#i kinda really like how the dresses turned out. also the complexions i think they look pretty

[neembu]

rajkumari indumati & chutki

real rusty but this is the second time i’ve drawn in 4 yrs

[what-if-nct]

(you can reply to this one separately to the last post)

also omg i love your outfits! i’m also trying to grow my cute/kawaii and cosplay clothes to wear when going out, mostly so i could stand out in a crowd in cupsleeve events. i don’t usually wear those things!

one thing i really wanna try and pull off is the aliyahcore outfits. definitely one thing i’d do after surgery is to wear crop tops but i really love how the outfits makes you look kinda like a y2k video game character (idk if this is cringe to say or not lol) such as imvu or second life. i especially love the hello kitty outfits- (totally obsessed with sanrio stuff)

(oup here’s me rambling about sanrio)

my favourite character has to be my melody and cinnamoroll. my favourite cinna sibling has to definitely be no other than mocha. that is so damn obvious- i’m pretty sure every black/dark skinned sanrio obsessed person one they get to know about mocha would probably add her to their pfps because that’s the closest we may get to a official black sanrio character. she’s not really black, and i obviously understand why they picked mocha to be the way she is, but i just love her design to be dark skinned and has pink flowers instead of orange just because it “suits the complexion.” like- she describes me so well- and her birthday is 12 days after mine omgggggggggg

anywho- as you can see i REALLY love sanrio stuff- i even got my sister to go to artbox (a shop in london that sells sanrio, bt21 and other iconic kawaii toys such as pusheen) to buy me my christmas present and she got me a my melody blanket and a hello kitty calendar. i purposely didn’t tell her which character to give me as i wanted her to see the shop for herself. they literally have items in sections that it was so aesthetically pleasing, but i guess i didn’t think it through because it was almost empty (it was dec 24th) in which she had to ask someone who worked there for help, but she got it in the end. is it just me or learning about the story of how they purchased your presents are much more interesting than the item itself? like if you don’t tell me that you had to run into the store at 6am, push other customers, shove them to a nearby clothes rack, fought another customer over the last item, slamming them on the ground, paid to the cashier before realising you went over budget, paid the rest with the only cash you had, nearly ran over somebody because they tried to break into your car, just to be able to give me my present, i would most likely struggle to seem appreciative even though i am, but not sure how to express that. is it just me?

also, because i don’t gatekeep, here’s the address for artbox so you can go whenever you come to london!

44-46 shelton street, wc2h 9hz

nearest bus/train stations: convent gardens station (piccadilly line) holborn station (central line, piccadilly line) holborn station (stop n and p): 1, 59, 68, 91, 188, 243 kingsway/holborn station (stop m): 1, 59, 68, 91, 188, 243

for those who chooses to go the holborn route, if you see a boots store, that’s where you need to cross over and take the first turning on the right. if you see a cafe, go straight ahead, take a left then straight down again. it should be on your left. it should be on the maps, not sure why i’m telling the directions- i just wanna be a show off lol (also ignore the bus numbers with N in them. those ones run during the night and the shop closes at 7pm usually. also, idk what that X bus is doing there either. maybe that’s elon musk’s bus.)

Aww, Thank you. I love aliyahcore it's like 2000s fashion with rave elements. It's so cute. And over the top I love over the top fashion. My goal with styling is to have who I am inside shown through with how I look on the outside. Like what you see is exactly what you get. Like when I dressed "sexier" it didn't feel like me I looked cute but it felt like a costume. So definitely go for it when you're ready to. That is so true I love mocha she's so cute and when I first saw her I was like "me!!!" I'm such a Sanrio girly and so is my best friend us giving each other gifts is just us giving each other sanrio merchandise. I have so much sanrio stuff mainly my melody and a few little twin stars things. if little twin stars was easy to find id have more. Those are my fave Sanrio characters. But that's such a cute story for how your sister got your Christmas gift and I think it just adds more excitement and adventure to the gift. But I love "It reminded me of you" or "I thought of you" gifts like you were thinking about little ol me?! it makes me so happy. It could literally be a pink piece glass for 50 cents and I would cherish it forever cause it reminded someone of me. And that sounds like such a cute shop, thank you for address and directions. If Im ever in London I'll would make sure to stop buy.

[inky-thoughts]

Hi I want to know more about Endres, what are his inspirations? Both the character itself/story and design.

oh this is a long one, he changed so much and it's not quite clear-cut ^^;

initially, he was just from a 2-part sketch I did in high school while dipping my toe into the realm of Gay FeelingsTM for the first time. I felt it was safer to explore it through portraying men because I'm a girl! so looking at two good-looking men and being into it wasn't weird! although the thing that I was really into was the intimacy and same-gender attraction (I mean I'm bi so I still do enjoy a nice man when I see one).

(only found the 1st one of the sketches)

doing these sketches, he was mostly inspired by an even older somewhat antagonist from a story I scrapped, who in turn was highkey inspired by Jeoffrey Baratheon from Game of Thrones (and latently queer-coded because baby Inky didn't know why she found those villains so alluring). so you may not see it with his personality now but Jeoffrey was one of the reasons he exists!

a few years later, I didn't know what to draw so a girl loves recycling and did a redraw of above sketch but I just felt like switching it up. I was kinda bored of lieges just taking whatever and whoever they wanted, instead I just found a slightly hesitant prince who had a crush on his guard a bit more intriguing.

that redraw was choke-full of happy little accidents, like Endres getting his two moles under his right eye (it was just poorly erased lineart but it's endearing to me so it stayed), longer hair because I just love that in a man, darker complexion because it's just beautiful.

he obviously still changed a bit from that, like how his hair got considerably much longer, or his eyebrows thicker, but I think a lot of his design choices were just because they're beautiful. the idea of looking at a man and just thinking 'he's beautiful' because we rarely think of men like that.

he didn't really start out with a story in mind, it was just "a prince and his soldier" harking back to courtly love and similar romances. but he (and Caspar, his soldier) kept rotating in my brain and I was wondering a lot about their circumstances and whatnot, and I started to spin their story and characters.

aaaaand it got kinda out of hand.

Endres is the first male protagonist outside of fanfics that I wrote, and a lot of his themes are about subverting the tropes he is made of. he lost his parents to a political coup, yet he doesn't swear revenge but instead tries to get behind why it happened. he has a lot of respect for his sister who is now the queen as the eldest child, and he doesn't question her claim to the throne unless it were to question the institution of monarchy itself. how teens and preteens still are no adults and expecting them to step up when adults fail builds immense pressure upon them.

then also he has major themes of trauma and grief and recovery, maybe it's a little too much therapeutic writing, but who cares? the struggle of regaining your personhood afterwards with his violently cut hair slowly regrowing, the relapse of cutting his own hair to the point of bleeding. not knowing how your family reacts to a reunion after almost a decade of no contact. grieving the youth you could've had but someone took from you.

in his design, you'll notice a lot of blue, turquoise, greens and golds, akin of peacocks, another frequent motif for him, for one a symbol of royalty but also male beauty and sexuality that wants to please and be looked at, which usually is considered rather feminine. he is beautiful but undeniably still a man. he's there to be confusing to others. if he presents a bisexual crisis, that's the goal. and he'll be confident about it.

this type of design for him when he's in his early to mid-20s is a semi-casual court attire heavily influenced from Goryeo and Joseon period hanbok, Song Dynasty hanfu, and Edwardian period blouses/lingerie dresses with other influences by the Safavid period and Indian patterns/motifs. he loves to dress up but it's still tasteful and not overtly showing wealth, it's casual, leasurely, pretty much like his fairly hedonistic lifestyle at that time, though he still wouldn't dress vulgarly, he's properly buttoned up and wears his sigils with the chest chains, his tassles, and the jewelry. as adult but not the head of his family he wears his hair in a half-updo if he is off-duty, and while it's styled orderly, it's not rigid as he has some free-falling strands framing his face.

compare that to his 17/18-year-old self where he wears his apprentice uniform absolutely properly, with his hair almost completely braided out of his face and one long braid in the back as most minors wear it. he gives himself much less leeway and hasn't come into himself quite yet. while his family isn't poor, they also don't come from money, so his clothes tend to be much plainer and less full in volume. this also makes him, while still handsome, much more plain-looking and more of a crowd character, also by design.

I probably could write a whole ass doctor thesis on him but I hope this will do for now, I've been trying to answer this ask for way too long already XD

you unlocked my ramble mode! so thank you/congrats :D

[rubynationwins]

Wanna Be Yours

Sugar baby! Bucky Barnes x Plus size! Reader

Summary: You don’t have a problem letting Bucky see other people, but Bucky wants to tell you that you’re all he needs.

Main Masterlist

Warnings: angst, fluff, pining, jealous! bucky, dirty talk/thoughts, swearing, Bucky is in his mid-late 20s

Word Count: 2,816

A/N: I’m very excited to be posting a fic, I feel like it’s been forever since I last posted one! I’ve had this in my wips for quite a while now, but didn’t work on it because I felt guilty for not posting my other fics that are sequels/parts of series first. But those are still far from being done(I’ve kinda also been struggling w/ writing them oof), so I shifted gears and edited this one & feel very pleased w/ how it came out! I love this concept, and I hope you all are into this pairing/dynamic because it’s a little different than my others. Like, comment, reblog, I always appreciate feedback so plz let me know what u think!

This story should not be posted anywhere else without my express permission.

Thanks for reading!

-Ruby

You don’t keep Bucky – or James, as you call him – on a very short leash. You don’t want him to feel tied down when he’s at such a pivotal age for young, virile men like himself. He should be able to explore and enjoy his youth with partners he doesn’t feel obligated to be with. This isn’t your first sugar relationship, so you’re plenty aware that young men don’t want to only be with you; which is something you learned the hard way. It’s better to let them live their lives with predetermined rules instead of getting cheated on by men who don’t have the balls to tell you they need more than you have to offer.

So, with Bucky, you made your expectations clear from the start. He can sleep with whoever he wants as long as he’s safe, uses protection, gets checked regularly, and always puts you first; and in turn, you give him whatever he desires. Lucky for you, he has stuck to your rules and made good on his promise to be by your side when you need him. Honesty, communication, and companionship, that’s all you really need, nothing more. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

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

“James-”

Bucky spins around from the mirror he was checking his hair in and sucks in a breath. You are standing in the doorway of the bathroom with a playful smirk on your painted red lips.

“If you keep messing with your hair it’s going to fall out,” you give him a once over, “You look beautiful, darling.” And he does. He is absolutely stunning in his navy suit, a simple dark grey turtleneck underneath with a gold chain loose around his neck. It’s the one you bought him for your 6-month anniversary last month. Technically, you paid for the entire outfit he’s currently donning, but you personally picked out the chain yourself. It matches the slim bracelet that’s dangling around your wrist.

Bucky blushes lightly under your sharp gaze. He doesn’t know why, but a flutter erupts in his belly every time you compliment him. He never gets so worked up when others flatter him, only you.

“Right back at ya’ doll,” he flashes a wolfish smile, “you sure we have to go to this event? How ‘bout instead I get you out of that dress and we head to the bedroom because I don’t know how the hell I’m gonna keep my hands off you in that thing.”

Not too long ago you would have thought he was all talk, but Bucky has proven just how much he adores your body – curves and all. You can’t help but agree with his statement anyway, you look absolutely banging in your elegant Theia gown. The deep fuchsia color complements your complexion perfectly and the way it hugs your curves is like sin. The side slit stops just at mid-thigh and the off-the-shoulder straps mean your neckline is on full display. The way his eyes flash as they take it all in sends heat straight to your core, but unfortunately, you’re on a time crunch.

“As tempting as your offer is, James, I can’t miss this one. It’s a company celebration, and as the newest member of the board, it’s vital that I be there.” You gently grasp his hand and lean into the warmth of his large, muscled body, placing a modest peck on his cheek, “But since you’re going to be with me, I know the night will fly by. Before you know it, we’ll be back here and you can help me with this damn zipper.” You chuckle, winking playfully before walking away to grab your clutch resting on the table a few feet away.

Bucky’s pupils are like black saucers as he stares longingly at your ass as you bend over to slip on your shoes. As much as he wants to ignore your words and shove you up against the nearest wall and fuck you in that delectable dress, he knows that your work life is important to you, so he restrains himself – for now.

“Alright, doll.” He holds his arm out for you to take and you wrap yours around it, feeling the hard metal underneath the fabric of his suit jacket. “As long as you promise to help me out of my pants as well.”

You gasp and hit his shoulder playfully, “James!”

He shoots you a shit-eating grin and walks to the door with you hanging on his arm, your soft body melding into his.

Tonight is going to be great.

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

Tonight has been crap.

Bucky sulks at the bar, toying with a toothpick and sipping at his glass of brandy. Again, he glances over to where you stand surrounded by a group of coworkers, all of whom are men.

Shit.

He downs the remaining contents of his glass and motions to the bartender for another before going back to glaring at your little posse. He isn’t mad at you though, well, not that much. No, he’s pissed off at the slime-balls crowding you. Don’t they have their own dates to ogle at? Why did they have to steal you away as soon as you both stepped into the ballroom with the pretense of “private business matters”?

Turns out, those “private business matters” are getting you drunk and blustering about your many achievements and how lucky they are to have you on the board. Bucky knows his jealousy is misplaced. He, above everyone here, knows how hard you worked to get this position. You are the youngest person, and the only woman, to ever become a board member. He’s damn proud of you, in fact.

Still, he can tell these sleazy old men don’t give a damn about your work, not with the way they all stare at you like some kind of meal for them to devour. Bucky respects your boundaries and your work life, but how is he supposed to sit back when the tall shit-head with graying blonde hair on your right, who has easy access to getting a peep at your cleavage, keeps touching your arm? Can’t you see what they’re up to? Or are you being deliberately obtuse just to ruffle his feathers?

You wouldn’t do that though. Even if you were flirting with these geezers, which Bucky’s sure you’re not, you wouldn’t do it to get a rise out of him because you wouldn’t think it possible. You’ve never said it outright, but Bucky knows you don’t think he minds when you talk to other men. He does though, he fucking minds a lot.

How can he blame you for it, though? You made it abundantly clear at the start of your relationship that it was fine for him to see other women, even if he wasn’t the least bit interested in anyone else, not from the moment he laid eyes on you. When he tried to argue that you didn’t have anything to worry about – that he didn’t want anyone besides you – you shut him down completely, saying there was no room for argument, that he either accept the terms, or you wouldn’t be able to see him again.

Bucky wanted to strangle every selfish, fucker that made you go to such lengths to feel comfortable in a relationship. Of course, he conceded to your stipulations, there was no way around it, he needed to be with you. But, if you didn’t care if he fucked other people, how could he possibly demand that you only have eyes for him?

Still, though, it was taking all his strength to not rush forward and sweep you away from the group of lechers, and maybe kick a few of them in the nuts for good measure.

A new drink is placed before him and he knocks it back immediately. When he turns back around to continue stalking you from afar, his blood runs cold.

The other members of your group are gone and now it’s just you and blondie talking. The bastard says something and you laugh, reaching up and squeezing his arm, swaying on your feet. He places his hands on your plush hips to, supposedly, stabilize you. All the while, pulling you in much closer than necessary.

Bucky is out of his seat and at your side in a split second. He grabs the offending man’s wrists and yanks them off of you, “Watch where you’re touching, pal.” His threat comes out in a low growl and he pulls you to him, his grip tight around your waist.

“James? What are you doing here?” You hiccup, eyes hazy as they blink up at him. Your surprise at his presence sends a pang through Bucky’s heart. Had you so easily forgotten about him?

Even so, no man touches what’s his.

Bucky takes a step back, bringing you with him, and leans down to your ear, gritting his teeth together in a faux smile, “I’m here because I think it’s time we go. You’ve had too much to drink, doll,” he speaks lowly so only you can hear. He knows his words are a bit too harsh and his tone a little too strained, but he can’t shake the defensive anger coursing through his veins.

The blonde man, who for some reason is still standing there with a strangely satisfied smirk on his lips chooses that very moment to speak up, “So you’re James? Nice to meet you,” he reaches out for a handshake, seemingly unfazed by the murderous glint in Bucky’s eyes. Bucky outright ignores his proffered hand, but the finely clad man brushes off the rebuff and casually slides his hand into his pants pocket, “Y/N talks about you all the time. I can see why, you’re a nice-looking kid.”

He wants to punch the callous grin off of the old asshole’s face, but you snort, “Tod, quit it, stop teasing him.” Bucky’s jaw tightens, you didn’t say he’s not a kid. Bucky hates feeling unworthy of you; like he doesn’t belong at your side. He may be young, but he has just as much right as any to call himself yours.

Tod cracks a smile, “Ha, alright, I’ll see you on Monday, Y/N.” He nods his head at you in goodbye and moves to leave. But when he passes Bucky’s shoulder, he leans in and whispers, “Better get her home quick, son. Don’t you have a curfew to worry about?” He chuckles to himself when he catches Bucky’s seething face, not at all intimidated by the rage flaring in the younger man’s blue eyes. With those final parting words, Tod walks off, lucky to not have a bruise the size of Bucky’s left fist on his smarmy face, in Bucky’s opinion.

Bucky breathes heavily, trying not to run after the guy to show him where he can stick his fucking curfew bullshit. Instead, he switches his focus back to you. You’re leaning into him, your usually calculating eyes spacey and a goofy smile plays on your lips. He frowns, you normally don’t drink so much, “What the hell did you get yourself into, doll?” This time his voice is softer, worried, but less biting.

You glance up at him, your eyebrows furrowed, but once you understand what he’s asking, you let out an uncharacteristic giggle, “To celebrate, we did some shots, I don’t remember how many I had,” your words are slow and nonchalant, as if you are actively trying not to slur them together, “Anyway, why are you upset, darling? I thought I told you to find some guys your own age to chat with. I knew you wouldn’t be interested in all our boring old business talk.” As you talk, Bucky hurries you to the exit, only pausing at the coat check to grab your things. He messages your driver to be out front in five.

“Guys my age?” His tone is bitter but you’re oblivious to his simmering indignation.

“Yeah! It’s a party for mostly higher-ups, but a few of them brought their sons, and some brought their daughters too,” you give him a sly wink at that. Bucky just stands there in front of the decorated driveway, trying to temper the many unsavory responses he wants to make at your last remark. His arm is wrapped around your full waist, clutching you to his side. He stays silent as your car finally pulls up, the driver not bothering to hop out since Bucky already has the back door open before he even rolls to a complete stop. Bucky ushers you into the backseat before sliding in after you.

The partition is already rolled up so he turns to you, unable to bite his tongue any longer, “Daughters?”

You scrunch up your face, confused by his questioning, “Yeah, I’ve met some of them. Mr. & Mrs. Willson’s daughter, Sarah, is a real looker. I think you’d like her, she’s just your type, and then there’s Melina’s daughter, Nata-”

“I don’t understand.” Bucky stares at you, trying to mask the hurt in his chest, “Were you trying to get rid of me? I came here tonight to be with you. Why would I want to spend it with some other girl? Why did you spend it with other men? Y/N, I-I don’t know what you want from me, why would you-” His tone has turned accusatory and befuddled. He wants to come clean, to shout that he doesn’t give a shit about other women, but the words are caught in his throat. He’s too much of a coward to speak them aloud.

You shush him, shaking your head, a placating smile on your red lips, “James, I don’t know why you’re getting so riled up, but stop. I just want to enjoy the rest of the car ride home with you, please, I’m tired.” You kick off your heels and relax your head against his shoulder; placing your soft hand in his. He gazes at your lovely face as you play with his metal fingers. The flashing lights that fill the car as it passes underneath brightly lit billboards and dim streetlamps cast fluttering shadows around your ethereal features. His chest fills with a sentiment he doesn’t know how to describe, one he’s maybe too scared to unpack. Your eyes drift shut and your hands still in his, as your soft snores fill the interior of the car. Bucky places a gentle kiss on the top of your head, soaking up your rich perfume.

When the car arrives back home, Bucky carries your sleeping form inside, hugging your plush body to his chest. He lays you down on the bed and goes to work getting you ready for sleep. He knows you wouldn’t want to go to sleep with makeup on, so he grabs a makeup wipe from with bathroom and removes your still pristine look. Bucky loves the power and confidence makeup gives you, but he adores your fresh face, which he doesn’t often get to see.

You tend to keep him at a distance, only letting him see parts of you, not allowing yourself to be “messy” in his presence. Again, there's that foreign panging in his heart. It feels like there is a wall between the two of you, one that you purposefully set up, Bucky’s afraid he’s never going to break it down. Even tonight, when you were fairly drunk, you held a certain air of professionalism about you, so to speak.

You always have to be in control and Bucky wishes that you would just let him be the one to shoulder the burden for once. It’s like you think he’ll abandon you if you ask him to commit more to your relationship. You just don’t know how much he craves you when you tell him he has the “weekend off”, or that he only has to come to events “if he wants to”. You may think you’re letting him have “freedom” and not feel “tied down”, but in reality, you’re denying him the time and companionship that he so desires from you. Bucky wants you to demand more of him, to expect more from him. He sure wants more of you; however he can get it.

What if all you ever want is just a good time and a good lay with a young, pretty face? A few months ago he might have been satisfied with that, but now he wants more. And he is terrified to ask for it.

He finishes cleaning your face and even has the mind to put moisturizer on you since you live and breathe the stuff. He unzips your gown and pulls it off your body. After taking a moment to appreciate the majesty of your body, he goes and hangs the dress back in the closet before coming back out with one of your pajama sets.

He removes your strapless bra and slides the soft, silk pajama top over your chest. You have shapewear on so he shimmies you out of it, which is a little challenging he’ll admit. He has no clue why you wear the restricting stuff. You say it’s to have a smooth base for your tighter garments to rest on, but he suspects there might be more to it. Either way, it’s your body and he gets to appreciate it with and without the shapewear on, so he’s plenty satisfied.

After he gets your pajama bottoms on, he quickly changes into a pair of boxers, not bothering with a shirt. He shuffles into bed beside you, pulling the covers over you both. He hugs you to his chest, trying to get the feeling of dread to leave his subconscious. You’re here in his arms, and that is enough. It has to be.

[ramonag-if]

Can I know how the ROs were in the original concept? It’s kinda interesting to listen to a creator’s thought process regarding their art. Also, I kinda find it funny that Oren won you over due to his goddamn smile 😂. What’s next Nehera wins you over with a one liner?

Nerena has already won me over Anon 👀 Her reaction outside Aspal especially towards an aggressive MC made me think, oh no, she'd be a perfect RO. But I will remain strong and keep to the plan 😶

You can actually read the edited (it ends way before we hit spoiler territory) concept story here. Though the full concept story ends somewhat after the events of chapter three so I'll probably upload the full concept story once chapter three is updated.

But, because I'm really bad at keeping things to myself, especially when writing, here is a little snippet from the original concept of when I fell in love with the ROs 😅

Irus:

You take a few cautious bites of the fried oysters. They are delicious. You enjoy every bite. "These are good," you say. "Sir Oren, will you not join us?" "Thank you, no, I need to be going," he answers. "My guards will escort you when you are done. I have other duties that I must attend to. I will see you both later." Sir Oren bows to you, and then steps away from the stall. You and Irus sit and eat for a few more minutes in silence. "He seems to have taken a liking to you," Irus says, wiping his mouth. You startle, surprised by Irus' words. "What?" you ask. "Oren. He seems to like you." "I doubt that," you scoff. "He is just being polite." Irus laughs. "You are remarkably naive, aren't you?" Yes, I give you all grief for liking his jealousy but I wouldn't be writing him like this if I didn't like it too 😂

Elora:

You feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn around and are greeted by Queen Elora. She is dressed in a lavish gown, the material a deep burgundy which suits her golden complexion. "Are you enjoying the banquet, Aena?" she asks. "I am," you reply. "The wine is delicious." "Yes," she agrees. "The wine is." Her gaze lingers on you a moment longer before she speaks. "The dress I sent to you suits you well," she remarks. "Red suits you." You hesitate. "I... thank you. It was a generous offer." "It was more than an offer," she says. "Consider it a token of appreciation." "Appreciation? I am not certain that I've done anything to garner your appreciation," you reply. "You kept Iri safe when you didn't have to," Queen Elora responds. "That deserves more than I can ever express." I don't know, she just seems perfect and so seductive that I knew she'd be good to woo 😍

Oren:

"Good evening, Aena" he says. "You look lovely." "Sir Oren," you blurt. "I... thank you. I mean, this is not my usual style." "I did not say it was," Sir Oren says. "But I approve. Now, would you care for something to drink?" You nod gratefully. Sir Oren plucks a bottle from a nearby table and fills an empty goblet, before handing it to you. You take a sip from your goblet. The wine is a rich red, and the flavour is a perfect balance between sweet and bitter. "You're well acquainted with wine, Sir Oren," you say. "I am," Sir Oren says. "Swordplay is not my only interest." You let out a delighted laugh. "You admit it! You dabble in the dark arts." Sir Oren chuckles. "Ah yes. Wine tasting is quite a devious hobby." It's that stupid swordplay comment that made me want him as a RO, because I thought it showed Oren to be a little flirtier than he let on 😏

[crab-in-a-pocket]

Hello!! I love your ideas a lot! Can you perhaps to the bachelor/ettes reactions to seeing the farmer dressed up really nicely after being used to seeing them in constant dirty farm clothes? Maybe like just after they realize they have feelings for farmer, or before they’ve realized it at all. Thank you!

cute af idea, sorry i didn't get to this sooner :(

im currently cramming 8 weeks worth of hw bc i procrastinated and i am such a fucking fool. dont be like me. also, sorry to the maru n penny stans but i dont rlly like them and writing them is so hard so theyre not here but i will try to write more for them eventually

HAPPY LATE VALENTINES GUYS

alex:

the kind that chokes on his drink upon seeing you. he probably didn't dress up as well as he should've and you're dressed better than everyone's expected. his eyes keep drifting to you and his cheeks are all warm. he's unsure if it's from the alcohol or the sight of you. he approaches you quickly and you two drink the night away.

sam:

cheeks go cherry red upon seeing you. abigail's the one who notices first-- she points you out, grinning about how well you've dressed up, so much so she can hardly recognize you. sam turns and all sense and breath leaves his chest. sebastian pokes him with a pool stick and sam stutters out a hello, but it's no good, he's speechless.

sebastian:

you're the one to sidle uo next to him while he bends low over the billiard table, aiming for a ball. he greets you but doesn't look up and he only properly sees you when he stands straight again. the shock on his face as clear as day. you'd think he would be the type to stammer, but instead, his mouth curves into a grin and he tells you you clean up nicely. your faint blush completes the look, he thinks.

shane:

like alex, he chokes on his drink. he never bothers to dress up for any occasion and he'd always thought you the same until now. there's a tiny hint of betrayal hiding underneath that mix of embarrasment and fluttery stuff in his stomach. says some self-deprecating remark but compliments you, albeit grudgingly. he hides his smile behind his drink, but it doesn't work much-- you can still see how soft it is.

elliott:

"oh my yoba, the farmer's here, leah. act natural!1!1!1" kinda guy. jaw drops at the sight of you. you were already so charming, even in your admittedly grubby work outfit, but the sight of you in genuinely nice clothes that compliment your body type and your complexion is enough to make him go crazy. suddenly so blushy at the sight of you that he gapes a bit like a fish at first. then it's all smooth flirting from there-- he presses a kiss to your knuckles, probably because it's clean for once.

harvey:

blushy, surprised, but surprisingly enough, a bit more talkative than usual. it's probably because you were intimidatingly cool in your hardcore Farmer Suit and seeing you in normal clothes reminds him that you are, in fact, not a Farming RPG Terminator, sights locked on the dangerous mines, but totally normal, like right now. it's refreshing for him, even if his heart beats a little faster and pounds a little harder than usual at the sight of you.

abigail:

"hey, you look awesome!" is the first thing that falls from her lips. it's true, you do look awesome even in the surprisingly normal garb you're wearing. it's a little weird to see you clean of dirt smudges and hay in your hair, but it's super cool nonetheless. abigail's the one who's got you blushing the whole time.

haley:

math lady meme. trying to find a connection between the Farmer Hottie and the Dressed Up Hottie, and then when you see her, she realizes it really is you, the same radiant smile on your less dirt-smudged face that you give her whenever you see her per the usual, dirt-smudged and all. makes some weird comment about your outfit and you know it's a compliment. after a couple moments of awkward silence, haley's curiosity peaks. she finally bursts out with: where did you get that shirt it's so nice

leah:

surprised and blushy. she stomps on elliott's foot and he loudly complains, drawing your attention. conpliments your outfit and tells you you look great. she gets her bearings and she becomes more subtle in her flirting. elliott leaves because a. He's too Drunk to watch you and leah make goo-goo eyes at each other and b. he needs Another Drink to better ruminate his loneliness. you and leah flirt the night away and it ends with a light kiss to your cheek, butterflies in your stomach and a blush on her cheeks.

emily:

like her sister, she asks you about your clothes. she tells you look absolutely fantastic, your outfit on Point. the two of you chat about clothes but she's mostly thinking about which other kinds of clothes look good on you. she takes this surprise really well and she's cheerful at the sight of you looking comfortable in your dressy clothes.

[entishramblings]

It’s Not That Bad [Legolas X Reader]

A.N: I’m so sorry I have not been writing as often. I’ve had zero time. But anyWaYS...here is a fic that has been requested by someone who has always been into my writing so thank you for supporting me and here is a fic for you! Additionally, I did some research on herbs and stuff so I could make this at least a little accurate!

Request: @quilledinkpen — Hellooo i hope you're having a good day ^-^ I was wondering if I could request a Legolas x reader? Something like she's travelling with the fellowship and is kinda the unspoken "mom" of the group, like she's always doing her best to make sure everyone's safe, and reminding Pippin and Merry to be careful and stuff like that. Just an all-around motherly person lol (mainly to the Hobbits bc they're her babies but she looks after the other guys too) I think it'd be cute ^^ Thank you!

Pairing: Legolas X Reader

Summary: (Y/N), a healer, travels with the fellowship. She takes care of everyone and is basically “the mom friend.”

Word Count: 2, 510

Warnings: battle wounds that are kinda graphicish?

(gif not mine)

MASTERLIST

(Y/N) was a well known healer throughout all of Arda. Many traveled to her for treatment for life threatening ailments. But now, now it was her time to travel throughout the lands of Middle Earth in search of a salvation for all. A gruesome quest to destroy the evil ring of power had begun and someone well versed in natural apothecary was needed. (Y/N), of course, volunteered for this role for there was no one better suited than her. Besides, it was her duty to contribute to the survival of this world as she was one in it and relied heavily on what the earth produced. And if Sauron was to rule.....well, we all know where that would lead: no earth, no life, just darkness.

(Y/N) ruffled through her dark-brown leather satchel as she sifted through her healing herbs. Little pouches filled with athelas leaves, echinacea stalks, alder bark, valerian roots, and more piled inside the confinements of the fabric.

“Sam,” She called out. “Would you mind making hot tea for Frodo while I take care of Strider’s cut?”

The little hobbit ran over instantly and she passed him a couple pouches naming each one out loud, “Valerian root, dried chamomile pedals, and sycamore bark.” She then lowered her voice and leaned it, for it wasn’t anyone else’s business to hear. “It will help him sleep and deter the anxieties the ring bestows upon him.”

Sam nodded quickly and set to work as (Y/N) moved towards Aragorn who sat upon a large rock.

“Let me have a look.”

The dunedain rolled his eyes, “(Y/N), it is not that bad. Just a scratch.”

The young women sighed in annoyance and pulled up his sleeve to reveal a slash across his bicep. He was right—to an extent—it wasn’t terrible. He would not need stitches. However, it did need to be cleaned and wrapped for infections were nasty things.

(Y/N) started by pouring some alcohol over the wound; receiving a harsh hiss from the dunedain in response. She muttered a quick apology before continuing. The young woman ground athelas leaves into a fine paste and expertly smeared it onto the cut. She then unrolled gauze and placed it upon the wound. Lastly, she pulled white dressings from her satchel. She gingerly wrapped it around his arm, yet she was careful to still pull it taught as the goal was to keep the athelas paste in and bacteria out.

She stood up and brushed her hands off before placing them firmly on her hips. “See Strider, it takes only a couple minute.”

He grumbled at her comment but thanked her for the medical attention.

(Y/N) nodded quickly and went to check on the rest of the fellowship. She made her way to Boromir who was also sitting in rest. She put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Boromir, how are you doing? Any wounds?”

He seemed slightly startled at first for his mind had been elsewhere, but he looked up at her with a soft smile.

“I’m quite alright, My Lady.”

A light chuckled escaped her lips. “My friend, how many times must I tell you? It’s (Y/N), no lady of any sorts!”

He shook his head and grinned at her, “Well, my lady, I am doing quite fine.”

She let her eyes circle into the back of her head as the corner of her lip pulled into a smirk.

The healer turned and made her way to Gimli who was sharpening his axe.

“Gimli, I trust you are alright as I see you are already preparing for the next battle even though we just endured one.”

His gruff voice answered immediately, “Aye lassie! Those orcs can’t ensnare a dwarf that easily!!”

She laughed at his comment as Merry and Pippin came rushing up to her. As soon as she saw their faces she knew that the two mischievous hobbits wanted to claim her attention. She lowered herself down to their height as they flung themselves into her arms.

“Ahh my two hobbits! How did you fare in the battle?”

They pulled from her hug and began speaking at the same time.

“It was intensely scary but we were fierce!”

“Merry had hit one with a tree branch! It was quite magnificent!”

“Yes it was, I would have to admit! And Pip tripped another and he fell flat on his face!”

(Y/N) beamed at the two and giggled at their attempt to tell the story. As much as she was focused on caring for everyone, the hobbits cared for her—in another way that is. The four of them brought joy to her heart and glee to her spirit. Their innocence and appreciation of the simplest things brought happiness to her soul. They had offered her a welcomed visit to the shire at any time; telling her of the grand tour they would take her on. She had grown to look upon them as children for their smallness and way of perceiving life was similar so.

The two scampered off quickly, most likely to share their adrenaline filled story with Boromir, while (Y/N) did a final scan of the fellowship.

Her eyes soon rested on the elf. Legolas was off to a distance standing upon the rocky tundra. Something about his posture made her frown. His back was to her and his head seemed bowed, as if he was looking down at something. Furthermore, his one arm was pulled up at an awkward angle—strange, even for the elf. As the healer that she was, she was compelled to check on him.

(Y/N) weaved through the rocks until she was only a short distance from him.

“Legolas?” She questioned softly.

He immediately whipped around. His shirt fell to cover his form, but not before (Y/N) caught a glimpse of bright purple, red, and black. The young woman’s lips instantly parted in shock. She had seen many wounds in her life, on many people of many different races. However, it was not often that she had an elven patient with a wound like that. To state it simply, (Y/N) was worried—that looked bad, very bad. Legolas on the other hand was only flustered for he, an elf, had gotten snuck up on. He did not have great concern for the injury given that there were far more important things to worry about.

“Legolas,” (Y/N) stated firmly. “Lift your shirt.”

He sighed, “(Y/N), it’s not—“

She interrupted him, “Let me guess, ‘It’s not that bad?’” She shook her head, “You and Strider.”

She stepped forward and took the hem of his shirt in her hand. She cautiously lifted the fabric, not caring about the socially deemed scandalousness of the action—she was a healer after all.

(Y/N) sucked in a breath. A relatively large bruise stretched across his torso with a sizable cut in the center of it.

“By the Valar, Legolas!” She exclaimed with exasperation. “You should have come to me straight away!”

“(YN)—“

She cut him off again, “No. don’t ‘(Y/N)’ me. This is serious. It could be internal bleeding. I don’t care that you are an immortal elf, you can still die from this.”

The healer gently let her fingertips brush against his skin, tracing and examining the injury. He winced in pain at the contact and that did not escape (Y/N)’s attention.

“How did this happen exactly? I need every detail.”

Legolas groaned again when she grazed over the cut; and when he spoke it was with heavy breaths, “A harsh kick to the side into another orc....” (Y/N) hand pressed on the bleeding laceration and he hissed in pain before continuing to speak. “...who—who slashed downward.....with a jagged-edged blade that had a—a curved tip.

(Y/N) looked up at him with concern, his breathing was getting labored and that was not a good sign. Not a good sign at all.

“Alright, come on.” She ordered. The young woman practically dragged the reluctant elf back towards the group and pushed him down on a rock.

She knelt in front of him and, once again, ruffled through her satchel.

“Take your tunic off,” she commanded while pulling out various pouches and gauze dressings.

(Y/N) could feel all of the fellowships’ gazes on the two, which only intensified when Legolas removed his tunic. She could hear the hobbit’s hushed whispers and concerned tones for the wound was gruesome and ugly—probably the worst they have ever seen considering their simple lives.

Once she had all her supplies ready, she set to work.

(Y/N) was kneeling in-between Legolas’s legs while she studied the torn up, bloody, and bruised fresh for yet another time; it was imperative that she made a plan before starting.

During this examination, the young woman could not help but let her eyes wander across his chest and rippling muscles. The bends and curves of his form looked perfect against his pale complexion. He was incredibly toned and well built, even more so than humans. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t attracted to him.

Additionally, battle scars of various shapes and sizes littered his body—which was expected given he was over 2,000 years old. Here, she took a moment to study them for if one really looked at a warriors scars their fighting style would be revealed. Many stretched across his being—specifically on his ribcage, sides, pecs, and abs—it was clear that he was way more reckless than he would like people to think. He was fast with his moves, going for the quickest way to an oppenent’s death, but that often left him exposed. No wonder he ended up with this terrible bruising gash. He lived up to the Mirkwood elf expectation—less wise and more fierce.

As (Y/N) realized that her mind had wandered too far off task, she cleared her throat and reached for the flask of liquor.

“This will sting,” she stated before pouring it over the broken flesh. As expected, a loud groan escaped his lips and his fists clenched around nothingness.

Carefully she dabbed the area with a cloth. (Y/N) then threaded a needle and began to sew his skin back together. The elf was stiff as he clenched his jaw and flexed his muscles—a natural reflex in this kind of situation. She continued to pull his skin taught so their was no more breakthrough bleeding. It seemed that he had gotten used to the sensation as she went given he began to relax. Next, she made a paste for the wound, much like Strider’s. However, she decided to use more than athelas leaves because this cut was more severe than the Ranger’s. (Y/N) ground up echinacea stalks and mixed in alder bark to soothe inflammation and fight infection. Gently she applied the blended mixture into his torso. Lastly, she wound gauze and dressings around his midsection in order to keep everything in place.

Much time had past given stitches took long; luckily, the fellowships’ concerned glances faded.

(Y/N) stood up from her position and it was then when she released just how close the two were. She stood between his legs, their faces inches apart. If it was anyone else, she wouldn’t have cared for she often had to be in such proximities with others as she was a healer. But this wasn’t anyone else, it was him.

“You—you should be fine now,” (Y/N) whispered. She cleared her throat and stepped backwards. “I will have to check on it every day and redo the bandages. And I advise you: no sudden movements, and no lifting heavy objects—like the hobbits.”

Legolas cracked a smile at that last comment. “Thank you, (Y/N). I truly appreciate your skill.”

“That is what I’m here for, is it not?” She adverted her eyes and kept her hands busy by gathering her supplies for she feared her expression would betray her.

Legolas put his tunic back on as he spoke, “I suppose it is, but nethertheless I thank you.”

......

As the days went on she continued to check Legolas’s wound. (Y/N) tried to make it more private by dragging him off to the side or away from the group, given that she suspected it was uncomfortable for him to undress everyday in front of inquiring eyes (aka the hobbits).

It was dusk when she crouched down to examine it once again.

“It is healing nicely,” She said. “A lot faster than I suspected, but I suppose that is because you are elven.” Her nervousness caused her to continue speaking when she did not wish to do so. “I mainly treat men....and dwarves. It is not often that I have a wounded elf at my door. Do you know an elf named Feren? I recall he said he was of Mirkwood Kin. I treated him once years ago for a busted leg when he strayed into northern territories.”

A small smirk crossed Legolas’s face, “Ahh so you are the beautiful healer who patched him up so well?”

(Y/N) felt heat creep up her face, “I—I would not say that—“

“Nonsense! He spoke of your beauty and skill many times, and he was not mistaken. I am just surprised that I have been lucky enough to gaze upon you and have you heal me.”

These words made (Y/N)’s gauze wrapping motions falter. “It—it is my job, Legolas.”

“Yet you go beyond your assignment and duty everyday. I see how you take care of us all, especially the hobbits. You truly have a noble heart.”

(Y/N) smiled softly and spoke in a teasing tone, “Well I suppose you are right—all you boys would be lost without me.”

A deep chuckled hummed in Legolas’s chest and the healer joined in with a bright laugh.

The giggles settled soon enough and Legolas spoke, his sentence quite abrupt. “How would you feel about coming to Mirkwood and living there as a healer once the ring is destroyed?”

Shocked, (Y/N) stuttered. “I—I am unsure. I don’t know if—“

“(Y/N)...” He interrupted. “I do not wish for the end of this journey to be the end of our acquaintance.”

The young woman looked down, “As I agree, but—“

“(Y/N),” he whispered.

Something about his tone made her freeze.

Ever so gently, he lifted her chin to force her to look at him. His voice was quiet as he spoke, “I—I don’t think you understand what I am trying to convey.”

Oh....

Now she understood.

The healer glanced at his lips which hovered near her own before biting her bottom one and locking gazes with him. Legolas of course noticed this and waisted no time. He pressed his mouth against hers and she instantly responded. Her hands slid up his bare chest, careful to avoid the wound on his torso, and then tangled themselves in his blonde locks. His muscular arms wrapped around her waist tightly as he focused on the taste of mint tea and fresh honey. The two moved their lips in sync and the world around them melted away. Suddenly, there was no quest, no fellowship, no responsibilities—only the two of them and the thudding of their hearts.

.......

Everything Tag: @sokkasdarling @scxundress @quilledinkpen @hufflepuffinblr @lea----b @aredhel-of-gondolin @princecami @the-fandoms-georgie @jazziwritestolkienprimary @wellfuckmyexistence

Legolas tag: @dark-angel-is-back

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[avengerscompound]

It’s You and Me - Chapter 5

It’s You and Me: A Hawkeye Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Clint Barton x  F!Reader

Word Count:  2575

Rating:  E

Warnings:  Action, mentions of sex and death

Synopsis: You and Clint Barton go way back.  Since you joined the circus as a child, he took it upon himself to keep you away from the people who really wanted to hurt you.  For years the two of you danced a line between dark and light.

When he chooses light the two of you go your separate ways.

Fifteen years later he tracks you down.  Those feelings the two of you shared never went away, but now he is not only an Avengers but a single father.  Can the two of you make it work after all this time when your lives have gone in such different directions?

A series told in flashbacks and current day.

Chapter 5: Now

You blinked over at the three children that were sitting watching morning cartoons.  All had dark hair, light eyes, and pale complexions, with a smattering of freckles over their cheeks.  They all definitely looked related but none particularly resembled the blond 6’4 archer who was claiming to be their father.  The oldest was a boy around thirteen years old that sat on the recliner with his legs crossed playing a game on a tablet.  The girl was the middle child and only a couple of years younger than her brother.  She sat on the couch with a glass of orange juice, her eyes fixed on the episode of Adventure Time currently playing.  The youngest which you assumed was the one Clint had called Nate, was sitting in front of the coffee table with a plastic cup of milk.  He was much younger than the other two by a lot.  You figured he couldn’t be older than five but was more likely three or four.

As you took it all in, the shock didn’t seem to abate at all.  You looked at Clint with your brow furrowed.  “Why didn’t you tell me you had kids?”  You whispered.

“I didn’t think you’d be here when you woke up,” Clint said, sliding the dinosaur pancakes onto a colorful melamine plate.  You watched on as he added more batter to the griddle and then syrup to the pancakes and attempted to get your head around what was going on.  He took the pancakes and put them in front of the little boy before coming back to you and taking your hand, leading you back into the stairwell and up a few steps.  You noticed the girl notice you.  She watched as her father led you up the stairs and then turned back to the TV.

“What… what… what the hell, Clint?”  You said when you were safely out of earshot.

“Okay,” Clint said, putting his hands up like he was surrendering.  “We haven’t seen each other for years.  Years and years.  I had a life.  That’s all.  And I didn’t tell you yesterday because you seemed so flighty.  I figured what was the point.  You’d run off in the night and we’d go back to being exactly where we were before yesterday happened.”

“But you blew up my before yesterday life,” you argued.

“I know,” he said, and relaxed his hands, gingerly taking one of yours.  “I know, okay?  I’m sorry.  Can we start fresh?”

You let out a breath and nodded.

“Hey,” he said.  “Remember me?  It’s Clint.  I met you at the circus when you were still a kid.  Shit, I was still a kid too.  I taught you how to use a sword and ride a horse.”

You smiled a little.  “Yeah, I remember.”

“What have you been up to?”  Clint asked.  “Me?  I joined the government organization, SHIELD.  I was a spy and assassin.  I bet you didn’t expect that.  But I have to admit, I wasn’t great at either.  Then I was an Avenger.  You’ve heard of those guys?  They’re like Superheroes?  It’s kind of a big deal.  Anyway… what else?  Oh right.  I got married.  She was a single mom.  I ended up adopting her kids, and then later we had one together.”

“Where is she?”  You asked the sudden concern that you might have helped Clint cheat on his wife hitting you.

Clint frowned.  “She died,” he said.  “Car accident on the way home from the store.  A drunk driver slammed into her at a T intersection.”  He closed his eyes and shook his head.  You let him have time to work out what he wanted to do with the emotions he had attached to the memory and when he opened his eyes again, he looked a little sadder than he had before.  “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.  I kinda assumed you’d bail on me.  But I am totally here for you sticking around too.  I wanted you to come with me back… before.  That never changed.  So if you wanna try - whatever.  Or the kids are a deal-breaker.  Whatever.  Just… I’m here.  Okay?”

You nodded.  “Okay.”

“I know you never liked kids…”

“I liked kids,” you interrupted.  “I just never wanted them.”

“Right, well,” he said.  “You want to meet mine?”

“Sure,” you said with a small nod, closing your hand around his.

Clint led you back downstairs and flipped the pancakes on the griddle as he passed it.  “Hey kids, I want you to meet my friend.  She’s going to be staying here for a bit,” he gave them your name and then began to indicate to each kid.  “That’s Cooper over there.  Then Lila.  And the little guy is Nate.”

“Hi,” you said, aiming for cheery.  “It’s nice to meet you.”

They all echoed their hellos not particularly giving you too much attention, the way most kids did when you interrupted them doing something they enjoyed.  Clint’s dog ran to the door and began wagging his tail and a second later the door opened.

“Oh and this is Ebony,” Clint said.  “The nanny. She lives here too.”

Ebony had a flustered look about her as she sidestepped Lucky with a large basket of laundry.  “Here’s the clothes.  I really gotta go.  I’m meeting people in Hell’s Kitchen.”

“Thank you.  I mean it, thank you.  You’re a lifesaver,” Clint said, taking the laundry basket off her and thrusting it into your arms.  “I owe you one.”

“You owe me at least fifty,” Ebony said.  “Do not call me unless it’s the end of the world.”

“Right, of course.  Have fun,” Clint said as she grabbed her purse.

“See you, trouble makers,” she called as she hurried back out the door.

Clint returned to the pancakes and served up another batch before adding more batter again.  “Your clothes are in there,” he said, indicating to the basket.  “She agreed to do an emergency load of laundry for you because she said it would be a crime to force you out of the house in old Mrs. Wheeler’s clothes.  And don’t worry, she knows how to launder armor, she takes care of mine.”

You laughed.  “I like her already.”

“Go up and change and I’ll have breakfast waiting for you when you get back down,” he said.

When you came back downstairs, Clint was plating up the last of the pancakes as well as bacon, eggs, and fresh fruit.  It was a little startling to you given the last time you’d seen him he lived on coffee and cold pizza.

Clint smiled at you and when you approached, he put his hand on your arm and drew you in a little closer.  Just before his lips touched yours he looked into your eyes.  “Is this okay?”

You swallowed and nodded, not exactly sure if it would be, but wanting it nonetheless.  Clint brought his lips to yours.  This kiss was brief, but passionate, like you were doing something forbidden and clandestine, even though there was nothing about the two of you together that should feel like that at all.  When he pulled back, he tapped your ass and grabbed his plate.  “Come on,” he said.

You grabbed your breakfast and followed Clint to the couch and sat down on the only available recliner.  “Alright kids,” Clint said, as Lucky came and put his head in his lap, in the hopes Clint might give him bacon.  “We have a little bit to get done today and you’re with me.  We’re gonna take the subway into the city.  I need to drop something off at work.  I might see if Auntie Nat can hang out with you for a bit.  You all okay with that?”

They all agreed and then he turned to you.  “We can go over to your place after that if you want.  Grab some of your stuff.”

“You gonna go armed?”  You asked.

“Naturally,” Clint said, dropping a wink at you.

“Then after all that, we can do something fun.  You wanna go to Central Park while we’re in the city?  We can go to the zoo or on the carousel.”

“Can we stay late and see a musical?”  Cooper asked.

Clint raised an eyebrow at him.  “Of all the things I expected to come out of one of my kids’ mouths, that was not one of them,” he said.  “What do you guys think?  I guess we can see Aladdin.”

“Matilda,” Nate said, excitedly.

“Oh yeah?  You want to see a play about someone like your Auntie Wanda?”  Clint joked.

They all talked plans over breakfast and you sat quietly feeling a little out of place.  It was clear that Clint loved his kids a lot, but even more clear was that he wanted to give them the happy, healthy, childhood that he’d been denied.  There was never a suggestion that was thrown out without discussion.  Nothing was a bad idea.  It also explained the effort that he’d put into breakfast.

There were signs of the Clint you knew when you left though.  The dishes were just dumped into the sink and rather than putting the weapons he planned on bringing in a case, he just shoved them into a duffle bag.

The dog came along on the trip and for a while, you wondered how he was going to get him on the subway.  But when you got there he was put awkwardly into a backpack that Clint had been carrying and Clint wore the golden retriever on the train.

The kids and the dog were dropped off with the person you only knew as Black Widow from news reports.  Thankfully your criminal activity was fairly low key and more of the civil disobedience kind, so the Avengers ignored you. But you knew people who had had run-ins with her, and it never turned out well for them.

Then Clint had taken you up to see Captain America and Tony Stark.  They’d obviously been alerted to his presence and the reason for him being there because both were dressed fairly casually (the Captain in a light blue t-shirt that clung to his skin and a brown leather jacket while Stark had a t-shirt with a science pun on it over dress pants), but they were both waiting for him.

“Got it,” Clint said, pulling the microdrive out of his pocket.  Stark snatched it and patted Clint on the cheek.

“Not just a pretty face after all,” he said, going over to one of the consols and plugging it in.

“And who is this?”  Steve asked, nodding to you.

“This is my friend,” Clint said.  “We knew each other at the circus.  She helped with this, but I got her burned.  You think she can … you know…?  Join up?”

“Just going to start recruiting people, Link from the past?”  Tony teased, without looking up from the computer.

“What can you do?”  the Captain asked, ignoring Stark and looking you over.

“Whoah,” you said holding up your hands.  “Who said I even wanted to be part of your elite group of do-gooders?”

“I like her,” Tony said. “She’s got my vote.”

The Captain rolled his eyes but that was the most he acknowledged either you or Stark.

“She’s good, Cap,” Clint said.  “She can fight, and she’s agile as hell.  Can get from one side of the room to the other without touching the ground when it’s just a room with a few other people.  She can even balance on the blade of a sword.”

Steve looked at you, impressed.  “Well,” he said.  “If you ever change your mind, you’re welcome to try out.  If you can keep up with Clint and Nat, you’re in.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you snarked.

“Alright,” Clint said, shaking his head.  “Enjoy your intel.  We have a couple of other things to do today.”

The Captain looked at the duffle bag Clint was carrying.  “Do you need any help?”

“We’ve got it,” Clint answered.  “It’ll probably be nothing.”

Clint couldn’t have been more wrong.  When you got to the rundown building you lived in, the security doors were both broken wide open but when you got to your floor, the door was still closed.

“Ready?”  Clint asked as you looked over the door for any signs of tampering.

You nodded.  “Wonder what their plan is?”  You said.  “You think they’re inside?”

He nodded.  “Either that or watching us through that apartment and they want to block our escape route.”

“Should we go through the window?”  You asked.

“Nah,” he said.  “Might as well take them head-on.”

You shrugged and pushed open the door.  Jasper meowed at you impatiently and hissed in the direction of the neighbor’s door.  He was the only life to be found in your place and you sighed.  They were planning to ambush you.

“Lock the door and push the table up against it,” you said.  Clint nodded and you went and started shoving things into bags.  It was hard to decide what you wanted to keep and what you didn’t when you were under pressure to decide.  You tried to balance things that you needed now, with things that had some kind of sentimental value.  Thankfully, the circus had meant you’d gotten good at packing light and didn’t have a lot of things that you had a strong sentimental attachment to because it was only a couple of minutes before they were banging on the door.

“Might want to hurry, sugar,” Clint said, as someone fired at the locks.  He nocked an arrow and pointed at the door.

“I’m hurrying,” you said, and grabbed a jacket and put it on.  “Jasper, come here buddy,” you said, picking up your cat and zipping up your jacket around him.  He wasn’t exactly happy to be in there, but thankfully despite your kevlar not being strong enough to keep out snake fangs, it handled cat claws fine.

The door shoved forward a little and Clint loosed an arrow, pinning someone's hand to the doorframe.  Whoever it was screamed.  One of Zelda’s snakes slithered through the gap as whoever it was that was pinned to the door tried to muscle it open.

“Time to go,” Clint said, rushing to your side and wrapping his arm around your waist.  You let him hustle you to the window and he shot a grappling arrow at the building across from yours.  “That open window, there,” Clint said, pointing.  “You got this?”

“Please, look who you’re talking to,” you said.

The two of you hoisted yourself through the window and jumped as the door was shoved open.  Clint let you go as you arced over the gap between the buildings and you launched yourself off Clint’s thighs, stretching out, whilst holding your bags close to your body, so you dived headfirst through the window over the road, tucking yourself into a ball and rolling as you hit the ground. The old lady who lived there started screaming.  Clint, came through the window feet first just after you, forward rolling to break the impact.  “Sorry, ma’am!”  He announced as he rolled straight to his feet and grabbed your arm, running to the door.  “Avengers business!”

You started laughing as the two of you ran through the door and out into the hall.  “Oh my god, Clint!”  You shouted.  “I missed this!”

Clint grinned at you as he jumped over the staircase railings.  “Me too, babe.”

// NEXT

[uhhhhyandere]

halloween special!

hi everyone!!!! 

for halloween this year, inspiration struck and i decided to craft this halloween special demon/angel light au! i had so so much fun writing this and hope yall enjoy it!!!

no matter where you are in the world, if you celebrate halloween or not, i hope you all are doing amazing and know that you are so so loved (by me) and thank you all for the love and support you give! i love every single one of y’all and let’s finish out the year the best we can!!!! 

word count: 7.2k 

And He will bring hell with him. 

The grass will gray, and the trees will blanket with ash as all life is left withered, limp, and colorless in his wake. He takes, and takes, and takes with the full red moon on his back and the stars glittering on his lips in golden lies. Should his, Kira's eyes, red with ire from his unattained vision, seek you out, you are bound to the pits of hell itself for eternity. 

"Well, that's what the tale says," Misa said. "If you believe in that kinda stuff." She flipped the book over to display the illustrations. You leaned over to get a closer look. "They really have to make evil people this beautiful, huh?" You looked at her incredulously. "What? You're thinking the same thing! I just said it…" Her eyes trailed down to the pages again. 

"He was a mortal once?" Misa nodded her head and adjusted herself on the sofa for you to scootch closer. Her red manicured nails slipped the page over to the next. 

"Who tried to be a god." You squinted down at the new page and pointed. 

"She kinda looks like you." She laughed. 

"Just wait," Misa replied. "Anyway, he was young, a few years below us, when he came across the power to make him a god. He was not chosen nor special. The power was left to be picked up by any traveler. It just so handed to be dropped outside of his family's farm, and he just so happened to be who he was. An ambitious genius with the same hunger for power the poor have for food. He used this power to rise above all others and to kill any who dared step in his way." Tragic art painted the pages as Misa continued to flip through them. 

"How?" Misa shook her head. 

"They don't know. We don't know. A creature crueler than Kira. A bored god looking to stir trouble. A blessing that was used as a curse. Perhaps all. Perhaps none." She giggled. "Exciting, isn't it?" You scoffed. 

"Yeah, yeah. Keep going." 

"But he had enemies. No mortal man should wield what Kira wielded. Those who wanted to strip him of his power and deliver justice to those he had ridden of, not grasp the power, the golden throne, he sought. They played games with one another. Cruel, cunning games of who would outsmart the other. He who was supposed to condemn his power and he who had it used the same means to win.

"Us. Regular people used and thrown away to further their game. There was one," she pointed at the girl who resembled herself, "who picked up the same power as he. It was her who tried to love him, that bent at his word, that carried out his will." Misa swallowed, "but he had lost his ability to love, or that's what was thought until..." Misa cut herself off. 

"Kira and his nemesis continued to use, to manipulate the very ground the other walked on. All until he finally stood at the foot of the throne of the world he thirsted for. Pristine and shining, it stood above the clouds themselves. This is where he was slain, where his blood stained the stone, the rug, the throne, infecting and cursing them. The throne cracked, contorted, twisted, and fell. Down, down it fell until he and the now blackened throne were in hell. 

"One day, when the full moon shines on the bleeding night, he will rise, and he will bring hell with him. He will claim what he has lost to reign over the world of men. The grass will gray, and the trees will blanket with ash as all life is left withered, limp, and—,"

"I know that much," you interrupted, "but I'm confused. Did you leave a part out? Where you cut yourself off, I mean." White teeth dragged across her lip. 

"After," she started to rapidly flip the pages, "after he was banished to hell, they found…" Her flipping stopped at the very last page, "this." 

On the page was a cage with gnarled black metal and a large gash across the bars. A human whose arms crosses on their chest in an 'X.' Their feet were bound together and tied with rope to the middle's central support pole. Blood trickled down their face, torso, and legs. Beautiful, broken, ripped wings crumpled at their back. "He had stolen an angel. Broken them. Claimed them. Upon their back, scars from where he had failed to rip them off their back." She hummed. "Kinda looks like you." 

You laughed nervously then scoffed, trying to get the haunted picture out of your brain. "Should his eyes, red with ire from his unattained vision, seek you out, you are bound to the pits of hell itself for eternity because you are who he has lost, and he will not fail again.

"But that's just how it goes!" Misa laughed good-naturedly and shut the book harshly. "Pretty scary, right?" You shook your head.

"Absolutely not. First, it's actually pretty disturbing. Secondly, it's so vague! No details on how he died, if the other guy killed him. You'd think after eons of repetition, they'd make stuff up." Misa shook her head. 

"Yeah, if you ask a bard, but do you really want to hear a romanticization of it in a song where they talk about how he loved whom he locked away and claimed? They do not sing about the reality, for it is far too gruesome for even documentation, much less for song. At least, that's what Rem told me. Being vague is the only option to make it tolerable, but I think she actually knows the truth and won't spill." You laughed and rose from the library's sofa. "So? It's my favorite story." 

"That's because that girl looks like you." 

"And?" You clicked your tongue. 

"I dunno. I did say it was disturbing, but you don't really believe in this kinda stuff, right?" You scratched the back of your head. 

"Of course, I do!" She giggled. "Ever since Rem took me in and taught me to read, it's been my favorite book." How could you forget what an oddball Misa was? You sighed. 

"Alright, believe what you want. Halloween is the day after tomorrow, after all. Be as spooky as you want." Misa rose and slipped the leather-bound book back into her bag. "Are you stealing that?" You harshly whispered. She shook her head. 

"Nope! It's Rem's." Oh, gee.

"I'd rather steal from the library—which has free books—a concept I just remembered for some reason than Rem. Do you have a death wish? Nevermind, don't answer that. Why did you make me come to the library again?" 

"Isn't this where people read?

"...You're right. I got nothing. Come on. I need to get back to the market. I promised my parents I would pick up the pumpkins Mello grew and carved. Apparently, people are putting lights in them to make the faces glow at night."  

Your village was reasonably large, set on the misty hillside of the mountain. Though the nearest city where the Earl of the region lived was a few miles down the path and knights on horses frequented here on their patrols, your village felt world's away from society. It was also relatively famous for the chapel, so travelers often stopped to visit, especially with the holiday season. 

It rested closest to where the cliff dropped into nothingness. Flowers surrounded it, and moss grew up its stone walls. Vivid glass windows decorated all sides and around the wooden doors. A tower ascended from the front to where a millennial old bell sat still for just as long, for it was only to ring when the world was set to end.

Within, pews lined the plush red rug. The rug ran straight to the golden altar, where a large statue stood behind. The stained glass filtered color light upon its flawless, stone complexion. Water poured from the few holes in the body down into the small pond around it. 

"Are we going to meet on Halloween?" Misa asked. "You know it's my favorite holiday! Everyone will be on the square dancing and dressed up!" You smiled. 

"Of course. You know my parents would not miss a party. We can meet on my porch since it's closer?" She nodded enthusiastically,

"Yes! That sounds perfect! See you then!" The blonde blew you a kiss and skipped in the direction of her house. You smiled before turning on your heel and approaching the square. 

Of course, the market would be busy with both locals and travelers. It was mid-day, and each stand had its unique, limited-time holiday goods. You had to squeeze your way to make it to Mello's stand. The blonde grimaced as you approached. Ah. He's in a good mood! 

"Afternoon, Mello." 

"Y/N," he regarded you. "You're really going to buy a pumpkin with a scary face? Would it really go with your garden?" You scoffed. 

"It's my parents, actually, and yes! I can be scary and festive! Not as good as you, Mello. I heard that you carved lots of pumpkins for the village." He hummed and motioned to those on the wooden stand. 

"Not for the village," he replied. "You still have to pay, got it?" You rose your hands. 

"Of course, of course." You began to browse the selection. "Will you be attending the festivities night of?" He scoffed. 

"No. Now pick your poison or leave." You smiled and reached for one with a broad crooked smile. "Terrible taste." You furrowed your brows. 

"...But you're the one who made it?" Mello's eyes widened for a second before narrowing once more. 

"It's one of my worse ones. I guess it'll go well with you, then." You laughed and rubbed the carved circle around the stem with your hand. 

"Yep! Sounds good, Mello." You reached into your pockets and dropped a few coins in front of him. "Keep the change. Happy Halloween!" Mello snatched the coins from the table and shooed you off. You morphed back into the crowd, maneuvering your way through the group back to your house.

An abrupt, intense headache wracked your skull, causing you to suddenly stop amid the crowd and wince, nearly dropping the pumpkin under your arm. With your free hand, you grasped your forehead, but the pain only escalated and pulsed down your body. Two particularly intense strands of pain erupted on your back.

Peeking up, the crowd blurred around you, but your eyes on a figure at the corner of the inn. He was too far to make out the intimate details besides his lithe frame and brown hair. For moments you locked eyes before he disappeared behind the inn. 

The pain stopped as if it was an illusion. You snapped back into reality, chest heaving in relief. A few eyes looked at you in concern, but no one stopped to ask. Thankfully so. You wouldn't know what to tell them if they asked what happened. 

Shaking your head, you safely made it to your small house hidden behind a large oak tree. 

"Oh! You got the pumpkin! How was Mello?" 

"Charming as ever, of course. I was just with Misa at the library before that. She told me the story about Kira and his fall to hell." Your mom nodded her head and took the pumpkin from your arm. 

"Ah, that's an old one. I guess she's always been the type to be into that stuff. It freaks me out, personally." You followed your mom to the kitchen. 

"Yeah, me too. I try to remind myself it's not real, but there's also the small tick in the back of my brain that tells me it may be, you know?" She nodded again. 

"Oh, I like this carving! Nice choice, Y/N, but yes, I do that too. Especially since Halloween, this year, is on the full blood moon. An ill omen in all tales. Luckily the town's party rids my mind of such horrors, as should yours. Anything else happen today?" You paused.

"N-no. Nothing comes to mind. I think I'm going to go find father then wash up before dinner. Is he still in the forest?" Your mom nodded. 

"Yep. He's been hunting that same deer for weeks now. Apparently, it has a rack of the like he has never seen before. Something of beauty. I think he doesn't even want to kill it as much as he wants to see it again." Your dad was somewhat of a conundrum. As much as he awed and loved nature, he was a hunter who made income on the sale of its pelts and horns. "I'm sure he hasn't found it yet. Maybe you can help."

Unlikely, but you liked to explore the misty pines surrounding your village. They were too safe and had a few secret spots where hollowed logs led to hidden clear ponds. Wishing your mom farewell, you entered the pines and inhaled their thick scent. 

Your dad's job was handy in that you knew the backwoods like the back of your hand. He taught you the ways to track and navigate through the seemingly identical trunks. 

He also unknowingly taught you to sense when something was off with the forest. After ten minutes of traversing, you finally had the feeling of dread. The mist was inches too low, the grass droplets too wet, and the temperature degrees too low. You held your breath and glanced at your surroundings. 

A silhouette. A deer's head with a rack so vertically high you thought your eyesight was failing you. Except, as you stepped closer, this deer had the body of a man standing upon his two legs. Large hollow eyes oozed mist. 

"..." something was whispered into the air. You continued to hold your breath. "...—/N." The deer-man gave no indication of moving, and you could not bring your feet to even wiggle the frost from your toes. "Y/N."

Your name. Crystal clear. Your breath hitched. His hand with long, natural claws extended forwards towards you. "Y/N," it repeated. "You mus—....—ere. No t—." You could not make out his words. 

"Y/N!" Another yell. This time you recognized it as your father. Eyes blown open, you wretched your eyes from the deer-man and sprinted towards the voice of your father. 

"I'm...sorry." 

…

"You're not telling us everything." Your father accused. After you ran head-first into your father, petrified and stumbling over every word, he urged you home and waited for you to take the bath you begged them to allow you to have before sitting you in the sitting room, the fire roaring under the holiday wreath behind you. 

'It just scared me. I've never seen a bear of its size." Why are you lying? You had no idea. As soon as your mom asked the first questions, lies flowed out of your mouth like the truth. Stories you naturally never could have conjured on the spot. Stories you would never because you did not lie, which is why your parents, despite their dubious expressions, did believe you. "I swear. I just got freaked out. I think it's because of the story Misa told me today."

"That girl," your dad muttered. 

"She told them the story of the man who fell to hell. Kira." Your dad nodded and rubbed his chin with his hand. 

"Ah, I see. That would do it. Y/N, I know the full blood moon is coming, but there's no need to fret. Stories are just stories, alright? Leave your candlelight on tonight should you be scared of the dark, alright? Me and your mom are in the room over, alright?" You nodded. "Good. Now, what's for dinner?"

…

You lit the candle that night. In your nightwear, you sat on the edge of the bed. Muffled moonlight streamed through the frosted window and reflected off the full-length mirror in the corner. You inhaled deeply through your nose and exhaled through your mouth.

"They're just stories. Just stories." Like a mantra, you repeated this under your breath as you ducked under the covers. Opening your eyes, though, you were met with a flash of shadow in the mirror. You jumped and stared at it with eyes open enough to feel the cold air. You waited for something in the still room to move, for it to flash again, but nothing did. Thankfully.

Still, you threw the blanket off of yourself and approached to assure yourself that yes, it was nothing, and yes, there was nothing: just your reflection and the room behind you.

Until you blinked. 

For a second, blood poured down your body and wetted down your clothes against your figure—wings broken and limp behind your back. 

You screamed and smashed the mirror with your fist on impulse. Along with the shards, your body fell to the ground, and actual bloodied hands kept you from collapsing entirely. However, the features in the fragments were not yours. The man, the one from the square, stared back, but at this closer view, you can see his eyes. 

Red. 

You threw yourself back against the wall and screamed. Your door busted open, and your parents barged in. Your mother ran to your side and took your hand in hers while your father took in the big picture around him. 

"I-I thought I saw something in the mirror. Misa told me once the m-mirror is the passage to the other world. I-I know it's stupid for me to react like this, but I just… I don't know. Do you think it's the blood moon?" Your parents were quiet. 

'It could be," your mother said. "The blood moon is supposed to come with magic. It enables beings to crossover from other worlds, from other planes. It is the ill omen, but crossing over is all they can do. They can't touch you or hurt you. That, I promise." You nodded. 

Your parents stayed with you, and, for the first time since you were literally a toddler, you slept in their room, blankets wrapped around you on their floor. Relief flooded your system when sunlight broke through the window. Though your sleep was haunted by vague images and muddled whispers, you slept through the night after the incident. 

"Are you sure you're okay?" Your dad asked. "You can skip your daily chores if you don't want to do them. Tomorrow too. Aren't I generous?" You laughed but shook your head no. 

"That's alright. I think if I stay home, I'll just keep thinking about it. I need to get my mind off of it. Doing chores will put my mind at ease. Some normalcy, I think." Your dad nodded, though you can tell your parents weren't eager to just forget the events of last night.

You knew someone, though, that would be eager to learn about them. 

"Misa, can you keep a secret?" She bit into an apple. 

"No," she replied simply. "I tell Rem everything, but that's it. I don't really talk to many other people here besides you and her, so no one else to tell, but I know Rem will mind her business. She talks to fewer people than I do." That was true. You could count the number of times you talked to Rem on a single hand, and Misa said she liked you. 

"Okay, don't freak out, but…" 

She freaked out.

"And they were red?" You nodded. 

"Glowing. A sinister smirk on his face. His hands in the reflection, touching my own through the glass. It was the same as the one I saw in the square right after we met." Misa's eyes widened in enthusiasm and jubilation.

"It's him! It has to be! Kira!" You shook your head. 

"No, my mom explained it to me. It's a spirit from the other plane playing a joke on me. She told me that after I stopped crying and fled to their room before I passed out. That story isn't real. It… can't be." Misa shook her head and leaned forward. 

"It is! It's not that you don't believe it's real; it's that you don't want to believe it's real! Y/N, you have to believe me." You grimaced and backed away to create some breathing room.

"Why would I want it to be real?" You whispered solemnly. "Why would I want that to happen to me? I can't believe it's real. It can't be real. I'm terrified if it is real, okay? If my parents think it's real because I do, they'll tell the church, and if the church finds out? You know how they deal with spiritual trespassers and those they possess. I'd basically be dead. My soul stripped from my being to ensure I do not bring harm to anyone else. I would be a hollow body, Misa! Don't you get that!?" You inhaled a ragged breath. 

"...Has anything happened today?" You shook your head. "It's already almost sunset, so that's a good sign, at least. Sorry, I got too excited. Your feelings and safety are important. Okay, I promise I won't tell a soul about this." You breathed a sigh of relief. 

"Thank you. I just… don't know what to do." 

"Have you gone to the chapel? The water from the statue is supposed to cure any possession." You shook your head. "Okay! I think I know your next steps, then. Come on!" She stood abruptly from the bench and held out her hands. "Let's go!" 

She dragged you across the diameter of town until your footsteps echoed across the chamber. A few holy people greeted you as they did their duties. Some travelers prayed at the pews for good luck and well-being. A single man stood next to the pond where the statue stood. 

"Greetings," he welcomed. "I recognize you two from town, but I don't believe we've met. My name is Soichiro. Are you here to drink from the spring?" Misa nudged you forward. 

"Y-yes. Oh, I'm Y/N." He nodded. 

"I see. Does the blood moon have you nervous? Don't worry. Lots of people come to do the same before a blood moon. Come and cup your hands and drink the water. Any disease in your soul shall be healed." You lowered yourself down to your knees and cupped the crisp water between your palms. You lowered yourself to sip, and you swallowed. 

But it would not go down. 

You began to cough, and your body convulsed with coughs. Liquid did come from your mouth, but the drops upon the ground were not clear, but a vicious red. Soichiro yelled for the other holy people as your body shook and twisted. Ropes bound your wrists, and hands steadied your head—arms wrapped around your waist to keep you as still as possible. A man placed his palm on your forehead and whispered incomprehensible words. When he finished, he ripped his hand away, and your breath was restored. You were unable to fall with the tight grip they still had on you. 

"W-what happened?" You asked, feeling the tears on your cheeks continuing to inch down and the blood drying on your chin. "I-I don't know. I'm sorry." 

"Take them to the purification chamber."

"No! Please, no! Help me! Someone, please help!" It was a joint effort between numerous holy people to lift your struggling form from the ground. "Misa! Mom! Dad!" you called out for, yet, in the chapel, none of them were there. However, your screaming did not stop for them until you were placed on a large chair and gagged. Your legs were bound to the bottom of the chair, and arms rebound to the arms. Holy people circled around you. 

The chair you were in was much less a chair and more so a throne. Pure white metal was attached directly to the ground. Red cushioning provided comfort to your rear and back. With ragged breaths, you looked waited until one of them spoke or did anything besides watch you. It was the man who sentenced you here that approached. 

"Soichiro," someone called, but he ignored them and angled his head down towards you.

"I am going to undo your gag. Do not scream. I just want you to tell us the truth if you know anything. Sometimes… they do things without signaling a mortal." Large calloused hands undid the gag, and you inhaled greedily. "Now, tell us."

"A-are you going to take my soul?" 

"Speak first. I cannot make promises I do not know if I can keep." You swallowed and explained what you could to them. Your eyes were focused on the ground. The terror you would feel if his reaction was bad was too grand for you to meet his eyes. The silence after you ended your experience was deafening. "I see." He looked to a holy person nearby. "We need twenty-four-hours to prepare for the ritual. It leaves us with little room before the blood moon rises. If we do not store their soul… go now. It is much worse than any of us could have imagined." Your heart plummeted. 

"W-what? No! Please! Tell me what's going on! D-don't take my soul, please! I-I want to live! I'll run away! You'll never see me again!" Soichiro stared at you with what you hoped was empathy. The bags under his eyes spoke of his wisdom and his exhaustion. He motioned for the rest of the holy people to leave, so it was just him standing over you. 

"I'm sorry, child." He spoke softly, knuckles wiping the tears flowing down your face. "No matter how far you run, no matter how fast, no matter how well you hide, no matter how you continue on: alive or dead, he will come for you. The moment you locked eyes in the mirror, you were bound to him, just as you always have been." You shook your head, vehemently. 

"It's not true, is it? Kira... is he…?" Soichiro smiled sadly. "It can't be… it can't be me. It's impossible." You sobbed. "How? Please, at least tell me before… before…" You couldn't even make the words out. 

"My son," he began, "was always destined for greatness, but then greatness found him, and he became too great. The power he found was a single, black notebook. Write someone's name, and they would pass. It originally is from a Shinigami, a god of death, that possessed him while he owned it, but… there are forces more potent than Shinigami in the universe. He and his opponent, the one who sought to bring the mysterious killer Kira, my son, that plagued the land to justice, who we called L, always were at a battle of wits, of plans, but, in the end, my son won.

"But this victory angered others. It was they who killed him at the throne of the world. It was they who watched him plummet to hell. It was they who built the statue in this chapel and sealed him in hell so he could never return, but they have long passed. Their magic fading in time. I could do nothing in all this time except pray to angels to keep my son at bay." He paused and looked up solemnly. "You must be wondering how I am alive," He looked down at his pale hands. 

"The notebook is gone now. The Shinigami that dropped it fled back to his world when Lig- Kira, was cast down to hell. I, too, touched the notebook. A scheme my son created to get ahead. The curse of it never went away, and I am now stuck to live eternity until my son ends it." He clenched his fist. "I did not know you were so close. I did not know it was you. If I did… I would have taken your soul long before you could have known life without it." You shook your head. 

"I don't understand. What is my part? The book… the book only showed a cage with… someone in it. The story has no word of them. Just the girl… the weapon that served him." Soichiro sighed. 

"Back then, the plane between the mortal realm and other words was thinner when angels and spirits would roam mortal lands. You were an angel. A new one. Young. Wide-eyed and drawing silver linings wherever you walked. Someone he set to ruin. Someone with a soul so pure that he can take and twist to his own liking. No one should see you except him, so he locked you away and bound his soul to yours and your soul to his. As long as he lived, whether here or hell, you would too. 

"But just your soul. Unlike me, whose mortal body is stuck, it is solely your soul that has been recycled for eons. His part, the part of his soul within you, could only be awakened should your eyes meet his. Then, with his entire soul active and with the power of the red blood moon, he will be able to break the barrier that seals him tomorrow night. We must lock away part of his power, so he cannot walk this land again. 

"Should he, then he will seek to claim all that was taken from him. The mortal world will fall as we know it. Those he inevitably tricked in hell to follow him will breakthrough behind him. What the world deserves for not seeing him as the god he sees himself as." Tears pooled in Soichiro's eyes. "I still love my son. The bright-eyed boy, but he cannot love. What he feels for you is something far darker, something twisted. I do not know what he will do if he finds you. You will be better off soulless." You sobbed. 

"B-but the deer-man in the woods. Do you - I mean…" He furrowed his brows and shook his head. 

"I don't know, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry my son came upon you. No one deserves this fate." You wretched in your bindings, ragged breaths, and eery whines escaping your mouth. "Some will be around to feed you later, and someone… someone will explain everything to your parents. 

"Let me see them!" You yelled out. "Please! One last time! They don't know anything! I just want to… please, I… I get it. Why you have to do this, but please let me say goodbye. Please. I just," you bit your bottom lip to prevent another wail, "please." Soichiro shook his head. The man could no longer maintain eye contact with you.

"I can't. We cannot risk you talking to anyone lest risk his jealousy. As far as we are concerned, you are not you. You are his." You pulled against the ropes once more. "I'm… so sorry. It is best for everyone that he does not see you with others while he is powerful enough to watch this world. I hope you never forgive me." Crestfallen, he turned his back and approached the door. 

"No! Come back! Please! Don't leave me alone here! P-please! S-Soichiro!" Only the slam and locking of the door met your calls. 

You don't know how long you howled and wailed, how many times it echoed back in the circular chamber to your ear. There came the point where your body could make no more tears, so you were left with pathetic dry heaves. It was then that a voice whispered in your head. 

"Y/N…" It was different than the voice in the woods. It was sinister, deep, evil. You focused on anything, the floor's intricate patterns, the ceiling, the running water behind the chair, the plants around the circumference of the room, anything to not acknowledge it. "Oh, aren't you a gift wrapped up for me? Clearly my father's work. Don't ignore me, Y/N. I know your every move. I know you can hear my every word" 

"F-fuck you!" You cried, and he laughed. Then, he clicked his tongue.

"Such dirty words. You're not the angel I remember, fresh out of the clouds. Ah, but there wasn't much angel left, from what I can recall. Do you feel it, Y/N? It shouldn't be long now…" For a long time, nothing happened, then, like two knives down your back, you screamed. "Ah, there it is. Those screams, I do remember. I don't care if it hurts." Blood soaked the cushion behind you and flowed down to your rear. "You brought this on yourself. This is what you deserve." 

"I didn't do anything!" You writhed. 

"Is that what my father told you? Is that what the story says? Oh, they couldn't be more wrong, love. You denied me what I deserve. You could have fallen to hell right with me, where you can be where you belong, but you stayed. I couldn't have you running back to the angels to live your days without me. I wouldn't allow it. If I hadn't had Mikami lock you in that cage, if I hadn't bound our souls, your grave would be in the flower fields above the clouds, but you got conceited. 

"Let me remind you of something, love. You are mine. Your body, your mind, your heart, your soul, what's between your legs, it's all mine. We are bound for eternity, Y/N. There is nothing you can do about it." He got quiet just as the immediate pain receded, leaving you with intense throbs. 

"You… won't get the chance," you spoke through tears. "Big talk for someone who isn't even going to breach this plane." A flash of pain sparked in your skull. He chuckled. 

"Oh, Y/N. Perhaps you are just as green as you were when we met. I can't wait to feel you again. To have you watch me burn the world." Silence. 

Despite your exhaustion, you could not sleep. You might as well have melted into the chair in how your body did not move a single inch, too scared to bother your wounds, and have the pain come back that is still aching. You did not want to spend your last hours unconscious. No one came to feed you.

"They're coming," he said. "They'd better be quick, then. The moon is almost up out there, after all." He groaned, and you jolted at the feeling of a cold hand on your neck. 

Soichiro and a train of holy people entered the room and surrounded you. He approached your limp body and undid your bounds. You did not miss him tense, and his eyes widen at the pool of blood in the seat from your back. 

'We must hurry. Any minute he will come through." Soichiro enlisted others to help him carry you back up the stairs to the altar. "Twenty four hours in the chamber has amplified their soul. It explains the marks on their back from their past life. Quick, on the altar!" The cloth was smooth against your skin as they placed you. 

Movement flurried around you as different scents were sprayed, various objects were placed on the ground and on the altar around you, and foreign words were spoken around you. Fatigue racked your body. There was not a single inch of your body that you could to move. 

Soichiro stood over your body. Your eyes, dead and clouded, stared up at him. In his hand was a singular, transparent, glass object. Quickly, he lifted his hand, ready to plunge it down. 

A loud bang resounded in the chapel, and the glass fell with a splatter of blood. You rolled your head to the side and watched two bodies approach from the entrance. All of the holy people around you were blown limply against the walls around you. It was only when they were right above you that you recognize it was Misa and Rem. 

"Rem, can you carry them? Do you still have your strength?" 

"Do not worry, Misa," she replied. Long arms lifted you while Misa skipped ahead and smiled reassuringly back at you. Music filled the crisp air. Lights hanging from the trees and other ornaments swept by your visual field. You groaned and lulled your head to face Misa. 

"M-Misa, no." You groaned. "He's coming." She giggled and turned around. Skipping backward, her smile widened. Behind her, the crowd gathered in the village square. Their vivid garments stuck out under the lights. 

"Of course I know, silly! Rem is a Shinigami just as the one who gave Kira his power. Just like he had a notebook, I had Rem's, but it was destroyed eons ago. Still, it binds me to live eternally, just like Soichiro. Luckily, Rem's cloaking magic covered me when I've met him, or he would have spoiled it all for us!

"When I saw you, I knew it was you. No matter how you may physically change, your heart and soul are always the same. Now, he's going to return to us. He's going to spearhead the new world." She twirled her hair around her finger. "Isn't that exciting?" 

You had no strength to fight in Rem's hold. Even if you did, you were unsure if you would be able to beat a Shinigami. 

Eyes were drawn to you as your bloodied and weak form was carried by an almost unidentifiable figure. Gasps echoed across the crowd, the music stopping as you presumably reached the square. 

"They watch helplessly," he spoke. "They know you are not theirs to touch. Soon, they will all know my power. They will all know who you belong to. Keep your eyes open, love."  

"Y/N! Y/N! Move! That's our child! Move! Y/N! The desperate calls of your parents broke through the crowd, but Rem presumably pushed them far back just the holy people, scaring the public to still and part for your funeral march. You heard the sick smack of bodies against a surface. Misa hummed to herself in front of you. Your head rolling back, you met Mello's wide and helpless eyes as he stood in the crowd. 

Misa led you away from the crowd and stopped at the flagpole at the village's entrance gates with the group following. Rem retied you to the base of the flagpole; your arms crossed over your chest in a familiar 'X,' legs and waist bound to the pole. Misa's settled herself next to you.

"All!" She called. "Watch as the blood moon rises behind the chapel! He who fell to hell is rising again to take what is rightfully his!" She pointed to the moon as it brilliantly glowed crimson above the chapel. Murmurs rose from the crowd, suspicious and fearful. "Watch as our god returns to the mortal realm!" 

The church bell rang. Its deathly reverberations echoing in your ear. The crowd fell to silence. 

"Have you missed me, love?" He spoke. "Because I have missed you." 

A red beam of light erupted from the chapel, followed quickly by multiple explosions. The statue, the roof, the infrastructure all crumbling by the expanding beam of light that touched the sky, screams erupted from the crowd, and they began to scramble. You pulled with what little strength you had left, but the pole against your back seized you in pain to cease your movements.

A silhouette could be made out of the beam. Large black wings spread from his back, sharp and jagged. Hands rose above his head before he dropped down in front of the chapel submerged in flames. His shadow enraptured you, and though his shadow was mostly unclear from a distance, you could make out his eyes even from here. Slowly, he took his first step forwards. 

Every needle and leaf in the trees around him fell. The grass withered all around him. Ash from the sky and littered the ground. With each step, the radius expanded until more and more life died around him. Your eyes trailed to the unconscious bodies of your parents against a tree. His zone of death stretched farther than them. 

"Eyes on me." 

"You're going to kill them!" You screeched. "Stop this madness at once!" You shook in your bonds. Misa was frozen next to you, eyes wide in anticipation as he approached. 

"Ordering me around? Perhaps you still are conceited. I think killing them will remind you of your place, hm?" Unfortunate humans were reduced to ash in his radius. The wind blew the ashes all around him, gently lifting his brown tufts of hair. "These mortals are nothing compared to you and I. Accept me as your mate. Accept the part of your soul that is my own, and the pain will all go away. You'll be dragged down to hell, and I'll bring you right back up." 

Your parent's ashes were a different color than the rest. 

"You know, it's been an eternity since I've heard you call my name. Do you even remember it?" You shook your head and squeezed your eyes shut. The thick scent of smoke, of ash, of death, permeated the air. "Eyes on me." He was almost here. Arms extended to the side, he approached from the other side of the square now. 

"Misa, we need to leave." 

"No! He's here! He's finally here, Rem!" 

"His aura will kill you, Misa." 

"No, I won't! He won't!" Rem, at lightning speed, grabbed Misa and flew in the other direction. "No! Put me down! I'll never forgive you! Stop!" Her voice echoed until it was out of range. Your head lashed back and forth, looking for any sign of life, but there was none: just ash, dying grass, and gnarled, graying trees. 

Dressed in all black, eyes blazing, teeth sharp, wings stretched, he now stood before you with the moon on his back. You pushed yourself against the pole despite the shock of pain. The grass around you died, the bugs vanishing, but you remained fine. You stared at his feet. 

"Oh, love," soft fingers reached down and tilted your head up. "You're as beautiful as I remember." Black wings encircled you, so you could only see him. "Do you remember my name?" You shook your head, and he gripped your chin harder. "Do not lie to me. Say my name, Y/N. Sew the wounds of your forsaken wings and accept your place with me." His voice resounded in you. "You feel it. I know you do. I feel your pain. Your fear. I've felt every emotion your reincarnations have ever felt. Say my name." He leaned in close.

"Kira." He clicked his tongue. 

"Stop resisting," he hissed. "Say my name, Y/N." His breath glided against your cheek. His hand moved to cup your jaw, and the other trailed down your waist.

"Light." It came off your lips quickly, easily, and he smiled, eyes widening with pleasure. Immediately, relief filled your physical body, your back's pain dissolving. Your head tilted back in bliss. 

"Y/N," he whispered against your neck. "Finally." He inhaled your scent deeply, hand tilting your head to give him more access. He placed a small kiss against your skin. His kisses trailed upwards, along your jaw, frantic against your cheeks, nose, until he captured your lips and stole your breath. 

"Oh, Y/N," he whispered against your lips. "I love you."  

[downbytheouterbanks]

Happy Place (Rafe x reader) pt 3

part 1 & part 2

The second Sarah walked into her room and caught sight of you sitting cross-legged on the floor, with the same confused look that you had when she was teaching you how to use a tampon, she knew it was go time. She immediately mirrored your position and sat cross-legged in front of you, her presence made you somewhat snap out of your daze.

“Honey, what’s got your panties in a twist? Do you need a lesson in Diva Cups now?” Sarah joked, trying to lighten your mood so you would open up to her. She was successful has she earned a soft chuckle from you. Sarah had her hands placed on her knees and you grabbed them, holding her hands in yours as you looked at her with the most serious expression she had ever seen grace your face.

“Sarah, I’m going to tell you something and you have to promise to not get mad at me and unfriend me because you are my best friend and also like my only friend on this island and  I would spontaneously combust if I didn’t have you in my life.” You let out while holding eye contact with Sarah.

“Why would I get mad?” Sarah asked as she quirked her head to the side, not understanding your urgency.

“Sarah I need you to say you won’t get mad and promise me.”

“I won’t get mad, I promise, here,” She takes both of her hands from your grasp and holds out her pinkies to you, “double pinky promise.” She says with a comforting smile. You lock your pinkies with hers, dramatically placing a kiss on both of your hands, complete with a “MWUAH” after each kiss. “Now spill, missy!”

“Okay, so remember when we were younger and we talked about how in all the cheesy romance movies we used to watch, every couple had like a moment? You know like the moment they realized they have feelings for each other?” Sarah nods her head, signaling you to get to the point. “Well, I think I just had a moment.” Sarah’s eyes went wide and she gasped.

“Oh my god, with who?”

You took a deep breath, not happy that you have to admit it out loud since she couldn’t piece the puzzle together, “With Rafe.” Little did you know it was at that moment that Rafe was walking by Sarah’s room, and at the sound of his name coming from your voice after what just happened between you two, how could he not eavesdrop?

For the first time in her life, Sarah had no words to say. And that made you panic, launching into a word vomit explanation.

“I mean it’s not like I came onto him or anything and he didn’t come onto me either! It’s just you were still in the shower and my sunburn was bad and I needed something to put an end to the fire that I was feeling and I could reach my back to put the aloe gel on myself so I asked Rafe and he didn’t mean to see my tits, that was my fault I didn’t see the mirror! But he looked away really fast and then everything was fine until he breathed on me and I think I moaned? Not like because I wanted him or anything-GOD NO! It was just he breathed on this one spot and then it felt good and then the next thing I know, he’s helping me put my shirt back on and then we are just kinda holding each other and I thought I was just thinking but I said something out loud and I REALLY WISH I HADN’T because honestly, I don’t think I can look at him the same-” and with that, Rafe decided he didn’t need to listen anymore, he backed away from the door, retrieved a bottle of whiskey, and retreated back to his room, which he did not plan on leaving until you were gone. What Rafe didn’t hear was how you finished your ramble.

You had continued on to say, “like I think I’m attracted to him but I don’t want to pursue anything if he doesn’t feel the same way and especially not if you aren’t cool with it.” As soon as those words left your mouth, you closed your eyes and took in a deep breath.

“You really had a movie moment with him?” Sarah softly asks, and as you open your eyes you are met with a look of hesitation and doubt from your best friend. “How do you know?” You look around the room, trying to formulate your next words.

“This may or may not make sense but like when he held me like so close to him and then I looked him in the eyes, it was kind of like everything was still like I was absolutely paralyzed but like I could feel butterflies everywhere.” There is a moment of silence after you say this and you still refuse to meet Sarah’s gaze until she gives your hands a squeeze. When you look at her, she has a soft smile on her face which you return.

“That sounds really special,” She says and all you can do is sheepishly nod, “but like my brother, really?” At that, both of you get lost in a fit of giggles. When the two of you finally catch your breath Sarah hesitantly asks, “So what are you gonna do?”

“I mean in all honesty, I didn’t really think that far because I don’t want to mess up our friendship or my friendship with Rafe.”

“(Y/N),” Sarah says in a serious tone, “I don’t think there is anyone else on this planet who could balance out my brother. As long as you don’t ditch me for him, I’m okay if you want to see where it goes. I mean you said you had your movie moment and that is something that we have both been dreaming about, what kind of friend would I be if I made you miss out on that?”

Sarah and you still had chick flicks to watch and pizza to eat, however, so any business with Rafe, you promised would wait until the next day. When the morning rolled around, you and Sarah lounged about in the kitchen, Sarah making her famous banana pancakes (they’re only famous because it is the only food she can make from scratch), patiently waiting for Rafe to be lured out of his room by the smell of breakfast so you could talk to him. Ten am quickly turned to eleven am and Rafe still had not made an appearance from his room, you were starting to get anxious because you promised your parents you would be home by noon so you could help your mom get ready for the gala that was being hosted at the country club later that evening.

“Maybe just go knock on his door? He could still be asleep.” Sarah suggested as a last-ditch effort, you were starting to panic and feel that maybe you over-romanticized everything that happened in your head, maybe he didn’t get those same butterflies that you did.

“Okay, wish me luck.” And with that Sarah shot you two thumbs up before you made your way up the stairs, your pace slowed as you approached the door, trying to prepare yourself for every possible situation. When you finally found yourself standing in front of his door, you took a deep breath and then knocked, “Hey, Rafe, sorry if I’m waking you up but I… I uh just wanted to talk to you. I wanted to talk about what happened yesterday.” You waited for any kind of response and when nothing came, you knocked again, “Rafe? It’s (Y/N).”

On the other side of the door, Rafe laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He was debating. Should he just ignore you? Would you go away if he just stayed silent? He decided to see how his silence would play out. You tried knocking one more time and even tried his doorknob but he locked it last night so it didn’t budge. After trying the door he heard your footsteps retreat, “finally”, he thought to himself.

You grabbed your stuff from Sarah’s room before making your way back down the stairs and into the kitchen to tell Sarah. She tried to tell you that maybe he had his AirPods in or she also assured you that he could be a REALLY heavy sleeper sometimes, but you just took it as a sign. You thanked Sarah for having you over and gave her a kiss on the cheek before heading out the door of the Cameron house, saying that you’ll text her when you get to the gala tonight so the two of you could meet up because even though her parents weren’t there, Sarah and Rafe still had to go and represent the name.

Your walk home consisted of you trying to talk yourself out of the romantic fantasy you had built up in your head, trying to cushion the blow of rejection. It’s not like you liked him for that long, right? It’s been maybe ten hours since you started feeling something towards him. Maybe it’s just a harmless attraction. He is hot, there is no denying that and you have never been in that kind of contact with someone you found attractive before, so maybe your brain just shut down when he touched you? That could happen, scientifically speaking, right? By the time you crossed the threshold of your house, you were emotionally drained from all your inner monologue and you despised your attraction to the male species.

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

You finished slipping on your heels as your mom appeared in your doorway, “Hey, sweetie, are you sure you want to drive separate?”

“Yeah, I just want to have some time to myself to mentally prepare for this. Plus, I don’t know how long I’ll be able to last at this thing.” Your mom nods and lets you know that they were leaving now and would see you there.

Your parents left and you got up to approach your mirror, your emerald green gown complement your complexion and the freckles that had begun to pop up all over your skin from being in the sun. You felt elegant, the shape of your dress was classic and the fabric draped over your skin. You felt sexy, the dress was constructed with a deep-v showing just the right amount of cleavage and with a deep-v that left your still sunburnt back exposed. You felt free, the dress held you in above the waist without constricting you, and then the skirt held excess folds of fabric that could billow in the wind and expose your entire right leg from the well-hidden slit.

You couldn’t wait to see what stunning outfit Sarah had chosen so you sent her a quick text as you made your way out of your house letting her know you should be at the country club, ready to dance to crappy music and eat flavorless food in about 15 minutes.

Sarah was waiting for you outside, a stark white gown adorned her figure, making her sunkissed skin stand out. She dorkily pretended to be a paparazzi, using her hands to mimic taking pictures of you as you made your way to her. You shook your head and giggled before mustering up the most dramatic model strut, and when you finally got to her she yelled, “pose for me!” You just giggled at her antics and linked your arm with hers, and she led you through the crowd inside the building, introducing you to people who you didn’t already know, but more importantly, leading you to the buffet outside.

Sarah and you made your way outside, the large patio of the country club had the food buffet on one side and the open bar on the other, separated by the dance floor littered with people of all ages acting as an obstacle between the two necessities of the night. Upon seeing the food, the two of you wasted no time, desperate to see what sustenance there was, on the other side of the dance floor by the bar, your entrance was noted. Rafe stood with Topper and Kelce, “eyeing what company was up for grabs tonight,” as Topper had put it.

Rafe’s eyes landed on you the moment you had stepped outside, he sucked in a breath, stunned by how gorgeous you looked. Topper had also taken note of your entrance, “Damn, that new girl is something else. Did you see the slit in her dress? What I wouldn’t give to run my hand up her leg and-”

“Topper, watch what you’re saying, she’s my sister’s best friend.” Rafe cut him off, jaw clenched.

“Oh damn, she’s been hanging with Sarah? Lucky you, man, I mean look at her!” Topper exclaimed gesturing to the buffet area where you and Sarah now stood, “Like she has such a nice rack on her-” Rafe clutched his whiskey glass tighter, “I could just imagine how perky they would be-” Rafe clutched his whiskey glass TIGHTER, “I just want to like get my head right in there y’know? See how hard I could get her-” Rafe’s grip on his glass was fatal, it shattered in his hands, causing Topper to stop his rambling and turn to him.

“What the fuck, man?” Was all Topper could let out before Rafe decked him.

“I told you to watch what you’re saying, man.” Rafe had grabbed Topper by the shirt and now held him close enough that he got spit on Topper’s face as he said those words through gritted teeth.

“Well, you should have said that you were pussy-whipped instead,” Topper said as he pushed Rafe off of him. That was the moment everything went to shit.

You and Sarah’s heads had whipped around to the bar at the sound of the glass shattering and at the moment Rafe punched Topper, THE FIRST TIME, you began weaving your way through the mass of people keeping you from him.

You had lost sight of the fight as you navigated the crowd, you just kept praying the sounds of brawl would stop. When you finally broke through on the other side, you let out a relieved sigh as a group of people tore the two guys apart.

“Rafe?” You timidly let out, biting your lip as soon as his name left your mouth.

His head snapped over to where you stood, your face was ridden with concern, he watched your eyes rake over his body, almost as if you were doing damage control. When your eyes came back up to meet his, you saw shame swimming in his pretty blue eyes.

You spoke, again, but this time more sure of yourself, “Rafe, wanna come with me to get some air?” He nodded his head and you approached him, signaling the guys who were restraining him to let him go. You held out your hand for him to grab and then you wordlessly led him from the stunned crowd of onlookers and out to the parking lot, as you approached your car you used your free hand to grab your car keys from the pocket in your dress. You gave his hand a gentle squeeze before letting it go to open your passenger side door for him and then heading around the car to the driver’s side. You put the key in the ignition and started the car, music from the radio flooded the space and the air conditioning blasted a much needed cool breeze onto the both of you.

You just sat there, your hands resting on the steering wheel, looking forward, you didn’t know if you should look at Rafe or not. Taking a deep breath in and out, you moved your right hand from the wheel to the gear shift and put the car into reverse, when Rafe spoke up, “What are you doing?”

“I’m driving”

“Why?”

“We can’t sit in the parking lot anymore.”

“Why?”

“You’re hurt and bleeding and need to be cleaned up.”

“Oh.”

“I was honestly expecting you to say “why”, again. You have a really good impression of a 4-year-old, you know that?” You heard him chuckled softly at your remark and quickly stole a glance at him as you were driving, a soft smile sat on his bruised and cut up face. Silence washed over the two of you, again, the only sound was coming from your car, the blowing of the air conditioning, and the soft hum of the radio.

“You just drove by my house,” Rafe pointed out the car window and looked at you, puzzled.

“Yes, I know. You’re coming back to my place.” Your answer was met with a sigh from the boy in your passenger seat.

“You know you don’t have to do this, I’m a big boy who can take care of himself.” You couldn’t help but laugh at his response.

“Well, one, I would think that a BIG BOY would know not to get into fights with someone who seemed to be his best friend. And two, I don’t trust you to be alone right now, you are being far too quiet which means you have a whole bunch of emotions stirring up in you.” Rafe scoffed at your words before responding, “You don’t know what happened and you don’t need to care about me.”

“You remember you owe me a favor, right?” Rafe hummed in response to your question.

“Well consider this me cashing it in, do me a favor and just let me care about you, okay?” You say as you pull into your driveway, putting your car in park and getting out, moving around your car to get the door for him, he laughs at this as he gets out, “Wow, (Y/N), I didn’t know you were such a gentleman.”

“Whatever, come on, punching bag, I have a first aid kit in my bathroom.” You say and as you hold your hand out, again, for him to grab, allowing you to lead him to your room.

When you open your door to your room, you don’t think much of it. It is the same room your have stayed in every summer for as long as you can remember and he has been in here before, but when Rafe crosses into your room he stops in his tracks, bringing you to a holt. You turn around to see him looking everywhere, taking it all in, “Wow,” he breathes out.

“What?” You looked at him confusedly.

“It’s really your room now like it reflects you and who you are now, it’s not just the stereotypical summer beach house room.” His gaze finally shifts back to you, you’re still holding his hand and a sweet smile graces your face.

“I guess I never thought about it that way, now come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” You tug him along, again, dropping his hand as you get into your bathroom to reach for the first aid kit in your cabinet before patting the counter and stepping back, motioning for him to sit on it. He obliges and you open the first aid kit, laying out everything you need next to him on the counter. Rafe watches as you step between his thighs and gently grab his hands in yours, inspecting the one that once held a glass of whiskey, you wince, “Rafe, there’s a piece of glass in your hand, doesn’t that hurt? How are you so calm right now?” You grab a pair of tweezers to retrieve the glass from his skin and as you set your focus back on his hand he responds, “It doesn’t hurt when you’re holding it.”

You feel your face flush, “Okay, Romeo, you might want to rethink that,” you say as you use your tweezers to pull the piece of glass from his skin. He hisses from the pain and lets a few expletives fall from his lips. “Shhh, shh, shh, it’s okay. It’s okay.” You try to soothe him, you use one hand to tend to the wound left behind by the glass and the other rests on one of his knees, your hand giving it a soft squeeze and then absentmindedly letting your thumb rub side to side motions. He places his free hand on top of your hand that rests on his knee, “oh, sorry,” you say and take this as a signal to pull your hand away but he quickly dismisses you, “no it was nice, keep doing it, I just wanted to hold your hand.”

“Oh, okay, but I need it for a second to put a bandaid on this cut. Who is your favorite Scooby-Doo character?” You say as you hold up your box of Scooby-Doo bandaids.

“Velma.”

“Huh,” you say as you search in the box for a Velma bandaid, “I pegged you as a Fred kinda guy, he’s the man with the plan and suave with the ladies.”

“Yeah, well,” Rafe responds as you open up the bandaid, “Velma reminds me of you so she’s my favorite.” He states softly in a matter of fact tone.

“Oh.” Was all you could say as you gingerly placed the bandaid on his cut before you carefully bring his hand up and place a kiss with a quiet “mwuah” on his now Velma protected wound.

A quiet giggle escapes your lips, and his, as you place his hand down and move your attention to his next injury to tend to. “Hey, (Y/N/N)?” Rafe quietly asks. You hum signaling him to continue. “Would you, uh, kiss all of my boo-boos? My mom used to do that.” You look up at him with apologetic eyes and nod at the blushing boy, you remember his mom, she was easily the kindest person you had ever met. So you continued on in silence this way, you cleaned the cuts that scattered his knuckles and then leaned into him to clean the few cuts that were scattered on his face. First, you cleaned the one on his cheekbone, then the one above his eyebrow, placing a chaste kiss to each spot.

You looked at the last cut you had yet to acknowledge, the cut on his bottom lip. Rafe looked at you, he knew what you were staring at and he broke the silence, “I’m all cleaned up now, (Y/N/N),” he tried to ease whatever you were feeling but you just shook your head, you knew he felt your hesitation.

“No, I don’t want you to get an infection or anything like that,” you assure him (and maybe yourself) as you grab the washcloth and run it under the warm tapwater one more time. You lean into him and gingerly dab at his lip.

“(Y/N/N)?” Rafe mumbles.

“Why are you talking when I am trying to clean this giant-ass cut in your lip?” You say somewhat exacerbated, and lean back just enough so you can look him in the eyes. His face flushes and he averts his eyes from meeting your gaze.

“I just was gonna say that you have a really cute concentration face.”

“Is that all?” You ask as you start to lean back in, he nods, and you bring the washcloth back up to his lip, dabbing at the cut a few more times before going to lean back from the very close proximity you had found yourself in, placing the washcloth down. You’re about to move completely from your position between his legs when you remember his words from earlier. A flush overtakes your face and Rafe notices, “what?” he inquires with his eyebrows raised and his lips parted. Before you can talk yourself out of your moment of confidence, you lean back into him, your faces mere centimeters apart, you move your gaze from your focus on his lips up to meet his eyes.

“What are you doing?” He whispers, following your lead and leaning in so your noses touch.

You lean, lips grazing his as you whisper, “kissing your boo-boos, Romeo.” Your eyes fluttered shut as you felt him press his lips against yours, desperate for more, and you were tempted to give in, but you pulled back which elicited a groan from the bruised boy on your counter. You brought your hand up to his cheek and he leaned into your touch as your thumb gently stroked his cheek, he brought his hand up to cradle your face in the same manner, you bit your lip, trying to suppress the grin that his touch brought to you. He noticed this quirk of yours and traced his fingers down your face and traced along your lip, making you release the bite you had on it, “don’t hide that pretty smile from me.” He now held your chin in his hands as you smile at his comment. You slowly retract your hand from the place it has found cradling his face, which brings a frown to his features but you just place a peck to his lips as you grab his hands in yours, giving them a slight tug before you drop them from your grasp you back into your bedroom. You sit on your bed, leaning against your headboard as you watch him slowly make his way to you, climbing onto your bed. He shimmies his body about on the bed, making you laugh, “Hey don’t laugh at me I am trying to get comfy, and it’s hard to do when you’re sitting up like that! What do you think you’re doing? We just kissed, it’s snuggle time.”  

You shake your head at him, but he just continues to look up at you from his position laying sprawled out on your bed. Rafe lets out a small cheer as you slink down on the bed, the two of you lay there for a moment, just laying down and looking at each other before you lean in and place a kiss to his forehead, to both his cheeks and then to his lips, your hands reaching up to comb through his hair making a content hum come from him, “babe, I’ll play with your hair if you lay your head on my stomach.” He smiles as the two of you adjust, you laying on you back while he scoots down to rest his head on your stomach, his hands playing with the tulle of your dress, “I like that,” he says before you even have the chance to run your fingers through his sandy blond locks. You giggle, “like what? I haven’t even touched your hair, yet.”

“No, I liked you calling me “babe”.”

“I can do that, right?”

“I would think so, you’re my girlfriend now, right?”

“Hmmm, I don’t know about that. Only if you’re my boyfriend now.”

“Okay, I would like that very much.”

“Babe.” You said, liking the way it rolled off your tongue.

This prompted Rafe to prop his head up on your tummy, “what?” he asks.

“Oh, nothing I just wanted to see if it worked.”

“You know there are a few other things that we can see if they work.”

“One step at a time, babe.” He giggled and then moved his head back to its previous position so you could continue playing with his hair.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, he spoke up, “so like does this make me your favorite Cameron sibling, now?”

a/n: so that’s all folks, i wasn’t planning on doing any more parts to this story, i hope you enjoyed it! it is my first fic so i would really appreciate any feedback you have! also a huge shoutout to angie, i would not have written this without her support ((:

taglist:

@myjjbaby @drewswannabegirl @prejudic3 @starkeybaby @spicybluelays @fav-imagines  @spilledtee  @pookie-cleary  @little-ms-awkward @babygurlbarnes  @drewsephsmiles  @junkiemuppettxx

[thebigqueer]

Also same anon here, just in general what do you imagine they look like? I like to get ideas for how i imagine them from other people

anon you know how long i’ve been waiting for someone to ask me???? IVE BEEN WAITING FOR CENTURIES.

percy: i’ve kind of always considered him to be brown actually! from mexico! i’ve always seen him as latino, so he has like brown skin. he has short black hair that falls into his forehead & his eyes from the front. he’s pretty tall, like 5′10-6′0. i’ve kind of always imagined him to be lean - he has muscles, but they’re not totally visible when he wears shirts or anything. he has kind squishy cheekbones and a really mischievous grin. you know he’s going to get you in trouble. but his grin is really intimidating - you sometimes feel like he’s judging you. he has really stormy dramatic eyes. they kinda look as though they’re swirling, like there’s a storm inside him that’s just waiting to let loose the moment he snaps. you do not want to mess with him. when he’s older, he probably gets a few tattoos over his arms, most likely things to do with the ocean. i think he’d dye his hair for a little while too! maybe try to get that gray streak back, and it would be that shock of hair that falls into his eyes. he’s got some dramatic dark lips imo - they’re probably a bit plump. he also has dramatic full eyebrows. 

annabeth: she has like semi-long curly blond hair. if she straightens it, it looks fairly long but since it’s curly, it’s about mid-length on her. gray eyes. some-what full pink lips ig? she definitely has muscles!! she’s not skinny at all - i think her muscles are more prominent than percy’s are, actually. she has tannish skin ig. i definitely see her as pretty tall, just about percy’s height. she’s got average-size lips and her eyebrows aren’t as prominent. 

piper: dark skin and brown eyes. she has a lean muscle figure (like percy) (and especially after she does a lot of training because i feel like she’d really want to get muscles??). layered hair (klsdflkjsfkljd im so gay for her hair laksjdlkfd). brown/black hair. a sharp nose, probably aquiline. i would say average-sized lips. full dramatic eyebrows as well though they’d be a little less full than percy’s. 

jason: ah, yes, my white bread. he has a pretty pale complexion, definitely whiter than annabeth, and blond hair. it’s a little more neat than percy’s but he has some hair that kind sticks out front, especially when he hasn’t cut it. probably a strong jawline and i see him a little buffer than percy. i feel like any time you look at him you feel like he’s actually high-key judging you because he’s kinda intimidating and all serious-like. average lips but his eyebrows are a little bit arched like he’s kinda embarrassed by you. 

leo: dark skin, a little bit darker than percy’s. he’s got a really mischievous grin like percy as well, but his is more joke-y like he’s constantly laughing at a joke that’s ringing in his head. he probably gets a few tattoos on his forearms when he’s older, and also one on the back of his neck. curly dark brown/black hair, of course, and probably long nimble fingers. his hair is short and it also falls into his eyes, but from the front - it's just a bunch of curls that poof up right over his forehead. sharp eyebrows.

hazel: dark brown skin and brown eyes. curly hair that i think gets longer when she’s older, and i’d like to think that she starts putting it up into a lot more styles when she’s older! she starts dressing much more goth (because nico definitely had an impact on her okay i love goth hazel) and starts getting tattoos as well!! she gets them all over her arms. i’ve always seen her as pretty curvy. soft curvy eyebrows. 

frank: dark cropped hair (but not like a buzzcut). i still see him as chubby because like that whole transition thing that rick did with him... idk man i’ve always seen him as chubby. he’s hella tall and as nice as he is, he probably intimidates people as well. there’s a kindness to him, but he makes sure you know that if you’re not careful, he can get mad. dark brown eyes. they glimmer with kindness but, like percy, they’re kinda stormy - he’s been through shit and he will be harsh if you give him a reason to be. kinda full softly-curved eyebrows.

reyna: just like annabeth, i see her as really buff. she’s pretty tall and she has pretty dramatic eyebrows. i think they’re also pretty thick as well. brown skin. dark brown eyes. long brown hair with bangs that she totally rocks. her lips look kinda like pointy natural, like this: 

but they’re like darker. probbaly a pink-ish brown.

nico: dark silky hair that really just falls to the base of his neck and covers over his ears. i think as a result of not having a healthy diet and taking care of himself, he starts off pretty pale (like a pale olive color) but once he starts actually taking care of himself, his skin becomes more saturated again (like when he was younger). definitely becomes more olive. he has pretty thin lips imo but they turn into the prettiest smile. his lips are also like a really dark pink color. thin nose and dramatic eyebrows. his hair swishes into his eyes. oh, and dark brown eyes!! he’s skinny at first but when he starts eating more i think he starts to look more like he’s filling into himself. like he’s skinny to the point where you can see his veins but eventually he kinda fills himself up more and he looks really radiant :))) he also gets a bunch of tattoos, but not like sleeves. i think he’d get a bunch of randomly-placed tattoos on his arms and then have like a butterfly on teh back of his neck and then maybe a spine against his back or something?? also he has a light splash of freckles over his cheeks and nose. he also gets a nose piercing. wears rings all the time like the punk legend he is <33

will: when we first meet him, i honestly see him with like curly hair all over the place. when he gets older, though, i think it would turn wavier and longer, like just curling above the base of his neck (not as long as nico’s but like it’s definitely longer than before). the hair kind swishes into his eyes. blue eyes. kinda plump pink lips. he definitely gets a lot more tattoos when he’s older, especially like two whole-ass sleeves on his arms. he has some on his neck, too. tan skin, a tiny bit darker than annabeth. and i know that he’s technically described with a surfer’s body, but i keep thinking of him having some chub. i don’t know, i think it’s just kinda realistic. FRECKLES!!! all over his face and shoulders and neck!!!!! he has pink plump-ish lips that look kinda like this: 

[nitewrighter]

How was Genji's first blackwatch mission? Or.. First time meeting Mccree and Reyes?

Paolo the probation officer kept a leisurely pace behind Genji as he wheeled through Zurich headquarters. Paolo was medium height, dressed in the all-black of Blackwatch with multiple tattoos up his arms. He had a mild south Italian accent and had even politely offered to push Genji’s wheelchair, but Genji could already feel the muscles of his remaining organic arm softening and refused. He felt a little exposed compared to the blackwatch agent, just wearing a gray tee and sweatpants whose empty dangling pant legs had been tied off in knots and folded under his leg stumps. They were only just starting to put him in prosthetics, and he was far from balanced when he wore them.

“So...” Genji gave a glance over his shoulder to Paolo as he wheeled, “You’re in Blackwatch?”

“Eh, just a grunt,” Paolo gave a dismissive hand wave, “I was a security guard at the Blackwatch headquarters in Roma.” He chuckled a little, “Much warmer there.”

“Mm,” Genji fixed his eyes back forward and kept up his roll. He would ask more but a part of him knew he wouldn’t get the answers he was looking for out of Paolo. All those answers lay ahead of him. He was more used to the rhythm of the wheelchair than he would like to admit at this point. They got into an elevator and Paolo leaned in a corner, humming as the elevator descended.

Doesn’t seem very disciplined for a black ops division, Genji thought to himself before the elevator dinged and the doors opened to a narrow hallway with two guards standing next to steel doors in all-black tactical gear.  They gave a glance to Paolo, who flashed them an ID card, one of them scanned the card with their comm, returning an affirmative beep, and both gave Paolo a nod before pressing a button on the intercom next to the door.

“Agent Montemurro and Candidate Shimada entering,” said the guard before the steel doors whooshed open.

Candidate Shimada, Genji turned the word ‘candidate’ over in his head as he wheeled into a massive underground office space with multiple monitors all over the walls and orange-ish industrial lights illuminating everything. Here seemed to be a mix of agents and office workers, some in varying layers of tactical gear, some in full armor while others just in black shirts and fatigues, some in business casual, all more or less caught up in their own affairs as Genji and Paolo crossed the space. Genji felt a few eyes on him as he wheeled through, and glanced down at the stumps of his legs self-consciously.

“This way,” said Paolo, walking ahead of him, and Genji could only sullenly wheel after him. He scanned the room, too many bodies for him to remember one face, and so many of them glancing at him, glancing down at him as he wheeled across the floor, but he caught a familiar voice, though he wasn’t sure how it was familiar.

“Nah, the intel from the Sharoy mission says that’s all bullshit. Look, get in touch with Agent Mazur and you should--Oh--hey!”

A tall, swaggering figure in Blackwatch fatigues, a cowboy hat and some kind of black poncho suddenly swung in next to Genji’s wheelchair. He had an agreeable squarish face framed by umber brown sideburns. Genji didn’t recognize his face, but he caught sight of a skull tattoo on his forearm that sparked some blurry memories from the night Hanzo attacked him. He remembered being jostled on a stretcher with that tattoo steadying it before falling into unconsciousness again.

“It’s you!” the cowboy said, chewing on an unlit cigar, “Didn’t think you’d be up and at ‘em this early! Look at you, all wheelin’ around..!”

His voice trailed off in an odd way, as if expecting Genji to pick up the conversation. Genji glanced up at him and slowed in the rolling of his wheelchair.

“I’m sorry,” said Genji, “Do I know you?”

“Heh,” he walked alongside Genji’s wheelchair and tilted back the brim of his hat with his thumb, “Oh I’m nobody. But I was spottin’ the doc that night we took you in. Nearly killed you. Full disclosure.”

Genji’s face scrunched up in some combination of confusion and fury. ‘Spotting the doc?’ What?

“Weird night. Think it worked out, though,” said the cowboy, before giving a glance down to Genji. He held out a hand, “Jesse McCree. Kinda got the same deal you’re gettin’.”

Genji glanced at his hand before looking back up at his eyes.He lifted a hand from his wheels to shake McCree’s hand before returning back to his wheels. “Shimada Genji,” he said in turn.

“Oh I know,” said McCree, chuckling and looking forward.

McCree strolled alongside them until Genji found himself rolling up a ramp leading into a glass-walled office where two men were talking. One was as familiar as McCree was, with medium clay-brown skin with scars that danced as he moved and spoke, and large, penetrating brown eyes that offset the soldierly squareness of his jaw. He was talking to a posh-looking man with an ivory complexion and jet black hair and mustache. Both of their eyes flicked to Genji as Genji, McCree, and Paolo walked up to the door of the office.

The scarred man was the first to notice them and leaned, catlike, across his desk to press a button. The doors slid open and Genji and McCree walked in. Genji gave a confused glance to Paolo, who simply gave him a polite wave as the doors closed on him.

“Genji Shimada? Gérard LaCroix. Blackwatch’s attaché to the UN,” a crisp, bright voice, only slightly softened by a Parisian accent, spoke and Genji’s head swung up to look at the voice’s source. The mustached man was standing in front of him, politely holding out his hand. Genji awkwardly brought his hand off the wheelchair’s armrest and shook Gérard’s hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” Gérard went on.

The phrase, ‘good things, I hope’ seemed to be a really stupid thing to say at this point. “I’ve heard about you as well,” said Genji, hoping he had and had just forgotten about it.

“Ah good to hear. So you have a decent idea of what we intend to do here,” said Gérard.

“Yyes,” said Genji, blankly, then after a beat, he remembered his conversation with Mercy, “You need my help to dismantle the Shimada clan.”

“Among other things,” said the scarred man, pushing away from his desk and walking toward Genji, “Gabriel Reyes. Blackwatch commander. I was also on the recovery team bringing you in.”

Genji sat up in his wheelchair slightly, “I’ve been meaning to ask some questions about that.”

“A lot of the answers to that will likely be classified, but I can answer what I can,” said Reyes, folding his arms.

“How were you watching me and for how long?” said Genji, his eyes narrowing, “You had to be, to know when to swoop in like that.”

Reyes and McCree exchanged wary glances, but Gérard cleared his throat. “If I may?”

Gabriel gave Gérard a ‘go ahead,’ gesture and Gérard straightened the collar of his waistcoat. “For the most part, the UN and Interpol had decided to leave dealing with the Shimada clan up to the NPA, but we feared the clan was becoming prominent enough to garner the attention of the international terrorist organization, Talon. We used a light hand. Only a handful of operatives seeded around the city, gauging the internal structural strength of the clan. They’ve since been extracted. The plan was, initially, to detain you on charges of possession, match the drugs in your possession to those our other busts had recovered worldwide, and drag the clan into the light behind you, doing all this in collaboration with the NPA.”

“You were never planning to recruit me,” said Genji. Something tensed in his stomach. Hanzo had always said he was a liability, would he have taken the whole clan down if Hanzo hadn’t killed him?

“Initially,” Gérard emphasized, “When we found out that the Shimada Dragons might be more than a metaphor, that warranted closer observation.”

“So you’re recruiting me for the dragon,” said Genji.

“We’re recruiting you because we have a shared interest,” said Gabriel, “But as far as what we saw the night we extracted you goes… it would be a waste to let it, and you, rot in a jail cell.”

“…so my choice is either help you or go to jail,” said Genji, flatly.

“Not necessarily,” said Gérard, “And… here’s where we get into the messy legal stuff. You could argue for the case that ultimately your safety was compromised by Overwatch’s interference, that one of the agents we had observing you was compromised. As far as all of Overwatch’s records show, there was no such incident of compromise, but you could legally argue that that occurred and Overwatch or the NPA could provide you with the legal representation to argue that case in court. After all, we couldn’t keep eyes on you 24/7, maybe something happened that we weren’t aware of. If you successfully prove your case, Overwatch faces severe scandal and UN inquiry, but then your case gets handed back to the NPA---”

About midway through Gérard’s long ramble on his legal status, Genji had half-tuned him out, glancing over his shoulder in his wheelchair to look at McCree. McCree was still chewing that unlit cigar, leaning against the glass wall of the office. He gave Genji a smirking, ‘Welp’ shrug, as Gérard went on, and Genji frowned beneath his surgical mask.

 “And again,” Gérard was still going on when Genji yanked his attention back to him, “We could provide you with legal representation there, but this is a process that could take months, years, even, given how entangled the Shimada clan’s offenses are with multiple governments around the world. Overwatch would be more than happy to accommodate you in that time, provide you with rudimentary prosthetics. So there is a chance of having all your charges dropped, it’s just… an unfortunately small one through at least half a dozen legal systems and a lot of tedious litigation.”

“But I don’t think that’s what you want,” said Gabriel keeping a steady gaze on Genji, “From what I hear, you’re more than eager to take the Shimada clan down.” 

“’s better than my deal, anyway,” said McCree with a huff. Gabriel shot him a glare and McCree just gave him a shrug.

Genji met Gabriel’s big brown eyes. Reyes was right, but he was right in a way that made the smoldering coals of Genji’s own fury blaze up inside him again. He did want this. He did want to take the Shimada clan down, but the idea that it might be for yet someone else’s ends infuriated him. This was his vengeance. No one else’s. And he let that rage penetrate through as he stared at Reyes, but Reyes met his eyes with a resigned calm. A patient, weary look of, ‘Noted. Whenever you’re ready to move on.’ And a part of Genji felt that look should have made him angrier, should have pushed him further in to that fire and darkness, but instead Genji felt his brow crinkling slightly. He realized in that moment that he was not the first person the Shimada clan had hurt. And he would not be the last. It only stung deeper for him because that was his family. But it wasn’t his family any more. And there were a few confused seconds of floundering fury where Genji wanted to cuss Reyes out, wanted to storm out as dramatically as his stupid wheelchair would allow, but he remembered his own words to Doctor Ziegler.

“What do I have to do to see my brother’s head on the ground as quickly as possible?”

“There’s plenty of time to--” Gérard started.

“I’m in,” Genji’s voice was flat.

“Good to hear,” said Gabriel with a casual nod. 

“But I want direct involvement with every Shimada clan mission,” said Genji, “Every one. If possible I want to be on the main strike team involved with each mission.”

“...after your physical therapy and psychological evaluations, we’ll do everything we can to--” Gérard started.

“You’ve got it,” said Gabriel, matching Genji’s voice in coldness and simplicity.

Gérard cast a sideways glance to Gabriel but Gabriel met his eyes with the same steadiness he met Genji’s with. Gérard cleared his throat. “But of course,” he said, only some slight hesitance in his voice. 

“Well then,” said Reyes, the slightest of smiles tugging at the corners of his mouth, “Welcome to the team, Genji.” 

Genji’s eyes flicked between Reyes’, McCree’s, and Gérard’s faces for a few seconds. “...it’s that easy?” said Genji in the silence.

“Well yeah,” said McCree, leaning on Genji’s wheelchair, “First thing you gotta learn, bud: Blackwatch plays by its own rules.” 

[shawnssongs]

𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 ⋄ 𝐉𝐉 ���𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤

02. 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠

It’s the first day of senior year (also we’re just going to pretend they’re all seniors in high school, the pogues and the kooks, including Rafe at Kildaire County High)

series masterlist 01.

an: sorry this chapter is kind of boring! I promise there’ll be more action in the next one :)

warnings: typos, probably wc: 1.4k ish

thanks @jjmaybankx for the moodboard!

It was finally here. The first day of senior year. JJ never cared much about school since it had never been on his list of priorities, but he always loved the first day. He’d usually spend all summer working or hanging out with his friends, so being the social butterfly that he is, he loved catching up with everyone else that he really only saw at school. Plus, at this point, he needed to catch up with his own friends as well. He felt like he hadn’t seen John B, Kie, Pope, and Sarah in months, and other than a few “hey”s here and there, he truly hadn’t.

John B was the same way. Ever since finding out what happened to his father, he’d gotten back on track with his education. His grades improved junior year, especially with the help of Sarah Cameron. John B was ready to catch up with his friends, but he was really just waiting for JJ. His best friend had been MIA all summer.

“John B!” Kiara greeted with open arms when she noticed her best friend standing next to his beaten up Volkswagen.

John B accepted the hug gladly.

Sure, JJ had been absent, but John B had also admittedly been spending more time with Sarah than with the rest of the pogues.

“Where ya been?” He asked her with a smile.

“Around,” Kiara chided, “unlike you, lover boy.”

John B chuckled at Kie when he noticed Pope approaching. They all greeted each other, catching up a bit when Pope asked where Sarah was.

John B shrugged in response. “Met a new girl. She told me she was going to show her around.”

“Sarah loves strays,” Kiara acknowledged.

“There he is!” Pope cheered, gazing behind John B and Kiara at the missing member of their group.

“Man of the hour!”

“Where have you been?” John B asked when JJ was close enough, reaching his hand out for a quick hug.

Kiara prodded. “Yeah, what have you been doing all summer?”

JJ just smiled, playing it off. “I was hanging around at the beach.”

“So were we.” Pope added.

“Guess we didn’t cross paths.” JJ shrugged.

“Or you were too busy checking out tourons to talk to your friends.” Kiara crossed her arms across her chest accusatorily.

“Nah, I did meet this one cool chick though.”

John B noticed the little twinkle in his eyes. “You mean she put out?” He asked, earning a punch in the arm from Kiara and a glare from Pope.

“Is that all you ever think about?” Sarcasm dripped through JJ’s voice. Clearly, he was the one with that reputation, not John B.

The group continues to giggle like children and tease each other as they caught up outside Kildaire County High.

Meanwhile, Sarah Cameron had been incredibly helpful to you so far. You met her just a few days ago when you found out you’d be staying in the Outer Banks instead of moving back home. She agreed to meet you early and show you around the school a bit so you wouldn’t be too lost on your first day.

“Do I look okay, Sarah?” You ask her, noticing all the students walking around in cut off shorts and crop tops. You weren’t allowed to wear just anything like that back home at your private school, so you really weren’t prepared. In a pair of linen shorts and a button up tee, you felt a bit out of place.

“Sure!”

“I’m really nervous.”

“You look terrific,” she complimented.

“So this is Kildaire County High?” The school seemed surprisingly active. It was small, and rundown, unlike your school back home, and even though your old school was large and daunting, somehow you still felt more intimidated by Kildaire County. The uncertainty was causing your nerves to run rampant.

Sarah gripped your arm to calm you. “I know it’s not much, but you’ll love it. Come on,” she smiled, “I’ll help you find your first class.”

With Sarah’s help, you managed to make it through your first couple classes of the day until it was finally time for lunch. The cafeteria looked run down and dirty, but luckily Sarah pulled you outside to meet Kiara, who she’d described as her best friend.

“Y/n, this is Kiara. Kie, this is Y/n!” Sarah introduced giddily, excited to have another friend to do girly things with like shop and do each other’s hair and makeup. The boys would partake sometimes, but it wasn’t the same. Kiara was just as stunning as Sarah, the two of them contrasting in every way. Kiara’s skin and hair both darker than Sarah’s golden complexion, the straightened strands of Sarah’s light hair next to Kiara’s curls. As beautiful as they were, somehow you didn’t feel envious. You felt content. You felt sure that these two girls were people you wanted to keep around. Back home you never got that feeling. You were always comparing yourself to the other girls, trying to be like them or dress like them because that was what was most desired. Here, with Kie and Sarah, you knew they’d accept you for you, and you weren’t afraid to be yourself, because they clearly weren’t.

“Hey!” Kiara greets, breaking you from your thoughts.

“Hi! It’s nice to meet you!” You smile as she reached out for a hug.

The two girls caught up on each other’s summers a small bit of time since they’d spent most of it together. You gathered that Sarah is dating a cute surfer boy named John B, and Kiara has a thing for a studious kid named Pope. It wasn’t long before Sarah asked you how your summer in the Outer Banks had gone, and boy were you glad to tell.

“I met a boy at the beach.” You boasted, unable to hold back your smile.

The guys ate their lunch by the Volkswagen because Sarah apparently didn’t want them to scare away the new girl she’d befriended. He didn’t mind though. They had a lot of catching up to do.

“Okay, so what happened with that girl you met this summer? Stop playin’ around.” John B asked his friend sternly, not wanting anymore jokes.

“Nothing!” JJ lied, but he knew he couldn’t get away with it.

Pope rolled his eyes. “Sure, nothing.”

“Come on, you guys don’t want to hear all the horny details, right?”

The guys pestered him until he finally gave in.

“Alright! I’ll tell you.”

“Oh he was so romantic!” You gush. “And cute. Really cute.”

The girls ooh and aww as you continue your story.

“He ran by me, showing off, splashing around.”

“She swam by me and got a cramp. I saved her life, man.” JJ embellished. “She almost drowned.”

Pope and John B didn’t believe him, but they let him keep going. “Took her surfing, showed her the ropes.”

“We went strolling along the beach. We stayed out until ten o’clock.”

“We made out under the dock.”

“Then what?” Pope asked.

“We got friendly.” JJ quirked a brow, smirking at his curious friend. “Down in the sand, if you know what I mean.”

“He got friendly, and he held my hand,” you explain to the girls, recalling the memories. “He was sweet. He just turned 18.”

You pause, the girls watching you in anticipation. “It got colder. That’s where it ends. That’s when we made our true love vow.” You knew it’s sounded extreme, but you wouldn’t explain it any other way. You loved JJ Maybank, even if you only got to spend one summer with him, and losing your virginity to JJ was you vowing your love to him.

“Y’know, I told her we’d still be friends.” JJ shrugged. “I wonder what she’s doing now.” He truly did, more than the guys knew. Y/n was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and now she’s just gone, clear on the other side of the States.

“He sounds real nice.” Sarah smiled. She was a hopeless romantic, of course. She loved the story.

You agree. “He was a gentleman.”

“What was his name?” Kiara asked, sure she’d recognize any of the locals.

“JJ. JJ Maybank.”

Kiara noticed Sarah’s eyes widen and just before she was able to tell you, Kiara kicked her leg under the table.

“Maybe if you believe in miracles,” she started, “he’ll show up again, somewhere unexpected.”

“You really think so?”

“Of course!” Sarah chimed in, a bright smile adorning has face.

The six of them went back to class as the bell rung, all blissfully unaware of the events to come.

an: kinda hate this ngl... excited for the next chapter though :) thanks for reading, and please send feedback!

also, ty to now both @milaonthemoon​ and @storiesbymads​ for your spotify playlists that helped while I wrote and edited this :)

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[rina-writes]

The Dress

A/N: The friend!reader consoling Ethan reminded me of this drabble I had in my drafts of Ethan comforting gf!reader when feeling insecure.  Kinda short, but I think it’s cute :D  

Warnings: Fluff, sexual references (at the end), insecure!reader

You chewed on your lower lip as you stood on line for the register.  You picked up the velvet, green dress that was draped over your right arm with your left hand to pull it into view.

“Are you sure it looked good?” You asked your best friend who was standing next to you, sending a quick text.

“Yes!” She said, with a laugh. “100 times yes.  I think it will look great for the red carpet.”

“It’s not really a red carpet.” You argued, your eyes still analyzing the dress.  “It’s more of like a gala.  Think the turn of the 20th century, where aristocrats would be invited to a new exhibit at the museum. Everyone would wear their best, strolling through the galleries with a glass of champagne in hand, occasionally nibbling on the hors d'oeuvres being passed around on delicate, silver trays.”

Your best friend paused and a little smirk formed on her lips.  “Your boyfriend hired you to do the PR his event again?”

You laughed. “Is it that obvious it’s my idea?” You smiled to yourself.

The Dolan Twins were huge fans of “putting people on,” so to speak.  If someone in their circle had a knack for something, they employed them to do it.  It wasn’t only that Ethan trusted your creative direction, but he AND Grayson thought your ideas were a great fit for their event.  Just like any other person who would organize an 100+ scale event, they paid you very well to do it. So, there was a lot of pressure to make this the best launch celebration ever.  

To be honest, you knew you nailed it.  You just couldn’t help, but feel like you didn’t fit your own event.  You weren’t a big YouTuber or a celebrity or anything remotely famous.  Your relationship with Ethan was on the DL, so you didn’t even feel pressure to keep up a certain image.  Unlike the boys, you definitely had a “whenever I feel like it” work out regimen and a “whatever taste good” kind of diet. You did try to eat relatively healthy and at least move during the day, but it wasn’t enough to maintain a Instagram-worth physique.

Which brings us back to the dress in your hand that you were now about to purchase...for quite a bit of money.  The dress fit the aesthetic of your event: an off the shoulder dress with a sweetheart neckline that dipped down the center of your chest, with long sleeves that started at the top of your arm and ended at your wrist.  The velvet material hugged your body, leaving nothing to the imagination, and stopped just about your knees.  The dress was classic, and one that you could wear again and again...if you had the confidence.  Your best friend hyped you up in the dressing room, but you hated the way your stomach looked in it. But, your best friend looked so disappointed that you didn’t like it.  Not because she particularly liked the dress, but because she knew your distaste for the dress was about your feelings towards you body.

“We’ll jack you up.” Your best friend said with a wink as you put the dress in the trunk.  She had been watching quite a bit of “Say Yes to The Dress Atlanta” lately and often quoted Monty and Lori.  “The party is tomorrow so, let’s continue our glam day where we just relax and pamper ourselves.  Then tomorrow, I’ll help you get dressed.”

“Thanks, Y/F/N,” You smiled softly, getting into the passenger seat of her car and buckling your seat belt. 

“Trust me, Ethan is going to love it.” Your best friend assured as she backed out of the parking spot.

But, what if I don’t.... You thought, but bit your tongue.  You didn’t want to make a big deal about it anymore.

The night of the event, you were buzzing around like a bee.  You loved the rush of making sure everything was going right, and the even bigger surge of energy when something was going wrong. 

The setting was perfect.  Each fragrance had it’s own gallery with a video clip on loop that showed the natural inspiration for the fragrance.  There were testimonies from the twins about the fragrances written on plaques placed beside the display of the fragrance bottles.  There were also several stations in the gallery to try the fragrance and pick up goodie bags.

You had successful ensured that all food was labeled for vegan, non-vegan, vegetarian, kosher, halal, and marked for allergies.  You also did your best to inform the wait staff of who had specific dietary restrictions to know to go to them with the options they could eat first before opening it to the rest of the floor.  

You had even ensured that the photographers got people when they came in through the door and let people know about the photo booth in the back.  

This was going to be your event to top.  Once people knew that you organized it, your office was going to be full with requests. But if there was anyone you wanted to impress, it was Ethan.  

And he was.  Ethan walked in, his hair styled neatly, his body clad in a black tailored suit with a white button down and a red tie.  Grayson, also wore a similar tailored suit and a white button down, but he opted for a green tie.  They intended to do the twin thing, and unintentionally did the Christmas color thing...but they could roll with it. When Ethan saw you, his jaw dropped.  He had never seen you like this before.  For one thing, everyone was running up to you with different issues. You kept a pleasant smile on your face as you calmed people down and told them what to do.  You made it look easy.  Then there was the dress...oof.  It was like he was seeing your curves for the first time.  He felt like he would need to holler at you all over again.

“Gray, quick, switch ties with me.” Ethan said, slapping his brother on the arm with the back of his hand.

“No, green is my favorite color.” Grayson said, narrowing his eyes. “I’m also not doing this in the middle of our event.”

“Green’s my favorite color now too.” Ethan said, gesturing to you talking to one of the wait staff.

The green velvet dress looked amazing on your complexion. You had taken the green elements into other parts of your outfit as well as part of your best friend’s “jacking up.” Your hair was decorated with faux emerald and cubic zirconia hair pieces (because this dress already cost you a fortune).  You were wearing black pumps, but they had green bottoms that your friend helped you dye yourself.  You were also wearing a mix of green and silver jewelry including dangling earrings and a bracelet.  Ethan made a mental note to get you a watch for your birthday, one that could go with this dress and any other dress you decided to grace him with in the future.

“Oh wow...” Grayson said, trying not to oogle his brother’s girlfriend.  “Okay, you win. Take my tie...”

Grayson removed his tie and Ethan did the same.  If you had turned around and seen them, it would have been comical.  It was like they were racing to see who could tie a tie the fastest and they were both losing.  Finally, they both looked decent enough to mingle.  Ethan walked straight towards you.

“Excuse me, miss?” Ethan said, licking his lips as he spoke to you. 

You looked up from the table you were re-arranging and smiled softly. This was one of your favorite bits. When Ethan pretended to not know you and ask you out again.  It was funny because Ethan was Mr. Slow and Steady when going into a relationship.  He never just hollered at a girl, he always became her friend, got to know her and then finally asked her out. It made this all the more fun to act out.

“I just wanted to say that I think you are the most beautiful woman in the room.”  Ethan rolled his hands and licked his lips flirtatiously. “And, if you don’t have a man, I’d be happy to apply for the position. If you do, I hope you don’t mind us doing this quietly.”

You laughed, and placed a hand on his chest. “Babe, stop.”

Your hand ran along his tie and you smiled.  You loved how you two always unintentionally matched...completely unaware of how much effort Ethan put in to do it.

“Alright, I’ll control myself.” He hugged you tightly, kissing your cheek. 

“Ethan...” You blushed. “People are staring.”

“They already were.” He leaned back and smiled at you. “Got to let them know you’re mine.”

Ethan gave your side a squeeze, resisting from giving your butt a little slap, before stepping back.  “This event looks amazing, Y/N.  I’m so proud of you.”

“I’m proud of you!” You exclaimed.  “Your product lent itself to this design.  I am even wearing one of your scents now.”

“I know...” He grinned. “...it’s one of my favorites because I made it with you in mind.”

You were about to say something cheesy when someone walked up to Ethan.  He introduced them as someone from their management team.  You waved, at them, and then paused, suddenly remembering what you were wearing.  Your hands danced between covering your stomach and your chest, and you constantly looked at your reflection in one of the dark windows behind them.  Your focus on your appearance made it hard to join the conversation.  You answered most questions curtly and in a quiet voice.  

When you interacted with the catering staff and your team, you weren’t nervous.  They had seen you come into the office in sweatpants and coffee stains on your shirt on multiple occasions.  You didn’t have to pretend for them. They knew you were good at your job and what you wore didn’t matter.

For Ethan’s colleagues, you felt more pressure.  Although the public didn’t know about your relationship, most people in the twins’ circle knew he was dating someone.  Eventually, someone would tell someone else that the girl in the green dress was Ethan’s girlfriend, and you couldn’t help, but worry about how that would reflect on Ethan. 

Ethan was surprised to see you clam up like this.  This wasn’t like you normally, and it definitely wasn’t like you a few moments earlier.  At first he thought it was just because you were caught off guard. It wasn’t until the third person he introduced you to did he notice that something was up.

“Baby,” Ethan whispered in your ear as the person excused themself. “Come with me for a second.”

Ethan laced his fingers in yours and pulled you to the back of the galleria where there was a back room used to house the extra supplies like toilet paper and tools.

“Is everything okay?” Ethan asked, once he was sure you were both alone and the door was closed.

“Yeah!” You smiled, thinking he was the one worried. “Everyone loves the launch, Ethan! It’s going well.”

“Not the event,” Ethan said, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you toward him.  “I mean you.  You’re not acting like yourself.”

“What do you mean?” You asked, putting your hands on his shoulders.  “I’m fine.”

“You’re acting all shy and awkward.” He rested his forehead on yours. “You only do that when something is bothering you.”

“No I don’t.” You argued in a monotone voice.

The silence was awkward and bone chilling.  Ethan just stared at you until you cracked. 

“It’s the dress...” You admitted with a sigh. “I look like a whale.”

“Wait what?” Ethan asked, almost yelling.” Are you nuts? Y/N, baby, you look amazing.  I’ve been planning to pull you in here and plow you in this dress. I am holding back everything inside of me right now...how could you say that?”

You blushed. “It’s my stomach.” You backed up so you could show him the outline of your stomach. Your hands then went to the neckline of the dress.  “And this is cut in such a weird spot.”

“Your stomach looks fine, I didn’t even notice it. And your tits look amazing in that weird spot.” Ethan used air quotes when he said weird spot.  His hands then immediately went to your lower back to pull you closer to him.

“I just don’t feel like this dress is right for me.” You sighed again.

“Why?” Ethan asked, running hands up your sides. “Because this dress looks so amazing on you, I almost don’t want to take it off. Almost...”

You smiled softly. “I dunno...it just doesn’t look right. Maybe I should work out or something....”

“I mean if you want.” Ethan kissed your forehead. “Or you can change what you see in your mind.  Everyone here is impressed with you.   They want to hear more about you and book you for their events. I’m sure they’d ask if you didn’t seem so...out of it.”

You seemed unsure so Ethan continued, “Hey, I’ve even heard compliments on your dress.  I can’t change what you think of yourself, but I want to help you to love yourself the way I love you.”

“I love you too, E.” You sighed, “You really think it looks good?”

“Yes.” Ethan nodded so quickly you thought his head would roll off.

“Thank you.” You said, looking down at yourself.  Suddenly, your stomach didn’t look that big and your boobs did look pretty nice.  You realized, it wasn’t the dress. It was the whole being Ethan’s girlfriend thing that threw you off.  

“I guess, I just felt like this was the kind of dress that someone like you would like to see your girlfriend in.” You said, still looking down.

Ethan narrowed his eyes. “Yes, hence why I like seeing you, my girlfriend, in this dress.”

“I know, it’s just sometimes I feel like there is Ethan Dolan’s girlfriend...this image i have in my head.” You paused. “And then there’s me.  Which sometimes is a different image.”

“Well guess what...” Ethan kissed your cheek. “That image in my head is always you.  So, whatever we have to do to match up the images in your head, I’m ready to do it together.”

“Aww, E...” You kissed him softly and he deepened the kiss.

His hands roamed from your shoulders to your backside, giving your body little squeezes. As the kiss got sloppier, you realized that Ethan wasn’t going to be satisfied by a little frenching.

“Quickie before we go back out?” You suggested, breaking the kiss.  

You walked over to one of the shelves and put your hands on top of it. You turned so your butt was up and facing Ethan, one of his favorite positions.

“Yes ma’am,” He smirked, unbuckling his belt as he walked over.

“But make sure you don’t ruin my dress.” You said, looking back at him with a wink.

“Yes, ma’am.”

[purecamp]

If you get inspired.... 6 (and?/)or 12 for Witney <3

this may be one of the funniest things i have ever written, but let me warn u that i did this thing i often do where i take the prompt which is obviously leading me in a very clear direction and then i wildly run away with it to make it something completely stupid and different instead. i hope u get a kick out of this bc it's the dumbest thing ever flgkjsslkjs i love u

“Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”

It’s just one of those days, where you come home from a long tiring day at work and you just know that a green smoothie and a good yoga routine will put you right back on track again. There’ll be time for a bit of journaling, maybe even some meal prep, and if she’s feeling really indulgent, Courtney might even treat herself to a granola bar. Now this is living.

Except – Willam’s in her bed. Under the covers, granted, but stark naked as the day she was born. She flashes the covers to prove it, then resumes protecting her modesty as if that matters in the slightest. Courtney gets the feeling that her nice calm evening will maybe not go down as planned.

“There is! And it’s not a sex reason!” Willam announces proudly.

Well, thank god for that.

“Spill, then. I think we need to talk.”

She launches into a tale.

“So here’s me and Alaska, right? We decide to go out for brunch, it’s been a while since I’ve seen her properly, turns out it’s because she’s been holding out on us but we’ll get into that later. So I’m like hey girl, let’s meet up for lunch today and she’s all ugh babes I’m so sorry I can’t do lunch I have to go pick up you-know-who from the you-know-what and I’m like okay that’s fine so how about brunch then? A little earlier? And she’s like sure thing darling text me the address and I’ll meet you!

Of course I’m fashionably late but I get there looking gorgeous as anything, little flirty wrap skirt and a crop top and my amazing beach tan because hello, look at this complexion darling. Laska’s already there and we grab a bite to eat and then we find out they’re offering a bottomless brunch package and Alaska’s like hey, I know I gotta run but we have time for one, I mean she would encourage this right and I’m like duh of course she would and plus I really wanted to get into those mimosas so I wasn’t gonna say no.

Anyway we’re just slamming them down like there’s no tomorrow and then some girl walks past and Alaska like dives under the table, which by the way is a terrible thing to do when you’re as tall as she is because she smacked her head off the fucking thing, but I ask her what’s going on and she’s like help I slept with that girl a few nights ago and she had to leave in just her big t-shirt because she couldn’t find her skirt and I told her I’d text her if I found it but then it was so cute that I just didn’t text her and now I’m wearing it and if she sees me I’m dead.

Like isn’t that hilarious? Court, I’ve taught her so well.

Naturally I offer her my skirt and we can trade, so we run to the bathroom and do a little switcheroo, girl ends up none the wiser. I promise all of this is relevant. Then Alaska realises she’s late to grab you-know-who from the you-know-what so she just calls her and she’s like heyyy gorgeous so sorry about thaaaat and venmos her for an Uber and the bitch won’t stop complaining but we’re both kinda tipsy so we didn’t care.

We decide to go to the beach because it’s like five minutes away and it’s empty and hey we want even tans. We just stuffed all our clothes in Alaska’s bag and sunbathed and it was so fucking hot I love it, this is truly the best time of year. So that’s all going great and it’s like half an hour and then the phone rings and Alaska picks up and it’s you-know-who again and she’s outside Alaska’s place but she doesn’t have a key and all fucking hell is gonna break loose if she doesn’t get there because – well, you know what she’s like.

So Alaska gets dressed and grabs her shit and rushes off, says to me we’ll meet up again properly soon and I’m all down for that. Then I realise five minutes after she’s gone, my clothes are still in her bag.

Anyway so I had to stroll along the beach completely naked because running would make me look desperate and insane and I couldn’t go along the paths in the city instead because I’d get arrested for being this sexy so I had to stay on the beach which made my journey much longer and I realised it’d take me like fifty minutes of naked beach walking to get back to my place, or it would be twenty minutes of naked beach walking to yours, so I did that. I found your spare key under the doormat because apparently you’re just inviting robbers into your home and then I got cold and got into your bed. I didn’t wanna grab any of your clothes because they’re all ugly and also too big for me because you’re huge.

So that’s how I got here.”

Courtney blinks. “Did you get sand in my bed?”

“Just for you, baby.” Willam winks.

[stevenbasic]

“Oh good god…” I muttered to myself, scrolling to the new pic Melissa had posted, just an hour ago, “what the fuck is she doing..?” I’d finished my sad little meal, at my sad little table, and now sat on my sad little couch in my sad little apartment, and knew - despite the disquiet this post brought me - I’d need to unzip and-

<knock knock> came a rap on the door. 

Who the..?? It was 9pm, on a Tuesday night. Who would be...knocking...now?!? No one knows I’m even here unless it’s…

I dropped my phone, jumped up off the old green cushions, and tucked everything back. 

...Sheryl??

Could it be her? Here to talk? Maybe start to fix things? In a rush of anxiety, I looked about. The harsh fluorescents of the overhead room lights were off, the main illumination in the room cane from a cheap gooseneck floor lamp aside the couch, painting shadows onto the far wall. I’d cleaned up a bit...if by cleaned I meant pushed aside most of the cardboard boxes holding my roughly-packed stuff. I wanted the place to look nicer if this was indeed my newly-estranged wife but nonetheless I stepped towards the door, reaching out my hand for the knob, when I heard the voice:

“Dr JJJJJJJ….” it came, unmistakably both nasal and smoky - and then a series of new knocks, “...let us innnnnn….”

Oh no. Randi. 

My heart stopped, sank, then picked up. Randi?!? How did she know I was here?!? I hadn’t said a word to anyone in the office and now-

I looked through the peephole: 

There’s three of them!!?!

Randi, Josie and Lakshmi, all dressed up for a night out, two of them carrying what looked like trays of food, and all giggling wide-eyed in the hallway outside my “secret” apartment…not so secret anymore, I guess. I had wanted, for as long as I could, to keep this all hush-hush. I didn’t want anyone at work to know that Sheryl and I had separated, that she’d thrown me out of the house, that I’d be living for the time being in a pathetic little apartment above the office. But, it seemed, my secret was out. And if these three knew, I thought with a shiver, Melissa must-

“C’mon..!” Randi demanded, her face abruptly filling my entire view through the peephole, as she tried to gaze through it herself from the other side, “Let us in!!”

Oh Jesus. 

Knowing I shouldn’t, I found myself opening the door. “Hi, uh- how..?”

In a moment, the girls were inside: first Josie, then Lakshmi, then Randi. I was shocked as - parading past me with their party heels on - they were each at least as tall as me, Josie and Randi certainly taller. I tried to hide my dismay, and acutely felt my lost inches as they strutted into my space. Randi eyed me up and down, and aside from feeling short I suddenly also felt silly, dressed for bed already in my thin cotton shorts and grey tee shirt while they were all made up to the nines, hair and make-up. “We heard Sheryl kicked you out,” Randi said, bluntly, as she and the others glanced around the room, taking it in, in all its...meagerness, “so we brought some food.” The look on their faces, as they scanned the bare walls, the crummy furniture, was a mix of distaste (Josie), pity (Lakshmi), and amusement (Randi). “Well, I can't cook,” Randi added further, “so I just dressed up pretty.”

She certainly was, uh...dressed pretty, all three girls were. Party dresses on them all, each one smaller and tighter than the next. Randi’s, a sleekly strapless black number that ran high up her shapely thighs and showed off the top shelf of two surprisingly full breasts, was the raciest of the bunch. 

As if catching my eyes roving Randi, Josie tossed her long, silky, brown hair and spoke up. “Don’t you like Lakshmi’s dress too?” she said, “We’re taking her out dancing. I let her borrow it.” As I admired the fit of Lakshmi’s form-fitting, sleeveless minidress - orange and grey with criss-crossing stripes - Josie continued. “Mimi, show him how nice your ass looks... ” Lakshmi looked shy but obviously proud as she turned, swiveled her womanly hips in a liquid, casually sultry move, one I didn’t think she’d be capable of, and giggled. Her rear was much larger than I’d imagined, maybe just accentuated by her four-inch heels and the way her dress clung to her narrow waist. Anyway, it looked round and shapely and soft and the way it rolled...god, this is Lakshmi?? Where had she been hiding that thing??

“We’re due at the club soon…” Randi explained, obviously ignoring my near-outright leering of her friend, primping her own hair in the cheap, plastic-framed mirror on the back of the door, “...but we wanted to stop by here first...” 

“...in case you were lonely...” Josie continued, smiling at me with a mischievous glint in her eye. 

“...or hungry…” Lakshmi offered, having turned back to me with her plate of food, covered by tin foil. In the meantime Josie had placed her tray down on my little coffee table, and was competing with Randi for space in the mirror, adjusting the fit of her ensemble. From behind, both other girls were no slouches either. Josie in particular had a remarkably fine butt, high and round and obviously gym-toned. She looked coltish in her tight little dress of scalloped orange chiffon, like a girl that had just grown into her curves. 

“...but it looks like you’re just thirsty,” Randi concluded, catching me ogling Josie’s ass, our eyes now meeting in the mirror. 

I turned away as she - mocking me already with her smile - continued to primp aside Josie. 

Not knowing what to say, I looked to Lakshmi behind me, who was once again innocently gazing about the one-room apartment, such as it was. “D-don’t you girls normally do happy hour on Tuesday nights?” I awkwardly asked, steering conversation as far as I could away from myself and my...home situation.

“We do,” Randi answered, taking my attention again as we both now watched Josie struggling to straighten her too-short skirt, pulling down on its hem, “but Missy’s... going through some things. So we’re just going dancing, meeting the other girls out.”

“And, we wanted to cook for you,” Josie added, finally turning back towards me, smoothing her dress with both hands running down her youthful curves. 

“I made empanadas..!” Lakshmi chirped, causing me to turn again. The bright white teeth of her smile gleamed proudly from the rich brown of her complexion as she held her plate up, an offering. “Are you hungry now, Dr. J?” she asked, eyes wide, “We can make you a plate?”

Thinking back for the moment on the takeout styrofoam meatloaf I’d had, I answered. “n-no, I just ate,” I said, flinching as a hand was suddenly on my shoulder.

“Well, why don’t you sit down, then…” Randi purred, urging me backwards the couple steps it would take to get me back to the couch, “...the girls will put the food away.”

“My mom made this lasagna,” Josie said, “it’s really good.”

Before I knew it, I was slumped back on my couch, watching as Josie and Lakshmi had taken their trays and moved to the kitchenette in the corner, trying to find room in the half-size fridge for the meals. Randi was seated close, perched on the coffee table facing me, our knees nearly touching. 

“Your place is really nice,” Lakshmi called, rearranging the few things I had on the shelves of the fridge, making room, “I like it.”

“Th-thanks,” I offered, painfully aware of the pity in her voice, and the pitiful state I’d found myself in. It was humiliating! Here I was, their employer, a man nearly twice their age living like a shamefaced dog in his abject little den. I knew I needed to stand up for myself, exert some confidence and authority to these girls and put on a brave face, but I was still emotionally reeling from the events of these last 48 hours. How did they find out, and how much did they know, about what had happened at home?

“It’s kinda small, this place,” Josie said, finally closing the door of the refrigerator, both girls turning back towards us, “it’s your wife’s, right?”

There you go. 

“y-yeah…” I answered, hating how small my voice sounded, feeling Randi’s gaze boring into my skin as the other girls began to make their way back towards us, “sh-she bought it as an investment, y-years ago. Sh-”

“She owns the whole building, doesn’t she?” Randi asked, her tone making my skin crawl, “The offices, the parking lot, the property? And you just rent from her?”

“Well, y-yeah, sorta…” I answered, looking up now at Josie and Lakshmi, who were stepping in to stand on either side of where Randi sat, “she doesn’t really charge me...rent…”

No, I found myself thinking, she takes it from me in different ways.

“At least she made it nice for you,” Lakshmi offered warmly, gazing down at me in commiseration, “I like the furniture.”

“yeah…” I replied, looking around. The mismatched furniture, here in this apartment, was probably an afterthought of Sheryl’s, some of it likely leftover from a corporate redeco she’d overseen, some of it cheap stuff she’d had delivered wholesale. The bed was flimsy, the tiny dining table plain. The whole place was austere, to put it gently. It felt lonely, spartan...just enough to get by. This couch, though, was beginning to feel crowded. “Listen,” I began, appealing to the girls as all three now stared down at me where I sat, “how did you find ou-“

“Don’t you have any money of your own?” Josie asked, cutting me off. I noticed how, with the goose lamp aside the couch, curvy silhouettes of the standing girls were cast onto the wall, across the panel of the electric box unceremoniously situated aside the doorframe. 

“W-well, Josie, it's complicated…” 

“Complicated? How is it complicated?” Randi asked, obviously baiting me, trying to get me upset, off base, “She owns everything, you don’t. Without her you’d be homeless. It must be humiliating, being that dependent on your wife…”

“Yeah,” Josie said, biting her bottom lip in thought, all three girls regarding me with a maddening sense of pity, “Were you scared, when she kicked you out?”

“S-scared? No, I just, uh-“

“I dunno...it might be nice to be on your own for awhile,” Lakshmi added, brightly earnest, “have some space, have some freedom.”

“But you’re going to have to cook, clean...all the things she used to do for you…” Josie said, turning herself and tucking her skirt to sit, next to me on my right, on the couch. She crossed her gorgeous, bare legs, right over left, towards me. I couldn’t help but notice the muscularity of her calves, her pretty knees and thin ankles. ”We can all chip in, help out,” she offered, “Can’t we, Lakshmi?”

“Oh, for sure, yes,” Lakshmi replied, excitement in her voice as she now sat her voluptuous butt to my left, “We can help take care of you, we’re good at that.”

“Yes you poor thing…” Josie cooed, cocking her head on her long, thin neck, tucking a lock of smooth, medium-brown hair behind her left ear. She and Lakshmi both sat taller than me.

“...we’re good at a lot of things,” Randi purred as, smoothly, she lifted herself off the coffee table and turned her own shapely rear towards me, to...oh god...sit in my lap. 

Surprised at the audacity of their friend, the other two girls giggled, as my eyes goggled. What am I letting happen here?? I can’t be...sitting...like this...alone in my apartment...with three young girls…one of them on my lap...the other two nestling in closer...

Perched coquettishly on my thighs, Randi tossed her thick, darkly wavy hair over her shoulder and looked down at me with smoky eyes. ”Now that Sheryl’s kicked you out, we’re all you’ve got, aren’t we?” she pouted, taking the moment to tuck a stray lock of my own hair behind my ear, “Dr. J’s girls…”

“You poor, poor thing…” Josie cooed, left hand going to my shoulder. 

“Yes poor Dr. J…” Lakshmi followed, her soft hip pressing into mine. 

They nestled in closer, the air now filled with their perfume, the smell of their shampoo and hairspray. “Good thing you’ve got us,” Randi said, smiling wickedly at my predicament, “and we’ve got you.”

“We’ve got you…” Josie cooed softly, following her friend. 

“...we’ve got you,” Lakshmi repeated, now a mantra. 

What the fuck is happening?? I thought to myself as I felt myself sinking deeper into this cheap couch and further under the spell of these three comely girls. I can’t...I can’t do this, I knew, if indeed they had plans for me tonight, plans beyond just dropping off some empanadas and lasagna. I knew that if I was going to get back into Sheryl’s good graces, save my marriage, this was not a way to start. 

Somehow, from some deep wellspring of strength, I was able to muster my resistance, even as I felt Josie’s firm breast press against my right arm, even as I watched Lakshmi’s young, brown thighs as she crossed them towards me, even as Randi’s hand slid down the back of my neck. “uhhh...ladies,” I managed, “It’s getting late, w-we all have to be in the office tomorrow.” Was I really going to be able to do this? “Thanks for, uh, dropping by, bringing the food,” I said, “but I think you should be going...”

“Awww…so soon?” Lakshmi purred. . 

”...but we just got here…” Josie followed, plumping her lower lip in a girlish pout. 

“w-we all have to be in the office tomorrow,” I repeated, this time not sounding even half as determined. 

Randi paused, letting me squirm, hearing my indecision and knowing how hard a battle I was fighting. ”Is that really what you want?” she finally asked, her dark eyes looking confidently into mine, nicely big breasts bulging above her top right at my eye level. 

I could barely say anything, but managed to pull out a semi-convincing reply. “uhhh...y-y-yes.”

Randi chuckled, and the air in the room changed as - surprisingly - Randi was telling the girls it was time to go, as they clucked in disappointment but backed away; as they stood, straightened their dresses, and started to step towards the door. I don’t know what to call the feeling I was dealing with, roiling around my chest. Disappointment? Regret? But it seemed, at least, like they were listening to me. 

Randi, though, was still on my lap. 

The girls were taking one last look at themselves in the mirror, Lakshmi running her hands through her thick black hair, and I began to move t-

“No. You stay right there,” Randi said commandingly, left hand suddenly onto my chest, pushing me back. My eyes went wide, and before I could mount a protest, she was telling the girls, “Meet me down in the car. I’ll just be a few minutes.”

“n-no, Randi, really,” I began, again moving t-

Her right hand fell to my left thigh, grabbing my cock, pressing it into my leg through my cotton shorts. Semi-hard already, my entire body shivered and all the strength to fight fell from my body, drained suddenly away. I fell back to a slump against the couch. 

“I’ll see you in a sec,” Randi told the girls, “Dr J. here just needs a chat.”

Lakshmi and Josie both glanced our way, both chirping something casually in assent. If they noticed that their friend more or less had their boss’ penis right in her hand, they gave no sign and each fluttered a goodbye wave as they left. 

The door closed behind them. 

”Randi I think you should leave,” I said, meeting her gaze with what was the last of my resolve - only to feel that die, withering away as she squeezed me through my shorts and...god help me...I moaned. 

She smiled as she saw my eyes flutter. “Oh, I’m not going anywhere...” she replied, her hand already starting a slow rhythm, my disobedient shaft responding, already growing, “I’m staying right here.”

“Y-you can’t…” oh god...oh god….

My vision’s swimming. 

“Randi, stop…” I moaned, knowing right away I had too much arousal in my voice, “you’ve got to l-leave…”

“Oh, but Dr J…” she purred smokily, shifting herself on my lap, getting comfortable, all the while still working me, “I don’t want to leave. Remember our night in the car..?”

Oh my god if I could take that back, that drunken night in her Dodge Neon. One of the best blowjobs of my life, but the collateral damage it had done... “Y-Yeah?”

“Does your wife know about it?” she asked, simply, setting her shoulders to draw my eye.

Oh crap. “N-n-no, uh...she d-doesn’t...” My mind was struggling more and more as blood left it, abandoning me to swell into the monstrous thing that grew uncomfortably down my left thigh, under her hand. 

“Want to keep it that way?” she asked, as she saw my distress and moved me, took the effort to start to rearrange me in my shorts, pulling it up, pushing it up to my hip. 

Despite the stars that danced in front of my eyes, the pleasure that was clenching my gut into a fist, I managed to speak. “R-Randi, are you...blackmailing me?”

That made her laugh, a gravelly chortle. “Blackmail? Omigod is that what you think I’m doing?” She squeezed me again, just to see me shudder. She pushed my now rock hard dick hard into my hip, making me spasm. Then she started stroking it again, through my pajama shorts. “God, I have such power over you, don’t I…?”

At that I groaned, despite myself, certainly doing nothing to refute her.

“You love that idea, don’t you?” she mused, “You love women with power. You love that I fucking own you...just like Sheryl. I fucking own you…” With that, her hand left me, she sat up straighter - just to watch me slump, surrendering in acceptance that I was basically powerless here. My cock crawled against my flesh, sliding needy and abandoned, shifting towards me, across my hip and skin, centering itself.

“You’re owned by women and you love it,” she pushed, watching how her words just excited me more, watching now as the great mass of my unmanageable manhood tented my shorts, my taut waistband pulled away from my lower belly by its brute size, “you submissive little man…”

I was defeated, she knew it, and she could do anything she wanted with me. Defeated, and my cock was here to prove it. She watched, wide-eyed - we both did - as it slowly pushed itself up past my waistband, the head sliding just proud of the elastic, then emerging further. 

Her eyes flashed. “Oh, there we are…” she chuckled, looking down at it, “there’s my friend…” 

As if feeding on the attention, needful of more, my dick continued to grow, pushing further and further up past the waistband of my shorts, which began to slide down my shaft. The cooler air of the apartment swirled around me, onto my skin, exciting me even more.

“God fucking almighty it’s huge,” Randi marveled, as she sat back a bit to allow it space, sliding off my lap now and down onto her knees, onto the floor, still watching it. 

“R-Randi...no…”

”Speaking of us doing everything your wife used to do for you…” she hummed, ignoring me and gingerly grabbing the sides of my shorts. She pulled them down, freeing my huge stiffness completely. ”Oh god is this even bigger than before?” she marveled, smiling wickedly and readying herself, as she moved my shorts under me, pulled them down my thighs, to my knees, “Or are you just skinnier?” Her eyes were plastered, now, on the dancing, waving, wobbling thing that hovered there, as if self-willed, over my hips and belly.

My lord it did seem bigger than ever, thick veins throbbing under taut purple skin, head swollen and spongy. The thing was monstrous. 

“P-please, Randi...you don’t have t-to-”

“It’s okay...my jaw is nice and loose these days,” she said, as she settled herself more solidly on her knees, pulling my shorts all the way down so she could sneak between my thighs and - in a lurid display, opened her mouth and jaw wide...uncannily wide...for my benefit.

What the fuck?? I’ve never seen a human do that, I thought, as I saw her tongue, her teeth, the glistening pink halfway down her throat. 

Chuckling at my bewildered shock, Randi just closed her insanely big mouth and continued blithely on. “Is this going to be your first blowjob in your new apartment?” she asked, as she casually took hold of my bullish member with one soft, feminine hand, “or did anyone else sneak up here earlier?”

My vision swam again with pleasure. ”Wh-what..? What do y-y-you mean..?“

“Oh, sweetie, all the girls like you, y’know,” she began, as she idly began to stroke my shaft with her right hand, “Brittni and Bobbi, Josie...they think you’re adorable. Lakshmi was, like, all giddy on her way up the stairs here. Aubrey’s basically in love with you. Even poor chubby CiCi. They alllll want to get into your pants.”

Ugh, what? Nnh...Oh my god, no...this was too confusing, the thought of that swarm, buzzing about me, and I was oblivious. Was I surrounded, and didn’t even know it?

“And now that your wife’s kicked you out, now that you’re out on your own,” she continued, her left hand reaching under me to cup my hugely turgid sac, “now we have you all to ourselves.”

“nnnngh…” was all I could manage, as her fingers began to have their way, playing in gentle massage with my outsized testicles. 

“We can do everything she used to do for you,” she said, gravel in her voice keeping it from being a whisper, “we can tend to you, now that your wife’s not around. Would you like that?” Her soft left hand palmed me, squeezed me from below as her right urged me harder and harder and harder. She was stroking me, getting me ready. “Did she used to do this for you? Help you relax, after a long day..?”

“N-n-n-nnnngh….nnn-nnn...” I groaned, worried suddenly that soon I might come, just like this.

“No? Not really…?” she asked, wide eyed and falsely earnest, “Well then..life is better already, isn’t it?”

She leaned over, and spit onto its head, a big frothy glob that clung and began to dribble. 

We both watched as her hands played with me, spreading her saliva down, somehow controlling the beast that rose from me with her thin, delicate grip. It really was a sight, her manicured fingers in a tender fist, sliding up and down the column of my beefy hardness. As if on instinct, though, after a time, my gaze drifted behind it, to the swells of her breasts bulging from the neckline of her dress, watching them move, jiggle, fill with her breath. Images of them growing, of them becoming...oh god...hers...coalesced, and suddenly it was like the scent of Melissa’s perfume was wisping around me. I took a deep breath, any resistance I had buried and forgotten, stared at Randi’s tits, and thought back to the post Melissa had put up earlier, the invitation…

After several moments of allowing my reverie, Randi spoke again. “I know you’re thinking about her, Missy, wishing this was her,” she said. 

“n-no…” I lied.

“Haha liar,” she said, “I know you more than you think I do. You wouldn’t have lasted five seconds here with her…”

fuck…

“So I'd watch out,” Randi said, all the while still casually stroking me, “before, Melissa didn’t want to be a homewrecker...” 

I gasped as she slid two fingers further under me, exploring. 

“No, Missy didn’t like the idea of getting between two people in a marriage. Me? I never cared...I’m a fucking wrecking ball,” she continued, as I tried to keep from squirming as her fingers crept closer, “Missy, though, had her stupid standards. Now, though, now…”

She squeezed my sac, tickled my nethers. Bit her lower lip and leaned in closer. 

“Now everyone wants a piece of you.” She looked at my huge cock, brutally hard in her hand, and then up at me. I saw muscles in her throat working, her jaw flexing as she prepared herself for me and leaned in closer still. Still keeping eye contact, she rubbed her smooth cheek against my tightly stiff shaft, and told me right before she swallowed me: “But right now, tonight...this part is mine...”

==================================