dropped those clothing items to the ground before ridding myself of my shorts and panties. leaving my clothes to accompany levi's on the ground, i moved back towards his body, still sitting in the chair he'd sit in to game.
his face got even more red, if that was even a possibility. straddling his lap, i hovered above his reaction, only moving down to tease the tip to my slit, letting it feel how wet ive become.
his hands moved from the arm rests of the chair and settled on my hips, grasping them lightly. leaning into his touch, i nuzzled against his skin, feeling the vibrations of his soft moans. pressing a kiss to one of the bruises forming, i lowered myself onto his length.
my walls sucked him in, his size stretching me once more and soaking in the slick within my entrance. slowly lowering, i stopped when it was all in. staying still, i let my body get accustomed to the new sensation. once ready, i lifted my hips from off him before slamming myself back down, a loud moan ripping from my throat, mingling with levi's own groan in the air.
examining his eyes, i saw small tears form in them. bringing my hand up, i wiped them away before pressing a kiss to his adams apple. lifting my hips back up, i started to form a rhythm, sliding off and on to his cock as my hips moved up and down. the tip entered at a harsh pace, pushing against my spongey spot, before continuing its way deep into me before coming out.
angling my hips for him to hit that special spot, he started to thrust up, falling into a small sync with my own pace. more moans ripped through my throat, my hands moving from his shoulders to his horns, grasping ahold of the bases of them and leaning into him.
bouncing amongst his cock, my breasts moving with every harsh thrust against him, i stared into his eyes. seeing all the emotions within them, mixing and stirring around. as his tip kept hitting my special spot, the rest of his cock following to press against it, the veins pressing harder, more moans came from out me.
gripping his horns harder, running my thumb up and down them, i stimulated the demon under me more, bringing him closer to his orgasm. "(y/n)!" he gasped, more tears forming at the brim of his eyes. "i-i'm gonna cum soon!" he gasped out. rubbing harsher, faster amongst his horns as i kept a steady pace with his member, i could feel him twitch inside of me.
before he could cum, i lifted my hips up and away from his, hearing a desperate whine come out his throat. confusion and desperation were written within his face.
"not yet, i havent gave you permission to cum, naughty boy." I whispered into his ear before turning myself around, until back was pressed up against his. his hands grasped ahold of my hips once more, his length ready to penetrate me once more and bring him closer to his and my orgasm.
sliding my onto his length, i felt the bit of cum that did escape from him. panting slightly as he started to move once more, this time with every soft thrust he gave, it hit my g-spot. his tail was flicking around against the ground, my eyes following its length until i found the base of it. grabbing ahold, i felt the cold scales against my warm fingers.
stimulating and putting more pleasure into levi, his hips started to thrust harder against me, chasing our orgasms as his tip kept hitting against my g-spot at a fast pace, the veins at the top of his cock pushing against them as well.
gasping, i closed my eyes from the feeling, enjoying the pleasure i was receiving. wet moans and the sound of his hips slamming up to meet mine filled within the room.
"Levi~!" his name fell from my lips, as i felt my orgasm coming closer. determined, he kept thrusting against my hips, until a certain groan rumbled from his throat. a signal that he was going to cum.
pushing my hips against his as much as i could, the knot within my lower abdomen broke as my walls clenched down around his length, my body shaking against his as my own cum gushed out of my body. he soon released after i had, his body shaking slightly as his grip against my hips tightened, his nails digging and piercing into my skin.
his semen spurted from his tip, and into my entrance, painting it all white with his cum. panting, i let go of his tail, and turning to rest my head against his chest.
his arms enclosed around me, embracing and caging me into his touch. "good boy," i breathed out before placing a kiss to his collar bone where one of his scales were.
"but we're not done just yet." a wicked smile formed across my face.
#obey me#obey me leviathan#obey me leviathan x reader#obey me leviathan x female reader#obey me smut#leviathan#leviathan x reader#leviathan x female reader#leviathan x female reader smut#x reader#smut#x female reader#reader insert#female reader insert
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Lonely Heart || Rafe Cameron
Chapter Four - Tainted Love
chapter summary: Janelle comes over to talk and starts to show her true colors. You and John B. go surfing where he gets you to open up to him about your mom. An unlikely friend saves you from falling into what seems like a trap.
warnings: angst, swearing, mentions of familial death, a beer is mentioned
word count: 4.3k+
author’s note: yeah uhhh don’t hate me for this lol. i wanna fight her too. as always, please leave me some feedback and let me know if you’re enjoying this series <3
read chapter three here!
series playlist | series masterlist | main masterlist
You didn’t leave the house much. You didn’t want to risk running into Rafe or Janelle anywhere. Topper had dropped by a couple of times just to check on you and see how your mother was doing. Sarah was over the most, refusing to let you waste away in your room by yourself. She was going back to school at Chapel Hill, splitting her time between the mainland and the island. You’d tried to insist she didn’t have to come over every other day, but she wasn’t taking no for an answer. ‘You’re my best friend. You can try and shut everyone else out, but not me.’ she’d said.
Your mother had an appointment that day to have a brain MRI. They wanted to check the tumor and make sure the chemotherapy was helping slow the growth or at least keep the tumor at bay for the time being. Her form of cancer was aggressive and there was a chance the chemo would only work for so long. Eventually the tumor would stop reacting to it and continue growing rapidly. Your parents told you the visit was boring and you’d be in the waiting room the whole time so they made you stay home.
You stared at the fresh cup of tea in front of you, robotically dipping the tea bag in and out of the scalding water. Your mind was consumed with thoughts of Rafe, as much as you tried not to think about him. You couldn’t comprehend why he’d ghosted you and started dating your best friend. Was he ashamed of loving her and feared you’d think you were replaced? Truthfully, it is how you felt. He pushed you out and made more room for Janelle in his life, letting her fill a place you thought would always be yours.
Your whole perspective on your life was forced to change. The dreams and goals you’d had when you were younger, picturing Rafe by your side, you’d instead achieved and chased by yourself. You went to college parties and drowned yourself in booze to ignore how wrong it felt being there. You had mindlessly hooked up with fraternity douchebags, hoping it would fill the void in your chest. It never did. You had tried to go on dates with guys who were so sweet and nothing short of gentlemen, but none of them managed to wow you. They weren’t rough around the edges with just enough attitude to keep you in check. They were soft, men you could walk all over and they’d let you. They weren’t Rafe. You hated yourself for comparing them all to him, but he was all you’d ever known. He was all you ever wanted.
Guilt started eating away at you for focusing so much on the boy who unknowingly broke your heart. Your mother was dying for God’s sake. You should be putting all of your attention on her and making sure she was happy in what was going to be the last year of her life. You were upset with yourself for being so angry with her for not telling you about the engagement. It wasn’t their fault your closest friends were a couple of backstabbers.
The shrill ring of the doorbell ripped you from your thoughts. You abandoned the now cold cup of tea at the coffee table, sock clad feet sliding across the hardwood as you moved through the house. You glanced down at the oversized shirt you were wearing, biker shorts poking out underneath. You had a feeling your unruly hair was sticking out in all directions from the bun it was in but couldn’t find it in yourself to care.
The moment you ripped the front door open, you tried to slam it right back closed. Bile rose in your throat as you pushed against their body, growling, “Get the fuck off my porch.”
“I’m here to talk, Y/N, please!” Janelle protested, trying to look at you through the crack in the white painted door without having it crushed. “Just give me ten minutes.”
You hesitated, pausing against the door. Words couldn’t describe how hurt you were that she’d kept this from you for years. She had been one of your best friends. She knew things about you that your own parents didn’t know — that Rafe himself didn’t know. Could it hurt to at least try and hear her out?
You finally pulled the door open, avoiding her striking green eyes and waving your arm out to let her in. You shut the door loudly behind her and moved to the couch. “Ten minutes,” you stated, sitting at one end while she took a spot on the other.
“How’s your mom?” she started, giving you a sad smile.
You shrugged once, responding monotonously with, “Fine.”
“Y/N, I’m sorry,” Janelle said softly, seemingly sincere as she stared at her lap. You kept quiet and didn’t show any change in emotion on your face, so she continued, “I should have told you. The second things changed with Rafe and I, I should have come to you about it.”
You closed your eyes for a moment and breathed in deeply as to collect your thoughts. There were a million things you could say to her right now, most more unpleasant than others. You sighed, “You knew how much I loved him, Janelle. You were the only person I told. Do you understand how much of a slap to the face this is?”
“I know. I broke, like, the first rule in girl code. I suck,” she replied, shaking her head a bit. She had been avoiding your eyes but looked back over, “We didn’t expect it, you know. It just kind of… happened. Things were really rough for both of us for a while and I guess it made us closer. We were able to connect on a deeper level.”
You stared at her, unable to read the expression on her face. You couldn’t pinpoint one sort of emotion swimming in her eyes. A weight settled on your shoulders, something within you feeling unnerved.
“Do you love him?”
There it was, a smile. The first real emotion the dark haired girl had shown you since she stepped foot in the house. Did she even care about you at all? Did she care that this was ripping you apart inside? “Of course I do. I wouldn’t have said yes to marrying him if I didn’t,” her response lit a fire within your chest, spreading through every nerve ending in your body.
“Then why did you never seem interested in him before?” you questioned, watching the creases form between her eyebrows. “You chased after Kelce for two years without giving up. You never once gave any indication that you were remotely interested in Rafe until I left, apparently.”
You were simmering in pent up anger and betrayal, jealousy sitting just below the surface. Though, you kept yourself calm, refusing to let those emotions through. You knew Janelle like the back of your hand and you knew there was more to this. You wanted to push her until she said exactly what she was thinking. The slow contort of her face into an angry scowl proved to you that it was working.
“You don’t just wake up one day and decide, hm, I’m in love with this person now, Janelle. How do you even know if what you have is real?”
“Well maybe if you weren’t so conceited and wrapped up in yourself you would have noticed,” Janelle spit, the olive toned tan to her face turning a light shade of pink. “Everyday I had to listen to you bitch and moan about how he’d never love you back. All you did was cry because you were too scared to tell him how you felt. I always loved him but you always made everything about you.”
You blood boiled under your skin. Your face became hot and you clenched your hands in your lap to keep them from shaking. Your bottom lip was sure to start bleeding soon with how tightly you bit it between your teeth.
“You weren’t there for the fights with Ward, when he called him names and made him feel less than. You weren’t there for the nights he got black out drunk because he wanted to forget. You weren’t there for the fucking cocain addiction that almost ruined his whole life,” Janelle seethed, leaning closer to you with every word she spoke.
Your jaw clenched painfully as you grit out, “How was I supposed to be there when he’s the one who cut me out of his life?”
“He cut you out of his life to send you a message, Y/N!” Janelle shouted through a laugh, a condescending smile settling on her lips. “He was so happy when you moved to California because he was finally free! He wasn’t being suffocated by you anymore!”
“That’s not true,” you whispered, shaking your head quickly. Your mind flashed back to your going away party. The soft voices and gentle touches. The way he looked at you like you were the only person he had eyes for — at least that’s what you thought.
“It is, and the sooner you accept that, the better. Rafe doesn’t love you,” the raven haired girl stated. Your glossy eyes flickered to hers. The bright green in them was gone and replaced with a cold, mossy color. “He never loved you. He never will love you the way you’re so desperate for him to. You moving was the best thing that ever happened to him — to us.”
You stayed seated on the couch as she got up and slung her entirely too large of a purse over her shoulder. Your eyes were full to brim with tears that you refused to let fall in front of her. You wouldn’t let her see how much this was ruining you. This wasn’t the girl you’d met back when you were ten years old, it was a completely different person. Or maybe she had been this person the whole time, and you had just been a pawn in some sick game. Only did you look at her when she opened the front door.
“And Y/N,” the sweet tone replaced the venomous one she used only moments ago. “Stay away from him. I don’t need you messing with his head before the wedding.”
The door slammed and you sat there, allowing the tears to flow down your flushed cheeks. You didn’t sob, you didn’t scream and throw things around like most would have thought. It was just a silent flow of saltiness that felt never ending. A numbing feeling came over you as you let Janelle’s words absorb into your head. Had you really been so blind by your own love for Rafe you never saw hers? Had you been so stupid to think the Kook Prince would fall for someone as ordinary as you?
You don’t know if it was only minutes or maybe hours that you sat on the couch, blankly staring at the wall. Eventually, you finally pulled yourself up and located your phone. There was one thing you knew would help you escape the depression spiral you were heading down. And there was one person you could call who would be willing to do it with you — despite hardly knowing you at all.
“Hello?” John B. sounded utterly confused as to why you were calling him.
“H-Hey, I uh, I know this is weird,” your voice was dry and you cleared your throat, “Do you, i dunno, maybe wanna go surfing with me?”
—
You sat on top of your board out where the water was calmer, watching John B. pull off an intricate trick with his own surfboard. You hummed in thought, wishing you could pull off some of the moves he did. You tended to just catch the biggest wave you could and ride it out for as long as possible. You’d picked up some things over the years, but just riding out a long wave was your favorite feeling. You loved the rush, like you were flying.
“You’re really good,” you complimented the brunette as he made his way back out to you.
“Thanks,” John B. chuckled, moving to straddle his board just as you were, “You’re pretty good at riding out the big ones. I bet I could get JJ to teach you some things. He’s better than I am.”
You laughed softly and shook your head, brushing your wet hair behind your back, “JJ would rather scrub Heyward’s boat to the bone than hang out with me.”
“He’s not that bad,” the Routledge boy tried to defend his friend. “Well, not anymore. He’s more… tolerant.”
You hummed in response, staring out into the open water where the edges curved at the horizon. The sun was beginning to go down, casting an orange glow over everything around you. John B. watched you, seeing the gears turning in your head. He’d barely seen you smile all day and from what Sarah had told him, surfing always made you happiest.
“You wanna talk about it?”
You turned to look at him, his soft hazel eyes saying It’s okay, you can trust me. You sighed heavily and averted your gaze to the purple and white board below you. You could feel that you wanted to cry again but your eyes remained dry, like you had nothing left in you. The hollow feeling in your chest felt like it was going to swallow you whole.
“You sure you want my demons weighing on your conscience?” you asked playfully, the corners of your mouth upturning slightly.
John B. smiled softly, shrugging a bit, “We all have our demons, Y/N. Some worse than others.”
You nodded and eyed him for a moment longer before asking, “What was it like.. to lose your dad?”
The curly haired boy sucked in a breath. It had been four years but it never got easier. His dad was all he had and then he was alone, still a child having to grow up entirely too fast. He let out a soft breath, “It was hard. I didn’t know what happened to him for nine months, and then to find out he was dead? It was like a part of me died with him.”
You nodded, silently listening along as he opened up to you.
“It was painful and ugly. I lashed out at my friends… It’s still painful sometimes. I try to think about the good things though. The fishing trips on his boat, going to work with him.. His horrendous endeavour to find The Royal Merchant,” he paused to laugh at the memory, and you did too. You’d heard enough stories about him and his friends searching for the lost gold as well. “I know he’s still with me. He watches over me. Your mom will too.”
You nodded again, bottom lip quivering slightly. Your voice was strained as you spoke, “It fucking sucks seeing her like this. Everyday I feel like I can tell she’s getting worse.”
“I regret not being around more the last couple of years. If I had known this was going to happen I would have done so many things differently.”
John B. waded his board closer to you, resting his hand on yours that was gripping your knee. His eyes were remorseful, lips turned down in a frown. His father’s death was sudden and unexpected. He understood your pain but he also had no idea how to handle knowing the inevitable was coming. He couldn’t imagine watching someone you love slowly slip away.
“Don’t think about that. Don’t beat yourself up for what you didn’t do or wish you did. Spend this time reminding your mom how much you love her and helping make these last moments she has some of the best. Make more memories with her that you’ll look back on and smile at,” he told you, squeezing your fingers softly.
You met John B.’s eyes again and nodded, giving him a soft smile. It was nice to talk to someone who didn’t exactly know you on that personal level but could also relate to you. He had experienced a loss like you were about to and it was refreshing to hear how he coped with it and get some advice. You wondered exactly how much Sarah had told him but it was nice that he was judging you. Maybe years ago, he would have thrown it back in your face, called you a snob and any other insult he could think of. Maybe it was dating Kook that changed his outlook, or he’d grown up and matured and realized the stupid rivalry wasn’t worth being a complete dick all the time.
John B. drifted away from you again when he saw you seemed more relaxed, he looked out where the sun was starting to dip below the horizon. He offered, “Why don’t you come back to the Chateau with me? Sarah’s coming over and I know she’s dying to get you to hang with us.”
You contemplated for a moment, unsure how inviting the other Pogues would be to another Kook in their company. But for once, getting out and being around other people sounded a lot better than going home and burying yourself in Ben and Jerry’s while binge watching a show you’d already seen. So you nodded and smiled, “Yeah, that sounds nice.”
—
Rafe didn’t listen to Topper’s advice of leaving you alone. He couldn’t pretend like seeing after all of these years wasn’t a sucker punch to the gut. He kept replaying everything over the course of five years in his head. He couldn’t stop thinking about what he could’ve done differently. The different outcomes of his actions replayed in his head like a broken record. What could have happened if he hadn’t cut you out of his life? Would you have ended up together in the end, despite the distance? Should he have told you how he felt that day, when it felt like your gentle touch was the only thing holding him together?
He traveled out onto the South side and watched from his truck as you and John B. left the beach. He thought about getting out and speaking to you there but instead he watched from the shadows as you strapped your surfboard to the top of your mother’s car and drove away behind the Volkswagen.
Against his better judgement, Rafe followed you. He stayed far enough behind that you wouldn’t recognize his truck. He knew his way to the Routledge boy’s house anyway. Many a night’s he had gone there when he was younger and looking for trouble, or when he got older, to pick up his sister when she didn’t have a ride. He knew that’s where you were heading. He would pretend it didn’t bother him slightly that you were hanging out with the Pogues. He’d grown more accustomed to seeing them around but the roots of the rivalry were still deeply embedded within him. He still thought they were at the bottom of the food chain.
You didn’t think much of the headlights that pulled up behind your car, thinking Sarah had just arrived. You dug around in the backseat, trying to gather the things that had spilled from your bag. The headlights shut off and it was quiet for a moment. You heard John B. curse softly and your heart nearly stopped when you heard the voice.
“Sup, John B.?” Rafe’s gruff voice filled the air, nodding his head at his sister’s boyfriend.
“Rafe,” the Routledge boy greeted back, an edge to his tone.
You slowly removed yourself from the car, turning to face the last person you wanted to see, next to Janelle. You hated the way your heart skipped a beat when his azure irises met yours. He swallowed thickly, waiting for you to make the first move, which you did.
“What are you doing here?”
“I- I uh,” Rafe’s hand came up to rub the back of his neck, eyes leaving yours to stare at the ground. “I don’t know. I wanted to see you.”
You scoffed and shook your head, reaching back into the car to get your bag. He hesitantly moved closer and continued, “I’m worried about you, Y/N. I know things are weird right now and I’m sorry about your mom but I-”
“Don’t,” you snapped, standing upright and slamming the car door, “Don’t pretend like you fucking care.”
“I do care. I just want to talk.”
“You had five years to talk, Rafe!” you shouted, voice shaking as you did so. You bit the inside of your lip and begged your body not to betray you. You didn’t need him seeing you cry. “I waited and waited for you to talk to me. I asked myself ‘why’ for years! You’ve moved on with your life, that’s fine, I can accept that. But don’t expect me to be a part of it anymore. Just go back to pretending I don’t exist.”
Even from a distance Rafe could see the glaze to your eyes. He could see your body shaking as you tried to keep yourself composed. It looked like you were about to fall apart in front of him and it made his chest ache. You always were the one to pretend to be strong for as long as you could until it crushed you. He shook his head and tried again, “Y/N, please, you don’t understa-”
“Yo, Rafe! Didn’t know you were stopping by!” you turned to see JJ Maybank bouncing down the porch steps, an arrogant smirk painted on his chapped lips. His unruly hair stuck out from the edges of his backwards baseball cap. He was shirtless, flaunting his physique in only a pair of grey cargo shorts. He’d heard you yelling and figured he may as well come investigate.
“Maybank,” Rafe greeted the Pogue stiffly, a lot more tense than he’d been around John B.
The younger blonde boy threw his arm around your shoulders as he came to your side, catching you by surprise. You glanced up at him, but his eyes never left Rafe, his smirk widening. You didn’t see the look of anger that flashed across your former best friend’s face, a fire igniting in his eyes — JJ caught it though, and he was going to run with it.
“I heard about the engagement, man, congrats!” JJ spoke enthusiastically and you had to resist rolling your eyes. You suddenly had the urge to throw up like on the Druthers, but you swallowed the feeling down. Your eyes met Rafe’s again as JJ kept going, “Don’t you have, like, a cake tasting to get to or something?”
Rafe’s hands curled into fists, knuckles cracking as he squeezed. If anyone knew how to get under his skin in just the right way, it was the Maybank boy. He breathed out slowly through his nose, choosing to ignore the comments from the Pogue. He pleaded with you, “Can we just talk, real quick? Please?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, bro. Y/N’s really busy right now,” JJ answered for you, tilting his head to look down at you, “Aren’t you, bubs?”
You stared up into the tan blonde’s indigo eyes that were screaming at you not to go to him. You knew he was trying to help you, but you weren’t friends. You didn’t understand why he came to your defense so quick. He could have just let you stand out there and allow Rafe to rope you back in like you knew he could.
“She can speak for herself,” Rafe snapped at JJ who looked back at him with a raised eyebrow. You hadn’t moved out from under his arm so clearly you had no interest in going to the Kook.
“Go home, Rafe,” you said, turning with JJ to walk up to the Chateau. “Wouldn’t want to suffocate you anymore,” you took a dig, repeating what Janelle had said to you earlier in the day.
Rafe stood there, watching as you walked to the porch, wrapped in someone else’s arms — someone he despised. His heart pounded harder in his chest the further you got away from him, like you were taking it with you. He silently got back in his truck and backed out, tires squealing as he peeled off down the road. He gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles, breathing raggedly. Wouldn’t want to suffocate you anymore. Those words bothered him, knowing he’d heard something like that before but he couldn’t recall when, where or more importantly, who.
“Well that couldn’t have been anymore awkward,” John B. stated as he led you into the house.
You’d expected JJ to drop his arm the second Rafe was gone, but he didn’t, guiding you into the kitchen for you to put down your bag. You sighed heavily and rubbed your face with the hand not pinned to your side, “I’m sorry about that. And thank you, JJ, you didn’t have to do all that.”
The boy hummed and waved his hand, finally stepping away from you and moving to the fridge, “The guy’s an asshole and needs to learn he can’t always get what he wants. Especially after what happened on daddy dearest’s boat.”
You felt your face flush, looking over at John B. who held his hands up as if he was surrendering, “I didn’t say anything, swear.”
“Word travels fast ‘round these parts,” JJ clarified, walking back over and handing you a beer. He sat down in one of the chairs at the kitchen table, patting the one beside him for you. “C’mon, tell your good pal JJ what the Prince fucked up this time.”
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“Shall we, Princess?” • Todoroki Shouto
Summary • You know absolutely nothing about Prince Shouto, but as the princess of a neighboring kingdom, you’re going to marry him anyway. A conversation with a stranger in the palace gardens sheds some light on Prince Shouto’s personality, and maybe this marriage won’t be so bad after all.
Pairing • Mer Prince!Todoroki Shouto x Mer Princess!Reader
Word Count • 5.1k
Tags and Warnings • Mer and royalty au, arranged marriage, fluff, mer culture, kissing, and a wedding.
Note • A fic for @bnhabookclub’s Mermay event! The wonderful members of the book club helped me brainstorm, sprinted with me, and a special thanks to the lovely @rivendell101, @katsukook, and @sadistiks for beta reading this fic! I am a sucker for mermaid aus, so this was a joy to write.
–
The palace is large and luxurious, gleaming with wealth from top to bottom. Jewels and large pearls glimmer in the walls, and most of the decor shine of gold. Although you live in a castle too, you can’t keep your eyes from widening as you swivel your head back and forth to take everything in.
“This way, Your Majesties, Your Highness,” a mermaid says, bowing. She straightens up and brushes soft brown hair out of her eyes, smiling at you and your parents, her cheeks pink.
She escorts you and your parents to the wing of the palace where you are to stay for the week until the wedding is over. Your expression sours at the thought of the wedding as you sink into your bed, staring up at the ceiling that’s embedded with little shells. How are you supposed to marry someone you’ve never met before?
The only things you know about the Todoroki Kingdom are things you learned from your history tutor and from listening to your parents’ discussions. You only know a bit about the King and Queen, and absolutely nothing about your soon-to-be husband: Prince Shouto.
What is he like? Is he kind to his subjects? Does he only seek power and glory and fame? Or is he like your parents: caring and just?
You’re pulled from your thoughts as your bubbly, pink-haired attendant bursts into the room. “Why in the seas are you already in bed? Haven’t you heard? You have a welcome celebration to get ready for!”
You groan but push yourself off the bed, swimming to a stop in front of multiple woven baskets, all filled with clothes and accessories. “What am I wearing for the celebration, Mina?”
She starts digging through the baskets and you move to help her, lifting up various pieces of clothing and stuffing them back when she shakes her head.
“Aha! This one!” She pulls out long stretches of dark blue fabric that are the same rich shade as the main color of your tail, although your tail is sprinkled with silver scales that shine against the midnight blue. Like all traditional mer attire, the cloth can be assembled in different styles, draped artfully across your skin. Mina wraps one strip of fabric around your chest. She tucks the other pieces under the first one, letting them flare out behind you, swaying in the ripples that your tail makes as it gently fans back and forth, keeping you in place.
You’re quiet as she moves to another basket, pulling out strings of pearls and delicate shells. She drapes some around your neck, weaving others into the cloth so they glitter like stars in the night sky.
As a finishing touch, Mina sets a thin circlet of silver, sapphires, and pearls on top of your head that pairs well with the blue of your tail and the cloth. “There,” she says fondly, “You’re ready to go.”
As if on cue, a knock sounds on your door. Your father’s voice tells you that it’s time to make your way to the ballroom where the welcoming celebration is taking place.
You swim behind your mother and father, keeping your shoulders back and chin tilted slightly up. Although you never asked to marry someone you’ve never met, you will do it for your parents and for the sake of your kingdom, and you will do it in a way that will not bring shame to anyone.
A young merman with bright blonde hair and a dark stripe running through it bends at his waist to you and your parents. “Your Majesties, Your Highness, welcome to the Todoroki Kingdom. On behalf of the royal family, I hope you enjoy the festivities.” He straightens and pulls open the large doors, swimming out to the little balcony overlooking the ballroom filled with mer dressed in their finest outfits. “Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, esteemed guests from a neighboring kingdom: the royal family!”
All heads swivel towards you and your parents as you swim into the ballroom, down from the balcony to join the mer.
You stay by your parents’ side as you look around the ballroom. The floor, walls, and ceiling all reflect the light of the crystal jellyfish that float around the room. Glittering gems are embedded into the surfaces, an obvious display of wealth. A mat made of woven seagrasses and shimmery cloth stretches from one column to another, forming a surface that holds all kinds of foods and delicacies. Mer swim by and pick their favorites off the mat–ooh is that seaweed-wrapped cod? You perk up at the sight of one of your favorite finger foods and open your mouth to tell your parents that you’re going to go get some, when your mother hooks her arm in yours, and places a hand on your father’s arm before slightly tilting her head in the direction of three mer.
They’re all finely dressed—well, all the mer are finely dressed, but they stand out the most—and crowns of gold, rubies, diamonds, and pearls rest on their heads.
The royal Todoroki family. Or at least three of them.
The mermaid with soft white hair and a purely white tail seems to notice you first. She rests a hand on the older merman’s arm, drawing his attention. The younger merman turns to look at you and your parents, and you straighten up as you study him.
His hair is something you’ve never seen before, half white like his mother’s while the other half is the bright red of his father’s. And his tail is beautiful, a mix of red and white scales that form a pattern unique only to him. Your eyes trail up from his tail to stop on his face, and your gills stop filtering water for a moment. His eyes! One is a silvery grey, the other an icy blue, but both are narrowed at you as you take in the skin around his blue eye, red and puffy and scarred. He’s waiting for your reaction, and you can only tilt your head in his direction in a small nod to hide your embarrassment at being caught staring. It’s not that the scar makes him any less attractive—in fact, your face has grown hot from studying him—but you’re curious as to how he got it. Very few things in the ocean could get hot enough to burn skin badly enough to make a permanent scar.
You’re pulled out of your thoughts when they come closer and your parents move to meet them halfway, you swimming beside your mother. “Welcome to our kingdom,” the mermaid says, “We hope you’ve found everything to be pleasant so far.”
“Thank you for your hospitality, your majesties. You have a magnificent kingdom and we are honored to be able to see it for ourselves,” your father replies.
“Please, call me Rei. This is my husband, Enji,” she says, resting a hand on the older merman’s arm, “and my son, Shouto.”
Your eyes stray to the younger merman at the sound of his name. So he’s the one that you’re going to marry. Your father introduces himself, your mother, and you, then starts talking about the celebration and the wedding, though you tune him out as you continue your study of your fiancé. His tail keeps capturing your attention, although you had already looked at it once. Then your eyes move up to his torso, chest, and arms, and you watch as his muscles subtly flex with the small movements of his tail. He’s certainly fit, and the gold cuffs around his left bicep only emphasize that fact.
Your eyes move further up to his face, once again looking into his eyes. He’s staring right back at you and raises an eyebrow, his lips tilting up in the smallest smirk. You blink once, then turn your head away, now intently focusing back on the food.
As you mourn for the last piece of seaweed-wrapped cod that gets picked up by a passing merman, no doubt an important noble, you don’t notice your fiance’s eyes move up and down your body, from the silver circlet on your head to the deep blue tips of your tail.
Rei notices this interaction out of the corner of her eye and can’t help but smile softly at her son. Her future daughter-in-law certainly seemed to be attracted to him, and, well, it wouldn’t hurt for them to be attracted to each other.
Your parents draw deeper into a conversation with Rei and Enji, and you slip away from them to finally take a look at the food. As you swim, with the pieces of cloth floating behind you in an elegant trail, you notice some of the younger mer looking at you with curiosity, but the mermaids especially seem to have a bite of viciousness in their eyes.
You’re familiar with the type, so you keep your back straight and your head high with pride, letting a mask of indifference settle over your face.
Their whispers travel to your ears as you swim past them.
“That’s who the prince is marrying?”
“I’d be a much better fit than her.”
“I can’t believe the prince is going to leave this kingdom for one like that.” This comment bothers you the most. Yes, your family’s kingdom isn’t nearly as big as the Todoroki Kingdom, but it has its own culture and atmosphere that is special to it. But the mermaid who said that is right. Shouto would have to leave this place of splendor and wealth for yours. Since he isn’t the oldest, he isn’t the crown prince, and the arrangement your parents had made means that he’ll have to move to your kingdom and will take his place by your side on the throne.
The mermaids grow louder in the rude comments, and you force yourself to keep swimming to the spread of food. As much as you would like to snap back at them, it wouldn’t reflect well on you, your parents, or your kingdom, and would only enforce their opinions that your kingdom is full of “barbarians” and “savages.”
So you float near the woven mat that bears the weight of all the elegantly plated snacks and pick up one half of a mussel shell with glistening orange salmon roe resting on it.
“She’s such a prick, too, all rude and stuck up. His Highness doesn’t deserve to get bound to a sea hag like that.” High pitched titters sound behind you, and the water seems to press into you from all sides.
You need to leave.
Clutching the shell in one hand, you maintain your calm expression and perfect posture as you head toward a set of open doors that leads to someplace that is not here. To anyone else, it would seem like you were going out for a gulp of fresh water, but a set of observant grey and blue eyes catches the slightly faster flicking of your tail that gives away your unease.
–
The doors lead to a beautiful garden, with all types of brightly colored corals and seagrasses. Fish dart in and out of the swaying foliage and you forget your worries as you spin around in a slow circle, wonder filling your eyes. Like the rest of the castle, the garden is resplendent and well cared for. You swim further into the garden, stopping to peer at the more exotic looking plants.
A large rock rests on one side of a row of densely growing kelp and has been sanded down so it’s round. You settle on it, tail fitting into the dips and curves of the rock, and start picking at the salmon roe on your mussel shell.
You put one orange sphere into your mouth and bite down, relishing the pop it makes and the salty flavor that spreads on your tongue. You eat a few more, and despite the bit of joy it gives you, your mind wanders back to the mermaids’ comments in the ballroom.
Blowing bubbles out of your mouth in frustration, you start talking to yourself. “Sea hag,” you scoff. “Isn’t she the hag for saying those things? And my kingdom isn’t ‘uncivilized, undeveloped, and barbaric,’ it’s perfectly fine, thank you. Though it isn’t as large as this kingdom,” you gesture out in the general direction of the garden, “it has its own charm.”
“Size shouldn’t matter,” a voice says, low and calm from the other side of the seagrasses. You shriek and jolt off the rock, nearly losing your salmon roe in the process. “I apologize for startling you,” the voice continues, “but I couldn’t help overhearing your frustrations.”
“Who’re you?” you ask, settling back down onto the rock. It’s a little funny talking to someone you can’t see, but the mystery of it all fills you with excitement. “Are you one of the visiting mer from the other countries, or are you from here?”
“I’m native to the Todoroki kingdom, but I have been to many other kingdoms before, including yours, Your Highness.”
You sputter at the term, unsure how to feel about the merman knowing who you are. “Please, don’t call me that.” You hesitate for a second but make up your mind, so you open your mouth and tell the stranger to call you by your name.
“Are you sure?” he asks. “If someone comes by and hears, would that not be bad for your reputation?”
“Oh! You’re right.” It’s not like I have much of a good reputation to begin with, you think bitterly, but keep your voice lighthearted as you speak again. “You can just call me princess then! Your Highness is too long, especially since we aren’t in a formal setting right now.”
“Very well, princess.” The voice nearly purrs out the last word, making your face heat up like it did when you had studied Prince Shouto.
“And what shall I call you?”
“If you’re ‘princess,’ I suppose ‘prince’ will have to do.”
You laugh a little at that, then fall silent.
The stranger starts to speak again. “I meant what I said, the size of a kingdom shouldn’t matter. We all know the blue-ringed octopus isn’t a large creature, but its venom can take down a full-grown mer in minutes. You clearly treasure your kingdom and I’ve enjoyed the things I’ve seen there myself. So don’t let the displays of this one discourage you.”
Your heart grows warm at the words of the merman. “You’re right,” you reply. “And it comforts me to hear that you liked the things you’ve seen of my kingdom. I’m just worried that the prince, Prince Shouto, I mean, won’t be accustomed to my family’s palace.” You pause as you hear an awkward cough from the other side. “He’s the one I’m engaged to, though I’m sure you already know that. What’s he like, the prince?”
It’s silent for a long moment and you’re starting to wonder if the merman left you when he starts speaking again. “What do you want to know?”
Humming for a moment, you pop another salmon roe into your mouth. “How does he treat the mer of this kingdom?”
“Well,” the merman says, “he doesn’t look down upon them. He wants to do what is best for them, to keep them all safe, and to help them prosper. He visits as many parts of the kingdom as he can every year, and he’s argued with his father about doing more–” he cuts off, then adds on quietly, “He gave up the left side of his face for the kingdom.”
Your eyes widen and you sit up straight on the rock. “The scar?”
“Yes.”
“Can you–” you stop. “Nevermind.”
“Can I tell you about it? I can if you’d like, though it isn’t a very pleasant tale.”
“No!” you exclaim, then wince at how harsh you sounded. “I just think it’s better to hear it from Prince Shouto himself. I’m grateful that you’re telling me these things, and I didn’t know that you’re so familiar with the prince, but something like this sounds really personal and I’d rather hear it from him. But thank you.”
The merman is silent. You wonder if you were too rude, or if you hurt his feelings.
“Don’t you think it’s ugly?” he finally asks. “The scar?”
The merman’s voice sounds a little strange when he asks the question, but you disregard it as you think carefully before answering. “No. It’s part of him, just like the sunspots we get if we stay in shallow waters for too long, or the dimples on mer’s faces when they smile. He shouldn’t be ashamed of it, especially if he got it for a reason as noble as saving his kingdom.” You pause for a moment, then add on quietly, “I saw him for the first time tonight and I think he’s really handsome, from his hair to his tail to his eyes.”
There’s no response from the merman. “Um, are you there?” you ask hesitantly. “I didn’t scare you away by saying that I think Prince Shouto is attractive, right?”
“I’m afraid I have to go. Thank you, princess.”
“Wait- wait, don’t go! I’m sorry if I offended you!” You shoot up from the rock, tail flicking powerfully to rise up above the wall of kelp to peer over the other side.
But the merman is gone. The only sign that he was there is the stirred up particles of sand that slowly sink back down to rejoin the others on the ocean floor.
Your face falls in disappointment. You had enjoyed talking to the merman. If you saw him again—or heard him again, you’d make sure to apologize for anything you did. Maybe you made him uncomfortable by talking about the attractiveness of your husband-to-be.
Blowing out bubbles in frustration, you turn around, only to watch a few orange spheres of the salmon roe fall onto the rock and into the sand. Does everything have to go wrong today? “Not only did I scare away an excellent conversation partner, I dropped my snack!”
It is about time for you to head back anyway, so you swish your tail and shoot up above the garden. Holding the now empty mussel shell in your hand to dispose of later, you return to the ballroom, gracefully swimming past all the other mer who were making fun of you earlier, no longer upset by their previous comments.
“Blue-ringed octopus,” you whisper to yourself as you rejoin your parents who are now talking to other visiting dignitaries and noblemer. Smiling pleasantly at them, you allow yourself to get swept into conversations for the rest of the night, traveling from mer to mer.
But somehow, whenever you look away from the mer you are talking to, you always catch a glimpse of red and white scales, sparkling under the light of the jellyfish. And you can’t help but think back to the conversation you had with that mystery merman, and think that maybe this arranged marriage won’t be so bad at all.
–
Little do you know, those same thoughts run through Shouto’s head. “It’s part of me,” he whispers to himself as he joins his older siblings, who immediately start teasing him about swimming off during a celebration to welcome his fiancée.
–
The rest of the week seems to pass by in a flash. Your days are filled with events, one thing happening after the other, all in preparation for the wedding.
You only get to see Prince Shouto a couple times over the days. Though you wish to stop and talk to him, Mina always catches you and rushes you to your next location. All you can manage is a nod and a smile before swimming on.
And soon enough, after days of parties and meeting all kinds of important mer and trying on your wedding outfits—why you need more than one is beyond you—the day of your wedding is upon you.
Mina bursts through your bedroom door well before the first rays of sunlight have struck the ocean, using her pink tail to flip the woven seagrass blankets off your sleeping body. “Wake up! It’s your special day, princess!”
You groan and bury your head in the soft sea sponge you had slept on, trying to block out her excited chatter. Her hands come down on your shoulders and pull you off the sponge.
“We have to start getting ready!” Mina drags your body through the water and out the bedroom door to another room two doors down where your wedding outfits are. She lets go of you to open another door in the room, poking her head out to call in the other attendants.
As the other mer swim in and start pulling out the pieces you’ll need to wear first, you rub the sleep out of your eyes and stretch so you’re more awake. Hands help you undress from your thin sleepwear, and start draping the layers and layers of pure white cloth in artful arrangements over your body. The cloth makes one loop around your neck before coming down to cover your chest, leaving a wide expanse of your back bare. Then they wrap around your waist and trail down around your tail, fanning out behind you like the graceful tentacles of jellyfish and sea anemone.
Mina helps you slip on thin, silver bracelets onto your wrist and attach silver cuffs around your upper arms. She pulls out strand after strand of small pearls and little shells and sparkling diamonds and threads them through the cuffs and bracelets, forming priceless sleeves that softly clink against each other when you move your arms. The other attendants weave more strands of pearls and diamonds into the pieces of cloth, which sparkle and reflect the light of the crystal jellyfish all over the room.
Finally, Mina removes a crown from a box. It’s made of white shells and more pearls, and it’s just as beautiful as the rest of your outfit. Mina swims before you, holding the crown gently in her hands. “I’m so happy for you,” she says, blinking hard.
“Are you adding to the ocean again?” you tease, though you’re also blinking rapidly.
Mina raises the crown above your head and gently settles it on you, using both hands to make sure it is in place. “There,” she says, then swims a tail length back. “You look perfect.” She looks at all the other attendants and thanks them for their hard work as they smile, nod, and exit the room. “If Prince Shouto’s jaw doesn’t drop to his tail, I’m gonna slap him with my own.”
“Mina!”
She grins and flicks her pink fins before taking your hands in her own. “I’m so glad to have grown up by your side. Your kingdom couldn’t ask for a better princess, and I couldn’t ask for a better friend. It’s been an honor, Your Highness.”
“Oh, Mina,” you say, swallowing hard to keep your voice from wavering. “I love you so, so much.”
“Of course you do! Now come, let us go see your prince!”
–
As per tradition, the to-be-wedded parties are to meet at the entrance of the throne room. So you swim behind your parents, who are also dressed in elaborate outfits that glimmer when the light shines on precious jewels. They come to a stop in front of Enji and Rei, and the four of them converse, blocking you from seeing your fiancé.
Then the grand doors to the throne room swing open, and the Todoroki King and Queen enter the room. Your own parents kiss you on your forehead, and your mother tells you how proud she is, before they enter the throne room.
You get your first look at Prince Shouto in his wedding outfit, and your lips part as you stare.
He’s wearing the same silver cuffs and bracelets that you are, though they lack the strings of pearls, shells, and diamonds. The rest of his arms are bare, and your eyes trace over his sculpted muscles before sliding down his bare chest to where his abs meld with white and red scales. The only piece of clothing he wears besides the bracelets, cuffs, and matching crown of shells and pearls on his head, is a white cape that fans out behind him, mimicking the pieces of fabric of your own outfit.
“Wow,” you breathe, and his own eyes—which had widened as they traced your body—snap up to meet yours.
“I’m pleased to meet your approval,” he says, voice low and calm, carrying a hint of amusement. “You’re stunning yourself, princess.”
The purr sends a shiver up your spine and you stiffen in realization. “It’s you?” you exclaim. “You were on the other side of the kelp!”
Shouto nods, then looks at you with uncertainty. “Does that disappoint you?”
“No! Of course not!” You shake your head rapidly, unknowingly dislodging your crown with the movement. “That makes me feel a lot better. To know that I’ve talked to you before, and that we can get along, and that you truly don’t mind my family’s kingdom.”
You stop for a second, watching as Shouto looks at you with soft eyes. Then your own eyes widen in horror and you bury your face in your hands. “I told you that I think you’re handsome!” you wail. “And I’m pretty sure that scared you away!”
A gentle hand wraps around your wrist, and you let Shouto pull your hands away from your face. “I was flattered,” he says as he reaches to grab your crown that has started to drift away. “I was shocked to hear that my scar doesn’t bother you, and that you still find me attractive anyway. And I was especially overwhelmed to hear that from someone as gorgeous as you.”
He sets your crown back onto your head, and you smile as he concentrates on making sure it is secure. His hands move down to cup the sides of your face, and he runs his thumbs over your cheeks. Your own hands reach up and cover his own, and you smile and tilt your head more into his hands.
“I am honored,” you say, “that someone so caring and thoughtful and someone that would let himself get hurt for the sake of his own kingdom will be by my side and help me rule my own.” You let go of his hands and he lets his fall back to his sides, watching as you rest your hands on his shoulders. A small flick of your tail draws you two even closer together, so you’re pressed chest to chest, faces a mere scale’s width apart, and you lean in to press a gentle kiss to the scar.
Shouto’s eyes flutter shut, his chest both warm and tight with emotion. You slowly pull away, and his eyes open again, flames of passion burning in them. One arm slides around your waist, the other hand cupping the back of your head, and his red and white tail wraps around the dark blue and silver of your own. He slowly pulls your face back towards his, eyes flickering from your own eyes down to your lips, which part under his heated gaze.
“Can I kiss you?”
“Please do,” you whisper, and your eyes close as he leans in.
Warm lips press against your own, which soften and mould around his. One of your hands leaves his shoulder and slides up his neck and into his hair, tugging gently. A soft sigh escapes his mouth at the action so you do it again, the corners of your lips turning upwards at the sound. Shouto notices your amusement and takes it upon himself to kiss you harder, lips moving together until he nips just the tiniest bit at your lower one. Your squeak of surprise makes him chuckle, and both of you pull away slowly, lips darker and swollen.
An awkward clearing of the throat makes you jolt and turn your head towards a green-haired merman, who looks just as embarrassed as you are. Shouto turns slowly, unwinding his tail from yours, though he keeps his arm around your waist.
“Y-your highnesses, it’s almost time for you to, um, enter the throne room,” the merman says, sunspotted cheeks turning red.
“Thank you, Midoriya,” Shouto says, giving his long time friend a small smile and a nod.
The throne room doors slowly swing open, revealing hundreds of mer dressed in elaborate clothing, all who turn to face the two of you.
“That’s our cue,” Shouto says, and offers out his hand to you, palm up. “Shall we?”
“We shall.” You smile at him, which he returns with an upward quirk of his lips, then place your own hand in his.
Your tails flick in tandem as you swim into the throne room, with high ceilings and walls that glitter and gleam. Many crystal jellyfish float and bob around, illuminating the room. Strings of pearls and precious jewels stretch from column to column, scattering light. The mer clap and cheer, fanning and swishing their tails in ways that create millions of bubbles that brush past your skin on their way up, causing the cloth of your outfit and the cape around Shouto’s shoulders to spread out behind you, creating an elegant trail of white.
You see your parents, King Enji, and Queen Rei waiting at the other end of the room. Hand in hand, you and Shouto swim to them and stop before them.
As King Enji starts to speak, you tilt your head to look at Shouto who smiles softly at you, which you return brightly. Queen Rei swims to you and you watch as she threads a strand of pearls and diamonds from your bracelet to Shouto’s.
Rey swims back to her husband’s side. “With this, they are bound for eternity, even when they become one with the sea,” Enji announces, voice booming through the throne room.
“We are bound for eternity,” you and Shouto say together, “even when we become one with the sea.”
“And now, this promise is to be sealed with a kiss.”
You turn to face Shouto, who arches an eyebrow playfully. “Shall we, princess?”
As you pull him closer to you and twine your tails together, red and white against midnight blue and silver, you slip your untied hand to his dual-colored hair, and he gently cradles your neck, drawing your face closer to his.
When your lips are just about to meet, you smile at him sweetly.
“We shall, my prince.”
–
Taglist • @bnhatrashh @simplybakugou (thank you both for being so encouraging during the sprints!) @bnha-homeroom (and thank you so much for helping me with the kiss scene!)
#boku no hero academia#bnha oneshot#bnhabookclub#bnha x reader#todoroki shouto x reader#todoroki shouto#northernlightswriteblrs#type: text#type: fanfic#fanfic: reader insert#fanfic: one-shot#fanfic: au#au: fantasy#type: anime#anime: boku no hero academia#ch: todoroki shouto#my writing#my writing: fic
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