#(i got too lazy to draw the back reflection im sorry)

[arinsanity]

tiny creature of steel.. hi inscryption tumblr community what did i miss

(og image under the cut!)

[writing-on-the-wahl]

O Positive Part Three

Hi hi my lovely chickens! It’s been a while but I am back with more of O Positive! Y’all can thank @im-a-wonderling for the request and all her amazing encouragement and edits. Fun story I was almost done with my first draft when I realized I’d written it in first person (the perspective my manuscript is in) and I  was too lazy to go back and fix the entire thing so sorry lovelies! I hope you still enjoy:)  

Part 1   Part 2 

The sun was high in the sky, shining down between the towering skyscrapers, warming the sidewalk and reflecting happily off of the dozens of windows on the building I approached. I squinted my eyes and glared at the reflective glass, the low throbbing in the back of my head making me wish I’d thought to bring sunglasses. 

A pedestrian shoved past me as I slowly shuffled down the sidewalk. I stumbled forward for several steps before I managed to use a conveniently located lampost to keep the ground from swooping up to meet me. I glared at the retreating suit, clenching my fingers around the bottle in my hand to keep from returning the favor and shoving him down into the gutter. Normally, I would have immediately felt guilty for the violent thought, but it had taken the other heroes hours to find me last night, and after freeing me from the streetlight and demanding a detailed explanation of my failed fight with Villain, they’d requested [Read: required] that I join them in canvassing the streets for Villain. A pointless, idiotic gesture, if ever there was one. As if Villain would be stupid enough to hang around four hours after robbing an art gallery and cuffing me to a lamp pole. So between my utter lack of sleep and the two pints of blood I’d already donated this morning, I didn't have much sympathy for rude civilians. 

Finally, I reached the double doors at the base of the offending shiny building. A temporary banner hung above them proclaiming, “Blood Drive Today!” 

“Really, you are sadly predictable.” 

It took my fuzzy brain much too long to process that the words had been spoken by a man leaning against the building, and another to recognize that the person behind the aviator sunglasses and casual shirt and jeans was Villain. 

By the time my sluggish brain caught up to the situation, he was standing before me, crowding my space and giving me a death glare I could feel even through the dark glass that covered his eyes. 

“Villain.” 

“Hero.” 

He said my name like a parent scolding a toddler. 

“I thought you told me we wouldn’t be having a repeat of last month.” 

“We aren’t.” I shoved past him, grabbing the handle of the door. But I couldn’t resist shooting over my shoulder, “I’d hate to burden you again in such a way.” The overwhelming bitterness I felt at the last month of pretending nothing had happened slipped into the words, and I bit my tongue. 

As Villain’s brows rose above the rim of his sunglasses, I darted into the cool reception area. 

I made it about half a step before Villain caught up to me, hand wrapping around my elbow. 

I let him pull me to the side, out of the flow of traffic that bustled through the large space--regular office workers breezing past the brightly colored signs hanging above folding tables, making an odd combination of suits and dresses mixing with the more casually dressed donors that were much too few in number for what the city needed. 

The sparse group gathered on the other side of the room only hardened my resolve. I twisted my arm from Villain’s grip and managed a step towards the blood drive before Villain got in front of me. 

He didn’t try to grab me again, though. In a sense, we both had our hands tied, unless we wanted to draw unnecessary attention to ourselves and risk outing our secret identities. 

My headache throbbed as I tilted my neck to look up at the irritating man. “Move, Villain.” 

He folded his arms across his chest, staring me down. 

My will was stronger than his, but my aching self unfortunately was not. I dropped my head, rubbing my neck with a sigh. “Please--just, don’t. I’m going to do this.” 

Villain dropped his angry stance and sighed. “Your day job is do-gooding. Why is this so important to you?” The words themselves should have set me on edge, but I couldn’t deny the utter sincerity with which he asked. 

I swallowed back the painful memories enough to get out one word, the most important one. “Sidekick.” 

I couldn’t look at Villain, but I felt the moment he understood. The tension in the air drained as all the fight went out of him. I turned away and walked towards the registration table, trying and failing to ignore the long-legged shadow behind me. 

“Here to donate? Bless your heart.” The elderly woman behind the table smiled as she passed me a registration form. I reached out to take the clipboard, but an arm shot in front of me, snagging it from my fingertips. 

“I don’t think so,” Villain murmured in my ear as his free arm wrapped around my waist. It took everything in me to convince my exhausted body that it was a bad idea to lean against him, let him take some of my weight. 

Instead of dropping the form on the table and dragging me from the building like I half expected he would do (and half-hoped? - my headache was getting worse and worse), he instead led me to a chair and pushed me down into it, claiming the one next to it as he pulled the pen free of the clip. 

That jolted me out of the fog that surrounded me. No way was I telling him all my private information. 

I made a rather pitiful attempt to reclaim the papers, but Villain just looked at me in a way that confirmed how pathetic the attempt had been. I dropped back down into my chair, turning my bottle of orange juice around in my hands. 

 “This is really that important to you.” 

“Yes.” This time I set my orange juice down before reaching out to take the forms again. 

Villain sighed, rubbing a hand down his face as he muttered something that sounded suspiciously like a plea for help. Then he held the forms between us like a peace offering. “What if we trade?” 

My nose wrinkled in confusion. “What?”

He tugged the clipboard back onto his lap. “If you agree not to donate any more blood today” I started to protest but his hand covered my mouth and I froze. “Then I’ll—” He gritted his teeth as though the words pained him. “Then I’ll donate instead.” 

Too preoccupied by his hand pressed to my lips, it took a moment for the meaning of his words hit me. 

“You?” I mumbled against his hand. 

Villain’s hand dropped away and he let out a put-upon sigh, but how could I not question his statement, especially when he said it like I’d asked him to return every cent he’d ever stolen? I hadn’t even suggested he donate, for crying out loud. 

“No.” 

Villain’s head reared back a little at my forcefulness, and I seized on his distraction to make a grab for the clipboard. My fingers didn’t even graze it, but I teetered forward, cursing myself for the sudden movement that had made the word turn all swirly-whirly. 

I closed my eyes against the wave of dizziness, not fighting as Villain shoved me, gently, back into my chair. “I wasn’t asking, Hero.” His long, lockpicking fingers—so skilled at freeing objects from their homes—wrapped around the curve of my shoulder, trapping me in place. 

I cracked one eye open, trying to piece together our conversation. 

“What?” Or at least that’s what I meant to say. It came out more of a “hammmgggh?” 

“You heard me.” He picked up the pen tucked in the top of the clipboard. 

The bout of dizziness passed, and a better solution presented itself. I looked around for a free volunteer. We were going to need a second clipboard. 

“Orrrrrrrr,” I dragged out the word, not quite believing what I was about to suggest. “We could both donate and save twice as many lives.” 

Villain shook his head, but didn’t look up from the paperwork he was now flying through. “You can let me donate in your place, or, I can drag you out of here kicking and screaming.” 

Why did I get the impression Villain would prefer the second option? 

I finally flagged down a free volunteer across the room and mimed writing on a clipboard. He nodded and I turned to glare at Villain. “It’s not up to you whether I donate or not.” 

“No.” He snapped, his voice rising. “It's not. Fortunately for you, you already donated today.” I blinked in confusion as his scowl morphed into a sweet smile. 

Until I turned and saw the volunteer hovering in front of us, nose crinkling in confusion as he shuffled the clipboard in his hands. “Oh, you already donated today?” 

Villain leaned back, releasing his death grip on the clipboard to swing an arm around my shoulders and pull me against his side. I tried to ram my elbow into his ribs, but as close as we were, it was barely a tap. 

“Yes.” His voice was a sweet, honeyed tone that completely lacked the mocking edge it normally carried. “She donated first thing, and when she told me about how desperate the need for blood is, I couldn't help but volunteer.” 

His hand tightened on my shoulder as he spoke the word desperate, but I ignored the insult, running through the usual donor sites, mentally calculating the next best option. It would be easy enough to slip away from Villain once he was hooked up to a blood bag. If I ordered a ride on my phone now, it should be ready by the time I slipped out the door. 

And despite his bold words, Villain wouldn’t make a scene, or waste his donation by ripping out the tubes and chasing after me. 

I felt a prick of guilt at basically conning Villain into donating blood. But. It was his idea. And I’d never actually agreed to not give more blood today if he did. 

When I snapped out of my planning, the volunteer had moved on, and Villain had returned to his paperwork. What he hadn’t done was remove his arm from around my shoulders. 

I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel nice. Familiar.  As warm and comforting as it had felt a month ago draped across the back of the couch behind me as Villain gently felt for my pulse. 

My mind whirred as I implemented the first step of my plan. I tried to stand. Villain's arm instantly pulled me back down, trapping me next to him. 

Feigning irritation, I huffed and sank back into my chair. It had the wonderful consequence of me being buried further into his embrace. Villain’s pen paused, and I froze, waiting for his reaction. When he resumed writing, I slowly relaxed, easing my phone out of my pocket. I tried not to enjoy the warmth of his arm around me, knowing it was short lived. But oh, did I love the way it draped across my shoulders like a warm blanket, the way his fingers unconsciously rubbed circles across my arm as he frowned at the endless pages of the questionnaire. 

I tried to keep my expression bored as I googled the nearest blood drive. 7 blocks away. I rubbed my aching head. I’d definitely need a ride. 

Unfortunately, seeing as it only took me 37 seconds to speed across the entire city, I’d never had need of one before, and so I watched with impatience as the ride-share app slowly downloaded. 

The phone was plucked from my fingers before I could react. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” 

A spilt second glance at my screen was all it took for Villain to figure out my genius plan.

I shrank away from his impending judgment, but he simply shook his head and tucked my phone into his pocket. 

Before I could try to bolt for the door again, he stood, pulling me with him. 

“C’mon. I didn't fill out all this stupid paperwork for nothing.” He trapped my hand in a vise-like grip. I was a hairsbreadth from wrenching free when his thumb skated across the back of my hand. My already fuzzy brain short-circuited at the tenderness of the gesture, and I numbly followed as he tugged me towards the registration table. 

Villain flashed the nice old lady from earlier a too-wide, slightly terrifying smile, the expression so foreign it wrenched my brain free of its daze. I frowned up at him. The wide, sharp grin was nothing like his usual overbearingly confident half-smirk. No, it was all hard edges and gleaming white teeth and none of the soft eyes and quirked lips he usually wore. 

I shook myself as Villain shoved the forms across the table. I didn’t have any business telling his smiles apart. 

Yet I couldn’t help but wonder at the difference as he spoke, an unfamiliar, strained note in his voice. 

“Here’s your forms. Let’s get this done.”

Taglist: 

@im-a-wonderling @shieldmaiden-of-gondor @watercolorfreckles @distance-does-not-matter @onestopheroxvillain @lolafaiy @chaoticgoodandi @1becky1 @tobeornottobeateacher @himynameisorla @superherosweet @brekker-by-brekkerr @crazytwentythrees @great-day-today @sunflower1000@selectivegeekwithstandards @chibicelloking @trantolette @sapphiques @jinpanman @genesissane @wish1bone1 @amongtheonedaisy @distractedlydistracted @kitsunesakii @glitterythief @jinx1365 @cherrychewingbrat @in-patient-princess @thepenultimateword

[ushiwakaout]

Things I believe Bakugo Katsuki would say if you dated (from the moment you wake up to the moment you fall asleep)

Reflect quirk! reader (like monoma they are able to use other people’s quirks but just like a mirror, you’re able to replicate your opponents quirk twice as strong, it’s more like a forcefield that deflects power)

“Hey, Idiot wake up, you gotta go back to your room before erased head finds out.” (4:40 am)

“I don’t wanna get in trouble so hurry up.”

“Let go of me you brat!”

“Fine just, let go... I’ll walk you to your room.”

“Hurry up, i don’t wanna get caught.”

“Don’t kiss me in the hallways.”

“I said no-”

“Fine, fine, just stop looking at me like that jeez.”

“Wait hold on, do you wanna train with me, you’re getting sloppy at combat.”

“Ow! What the hell did you hit me for!”

“What do you mean you don’t need-“

*pinches your nose pretty hard*

“What if you lose your quirk huh?! you know that’s a possibility now right!”

“I want you to be able to fight for yourself now get changed and meet me downstairs.”

*will 100% not go easy on you but neither will you*

“Just because you pinned me down doesn’t mean you win.” (5:40 am)

“What time is it already?”

“We should probably hit the showers...”

“No you can’t shower with me! You crazy?!”

“Come on let’s go.”

*will push you off him so he can pick you up and have an excuse to keep holding your hand*

“Hey! Blow dry my hair.” (6:00 am)

“Stop calling me a pomeranian!”

*Bites you*

“You the one who keeps calling me dog, so i’ll act like one!”

*kisses the hand he bit*

“Now you sit down, it’s your turn.”

*he’ll never address it but he loves pampering you*

“Keep you head still jumpy.”

“Stop complaining that it’s too warm, it’s a blow drier, it’s supposed to be warm.”

“You smell good.”

“I didn’t say shit!”

“You’re hearing things, did you clean your ears right?”

“Come on let’s go get breakfast.” (6:30 am)

“What are you looking at shitty hair!”

*you sit in his desk while waiting for aizawa to get to class*

tenya: “Y/n, the table is not a seat, please go sit down!”

*bakugo pulling you into his lap*

“Their sitting on their seat now four eyes.”

*two minutes before the bell rings he pushes you off and taps your thighs*

“Go sit down.” (7:28 am)

*will glace at you during class even if he has to look back at you*

*during break you don’t leave class and he makes i sit on his lap again*

“Did you bring any snacks?” (10:30 am)

“Give me.”

*will eat half of your snacks bc he’s a growing boy and he’s always hungry*

“Did you finish this weeks homework.”

“If you didn’t understand then why didn’t you ask me.”

“I won’t yell at you idiot, you’re not shitty hair, pikachu or soy sauce.”

“Just tell me when you need help, i don’t mind.”

“Go back to your seat, the bells gonna ring any minute now.” (11:00 am)

*if you sit in front of him instead of hagakure, he draws on your back with his finger*

“What did i draw? *whispering* nope, i drew a crown.”

*working in groups*

“What’d you get for the answer?”

“Yeah thats fine, i got that too. Mmm- you missed this right here.”

*always corrects your homework and explains it bc he doesn’t want you to fail test*

“Understand? Good.”

“Yeah, good job baby.”

“I DIDNT SAY ANYTHING!!!”

“Let’s get lunch, come on before the spicy noddles run out.” (1:00 pm)

“It’s not that spicy, don’t be a crybaby.”

“Here, drink some milk.”

“Don’t ask why i got milk, shut up.”

“What’d you get?”

“Give me some.”

“You want more noodles?”

“You’re not gonna finish that?”

“Shitty hair, eat their food before it goes to waste.”

“Grab me a water while you’re up?”

“Thanks.”

*after eating he holds your hand under the table while he talks to kirishima*

“What are you- ?”

“Don’t fall asleep on my shoulder, you lazy bum.”

kirishima: “i think they fell asleep.”

“shut up, i know.”

*doesn’t wake you up until the bell does*

“Good morning lazy ass.” (2:00 pm)

“Come on, let’s get to class.”

“No im not.... *sighs* fine, shut up, i said fine... Get on ny back.”

“Shut up shitty-hair!”

“Get down, you’re heavy.”

“HEY! I was joking you shit.”

*kisses your head before getting into the classroom*

*if you’re paired up with bakugo to spar, people get a little afraid bc you both tend to go overboard*

“DIE!!!”

“You missed.”

“You barely touched me.”

“COME BACK HERE!!!”

*both of you end up in the nurses office bruised*

“Stop apologizing, you barely grazed me.”

you: “bakugo, i literally used you’re explosion against you and you flew across the room...”

“Like i said, i’m fine.” (4:30 pm)

“Come on let’s go back to the dorm.”

*kisses your head again*

*doesn’t hold your hand but his hand is on your lower back as he walks with you to the dorms*

“Head into the showers, i’ll meet you back i’m my room.”

*you don’t knock when going into his room.*

you: “Are you reading shojo?”

“Tell anyone and i’ll kill you.”

you: “....continue.”

*cuddling while he’s reading shojo*

“Did you eat yet?” (5:30 pm)

“No? Come on i’ll make you dinner.”

“What do you want?”

*bakugo cooking katsudon and izuku comes out sniffing it out*

izuku: “is that katsudon?”

“Yeah, hands off! It’s for y/n!”

*izuku stealing some of your food but it’s not stealing bc you said it was fine*

“HEY! I SAID HANDS OFF DEKU!!!”

izuku: “I’m sorry kacchan!”

“We sleeping in your room or mine?”

“Why do i gotta pick, i asked you.”

*cuddling in your room while he reads one of your favorite shojo*

“Shut up and go to sleep.” (7:00 pm)

“What do you mean it’s early?”

“I’m not a goody two shoes for sleeping at 8.”

“I will leave.”

*you make fun of him and he leaves*

*bakugo ten minutes later in front of your door w his pillow*

“I can’t sleep...” (8:10 pm)

“Shut up and let me sleep already.”

*he holds you while his head is deep in your chest, hands under your shirt and keeping you warm*

*wakes up from a nightmare*

“Shit- shit.... I’m sorry.... I- I didn’t mean to scare you.” (1:00 am)

“I’m fine i just... just stay with me alright?”

“Just shut up and hold me.”

“yeah whatever.... i love you too- i guess.”

*please caress his hair, it helps him fall asleep faster... he also falls asleep while holding your hand and NO YOU CANT LET GO bc it’ll wake him up*

[nepenthendline]

yaho darling! 💕 i see that you’re doing a mini event OwO i was wondering if i could request something with Daichi 👉🏼👈🏼 like the two of u getting ready for work and both of you are just flirting as you undress and dress. and MY GOD Daichi looks SOOO good shirtless with dem fireman pants hanging low and he’s all handsy on you too and then heheheh sexy times OwO bsjsksks sorry babe i have a lot of feels thank u i luv u >x<

DOMESTIC FLIRTING  - DAICHI

A/N: plsssss im too weak for daichi

CW: some groping but no actual smutt stuff

Tagging: @daichis-kitty @ceo-of-daichi so we can all be daichi whores together

Daichi:

Mornings with Daichi were always calm. It wasn’t every day you got to spend your mornings together before work, but the times you did never failed to set you in a good mood of the rest of the day. 

You walked out of the bathroom after brushing your teeth, only clad in one of Daichi’s large shirts, to find your shirtless husband pulling his work trousers up his legs, certainly not missing how he had to give them a firm tug to get them past his thick thighs. You leaned against the door frame for a moment, admiring him in the morning light with a lazy smile. He looped his belt through the waistband and pulled tight to secure it, accentuating his bulging biceps as his arms flexed. The trousers hung low on his hips even with the belt, drawing your eyes down to his stomach where the trail of hair disappeared into his pants.

His head rose in your direction once he noticed your presence and held his arms out, inviting you in. Quickly you rushed over, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head on his warm, bare chest, feeling his heartbeat pump against your ear. His arms covered your shoulders, keeping you close to him and he pressed a kiss on the top of your head. 

“I’m gonna make us some breakfast when I’m dressed, did you want coffee?” He asked, pulling back enough to look at you. Your eyes were drawn to his broad chest and your hands raised from his waist to meet your eye line as you nodded with a hum. His skin was so warm under your touch and his chest, while muscular and firm, also had a slight softness that allowed your fingers to bury themselves in. 

One of hands came to under your chin, using a finger to lift your face up until you were eye-to-eye. His eyebrow was raised, but the smirk he possessed let you to believe he was enjoying your wandering eyes. He shook his head yet came closer until his lips met yours with a slow kiss. 

“You, my love, need to get dressed, and so do I,” he firmly spoke after parting. You pouted in reply, a whine leaving your throat as you gently squeezed on his chest. 

“But it would be a crime to cover this,” you retorted, gesturing with your eyes to his chest. He chuckled and took your wrists in his hands, pulling them away and picking up his shirt.

“It would also be a crime to go to work shirtless,” hooking his hands in the shirt, he slid it over his head and pulled down until his body was completely covered, much to your dismay - although the tight fit did compliment his body well. 

Fine, if he wasn’t going to give you attention, you’re just going to have to play dirty, you thought before tugging the loose shirt on your body over your head. Bending down, you rummaged through the bottom drawer of the dresser, picking out some underwear. As you stood up you saw Daichi’s head turn away from the corner of your eye - so he was looking.

You hooked your fingers into the band of your panties, pulling them down slowly, before putting the new pair on, tugging them a little higher on your hips than usual. The black, lacy bra came next, one you knew Daichi loved in particular and that did little to cover your skin. You turned to the mirror and adjusted your breasts until they sat perfectly in the cups, not forgetting to look at him through the reflection where he was making the bed with a slight pink tinge to his cheeks. 

Making your way to the closet, you picked out a short skirt with a slit on the side. You knew you definitely couldn’t wear this to work, but it would rile him up for sure. After sliding your legs in, you returned to the mirror and began pulling up the zipper, only for it to get ‘stuck’.

“Baby, could you come help me zip this up? I can’t do it myself,” you faked innocence, turning to him with a slight pout. He didn’t reply, only walked closer and turning you back towards the mirror. His hands trailed down your back towards the zipper, then slowly pulled it up until the skirt was fit snug on your waist. He bend down, with his hands on your waist, close to your ear. 

“I know what you’re doing; you’re not very subtle,” he whispered, pressing a kiss behind your ear as you watched in the mirror. 

“I wasn’t trying to-” your words were caught in your throat as his lips moved to your neck, tongue licking at the skin before kissing it. His thumb grazed over the band of your bra, before inching upwards to cup your breast. 

“So you weren’t trying to get my attention?” You couldn’t reply though, not with his other hand snaking down and toying with the edge of your skirt. His kisses drifted over your shoulder as he continued, “you know you could make us both late to work, right?” The hand on your skirt slid under; his thick fingers ran over your clothed slit with a little pressure, tugging a quiet whimper from you. “I’ll just have to make this quick then.”

[mrsalwayswrite]

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

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

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

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

Few notes:

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

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

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

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

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

<gif is from Pinterest>

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 So, she decided to do something stupid. 

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

 Both men froze, turning to look at her. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "Oh, I'd hate to impose on you."

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

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

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

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

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

 It was not. 

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

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

 "Do I look like a Bill?"

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

 "It's Steve…. Steve Rogers."

 "It's nice to meet you, Steve."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "I just might."

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

 "STEVE!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Bucky shrugged. "Lead the way, punk."

 "Jerk."

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

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

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

 "The tailorin’ shop near Prospect Park?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "Well that explains a lot." Steve muttered. 

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

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

 "Spanish."

 "Is that why you have an accent?"

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

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

 She laughed. "Like what?"

 "I don't know. Anythin’."

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

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

 "You have no idea what I said."

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

 "Buck…"

 "What?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "It's not a big deal." Steve said. 

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

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

 "Hasta luego, mis amigos."

 "What was that, doll?"

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

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

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

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

 "Oh, I don't know…"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Steve just laughed, raising his hands in surrender. 

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

 "Ok…" She whispered. 

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

 "Ok...I'll meet you there though."

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

 "Nueve. Estaré allí."

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

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

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

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

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

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

 *****

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

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

 "Elana!" 

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

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

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

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

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

 "That's a high standard."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "Ah, vino?"

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

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

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

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

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

 "What would you rather be doing?"

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

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

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

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

 "If you like."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "Yeah, just a little sketch."

 "Can I see it?"

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

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

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

 "Thanks, guys. S'nothing."

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

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

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

 "What's that?"

 "I'm not that pretty."

 Both Steve and Bucky chuckled.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "Ruby, we-"

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

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

 "I want her here. She's my date."

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

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

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

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

 She nodded again, not trusting herself to speak. 

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

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

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

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

 "Elana, I'm so sorry."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "What you gettin' at, Rogers?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "You know what, Rogers!"

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

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

 "Yes, Bucky."

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "Go on, punk. I'll look after her."

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

 "This isn't goodbye, right?"

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

 He blushed yet nodded before giving Bucky a quick hug. 

 "Night, Steve."

 "Night, jerk."

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

 "Wanna keep walkin'?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "Me too." She confessed. 

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

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

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

 "No, we ain't. C'mon."

 "Oh, Dios mío, yes we are!" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 She giggled and nodded. 

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

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

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

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

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

[undergroundkid]

8. The serene intensity

During day shifts, you weren’t alone at least. The ever-exciting presence of Yoonho’s was absent since he somehow was busy all your shift, but at least you had the new intern standing at the front desk. What your hotel porter was doing in such a lazy day was far beyond you – Yoonho usually sat during these shifts alongside you on the reception, throwing jokes back and forth.  You had a feeling in your gut that he was avoiding you, not quite sure why, but the way he disappeared the moment you stepped into the hotel was suspicious. Was he still angry about the day you ditched him for the piano music? Geez, this little boy and his attitude.. On the second hand, you could sit alone in the back of the reception without the annoying nagging of your coworker. His always happy persona would quickly pick up your different aura and you surely weren’t ready to explain the cause of it.

His hand gripped your waist, not letting you shy away from his body. The second one entangled in your messy locks held your head steady, leaving you defenseless to his conquering lips. Your fingertips brushed against male’s shirt, dry skin on soft material, not quite sure if the gesture was one of decline, acceptance or astonishment – what to think, or more importantly, how to think when you are kissed with such a passion?

You massaged your temples, giving up on the documents spread before you on the desk. The letters had no meaning, just empty graphics without any sense of all. The only thing picking up your interest was the color of the furniture; mahogany brown, just like the one from apartment 402.

He pushed you against the desk, pinning you to the surface with one motion of his hips. You gasped, which allowed him to slip his tongue inside your mouth. He moved smoothly and confidently, trained well in this old, carnival dance. - Mr. Changkyun – a quiet murmur was all you got, breathless from not so simple kiss. He shushed you somewhere between kisses alongside your neck, but when you repeated his name once again – this time stronger, magically gripping the reality of the situation, he shoved two fingers into your mouth. - Shh, little doe – his voice poured straight to your core, starting the fire when his teeth grazed your ear:- Let me show you what you’re missing hiding in the forest all the time, yeah?

Previous night’s images were playing in your head in a loop, stuck on forever replay. The whole building was too heavy, not spacious enough for you and your hazy head full of fresh memories. You could feel how sticky your blouse was already. It was barely 5 PM, still a few hours away from shredding your uniform.

He pushed your sweater high enough to shower your stomach with brief kisses, biting at your waistline. Not enough to dive himself into your breasts though, so he almost tore the clothing away.

Your manager will bite your head off for lack of work today, that’s for sure.

He pulled down the straps of your bra with his teeth, softly dropping it on the floor. Shivers ran through your topless torso, more of excitement than coldness; you let his hands map your body, feeling oddly safe. You could only think about how he still had his shirt on, no second thoughts about the whole situation. The freshness of being intimate with someone again gave you a high feeling, a light chest full of short breaths, and sudden strength to bow your spine seductively. You pulled at his shirt impatiently, wanting to feel his skin on yours, but at this moment all his focus was set on the zipper of your pants. Your quiet whines finally caught his attention after he discarded your jeans and by the way he smirked, you were pretty sure he was aware of your request all this time. - Something’s wrong? – he questioned, gently stroking your lower abdomen with the back of his hand; the other one playing with the hem of your panties. You gripped his shirt, hoping it would be enough for an answer, but he snapped your underwear disapprovingly. His dark eyes looked expectantly at you, fully prepared to drag this out if you won’t cooperate. - Can you.. can you take your shirt off? – you asked, a new set of fire consuming your face, so you tried to hide it behind an added plea:- Please? He took it off without hesitation with barely audible ‘not that hard, hm?’. You were drawn to the exposed skin immediately, hands softly grazing his chest.

You opened the few buttons of your blouse, the need for cooling off stronger than work ethic. Carefully looking at your reflection in the glass of the nearby shelf, you looked presentable; hair surprisingly neatly, no wrinkles on the shirt. But the shame filled you from head to toe.

- You have to tell me – he said, tone still, even if his fingers were all but still; pumping into your core with ferocity. Squishy sounds were loud in your ears, almost drowning his request. The ecstasy of his touch was unbearable, mind hazy, nails scratching male’s arms. You could only respond in a whine, lost between wild want and embarrassment of being exposed. Nude, eager and filthy; you are filthy, what the heck are you doing, but god damn his fingers, oh my god oh my god oh my- He stopped, his hands disappearing without any warning. - No! – your id squeaked and continued, despite the superego laments:- No, no, why you stopped? - I said you have to tell me – Im drew circles on your stomach with his wet fingers, then around your breasts, cleavage and paused at your collarbones. His eyes finally met your desperate gaze:- What are you waiting for, baby? You barely recognized his words were the same as an hour ago. The very same people but a dissimilar situation, unalike aura –and so your mind, contrasting to blank mindset back then, now full of lust, loud as thunder. Muting your morals, you said loud and clear: - You. I want you.

You can’t blame this on anybody else; shit, you gave him all your consent.

- Do you? His question wasn’t what you were expecting. Changkyun pulled your right hand, pointing at the wrist scarred with tattoo ink. - You say it’s me, but you came here with this awful mark.. When he first saw your tattoo in the reception, he was disgusted, but at this moment you swear you could almost say he’s hurt. Why though? Why is he so touchy about it? Your body’s hunger didn’t want to wait and listen to the pointless conversation. All you could do was to mewl with dissatisfaction, rubbing your thigs together for comfort. Your partner agreed with a groan. - But you can feel it, right? Stronger than whatever poison this bastard gashed you with – Im kissed you, dropping your hand, he searched for something behind your figure.  His kisses were deep and breathtaking, spinning you straight into blissful numbness. You felt cold material around your hand. - Just me and you – he whispered against your lips, showing you how he tied up your and his wrists together.

Thinking about it with a clear head now, it wasn’t just about how you gave him consent. More humiliating to you was actually how you enjoyed it.

His hips came flush to yours at a constant pace with your ragged breaths. - Look at me – he demanded:- Look at me and tell me, who makes you sing like this, Missy? Muffled ‘you’ fell from your mouth somewhere between ecstatic gasps. You were ready to tell whatever it takes for him to keep up the sweet feeling of fullness. Your womanhood drowned in the euphoria of long-forgotten attention. When was the last time..? - That’s right, that’s right.. – Im laced fingers with yours and together you gripped your knee, letting him dive deeper into you. The silk scarf wrapped tightly around both your wrists felt shockingly cold on your hot skin. Your stomach twisted and tightened up, drawing a hiss from your partner. - Shit – he murmured, clashing your lips again and speeding up his rhythm. You started to mumble nonsense into his skin, losing the balance of reality. More more more.. - Come with me, little doe, come on – his voice lurked you into leaping into madness, orgasmic waves eating you up, mouth opening up in silent scream. With closed eyes you let your mind leave your body, lost in the time and space, pleasure being the only felt sensation.

As euphoric and fantastic was your encounter, you quickly came back to realization – you slept with your guest. It didn’t hit you right away, of course, you were way too smitten with his body on top of yours and kisses shared right after; but when he left to the bathroom, you simply panicked.  So you dressed up hastily and almost ran out of the hotel, taking the back exit in fear of meeting any coworker. Now, just the day after, you hide in the backroom, wishing to stay there your whole shift. Where went all your professionalism that you’re so damn proud of? Straight outta window surely, because you needed only a little attention to fully submit. To a guest. Your client. Pretty much stranger. Shameful and filthy, full of regret, but still thinking – about his scent, smoky but rich incense; about hints of wine on his tongue when he moaned during your orgasms; about his long fingers, firmly gripping yours, scarf connecting your wrists skin to skin. How wonderful it felt to be desired again, by a handsome man nonetheless.. or was it just a game for him? The silly receptionist bought trick with a time-stopping lighter? What was worse? It shouldn’t have happened. Your parents would probably kick you out with distaste. Your boss? The number of glares from coworkers, gossip following you everywhere? You stupid girl, you forgot everything so easily, you can lose it all- - Miss Y/N? You nearly jumped, the unexpected voice from the intern harshly pulling you back to reality. - Oh, sorry! – she swiftly apologized, uneasiness painting her ears scarlet:- I thought you will have a spare minute! S-sorry, I will take care of it! - No, no, it’s okay – you scolded yourself for drifting away so carelessly:- What is it? Do you need any help? - Uhh, kind of – her eyes snapped nervously back to the reception:- I mean, there’s new guest.. I booked him, the procedure says we should carry his luggage but I can’t reach the porter.. - Damn Yoonho – with a shake of your head, you stood up and headed towards the front desk:- What is he doing, lacking off like this? - I’m sure he has something to do, Miss! – her hurried response and fluttering lashes gave you some hints about reasons for her heroic defense of said boy:- Please don’t yell at him later.. After a few seconds of silence, you responded with a sigh. - Only because you asked me to. Try to look for a better catch though, okay? At least more reliable than him – she giggled at your words, mumbling something about how it’s not like that, but you knew better. The shy shuffling of her feet told you everything. You rolled your eyes with a faint smile; innocent crush. They’re so young and cute it’s making you feel really old. You stepped into reception without further thinking, leaving embarrassing memories behind you with the hope of not meeting your fears immediately. Thankfully, the place was quiet – the only figure was the new guest absorbed in his smartphone. He was young, despite the first impression – the grey hair must’ve been dyed. He hid his features behind the facemask. He worn sports clothes, kind of baggy and you weren’t sure if that’s just his style or he’s some celebrity trying hard to blend in. You spotted a gym bag next to him, not really the big one. You were ready to inform the intern it’s not necessary to take the luggage, but then you spotted the black business card in his hand. Instantly you straightened up, nerves kicking in. - Good afternoon, sir – you greeted him with a polite voice and despite you seriously didn’t want to, you offered:- Let me assist you to your apartment.

thank you for reading

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[yoongihime]

Shape of You (M)

Model!OC x Photographer!Yoongi Length: 4.8K ..things got out of hand… Type: Three words drabble, birth from pure sin and thirst  Recommended OST: (x) and (x)  (a/n): “no really, this was me being a brat and thinking ‘hey how can I make this totally fluffy prompt into angst?’ and then it turned into sin. Must be the lack of sleep talking.” ….this was supposed to be a drabble…

Summary: Yoongi is not too keen on the fact that you, his muse, disappeared without a word two years ago. The two of you meet again at a casting, with Yoongi as the the photographer under the name SUGA. He’s livid, of course, but he can’t help the fact that he still remembers every curve and contours on your body.

Prompt By Anonnie: Sparkles, Petals, and Laughter (im sorry) Warnings: sex. sins. Yoongi being very naughty. 

001. Sparkles

Pins and needles prickle at your skin from the intensity of his scrutiny, the thin hairs on your arm standing on end, delicate flesh underneath forming ridges that continue to spread throughout your entire body from your head all the way down to your toes. Tremors blossom in the form of the most minuscule shivers that gradually build up intensity until your entire frame is aquiver, soft waves that only accentuates how your body is gloriously bare for his twisted pleasure. You hate how he can still elicit this kind of response from your body—two years truly changes nothing.

Your mind is buzzing with wild thoughts, the confines of your skull barely holding in your mental fretting. Despite the current state of turbulence in your head, your body revels in the attention that he’s shamelessly bestowing, his gaze drifting, languidly studying his masterpiece. His cold eyes that are staring you down from two feet away glints with amusement, the dark orbs saturated in lust and rage. It ignites your defiance, fueling your veins with adrenaline, compelling you to stand your ground against his desire to watch you crumble. 

 Min Yoongi was not always the picturesque depiction of frigid hostility like he is now. In fact, you dare say he was quite warm, towards you at least. He was sweet summer days and gummy smiles, the faint sound of the camera shutter and the sparkles of the ocean reflected in his eyes, until one day you silently departed from his grasp— without a single note of consolation. Bittersweet, that’s what it felt like. You still remember the day you decided to leave, you knew it was better for the both his career and yours, a raising-star photographer and an aspiring model, what a pair the two of you were. But you had to leave, Yoongi had too much potential to be wasted on the premise that you were his only muse, so you brought a oneway ticket to nowhere; picking up some fame along the way.

Strange, how you find yourself back at square one with Yoongi in front of you and your ability to conjure words proving fruitless. Oh, how you wish you could go back in time, just twenty four hours backwards, so you could tell your manager Seokjin what a horrible, stupid idea it would be to audition to model for the most coveted photographer in New York City: SUGA. Little did you know that you would walk right smack into your beautiful nightmare.

He was silent through the majority of your audition, your portfolio gripped in his hands, his figure slouched into the sleek leather of the back sofa. Meanwhile, you were blissfully oblivious to the fact that SUGA is in fact the very person you’ve been avoiding for the past two years, chirping happily to any questions they prompted you with until his coworker patted the lazy photographer none too gently,

“Yoongi, you’re not going to say anything? Man, what happened to the savage that made two newbies cry in the dressing room yesterday?”

Familiarity rang in your ears then and you had a split second decision of dashing completely out the room, but not before-

“I’m going to have to ask everyone, except (y/n) to leave the studio.”

And that’s how you find yourself in this current predicament, with Yoongi staring you down like a panther stalking it’s prey and you, the careless gazelle that ran right into the hands of death.

Thick silence settles in the room and you take this opportunity to study the man in front of you just as he’s recording every detail of you.

His hair is black now, you note, the ebony locks curling slightly on his forehead, deliberately messy, making his milky skin all the more ethereal in the dim lighting of the small room. His hair used to be a radiant blonde, but you suppose he doesn’t need such a thing as eccentric strands to attract attention now. Everything from his eyes to his rosy lips drown you in nostalgia, they remain strikingly similar to fragments of your fading memories. Those nebulas, ever so expressive are concealed by the gold rimmed specs balancing precariously on the tall bridge of his nose. Black ink paints it way up from underneath his thin white t-shirt, the vines’ movements deliberate like brushstrokes and you realize that they depict cherry blossoms crawling up the right side of his neck. You allot a few seconds to let your mind wander towards what other tattoos may be adorning his body under the thin material, only to have your lascivious fantasies disrupted when Yoongi floats towards you, stopping a hair away, leaving just enough space to have you yearning to close such insignificant distance.

“So, what kind of excuse did you come up for me today, doll face?”  he growls into the shell of your ear, causing you to whimper, the noise automatic in response to his sharp demand. He smirks at that, as if the visceral response from your body wasn’t enough of an indication of your desperation for his understanding.

“Go on, it must be good. You had two whole years to make it up after all.”

“Y-oongi,” you sigh out his name when he begins his maddening play, the coolness of his fingertips somehow drawing trails of fire across your skin. Yoongi fully smiles at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue, it has been awhile since he’s heard the soft, sweet sound after all.

“Did you miss me, doll?” he whispers, his fingers coming up to swipe at your lips, the pad of his thumb pressing down on the soft flesh. He studies your doe eyes, filled with so much conflict and apprehension, but most of all regret. It almost pains him to see you like this when both of you know the reason for your departure was anything but selfish.

Yoongi knows that he’s already forgiven you the moment you walked into the room, radiant, none the less, with a new persona so strong that he was shaken from your progress. Fear, it was eating at him that maybe you’ve moved on with your career, leaving him behind in the dust, however just as quickly as it came, the nagging emotion dissipated once he flipped to the beginning of your portfolio and there it was. There, right on the first page was one of his favorite photographs he took of you. He had taken it once upon a time, back when he received his own camera as a hand me down from his uncle; back when he didn’t know left from right and aperture from exposure. There you were, smiling at him with your monochrome profile, the light in your eyes not in the least dull even through the 2D surface. Yoongi knew it then as he knows it now. He knows that you, with all your fiery passion is his muse and he’s just as excited as a kid on Christmas day to have you in his grasp again.

Yet, the past two years have been a cruel winter, barren of you and he wants, no, he needs you to know that.

“I know I did.” he confesses, words heavy with hurt, but his secret only serves to rile you up, your heart singing in elation at the newfound discovery.

“I’m sorry.” you murmur, the motions causing his thumb to brush against the plushness of your lips and you wait with bated breath for his reaction only to find another chill running down your spine at the fractional darkening of his eyes and the sinister smile that is spread across his face.

“I know you are, darling.” he chuckles when your brows knit together, words finally bubbling up in your throat but he interrupts you before-

“I will need you to show me.” he grins, the innocent action giving no hints towards the workings of his mischievous mind. Cool silver presses insistently into your hips when he tightens his grip on your waist, pulling you in so that your flushed skin brushes against the silken material of his blazer. Your reaction is immediate, wanting him closer, but just as you’re about to reach for him, Yoongi leans away and next thing you know, his back is to you and his distant shout registering-

“See you on set tomorrow, doll face .”

The kiss he pressed on your cheek tingles, a searing imprint of his lips on your reddening skin.

002. Petals

There’s something sensual in the way the silk is brushing your form, a cool rush that slithers against your exposed limbs, the scraps of lace barely serving their function on the curves of your body. The burning light shining on you is warm, nearly uncomfortably so, adding to your flushed state that was no doubt induced by the inquisitive lens a few inches from you and the photographer behind them.

It’s even more intimate than you can imagine, the connection between a photographer and his muse. Thick silence occasionally broken with the frail shutter, a resounding beep that signified the arrival of the photo on the MacBook, your shaky sighs and Yoongi’s hum of amusement are the only sounds that register to you as the rest of the studio fades out of focus. You feel starkly bare, not from the flimsy lace, but rather from the intensity of Yoongi’s gaze, augmented by the magnifying lens that are covering his expression from your viewing pleasure. Yet, the way his breaths come out in uneven pants, accompanied by his surprised gasps when you shift into a rather bold pose are just enough of a response to have you desperate to rile him up even more. Payback is a bitch, you muse and it’s with this notion in your mind that you defiantly stare into the lens, an attempt to drown him in the rapture that he placed you in just twenty-four hours prior to this session.

“Our genius photographer is rather quiet today.” you hum as you catch your bottom lip between your teeth, brow arching and eyes twinkling: a perfect picture of invitation. Yoongi seems to pause at that, his lips twitching in a badly concealed show of his emotions, using the oscillating sounds of the shutter to answer for him.

Click.

“Our little doll is rather uncooperative today.” he replies, fingers stilling on the shutter and you fluidly shift to the next pose you’ve mentally lined up prior to the session.

Click.  

You gasp in the form of mock shock,

“Why, I think I’m doing a great job, if I do say so myself.”

“We’ll see about that.” is his noncommittal response and you idly wonder what else this session will entail.

Click.

As it turns out, your imagination does not get too far into the possibilities of the session when trouble walks into the studio in the form of a golden boy by the name of Kim Taehyung. He’s a brilliant sight, with his tussled blonde locks and a boxy smile to match and you can’t help but feel enamored when he easily makes you comfortable with his booming laughter. He’s a ball of sunshine, to the point where you wonder if they scouted the wrong man for the job, that is, until he’s in front of a camera.  

All hell breaks loose once he’s on set.

Taehyung is incredibly straightforward in his movements, so confident and assured as he presses petal-like kisses against the hallows of your neck, honeyed irises flashing with intentions so lewd you can physically feel Yoongi bristle behind the sanctuary of his camera.

“Closer.” Yoongi commands in his lazy drawl, as if he does not care about the already dwindling space between you and Taehyung. Pausing, you turn to search Yoongi’s cloudy expression for any hint of sarcasm, but your hesitance is cut short when two arms circle around your form to pull you closer. You nearly giggle at the way Yoongi displays regret of his own instructions with a frown when Taehyung pulls you onto his lap, the pair of you entangled in the most intimate of ways with measly layers of cloth covering your bodies.

Taehyung is a wonderful actor. Everything from his gaze, the slight graze of his teeth against your skin, to his whispered praises in your ear, they all melt you by the degree until you barely have to try to play the role of his lover. However, if Taehyung is the sun then Yoongi would be the ever constant moon, cold in his professionalism and detached to the point you feel a sharp sting at his chilling mannerisms.

The last click of the shoot resonates within you as you visibly relax in Taehyung’s grasp and watch as the friendly sunshine boy resurfaces in the form of round cheeks and eye crescents.

“Good job today (y/n)!” Taehyung giggles out, his nose brushing against yours as a form of affection. You’ve never seen someone change from five-year-old toddler to ranging sex god in a matter of seconds, but as expected of the modeling industry, they like to keep you on your toes.

“Good Job to you as well, Tae. I think you made it too easy for me.” you sigh into the plush comforter, fully stretching your spine out like a kitten after a nap. With your eyes closed, you’re relishing the warmth in your muscles when a slight shadow casts over your form and your eyes flutter open to find an impassive Yoongi, a tempest brewing behind his raven orbs.

“Go change (y/n), I can take you home.” he murmurs, eye drifting to Taehyung’s arm that you’re currently laying on.

“I can have Jin come pick me up. You don’t have to inconvenience yourself, Yoongi.”

He wordlessly hands you your phone, the screen flashing 1:38a.m. and a few messages from Jin.

Princess Peach [12:30a.m.]: “(y/n)! I’m so sorry love, but you’ll have to find a way home on your own. Big Emergency!”

You roll your eyes at “Big Emergency” because more often than not that just means he’s going to get dicked down by his boyfriend Namjoon. Yes, Big Emergency indeed Seokjin, you groan internally, not entirely pleased with the situation as you study the message on top.

Princess Peach [12:35a.m.]: “Have Yoongi take you home. At least I can trust the guy, but if he does I won’t expect you to be home in the morning. Be safe kids! ;)”

You face reddens at the realization that Yoongi most likely saw the text and his hushed chuckle is confirmation of the fact.

Momentarily clearing of your throat and one little huff of exertion later, you’re swinging your legs from the edge of the bed and straightening next to Yoongi, your breath stuttering when his cool palm slides around your waist to rest on your hip.

“G-good bye Tae, I’ll see you around.” you hate the stutter in your voice, absolutely abhor the airy quality that can only be elicited by the man drawing nonsensical patterns into your hipbone with his thumb.

“Goodbye, Darling” Taehyung purrs, tongue poking out to wet his lips and you’re all too aware of his intentions to test Yoongi’s patience when the elder tightens his hold on your waist and with a low grumble, ushers you out of the room.

003. Laughter

Frigid AC and his hand on your thigh, that’s all you register as the faint hum of his sleek engine roars with each press of his foot against the accelerator, tearing in the stillness of the early morning. Lights begin to blur as they pass at high velocity, swirling together into steaks of color that you fixate your gaze on in order to avoid staring at Yoongi’s sharp profile. Yet you know that you’ll cave eventually, you always do.

“Do you know the way to my apartment?” you’re the first to break the silence, glancing over at his hand on the wheel, the shapes decorating his arms and the blossoms caressing the side of his neck.

“No, but I know the way to mine, is that okay?” he answers, the hand on your thigh squeezing the tender flesh, his eyes now fixated on your own.

“Y-yes.” you cough out, the syllable being the only response your jumbled mind can muster, words sitting awkwardly in your mouth from the distraction on your thigh. Nervous laughter bubbling on your lips.  

“That’s what I like to hear, kitten.” he gloats, clearly pleased with himself.

Min Yoongi, you brat.

The night seems to progress in the same silence, you watch patiently as he punches in his passcode and remain impassive as he leads you into the space. He lives on the top floor studio, the windows littered with lights gleaming from below and the buzzing of the city muted at this height. His space is just like him, sleek, minimal with not much sentiments in pictures decorating the wall except for his more abstract landscape pieces. Standing there at the ledge, you decide to take the leap when you murmur,

“Are you angry?”

Your question implies to more than the events of occurring today, but you truly need to know if he’s still upset over your abrupt absence.

Yoongi sighs, his slouched form straightening to stand a mere millimeters from you, the heady scent of his minty cologne making you crave to feel him under your fingertips.

“Yes and no.” he whispers, as if the silence is a creature not to be disrupted. He trails his right hand down to interlock your fingers, bringing your joined hands to his lips to press a kiss onto each of your knuckle, every brush of his lips causing your heart to drum faster and faster against your chest.

“I am angry,” he says before he reaches the last knuckle, “but I shouldn’t be.”

A kiss.

“I am sorry.” you squeeze his hand that is still interlocked with yours, “I missed you.” you confess, the memories rushing to your skull, causing a stray tear to slip from the corner of your eye.

“I missed you so damn much, but I had to be better than I was Yoongi. You of all people know that.” quiet tears roll down your cheeks. Memories of cold nights and sore feet, ridiculous diets and measurement tapes still weigh heavily on your mind, those were some of the most grueling years of you life, until Seokjin pulled you out of your hellhole of a company and back to your passion for the profession.

“Shh, babydoll. I know.” He soothes your hiccups with a kiss on the crown of your head, finally pulling you into his arms. You don’t let yourself indulge in his embrace for long because you reach with both hands to cup his face, pulling him down until your lips crash hungrily against his. He tastes like his mint gum and whiskey, a dark, addictive combo that has your tongue swiping against the seams of his lips for more. Feeling more than hearing his groan of surprise, you slip your hands around his neck, fingers intertwining with the stray locks there and tugging, earning you yet another groan.

“Babygirl, what are you doing?” he chuckles and halfheartedly nips at your earlobe in warning. As if of their own accord, your hands drift to the buttons in the front of his crips white dress shirt, deconstructing the seam one button at a time. You’re too focused on painting nebulas to accompany the cherry blossoms on his neck to pay attention to his question, but a much harsher bite on the curve on your shoulder snaps your attention back to his questioning stare.

“Making up for lost time.” you state in matter-of-a-fact fashion, returning the gesture with a soft nip to his earlobe, his array of silver earrings cool against your tongue.

“We have the rest of tomorrow, and the next day, and the next…” Yoongi utters, trying to convince himself more than you that the pair of you have all the time in the world.

“If you don’t want me anymore I can find someone else to occupy my time.” you sigh against the corner of his lips, enthralled by the way his mouth twitches in annoyance and his hands immediately tighten their hold on your waist, one of them so daring as to trail down and grip the curve of your ass.

“Say that again (y/n) and I promise you that you will regret being such an impatient princess.”

Pushing away from him entirely, you’re walking backwards towards the bedroom with Yoongi following close after as you smoothly recite,

“I said, Min Yoongi, if you don’t want me anymore I can find someone else to occupy my time.” the sentence barely leave your lips when he scoops you up in his arms, hands settled under your thighs and your legs locked behind his back. Slamming you into the closed door, you fell a dull ache at the rough action but the growing ache of your arousal is a more pressing manner in your lust clouded mind.  

“Strip.” he says as he releases his hold on you, choosing to sit himself down on the edge of his bed, legs parted to palm his erection over his tight jeans. Working methodically, you first pull off the black long sleeve to reveal the white babydoll that the staff gifted to you from today’s shoot. The lace clinging to your breasts, showcases your budding nipples and billows off into soft ruffles which is accentuated by the pure white panties that are coming into view as you shimmy out of your jeans. Yoongi swore under his breath, here you are a picture of purity, yet so pliant under his commands. Maybe he was a sinner with the sole goal of corruption.

“Come here,” he motions and you immediate kneel in between his legs, soft lashes blinking up at him in question, “Beautiful.” he moans when you grab his belt, but is quick to slap your greedy hands away.

“Do you want to have a taste?” he questions, his head tilting along with the prompt and you’re left to wonder how much self control this man possess in his body. Mutely nodding, you’re met with a low tsk and his finger against your chin forcing you to look into his eyes.

“Your words, beautiful.”

“Yes I would love to have a taste of you, sir.”  

“My what?”

A smirk.

Curse you Min Yoongi.

“Your cock, sir.”

A smile.

He unbuckles his belt at a torturous pace, each distinctive clink of the metal grating your nerves until Yoongi himself loses patience at his game and pushes his jeans and boxers down with a flourish and your mouth waters at the sight before you: Yoongi, his dark gaze pinning you to the spot with his milky skin on display, the black ink on the smooth surface only spurring you to explore the expanse of skin offered to you. His erection stands proudly against his stomach, red and leaking with drops of pearly white precum,

“Can I please touch you?” you whimper, holding your breath for his next move.

As a response, he cards his hand through your hair, gripping a fistful in his hands as he pulls you closer,

“No hands, baby.”

Nodding in understanding, you begin by giving him tiny licks before enclosing your lips around the head and pushing yourself down on his shaft, making sure to run your tongue along the prominent vein at the underside. Truly, the bitter taste and your watery eyes hold no particular value, but the way Yoongi is panting above you, his hands tightening in your hair, tugging just enough to have him whining from your ministrations is the reason your core is aching, the white of your panties turning translucent from your arousal. He pulls away with a pop when you start playing dirty by humming around his length, his breaths coming in harsh pants as he struggles to compose himself from the vibrations.

He offers no instruction but instead pulls you towards the mattress, pulling your body down on the mass of white and his body hovering above yours. Yoongi nearly loses all composure form  seeing you like this; flushed and sweaty for him, embellished with delicate white lace, you’re the most sinful angel he has ever seen.

“God, how are you so beautiful to me?” he growls as he kisses his way down the length of your body, leaving goosebumps in his wake. Calloused hands lift up your thigh as his kisses continue in rapid successions until he’s right at the edge of your panties, humming in approval at the soaking wetness he finds.

“You ruined your gift from today, doll.” he observes, lazily snapping the band of your panties against your hipbone, causing you to jolt in his hold.

“I suppose I’ll just have to buy you new ones.” he kisses his promise into the juncture between your thighs and your folds, his other hand sliding the ruined lace off and fulling drinking in the slight of you dripping for him.

“Yoongi, please.” you keen, the prolonged wait causing your nerve endings to spark with sensitivity. So when he flattens his tongue against your folds, the slick muscle eating you out in earnest, you wail and grasp onto his strands, nails digging into his scalp, his low groan of approval buzzing through your entire body.

“More, please please. Yoongi don’t stop.” you nearly bawl when he listens to your request and slips two fingers inside, choosing to purse his lips over your clit and suck hard. You’re a mess at this point, one hand gripping his hair the other clutching the comforter as Yoongi relentlessly continues with his sinful tongue and fingers, causing you to see stars within seconds. You lay boneless on his bed, the obscene squelch of his fingers leaving you causes you to shiver as the man himself lifts his hand to his mouth, deliberately licking off all traces of your pleasure.

“Yoongi, I need you.” you mewl when he kisses his way back up your body, trails of fire licking at your sweat covered skin.

“Such a greedy kitten.” Yoongi sighs, his weight abruptly disappearing from above you and you open your eyes in time to see him slip off his pesky dress shirt.

“Go on, princess. Take what you need. I want to see you work for it.”

Who are you to deny such a tempting invitation?

So you crawl over towards him, quickly straddling his lap and rubbing yourself on his length, the friction so delicious you forget your original goal as you moan softly, losing yourself in the skin on skin contact.

“Kitten, don’t tease.” he growls, his blunt nails digging into your hips.Your eyes snap open to observe how fucked out his looks, hair mussed and pupils completely dilated, breaths puffing from his rosy, bitten lips and you realize you cannot wait anymore either. With shaky hands you align yourself to his length and slowly lower yourself until you’re sitting on his thighs, his cock filling you up to the hilt.

“God, how are you so tight.” Yoongi groans, busying his mind by scattering marks on your collarbone. His hands scramble to pull the last bit of lace off your body, fingers skimming across the valleys of your breasts before taking one into his mouth. He stills completely when you begin to move, you hips drawing tantalizing circles against his, pulling him closer to his release.

“I’m close, Yoongi.” you cry when he thrusts up to meet your hips, the burning in your thighs and the thudding of the headboard evidence of your passionate session. Yoongi gives a short grunt as reply when he trusts even harder up into you, brushing against your bundle of nerves. Your breaking point is surpassed when he growls, “Come for me, kittten.” into the shell of your ear, his raspy voice always the object of your end.

Waves of bliss wash over your body, electric flashes of sensory overload that makes you clench tightly around him, coaxing him towards his own release. Yoongi comes with a shout of your name and warmth painting your walls, shallow thrusts working both you and him from your high.

In the afterglow, you find yourself tracing the patterns of his tattoos, marks of growth from when you two parted ways.

“I love you, you know?” you admit, staring into his glossy eyes, liquid pleasure still flowing in his veins.

He’s a masterpiece.  

“I’ve never stopped loving you.” he answers and the sincerity in his eyes cannot be mistaken for a split second decision made by lust.

You’re his masterpiece.

Perhaps it’s the feeling of adrenaline rushing through your veins, or maybe the sheer joy in the moment but both of you burst out in laughter. A sweet kiss and many lingering touches forge your reunion and you’ve never been so content for a warm body next to yours.

.

.

.

.

Princess Peach [8:00a.m.]: I hope your Big Emergency was resolved (y/n) ;)

Me: [9:30a.m.]: You’re so dead once I get back.

[avi-stella]

Hiya Im gonna attempt to make an interesting request lol so uh- please excuse my crappy English, srry will be long. I saw this post about a necklace with charms of the moon phases each person of a couple was born under and I was thinking/ what if there were couples who were destined to be together, as in one born under halfmoon and the other born on the other half (also works with crescent and others) also remember that texting chat w/ zen when he was drunk I think lol/ about fairies cont.

This is so late! I’m so sorry for the long delay! ;_; Your request was really interesting (I’m a sucker for fantasyyy), and I hope I was able to do justice with it. Thank you for requesting! <3

Everybody who was born on this earth possessed a strange mark on their left wrist: a phase of the moon. They say that there is somebody out there in the world who possesses the other half of your mark—your soulmate—and once the two of you touch, the marks will glow and change to that of a complete full moon.

Zen was confused; he already had the mark of a full moon on his wrist. Did that mean that he already found his soulmate? His other half, and that he just missed them? Or did it mean that he was his own soulmate? It wasn’t that farfetched and uncommon, and though the idea amused him, he couldn’t deny the aching need for love and attention from someone else. The actor put a lot of focus into his work, but even so, he still wanted to know what it was like to be his other half. To feel like a whole.

It was late at night when the young man finished up with rehearsals. He had ended up sticking around a bit, not yet ready to go back to his cold and lonely apartment. The actor walked slowly, burying his hands in his pockets while idly kicking a pebble down the street. The night was dimly lit with the light of the full moon hanging overhead in the sky. The same full moon as his mark. The same full moon as those who were complete, but Zen felt empty.

Breathing out a reluctant sigh of defeat, the young man continued on his way back home, trudging along as his heart ached with longing. The loneliness always seemed to become much more painful whenever there was a full moon. Sometimes, Zen would joke to himself that it was because he was a werewolf, but he knew himself better than anyone. He couldn’t lie to himself, no matter how hard he tried.

Zen decided to take a small detour from his usual route. The young man allowed his feet to take him wherever they wanted, not really paying attention to where he was going. Eventually, Zen found himself at a small creek. It was a beautiful sight, the greenery almost giving off an ethereal glow; the young man couldn’t believe his eyes.

There were…things, floating around and glowing. Zen almost thought of them as fireflies, but that wasn’t it. They were something else, but the actor couldn’t figure out what. They seemed almost…otherworldly.

Just then, the actor could hear light laughter sounding in his ears, the voice almost child-like and mischievous. Zen spun on his heel, but he was greeted with nothing but air. The laughter continued to surround him, carried by the wind. Usually, the actor would have found himself terrified with such a situation, but oddly enough, he felt…safe. He didn’t think that whoever or whatever these voices belonged to wouldn’t harm him.

Suddenly, there was a strong gust of wind that sent Zen’s hair flying all around him. His hands immediately shot out of his pocket to tame the long locks, and then everything stopped. A stillness passed over the creek, the wind gone and air eerily quiet. The laughing voices had hushed, and the atmosphere seemed to shift somehow.

Zen took a step back at the abrupt change, ready to turn on his heel to leave when several voices started to chime in the small breeze that started to pick up again. Whispered voices speaking amongst one another with a hopeful tinge.

“He possesses the full mark.”

“Perhaps he is the one.”

“And perhaps not. Why bring our princess further grief by giving her hope if it is nothing but false in the end?”

“The possibility still exists. She wanes with each cycle. It is worth a try.”

“…”

“Come.”

The voice abruptly directs itself towards Zen, catching him off guard. Following the voice’s command, all the glowing “things” form a straight line. It’s an entrancing sight, and Zen finds himself completely captivated. His eyelids slowly start to become heavy, and when the glowing line moves forward, Zen is tempted to take one step towards it.

He follows the trail without much thought, his mind in a blissful haze. It feels as though he would be promised something if he follows these things, and he can’t find the strength to resist. The voices continue to encourage him, urging him to keep moving.

“Our princess is waiting.”

“She will be so happy if you are the one.”

“Perhaps you will be happy too.”

“Maybe you will finally be complete.”

“Complete…” Zen repeats, finding the word to feel pleasant on his tongue.

The actor’s feet drags into the water; he isn’t too sure when that happened, but he doesn’t resist whatever hold he was currently in. The moon is reflected on the rippling surface of the water, and Zen can’t look away. He stares at it intently, finding the water’s surface to move closer and closer to his face before he is completely submerged.

Drowning, drowning. Zen is drowning, but it isn’t suffocating. His chest feels so light, his vision fading as he sinks further and further down in the deep blue.

When the young man’s eyes flutter open, he finds himself to be lying in the middle of a bed of flowers. He slowly sits up, pressing a hand to his head as he tries to remember what happened and how he got here…wherever “here” was, exactly. Crimson eyes glance around, trying to get an understanding of the surroundings.

It looked to be in the middle of a lush forest, the greenery vibrant and full of life. The open air felt so clean and light, and every time Zen breathed, it felt as though he was being cleansed. The young man stands up and sees a small trail. Seeing as he had no other idea on where to go, Zen starts to head down the trail.

Following the trail, the actor delves deeper into the forest. There was something about this place that made his heart leap in anticipation. It feels as though this was where Zen was supposed to be. Like this place was waiting for him. Like he was waiting for this place.

The actor is broken out of his thoughts when he hears the familiar voices from in the creek lingering in the air. They sound distant yet close, and so Zen decides to follow them. The volume increases with each step he takes, signalling that Zen is getting closer to the source. He comes across a curtain of vines, the voices coming from just behind it.

Not knowing why, Zen takes a deep breath to calm his nerves and excitement. He draws the vines back, and he’s greeted by the sight of a gorgeous young woman kneeling amongst the grass, head and arms resting on a tree stump. Delicate-looking wings protrude from her back, giving lazy flaps which sends leaves to dance with a gentle breeze.

Zen is mesmerized, unknowingly taking one step closer to get a better look and accidentally stepping on a twig. The snapping sound breaks you away from your thoughts, and your head shoots up, looking at the male before you with curiosity and wonder.

“Um, hello…” Zen awkwardly greets you with a nervous laugh. “I’m Zen.”

You stare at the newcomer warily before returning his introduction with your own name, standing up from your position and dusting yourself off as you give your wings one final flap. Zen nods, repeating your name in a whisper to get a feel for it, finding heat to rise to his cheeks when he does. “Are you…an angel?”

“Angel?” You repeat in surprise at the male’s impression of you before bursting into a fit of giggles. “No, not at all. I’m what you humans call a faerie.”

“A faerie…” Zen breathes out. “You’re beautiful.”

You’re taken aback by the blurted out compliment, and you bow your head, embarrassment flooding your cheeks. “How did you get here?” You try to change the subject.

“I’m not sure…” the actor responds. “I was at a creek, and I followed some voices, and…well, now I’m here.”

“Oh, I see…it must have been a full moon then,” you answer wistfully, tilting your head back to gaze at the sky. Sensing the young man’s confusion, you explain, “The line that separates the realms of the supernatural and humanity weakens with the full moon. My children must have guided you through one of the doors for you to enter this realm.”

“Children? Door…?”

You giggle at the male’s perplexed expression. “Those voices you heard. They most probably belonged to my children—the ones who serve me. They must have guided you here for a reason. Tell me, Zen, what is your reason for being here?”

Zen’s heart skips a beat when you say his name, and he scrambles to answer, “I-I’m not too sure, exactly. I just…felt…‘lonely’, I guess…?”

“Lonely… I see,” you respond idly, staring down at your hands that seem to flicker in transparency. “I can understand that. I’m lonely too…waiting.” Your eyes stare faraway, your fingers gingerly rubbing your inner wrist.

“What do you mean…?”

A sad smile crawls onto your lips. You don’t know why you continue talking, but you do. “I’m waiting. For my 'other half’.”

Zen seems to freeze at your words. Taking his silence as your cue to continue, you try to explain to the best of your abilities, wondering just how much information a mortal like him can hold. “Long ago, there was a faerie who was blessed by the moon spirit. She fell in love with one of the first humans to ever exist, but at some point, they were separated. They promised to find each other again—their other half.”

“The moon marking…” Zen realizes. His eyes widen with surprise, not having known that such a thing dated back so long ago and had such a magical root to it.

“Is it the same for you humans?” You ask, not having expected a mortal to be aware of the tradition amongst your kin.

The young man nods, stretching out his hand to show you his mark of the full moon on his inner wrist. “They say once you touch your soulmate who possesses the other half of your mark, it will glow with the mark changing to that of a full moon, but as you can see with mine… Well, maybe I just don’t have one.”

“I’m sure they exist somewhere. You just haven’t found them yet,” you attempt to cheer up the male, your heart clenching at his defeated expression. “…I should go. There are things I must tend to.”

Not quite understanding the strange feelings in your chest, you swiftly turn on your heel to leave, almost afraid. In your haste, you trip over your own feet. You brace yourself for the impact, but it never comes. You feel a warm hand clasp around your wrist, effectively stopping your fall. A faint glow shines from both your inner wrist and Zen’s, surprising the both of you.

You turn to look at Zen, your eyes wide with wonder. Slowly, the actor lets go, and you both glance down towards your marks. For Zen, it’s still the same mark of a full moon, but it seems different somehow. He can’t quite explain it, but there is one thing he’s certain of: he’s finally found you.

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