#it burns me to a crisp like dream when he laughs dumbly

[rarestdoll]

a sight for sore eyes (pt.1)

prompt: mizu just can't seem to escape you no matter how hard she tries, even in her dreams

tags: lesbian, 18+, black fem!reader, using she/he pronouns for mizu, they/them for reader!

warnings: none yet! nsfw in later chapters!

with that, mizu makes her arrival around midnight, just as shop is about to close. slipping through the alleyways and back roads, she heads straight for the noodle shop. she half wonders if ringo will want to see her, especially for all the time she's been gone and for her lack of letters. she knows ringo is soft hearted with an even softer soul so it wouldn't be out of his nature to be upset over something like that especially when it came to mizu. the thought of it makes her brow knit together, frown forming at the edges of her mouth, nervous to see her friend(s) again. she takes a deep breath of the cold air, letting the crisp shock her back into a somewhat calm state, and she steps into the restaurant.

chest first she is met with hot soba broth, colliding head on with something- no someone soft, and bowls are sent flying to the floor. she doesn't even have time to react before the person has their hands all over her, dabbing and wiping with a cloth that seemed to have come from nowhere while spewing out a rapid mixture of curse words and apologies, the first directed at themselves while the later are at her.

“i'm so fucking sorry sir, i didn't even see you there! i must've been so wrapped up in my head and then you suddenly appeared and i’m the only one in shop right now and i…” mizu is barely paying at attention to the words coming from the person SHE bumped into, only able to stare at the gloss coating plump lips, the rich brown of their skin, the shine of their dark spiraling coils and even shinier brown eyes. she doesn't know what to do with herself, heart beating almost dangerously fast to the point where she finds herself reaching up to clutch her chest to as if to slow it down. she feels hot all over, not just from the noodles but something else, like she's sitting in a suffocatingly hot iron cauldron and she can't find enough moisture in her mouth to swallow down the huge lump that's formed in her throat.

“uhhh i um” she says dumbly, finally finding her voice and hoping the person she's blathering in front of doesn't notice the cracks in it. “no i'm sorry i was not watching where i was going and i did not check twice before entering and i swear i am usually not this clumsy and uh…” she trails off lamely as the person laughs melodically, eyes twinkling in mirth and curiosity and mizu thinks she's never seen anything prettier than the sight before her now.

mizu doesn't realize that she's still clutching her chest until the stranger reaches out to unbind her hand from the front of her cloak, a look of concern crossing their face as they examine the huge wet spot on mizu’s clothing. mizu is taken aback by the gentleness, stomach flipping again for the second time today but this time for an entirely different reason, absentmindedly letting the strangers roam their hands further along her torso.

“are you feeling hurt anywhere? that food was very hot and i am sure you must have gotten burned from its temperature, would it be alright for me to take you to the back to take a look at any possible injuries?” the stranger questions sincerely, face knit with worry and round eyes so big it reminds her of a baby doe and she wants to smooth out the creases in their forehead. adorable. a voice chimes in her head making her eyes widen in both denial and realization. she feels the burn of eyes of a few people leftover in the shop on her and quickly moves to distance herself from the stranger, shaking her head so hard that she almost strains it.

“no,” she manages out, fixing the front of her cloak to ensure that her bindings aren't showing from the stranger’s hand musing her clothes about. “i'm fine, is there any way i can repay you for the spilled food and for your kindness?”

the stranger's face slips back into the same from before, curiosity overpowering amusement more than anything, a kind smile gracing their glossed lips once more. “the boss is away for a few hours to run a few late night errands, if you would be so kind to help me finish the dinner rush and then i could treat you to a nice bowl of soba, a hot bath, and some company and that will make things even, do you accept?”

mizu rolls the idea around in her head a few times, deciding if this was even a good idea given what she originally came here for. seeing that is was trickling down to closing time and there were quite a few people left in the restaurant, maybe the stranger did genuinely need assistance so why not. thoughts about what could come after filled mizu’s mind and she found it even harder to say no now.

“alright, i will help you. however, would it be possible for me to receive a change of clothes, it seems that mine are quite ruined now.” she says, plucking the now cooling broth soaked cloth away from her skin in slight distaste, now smelling like soy and green onion.

the stranger only laughs at this, turning lightly on their heel to lead mizu towards the back end of the shop, slipping into the storage area to hand mizu what looked like cleaning supplies before rounding their way back into the kitchen, “oh there is no need to change silly, you will only get messier until closing! now would you be so kind to clean up the spill that you made and then once your done you can help me re-serve that order to our waiting customers!”

“what the fuck have i gotten myself into?”

once the door flaps shut behind the final customer, mizu slumps onto the nearest floor cushion, rubbing tiredly at her wrists. she hadn't worked this hard since she first started to train, wrists aching pathetically from the amount of soba laden bowls she had carried in the last hour. you had introduced yourselves to each other earlier and mizu could feel her face redden when you repeated her own name back to her in a giddy tone, eager to finally be able to put a name to her face. she feels slightly guilty, ashamed to be thinking of another person this way when she should be focusing on finding her friends. but for some reason she just can’t bring herself to care too much at the moment. she will find them first thing in the morning and besides she can’t turn down a hot meal and equally as hot bath (although she’s looking forward to being in your presence more). sighing as she settles herself into a reclined position on the floor, she scans the room looking for your silk robe clad form, fingers twitching when she spies you across the room tending to the leftover dishes in the wash area. she wants to help you but you scolded her like a child, telling her to wait for you to be finished then you both could eat. her stomach growls in remembrance and she frowns lightly, wanting nothing more than for you to be finished. like she's hoping for something, more than dinner and some fresh clothes, more than just company. her ears burn at the thought and she forcibly shakes it from her mind, guiltily flicking her eyes towards you in hopes that you didn't somehow read her mind.

“you know, i used to watch you sometimes.” you pipe suddenly, hands still sink deep in dish water. you continue to scrub, lips quirking up into a solemn smile at the reminiscence, “up in the mountains, training your heart out, always wondered just exactly who was this onryō that everyone was so scared of. but you were not the only one who was an outcast.” you speak calmly, like you've already rehearsed what you wanted to say, but with a certain sadness that mizu recognized, akin her own. she hears the small shake in your voice as you continue, “as a child i spent so much in kohama’s forest. my father’s sister grew up on the outskirts of the town, hidden away from prying eyes because she looked almost exactly like me, which in turn meant i too was hidden away. i lived with her for most of my life, until i turned eighteen then i was sold off to a group of bandits in kyoto.” mizu feels herself dim at the mention of the men, already knowing what you mean without you having to even fully explain it. “‘i never seen a creature like you before’ they would say.” you fidget uncomfortably, shaking the shudder that started to rack through your body, pushing yourself on for the sake of getting to the point. “what i’m saying is, i’ve see you since i was a kid. i think we are both the same in a lot of ways, except i’ve never raised a sword in my life. i did, however, end up slaughtering those men. a few tried to have their way with me while i slept so i slit their throats with my kitchen knife in return.”

this punches a surprised laugh out of mizu, not because she didn't believe that you would do that but because she knew you could. “i’m not sure why you are telling me any of this but i am glad that you managed to escape from there. those scum deserved nothing but what they had coming to them.”

“oh it was ringo that actually helped me. funny thing is, the big sweetheart ended up killing more men than me!”

the mention of her friend makes her shoot up from the floor, making her way into your space in less than five strides. the strength of her grip as she grasps your wrists in near desperate manner makes you gasp harshly, not at all expecting her hands to be so inhumanly cold.

“ringo?! you know ringo?!”

“well yes! he owns the shop, meaning he is my boss. he should be back soon!” a wide grin graces mizu’s face at the news. seems like what she was looking for has been here all along! she slumps her shoulders in relief as if a huge weight has been lifted off of them. you eyes follow her curiously, faintly wondering what business a lone samurai has with ringo but mizu just smiles loosening her hold on you slightly to guide you away the sink back towards the seating area.

“you sit down, you have helped me enough today. i'm going to make dinner and no don't make that face i've had my share of lessons from ringo so i won't poison you i swear. i would however appreciate those clothes you promised and a hot bath, if you could be so kind?”

a/n: here’s the first chapter! so sorry for the delay i’ve been very sick and i’m just now feeling well enough to work on this again! hope u enjoy ^__^

[wejji]

Okay here we go again, I need to disperse the trash can but genuinely watched Britney broski new tumblr video and it made me think, bitch if I even remember this account and the posts it’s either going to be “wtf were you doing” or “well I guess it worked out then” *smirks*. I know kill me /j. I don’t want to remember.

[chiwhorei]

vanilla

pairing: k. sugawara x fem!reader x t. kageyama

genre: smut, 18+ minors dni

word count: 1.5k

warnings: oral, a little degradation, hair pulling, dom!suga, threesome

a/n: hey! i’m here with some more very late content because i have never been able to follow a schedule successfully in my life. kinktober was set out to be a challenge for me to stretch my writing and practice on characters i haven’t yet explored, but it started becoming hard to even think about my own writing. anyway, i’m exhausted and didn’t add the taglist because i really need to go to bed.

hymn: doves in the wind (ft. kendrick lamar) by sza

kinktober 2020 - threesome (m/f/m)

Sugawara Koushi loves to find joy in the simple things. A crisp autumn morning, and the smell of freshly washed bed sheets. He appreciates the first scoop of vanilla bean ice cream, and the sound of your yoga mat rolled out onto the hardwood floor in the morning with the sweet, domestic promise of another day together.

Your boyfriend always ensures he keeps a spritely, positive attitude no matter his surroundings, even with one hand wrapped into your hair and tugging down. Your eyes meet his above you, Suga’s blown wide in a certain sadistic gleam.

“Well, my dear Tobio-chan,” Suga shifts to his junior, the tall brunette sweating bullets next to him, “is she all you’ve ever dreamed of?”

Your knees protest at the hardwood below you but you remain still, waiting for the next instruction from Koushi as he pets at your hair with care. The pair stand at the foot of yours and Suga’s bed, looking down at your form. The pretty blue dress Koushi picked out for you is bunched up dangerously high on your thighs. Your eyes are glossy, pupils blown wide and reading anticipatory desire for what your boyfriend has planned.

Nervous isn’t nearly a strong enough word to use right now. Kageyama finds a certain buzzing joy from nerves before a big game, synapsis soaked in eagerness when he throws up his first serve. Kageyama isn’t nervous, he’s been dipped in terror and rolled in a thick layer of lust like he’s never felt before.

He has no idea how the night's events led him to the apartment of his old volleyball club teammate and manager. There were whispers shared between you and Suga, purposefully just out of earshot so that Kageyama could only hear every few words or an occasional sentence.

“I think it’s an offer he couldn’t refuse. He’s been pining for you since his first year of High School.” Kageyama’s ears burn red hot with the knowledge you are talking about him. Your giggle bounces past his ears like a siren, looking at your boyfriend with less shock than would be assumed given the context.

“I don’t know Kou, if you think he can handle it..”

“Did you hear what she said, Tobio?” Sugawara’s voice brings him back to his current predicament, looking down to see your face positioned right in front of his hard, clothed cock. You wear a beautiful smile, one Kageyama has kept filed in the recesses of his mind for the last 6 years, never fully able to let the image of you fall away. “It was just a stupid crush.” He would say to himself like a penance, while stroking his cock to the memory of you bending over to pick up a stray volleyball or helping him wrap up a busted finger. The way you lightly kissed his bandage for “luck” miraculously always made him need to get patched up more often.

“I want to see your pretty cock, Tobio-kun.” The tone of your voice makes his knees weak, sin seeping off of the last syllable, He’s pictured you in this position a million times before, but actually seeing your lips lightly ghosting over his zipper is not something he thought would actually happen to him in this lifetime. Your hot breath fans over his crotch, shiny lip gloss threatening to stain his dress slacks.

His mind is working faster than his hands, causing an impatient groan from Sugawara. Your boyfriend places a slender hand on the taller man’s shoulder, urging him into action. Kageyama unbuttons his pants with shaky hands, pulling out his length and he can almost feel your bottom lip touch him. Your mouth turns up at the corners again at the sight. You were right, his cock is long and pleasantly thick with a throbbing pink tip.

“So pretty.”

“Go on, doll, show Tobio what your dirty little mouth can do.” Suga’s hand is pulling the back of your hair again, meeting your awaiting mouth to Kageyama’s weeping head. Your tongue shoots out to swirl around his tip, the hot muscle stealing a low grunt from the stoic pro athlete. Deciding that Kageyama has dealt with enough teasing, you take him into your mouth with care, placing your hands on his thighs to keep balance. A resounding fuck echoes off of the apartment walls when your nose brushes his pelvis. You’re gagging around his impressive length, the ache in your throat is dizzying with your boyfriend keeping you pressed to the hilt.

“What an obedient girl you are, y/n. You’ve always been such a people pleaser.” Sugawara muses at you, his praise making your throat relax to accommodate the obstruction. As you begin to bob your head, Kageyama’s hands shoot behind him for purchase on the bed frame. His teeth are grinding down painfully as you work his cock. Your moans reverberate around him, his head wants to fall back but Kageyama wills himself to keep his eyes on you, lest he misses a second of his most debauched fantasies coming to life.

“Her mouth is down right sinful,” Sugawara pulls you off of Kageyama’s dick with a salacious, wet pop, “but her tight little cunt is even better.” The sentence is suspended in the air momentarily before hitting the brunette like a truck. You’re lifted to your feet by Suga’s hand still wrapped in your hair, you scramble to steady yourself with weak hands fisting the front of your boyfriend's shirt. He holds you for a moment, pulling you into a messy kiss that has you melting into his embrace. Koushi holds a cloying charm with each peck to your pre-stained lips, but quickly spins you around to shove you towards Kageyama again. He grabs your elbows to keep you upright, peering down at your dazed expression with curiosity.

You lurch forward, pulling Kageyama down to meet your lips for the first time by his dark brown locks. His mouth is frozen for a moment before opening up to your welcoming tongue. He could get lost in your peach flavored kiss, hands finding your hips and gripping tightly. Suga’s laugh throws him out of the intoxicating reverie as the older man pulls you to press against his chest. Deft fingers pull down the zipper of your tight dress before brushing off the thin straps to expose your bare breasts and lace panties.

Suga traces his thin fingers across the curve of your tits, down your hips to find a home hooked in the last semblance of modesty you have left. The silver-haired man puts his chin on your shoulder and smiles brightly.

“You’ve always been sweet on my y/n, Tobio-chan. You used to follow her around like a lost little puppy, it was so cute.” Suga pushes his hand down the front of your panites, shoving two fingers into your dripping pussy without warning, your head rolls back into the juncture of his neck as he begins to stretch you out. “Sometimes, I have her put on that cute uniform skirt and walk around with my cum leaking out of her tight little cunny.” The sound of your perversely sweet lover talking about you like you aren’t there ignites a new wave of desire in your abdomen. He continues pumping his digits into you harshly, eliciting a depraved squelching from your pussy.

“She’s drooling all over my fingers Tobio, I bet you want to feel how she’s clenching, don’t you?” Suga’s sadistic side is not something surprising to you, but shocks Kageyama to the core, barely able to nod dumbly in response. Sugawara tsks him, clicking his tongue with gleaming humor. “I want to hear you say it. Tell me how you want my sweet girlfriend bouncing on your cock.”

Kageyama’s words catch in his throat, but tumble out as your whimpering intensifies. “Please, I- let me fuck your girlfriend, Suga.” His plea is timid and almost robotic, but pleases Suga enough for him to rip the soaking underwear down your shaky legs. You’re now completely naked in front of both mostly clothed men. Your boyfriend has always enjoyed a nuanced power imbalance.

Kageyama sits down on the edge of your bed, stroking his cock slowly as you’re dragged towards him. You shuffle onto his lap with little grace, grabbing at Kageyama’s strong bicep so that you don’t tip over. He feels your hot cunt inches away from where he’s always wanted you. The culmination of years of helpless pining for the one thing he could never get is dissolving around him. Suga wraps his hand around your neck from behind, craning it up so that you meet his eyes. “You’re my good girl, right?” You nod furiously, desperate to gain permission to lower yourself onto the thick cock in front of you. Your eyes glaze over in lust as Suga’s thumb rubs your cheek.

“Put on a good show for me, doll.” You hear your sweet, unassuming boyfriend’s voice like dripping syrup. Koushi always finds pleasure in the most interesting places, one of them being the shared look of bliss as your velvety pussy hugs tightly onto his former underclassman.

No one would guess, but Sugawara Koushi is anything but vanilla.

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

[turquoise-skyyyy]

The Solution To Everything(Is Hair Dye)

Note: Human AU! First time posting writing on tumblr lmao, and I wanted to try a bit of a different writing style... so there’s that.

Just a little writing practice paired with Marellinh fluff n kinda angst ig :)

Word count: uhhh i went overboard

Blurb: Linh is lonely, with no one in the world left by her side, hurt, by all that she’s lost, and possibly has an ever-so-slight crush on her elusive blonde neighbor. Marella needs someone to dye her hair within the day, and Linh happens to have exactly what she needs, in more ways than one.

When Linh wakes late in the night, startled from her dozing state on the couch in her dimly lit living room to the sound of persistent knocking, she certainly doesn’t expect to find the blonde neighbor she’s been inconspicuously watching— she’s still trying to convince herself that casually watching the girl enter her house anytime she got the chance wasn’t stalking— for the past three weeks since she moved in next door to be on the other side. And when the panting girl in front of her sucks in a breath, Linh definitely doesn’t expect the words that spill from her lips—

“Can you dye my hair?”

Linh blinks with bewilderment, still trying to process that the girl is here, on her doorstep. Not to mention really, really pretty. Annoyingly so, to the point where Linh’s tired brain has to avert her eyes to focus on forcing her mouth to form words.

“What?”

The girl smiles apologetically, and suddenly Linh’s throat feels dry. The girl’s beauty is much more manageable from a distance, through subtle glances out of the corner of her eye across the hall.

“My roomates— screw them— dared me to dye my hair bright green by tomorrow. I lost a bet.” She looks away. “And you have green hair dye, so...”

Linh stares dumbly, trying to puzzle out how to respond to such a random, odd request. Though she moved into the apartment complex almost a month ago and her maybe sort of possible little crush lives just next door, her mind is still trying to register the fact that they have finally crossed paths. And the girl has come to her, no less.

“How do you know I have hair dye?” The hair dye is something she’s gotten to send to Tam. The silver in his hair is something he kept in long after she cut it off and cut off their parents. He still hangs on, and Linh wants to change that, even if they haven’t spoken in a year. She isn’t going to send it though, she knows. She always chickens out. Her brother’s silence for the past year isn’t easy to face. Still, she buys brightly-colored dyes frequently on the off chance that a lightning strike of confidence will hit her. It hasn’t happened yet, but it’s a comforting routine anyway.

The girl blushes, scratching the back of her neck bashfully and shifting from foot to foot. The movement draws Linh’s eyes to her shoes. They’re ratty sneakers, and upon closer inspection, it looks like there are messy, multi-colored words scribbled all over the sides. The weird shoes match the long, tacky rainbow socks that go up to her knees and the bright, tie-dye, too big sweater draped over her surprisingly small frame, with black leggings to top off the outfit underneath.

“Well, I saw you coming back in from the supermarket yesterday and there was a box of green hair dye poking out of the bags...” she trails off. “Oh my god. I sound like a stalker, don’t I? I swear I’m not.”

Linh can’t help the delirious, sleep-deprived giggle that escapes at the words. It’s ridiculous to her, that the girl she’s been following and observing as subtly as humanly possible because she’s just so pretty and Linh wants to know everything is the one worrying about being a creep.

The girl grins at her laughter, the question still burning in her eyes, which are an even brighter shade of blue than Linh realized up close.

She clicks her phone on, checking the time discreetly. It’s late, nearly midnight. The hair dye takes at least an hour, most likely more, to finish. She has an exam at nine the next day that she still hasn’t studied for and she hasn’t yet messaged Tam for her daily one-sided check-in that he never responds to, or even reads.

She looks back up at the girl with thin braids threaded through thick, golden locks, framing beautiful ice blue eyes set in a still blushing face, waiting for her at her doorstep with an open gaze and just maybe, an open mind.

Her stupid, fluttering heart makes a decision before her rational mind can catch up.

“Come on in.”

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

The girl, who introduces herself as Marella, asks her if she’s always so quiet.

Linh snorts, resisting the urge to point out that Marella is the one invading the house of a relative stranger in the middle of the night. Of course, there’s also the fact that she let her, and that isn’t even considering how flustered the blonde makes her. Especially in such close proximity, where she can smell the faint lavender wafting off her hair. Linh never would have pegged her for a lavender girl.

And when she leans closer to touch up the roots again, she realizes that Marella smells of something spicy. It’s good, comforting, like the home-cooked meals made with love that Linh only ever got to experience in other people’s houses because hers never truly felt like home, or the smell of wood when it was burned in a desperate attempt to keep the warmth in the winter because woolen hats and group hugs were never quite enough to warm everyone’s toes.

Linh has to remind herself to keep working her fingers through the hair.

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

Linh is thankful when the summer sun finally leaks away and is replaced by autumn wind. There’s something calming about the crisp air blowing through the hair that escapes from tightly-zipped thin hoodies and the leaves bleeding red and gold. She much prefers it to the heat of the summer, or the harshness of winter, the temperatures of which she can never quite escape from completely.

When she pulls open the doors to a nearby cafe and lets the smell of warmth and caffeine wash over her face, and falls into line to order, she isn’t expecting to be behind a girl with a mane of blonde hair that’s streaked through with bright green that hurt the eyes and small braids that sway when she shifts. And Linh’s weeks of watching from a distance pay off— and the hard-to-ignore green certainly helps— because she recognizes the girl immediately.

It’s Marella, sporting the new, significantly greener look that she gained by Linh’s own hands. Linh blushes at the reminder of the night weeks ago. She’s surprised to find that it was the first time she’s seen the girl since their unintentional night together. She’s been so occupied with settling in, getting organized, figuring out independence, and attempting to reach out to her absentee brother, that she hasn’t even noticed the girl’s absence. It seems her creeper skills have gotten rusty, which should make her happy but instead causes the barest amounts of disappointment to creep up. Even from afar, Marella is lively and brightens, or at least eases, the monotonous days that all seem to bleed into each other in one eternal, never-ending passage of pain.

“Hey!” Marella’s voice jolts Linh from her thoughts. “Nice to see you here!”

“H-Hi!” Linh stutters. She thinks the girl’s impossibly blue, intent gaze will always catch her off guard.

Her gaze shifts to the green in Marella’s hair, the harsh coloring softened by the sunlight streaming in through the windows of the cafe and bouncing off the bright strands.

“Your hair looks nice.”

Marella touches a hand to her neon green-streaked look and smirks. “All thanks to you.”

Linh’s cheeks warm at the praise. By the time they reach the orders taken down, Marella has somehow convinced Linh to sit and drink with her. She takes Linh’s wrist lightly and guides her to a table, an action that makes Linh’s face heat again. She looks down at the thin fingers encircling her arm to make sure she isn’t dreaming, and is elated to find that she isn’t.

And sitting in that booth, sipping their warm coffees and exchanging even warmer smiles, Linh’s romantic fantasies from afar suddenly seem a lot closer than she ever thought possible.

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

Linh isn’t sure exactly how she’s gone from watching her neighbor from a(very far) distance to being dragged into her unfamiliar apartment to be introduced to her roommates, but she can’t say she’s complaining.

As nerve-wracking as it is to be inside Marella’s house, she has to admit that the chance of pace from routine is something she would have been too scared to do herself. Had Marella not knocked on her door and practically shoved her out of her own with an evil grin on her face and into the girl’s shared one just minutes before, she might have stayed holed up in her own apartment forever, seldom leaving and only ever for basic necessities.

Patterns are nice, reliable, and most of all, consistent, something that Linh has never had before, and up until a year ago, had given up on attaining, but there’s something undeniably exciting about throwing caution to the wind and launching herself into a new situation.

However, there is the slight problem of said new situation happening to be making a good impression on her crush’s roommates, who are all staring down at her stoically in a solid line of four with their arms crossed and their gazes narrowed. It reminds Linh of the stereotypical movie tropes in which the overprotective dad interrogates the unnecessarily perfect Mary Sue’s new boyfriend when she brings him home for the first time, and she has to force herself not to laugh in the faces of the people glaring down at her. They’re all at least half a head taller than her, excluding the brunette girl, who has the most terrifying expression of them all on her face.

Three hours later, Linh is laughing tears of joy and drinking hot cocoa with whipped cream and cinnamon with the scary roommates in their warmly lit, cozy living room, who’s first impression couldn’t have been more wrong.

The scary-looking brunette girl isn’t actually one of Marella’s roommates, instead living with the other brunette, her brother, at home with their parents. Her name is Biana, she has an attachment to the color purple that everyone else seems to make fun of her for, and an affinity for randomly throwing out the others’ clothes and replacing them with ones she deems good enough to be seen out with.

Her brother, who’s name is Fitzroy— everyone teases him about this— is better known as Fitz. He is smart, put-together, and as Marella refers to him, their group’s resident “tired dad”. He’s dating Dex, the nerdy but sarcastic actual roommate of Marella.

Then there is Sophie, who was in the kitchen when Linh first came in, and Keefe, the former being Dex’s cousin and Marella’s second roommate who is constantly done with everyone’s shenanigans; Marella claims that Fitz, the actually responsible one, can never be bothered to do anything about their spontaneous endeavors most of the time. The latter, on the other hand, is the most mischievous of the bunch who Linh also knows the least about. His smiles and grins are the most abundant, but also the most weighted. Linh suspects there is a lot more to him than she’ll ever be able to fully grasp.

Linh’s surprised with how well she fits in with these people. They seem so much lighter and freer than her, a girl still tainted and chained down by the past and the experiences that came with it. They welcome her with open arms, and hours later, when dusk falls and it’s time for her to leave, the wrap her up in a hug and make her swear she’ll come back .She sinks into the hug, thinking that after knowing their light, she can’t possibly stay away.

Linh will forever owe all this new warmth in her life to Marella, who is perhaps the warmest of them all.

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

Fluffy blankets are good. Warm, cozy, comfortable, the kind of little thing in life that makes most people feel fuzzy feelings of nostalgia as they think back to the times they wrapped themselves up in warm blankets on the days they were feeling overwhelmed by the world, when they sat in messily-built blanket forts with their best friends and told scary stories during the devil’s hour with only a flashlight illuminating their evil grins, or the fights with their siblings to get the bigger portion of the blanket when they were forced to share a bed.

Unless that person is Linh, in which case all chances of that were stripped away by a pressured childhood where no room felt safe when her parents were near, friends were disapproved of, and anything that could knock the Song family from the top was discarded before either of the children could protest.

But whether it’s a childhood like Linh’s, or one where everything went perfectly, the fact can generally be agreed on: fluffy blankets are a good, good thing.

But Linh doesn’t think she was ever aware just how perfect fluffy blankets can be until they came piled in the arms of a blonde girl with tiny braids and green threaded through her waves at the door.

“Movie night?” Marella asks, wiggling a laptop in her other hand. “I noticed that you don’t have a TV yet.”

Linh lets her in, eager to spend more time with just her and especially eager to share another night with just the two of them. The idea of being in a dimly lit room wrapped in blankets with their bodies pressed together and only the light of a screen illuminating their faces doesn’t hurt either.

They curl up together on the couch without a second thought, as if they’ve been doing so all their lives. Linh adores the way Marella’s head fits in the crook of her neck like the last missing piece of a puzzle, and holds her breath as the blonde reaches across her and presses play on Netflix once they’ve settled.

When the girl falls asleep on Linh’s shoulder an hour later, she cuddles closer to the warmth of the fluffy blanket and her— crush, or love, maybe, she doesn’t know— pressing to her side.

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

As nice of a distraction as Marella and her strange roommates can be in the months that pass, Linh has to come crashing back down to reality at some point. And crash she does, when the banging on her door at nine o’clock at night opens to the face she knows as well as her own.

Her brother, approaching her for the first time in years, bringing nothing but news of their father’s death.

Linh knows she should be feeling something. That she should be falling to her knees and sobbing dramatically, like a protagonist in a drama novel, or maybe grabbing his hands and begging him to tell her that it isn’t true. Instead, when Tam bears the news, all she can do is match his emotionless expression. After all, what is there to feel?

And why is she in such desperate need of comfort when, truth be told, she feels no suffering?

She can’t explain her mind’s twisted way of thinking, but she does know that it’s what leads her next door, and what pushes her to throw her arms around Marella’s neck when she comes to the door decked in pajamas and those long, irritating rainbow-striped socks that she loves so much.

Linh likes to believe that it’s her petty grudge against the annoying socks that makes her cry on Marella’s shoulder that night, but hiding from the truth isn’t as easy as she likes to believe.

And when Marella wraps her in a fuzzy blanket that rains tufts of fine fluff on their heads and pulls her in close, Linh has a hard time believing fluffy blankets aren’t the answer to all the world’s problems.

Confidence has finally come to her, and she’s able to give Tam a box of hair dye before he leaves. She doesn’t know if he’ll use it, or when she’ll see him again, but the smallest spark of light in his eyes when he takes the dye and turns it over in his hand is enough hope for her.

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ- 

When Marella appears at her door in the middle of the night this time, weeks since Linh’s father died and they last saw each other, Linh is surprised that she isn’t surprised. After all, surely there’s something seriously wrong if the only thing she says when someone comes knocking at her door at exactly three minutes past midnight is, “Did you bring the hair dye?”

She pulls the blonde inside softly, takes the fuzzy blanket still draped on her couch from their movie night, and wraps it around the girl’s shivering frame. Marella starts to sob on her shoulder. Her fingers wrap around Linh’s neck and latch onto her, bringing them both down to the carpet when her knees give. Linh immediately wraps an arm around her and holds her close.

Linh doesn’t know what’s wrong, but she does know that Marella is leaning on her for support, and she does know that she will always be here, for as long as the blonde might need.

When she finally stops crying and lets Linh reach gentle fingers to wipe her cheeks, and pulls out electric blue hair dye that brings a smile to both of their faces, Linh has a hard time believing that hair dye isn’t the cure for everyone’s sorrows.

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

Linh finds it funny that one can promise themselves one thing-- that they are going to try as hard as they can not to connect with others as a means of protecting themselves, for example-- but still end up breaking the promise if the right temptation crosses their path.

And her temptation? A certain blue-eyed blonde with now bright blue highlights who’s devious smirks and snarky words can snap Linh’s resolve in a second. She knows she should hate her for it, but surrounded by mischievous roommates with twinkling eyes and light smiles filled to the brim with warmth, she can’t help but snuggle closer to her weakness.

Her weakness, who is currently failing to dominate the board in a (not-so)friendly game of Christmas Monopoly. Marella informed her that it’s a holiday classic when she dragged her inside the house just an hour before, but judging by the rabid way the players are screaming at each other, Linh can’t say she agrees.

“What do you mean, the empire kind is the wrong kind?” Keefe screeches. “Duh, it’s easier!”

“For you, maybe! But it’s not the original!” Dex retorts.

Keefe jabs a finger at the board. “Then why are you still playing and why are you in second place?” He throws his hands up. “If you’re so mad about it, then stop playing and let the rest of us noncomplainers win.”

“Noncomplainers isn’t a word, Keefe,” Fitz says, idly shuffling the assortment of multi-colored money laid out in front of him. As banker, he’s the calmest and least angry of the bunch, though there’s something oddly menacing about the way he rearranges his money with careful, poised fingers.

Keefe, Dex, and Fitz are circled around the board, all nursing mugs of hot cocoa(which Linh has realized is a sort of trademark for them) in between bouts of shrieking, while Sophie left a little while ago to buy original Monopoly just in case Keefe and Dex destroy the board. Linh laughed when the exasperated blonde said it, but now she can see why it’s a legitimate concern.

Linh curls her cold feet in from her position on the long couch, and Marella automatically shifts the fluffy blanket they’re sharing to fully cover her toes again. Linh smiles up at her gratefully, and Marella offers a small smirk back. Then she goes right back to screaming. Linh debates calling Sophie and asking her to bring back ear plugs too.

“Whatever,” Biana scoffs. “You’re all sore losers.”

She is currently winning, as she has been for the entire game, and she glares down at the boys huddling around the game board from her perch in one of the armchairs.

And on it goes. At the end of the night, when Monopoly money is scattered on the floor and a smoking dinner that’s just a bit too salty is shared and hastily wrapped presents tied with glittery bows are exchanged(Marella is too impatient to wait for Christmas morning), Linh finds herself full of more love and joy than she thinks she ever has been in her entire life. There’s something oddly comforting about being with people who care for and accept her, even if it’s by default or association. Having someone who cares is a rare light in her life that most people take for granted.

Especially when there’s the smallest chance that the person who truly holds her heart returns her feelings.

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ- 

It’s the night before Christmas and Linh can’t sleep.

It’s the tossing and turning type of ‘can’t sleep’, the kind where Linh lies awake long after dark waiting for her mind and conscience to stop running around in circles around her head, the kind where her insecurities grow claws and fangs and sink them in skin-deep, where there is no light slipping through the cracks to keep them at bay.

And Linh hates that kind of ‘can’t sleep’.

It makes her antsy, on edge, and the urge to pace itches at her feet. The unfamiliar surface of the floor of Marella’s bedroom only makes matters worse, and as softly as she tries to twist under the thin covers, it doesn’t take long for the rustling on the floor to alert the blonde girl dozing off above her.

Marella slides to the floor sleepily before Linh can whisper a protest and lands next to her on the mattress with a grunt. Linh rolls over to face her, and is startled by how close their faces are. She can count the light freckles on Marella’s nose and cheeks when she’s this close. Moonlight is streaming into the room through the cracks in the shutters of the window, painting streaks of glowing white on the blonde’s face. She always looks beautiful, but Linh finds there’s something especially intimate about her in this moment. The air is suddenly buzzing with palpable tension, making her palms go slick with sweat and her mind hyper-aware of every movement. She can’t take her eyes off Marella.

Then, girl of Linh’s dreams breaks the stillness, leaning forward and pressing soft, sleepy lips to her own.

She’s asleep by the time she draws away, but Linh is shaking with adrenaline. It’s the moment she’s waited for so long she can hardly think of a time where she didn’t want the blonde.

And yet.

Linh’s the kind of girl with baggage, with the kind of ‘skeletons in the closet’ that people run away screaming from, not because it’s scary, but because it’s messy. Complicated. It bogs everyone who knows down, making every action in her presence laborious and painful with the knowledge of her past. Even her brother, who once promised to be by her side forever, wouldn’t stay.

She knows it’s irrational, but suddenly she can’t imagine how to face Marella.

She slips out of the apartment in the early hours of the morning so Marella’s blue gaze can’t stop her from running away. But despite her misgivings, the insecurities that still haven’t retracted their claws, and the voice in the back of her head whispering that she has to have imagined it, Linh can’t stop touching a finger to her lips, long after she’s left the buzzing moonlit atmosphere that allows slips of self control under the cover of night.

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

It’s been weeks. Three weeks and five days, to be exact, and Linh still can’t figure out how to face her.

With every day that passes, she can feel the strong bonds they formed weakening. That’s one thing about relationships. They need an equal amount of effort. If Linh doesn’t put in enough, the object of her affection slips between her fingers before she can blink. That’s how she lost her brother, her friends, and any last semblance she might have had of “family”.

That is, until Marella.

She was persistent, even in the beginning, fighting to spend more and more time with a mildly resistant Linh, until she found it impossible to stay away. Her light is unlike any Linh has ever known, wild and fluid like an eternal flame that can’t be doused. That flame kept Linh alive for all these months, and yet here she is, ignoring it. Maybe even putting it through pain.

It takes a month, but it finally comes to her.

She realizes now that love isn’t something that affects only her, and that she isn’t the only one to win or lose in it. She isn’t the only person in love.

Love is two people, three people, ten people, a hundred people. Love is everyone who forces themselves into her life with the intent of staying no matter how dark it gets. Love is the flickers of light in the night and the bold streaks of sun in the morning. Love is the twinkling stars splattered across a purple painted sky.

Love is illumination. Love is clarity.  Love is a path paved special, with different twists and turns for everyone.

Love is...

Marella.

Love is Marella.

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

Weeks of radio silence after months of talking nonstop is hard to bounce back from, and they both know this well.

But Linh comes back anyway.  She comes knocking on Marella’s door exactly a month after they last talked, this time she being the one to approach at random in the middle of the night. When the door opens and she smiles apologetically, pressing a butterfly kiss to Marella’s forehead and pushing a big blanket and a bright, eye-melting color of hair dye into her arms in a silent apology, all Marella does is smile and pull her back in for a real, proper kiss.

Yeah, neon green and fluffy blankets are the solution to everything.

[enbyleighlines]

This is prompt 3 of 3! Thank you again for so many amazing drabble requests! I’ve really enjoyed working on these

Here is Jiang Cheng / Nie Huaisang: Flowers

—

Jiang Cheng quickly realizes that there is one downside to taking Nie Huaisang to a zoo for their first date. Namely, that it sets a prescedent for more unconventional dates. It’s not like he can fall back on the traditional dinner and a movie. Nie Huaisang’s expectations are probably a lot higher than that.

So after some deliberation, and some internet research, Jiang Cheng decides to take Nie Huaisang to a botanical garden.

On the drive over, however, Jiang Cheng starts to doubt himself. Is a botanical garden too grandiose for a second date? Or perhaps it’s too archaic? Will Nie Huaisang think Jiang Cheng is trying too hard?

These thoughts plague Jiang Cheng until he arrives. Then he catches sight of Nie Huaisang, and his frontal cortex momentarily shuts off.

Nie Huaisang is wearing sunglasses and a wide-brimmed sunhat, with a vibrant yellow flower tucked into a green ribbon. They also have on a short-sleeve blouse with a high collar and pearl-like buttons, jean capris, and sandals with more flower-themed buckles. They look like a preppy socialite, but somehow they make it look good.

It’s eerie, how just one glance can make Jiang Cheng feel like he’s gone braindead. He shakes his head, forcing his mind to reboot. Then he strides over.

“Hey, Huaisang,” Jiang Cheng calls.

Nie Huaisang removes their sunglasses, and gives Jiang Cheng a smile that reaches all the way up to their eyes. “Cheng-xiong,” Nie Huaisang greets, “Hi! I hope you brought sunscreen.”

“Sunscreen?” Jiang Cheng repeats dumbly.

“Yes, sunscreen!” Nie Huaisang pulls forward a small bag they had on their back, and fishes out a tube of sunscreen. “We’re going to have clear skies all day. I brought some extra water, too, in case we get thirsty.”

Jiang Cheng marvels as Nie Huaisang cups his hand and squeezes some of the sunscreen into the palm. Their hands are so soft.

“You really thought of everything,” Jiang Cheng says. He can still feel the warmth of Nie Huaisang’s touch even after they pull away. The effect is only slightly lessened when he begins rubbing the cool sunscreen into his skin.

Nie Huaisang shrugs and looks away. “I like to be prepared.”

Jiang Cheng knows that Nie Huaisang can get a little dodgy about compliments. That’s only one of Huaisang’s many oddities and complexities. They can be so confident one minute, and so bashful the next. Even after being friends for years, Jiang Cheng is still figuring them out.

“Anyway,” Nie Huaisang swiftly shifts the subject, “Which path do you want to take first? I’ve never been here, so you can lead the way.”

“I’ve never been here before, either.”

Nie Huaisang blinks. “Really?” They ask, “How’d you know this place existed? I’ve never even heard of it!”

Jiang Cheng winces, but he stays honest. “I did an internet search.”

There’s a second of silence, and then Nie Huaisang bursts into a stream of delighted giggles. It’s the kind of full-body laugh that makes the skin around their eyes wrinkle.

Jiang Cheng flushes. “Hey—”

“That’s cute,” Nie Huaisang interrupts, before Jiang Cheng can get the wrong idea, “That’s so cute! Cheng-xiong, you’re too cute.”

Now Jiang Cheng flushes for a different reason. He glowers off into the distance, since he can’t muster the nerve to glare at Nie Huaisang directly. Jiang Cheng has never thought about himself as cute before. He wants to keep being cute, for Huaisang.

“Sorry, I’ll stop laughing.” Nie Huaisang reaches over to take Jiang Cheng’s wrist. Their thumb presses against his pulse. “Let’s head into the garden.”

—

The botanical garden is, Jiang Cheng learns, far more interesting than he had anticipated. He chose it only because he knows Nie Huaisang likes pretty scenery, and what could be prettier than a giant garden? But even Jiang Cheng finds himself mesmerized by the vast array of plants. He had no idea there were so many different kinds of trees.

It’s kind of like walking through an enchanted forest. The narrow pebble paths lead them in winding circles, over a babbling brook, through curtains of willow trees, and into a maze of flowers.

Nie Huaisang is insatiable. They keep stopping to take pictures with their small camera. They even take the time to read the carved stone plaques detailing each plant’s scientific name. Their eyes burn with a fire Jiang Cheng remembers from their first date, in the wolf enclosure. Jiang Cheng also learns that when Nie Huaisang is in laser focus mode, little can be done to win back their attention.

But there’s something about standing back and watching Nie Huaisang get all fired up over mundane things that makes Jiang Cheng supremely happy.

The flower maze is not only a feast for the eyes, but for the nose, as well. The fragrance in the open air is crisp and not overwhelming, like it might have been in an enclosed space. The flowers themselves almost look unreal. They are far more varied than Jiang Cheng thought possible. Many droop like bells, while others have intricate patterns on the petals.

Nie Huaisang all but swoons over them. They spend the most time by the orchids, admiring the unique shapes and textures of the petals.

Some of the orchids are so strange that they seem like they belong on a different planet. Jiang Cheng catches sight of one with feathered edges, like the wings of a bird. The scientific name reads: ‘Habenaria radiata’.

“Hey,” Jiang Cheng says, “Come check this one out.”

Nie Huaisang turns and loudly gasps. “A white egret orchid!” They coo, and squat down to get eye level with them.

“A white what?”

Nie Huaisang doesn’t dare tear their gaze away as they breathlessly explain, “A great white egret is a kind of bird. It’s also called a great white heron. They’re my favorite kind of shorebird. So elegant, just like these flowers.”

The flowers are indeed very pretty, but Jiang Cheng can’t help but stare at Nie Huaisang.

Their eyes are sparkling, their lips parted and soft, their faint smile hypnotizing... Jiang Cheng takes in all of these features, trying to imprint it in his memory. Nie Huaisang is so... cute. Not just on a surface level, but all the way down to their big, easily overexcited heart. How did it take Jiang Cheng this long to see it?

But that’s not quite right. Jiang Cheng has always seen how special Nie Huaisang is, it’s just he’s never allowed himself to focus on it before. If he did, he might have to investigate his attraction to them.

Such a thing would have been impossible, when Jiang Cheng was so insecure about his manhood. Now he’s free to admire Nie Huaisang’s beauty all he wants.

Nor is he limited to simply stand back and stare.

When Nie Huaisang straightens back up, Jiang Cheng tilts their head towards him with a finger.

Nie Huaisang’s breath catches, their lips still parted and soft.

Jiang Cheng leans forward, in a soundless request for permission. Huaisang meets him halfway, joining their mouths with a breathy sigh.

Conscious of their location, Jiang Cheng keeps their kiss short and sweet. Yet, when he pulls away, Nie Huaisang seems dazed, like they’re waking from a deep dream.

“What was that for?” They whisper.

But Jiang Cheng can’t give voice to his thoughts. He’s never been good at that, and besides, it would probably just come out wrong. So he kisses them again, on the lips, and then one peck for each cheek.

Nie Huaisang giggles under the barrage of affection. Their skin is warm with a blush that makes their face rosy pink.

“Jiang Cheng,” Nie Huaisang murmurs, speaking softly into the space where they’re sharing the same air, “Thank you for taking me out. I’m... I’m so happy.”

Jiang Cheng cups Huaisang’s flushed face in his hands and gives them another kiss on the mouth. This one lingers, with Jiang Cheng savoring the sweet, vaguely minty taste of Huaisang’s breath.

They part again. Nie Huaisang giggles. “Jiang Cheng,” he pleads, “Say something.”

“I appreciate your passion for this stuff,” Jiang Cheng tries, “You just... appreciate things so damn much.” He hopes Nie Huaisang understands what he’s trying to say, because he’s sure he’s messing this up. “It’s... cute.”

“You’re cute,” Nie Huaisang retorts.

“Thanks,” he returns, awkwardly.

“Mm.” Nie Huaisang presses a kiss to Jiang Cheng’s nose.

And then they continue on down the path of flowers. Jiang Cheng holds Nie Huaisang’s hand in his, fingers interlocked. It’s incredibly romantic, and Jiang Cheng immediately feels good about the location he’s picked for their date.

He’s just going to have to keep getting creative for their subsequent dates...

[sidhewrites]

Excerpt. A direct continuation of the excerpt found here, summary page found here. Approx. 2,200 words. As always, feel free to send Asks or Messages about what’s written or anything you’re curious about.

Nina talked her into wearing a modern dress. It was green, heavy enough to keep her warm but light enough to still move elegantly, with it’s embroidery up and down the sides and flowing pleated skirt. It wasn’t too bad -- save for one major issue.

“Where’s the pockets?” Zorya ran her hands up and down the skirt as if that would be enough to make pockets appear. “Can’t you make it have pockets?”

“Stop rubbing it, you big baby.” Nina grabbed Zorya’s hands away from the dress and waved a hand. The soot Zorya had smeared across the fabric lifted itself up and deposited itself in a waste basket across the room. “It’s got a matching coat. You don’t need pockets. And we’ll need to get you some gloves in case you start fussing again.”

So, in a fine Parisian coat, wearing fine Parisian gloves, Zorya stepped out of the University’s front doors. Crisp February air bit at her cheeks, fogged up her breath as she exhaled. Noski whined from the doorway, refusing to go out unless carried, and hissed when Nina bent to pick him up.

“Hey, bastard, cut that out,” Zorya snapped, trudging back up the stairs to pick him up. He began purring the second he was in her arms and settled in. “I’m not carrying you into town, you know.” 

Noski looked up with his big yellow eyes in a way suggesting that he knew better.

Zorya hated how right he was.

“I can’t believe you spoil him so much,” Nina said. She approached Zorya, reaching out to take her arm, and Noski hissed again.

“Hey,” Zorya warned. It did no good. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s got into him. He’s not normally so much of an asshole.”

Nina waved it off. “It’s fine. He probably smells Jaga on me. There’s a reason the Americans call them scaredy cats, right?”

Zorya grinned, first at Nina, then down at Noski, glad for once that he wasn’t able to make any rude commentary in this form. “That’s right. He’s a big scaredy cat, isn’t he?”

Noski was unamused.

They took a car into town. Nina pointed out various shops and locations as they passed -- a bakery recommended by half the students at the university and Clare himself, and a quartet singing on a street corner for tips. Down that street was where all the young men went to drink and call themselves writers instead of actually writing, and down that street was where the young men who actually wrote wallowed over their first drafts with a gin in one hand, and a bourbon in the other.

“And that,” Nina said, pointing out a small cafe front, “is where all the girls go to meet other girls in plain daylight.”

“To...meet?” Zorya asked, brows furrowing.

“To meet.” Nina replied with a wink and a nod.

“Oh. Oh.” Zorya nodded, finally understanding, and Nina laughed again.

Light, powdery snow fell onto the already white-rooftops of the city. Children raced each other down the streets, women in fur coats walked arm in arm while their valets carried their shopping bags, and two young art students sat beside the road, painting the scenes they saw in between the cars puttering by. It was a fine day, a calm day, a strange mix of the fast paced city life and the slow, lethargic energy that came with a cold and cloudy day.

They stopped outside an utterly massive multi-storied building -- a department store. It had to rival the size of the Arkane University at least. Zorya was only distantly familiar with them, having never been given the chance to go shopping or even looking around in Russia before the revolution began. But Nina seemed to know her way around all too well. She swept out of the car with her usual elegance and poise, waiting primly for Zorya to follow her out, stumbling and cursing under her breath.

She laughed. “The pinnacle of feminine grace.”

Zorya made a face. “I was distracted by you.”

“Oh?” Nina held a delicate gloved hand to her mouth in mock surprise. “Don’t be ashamed, Mademoiselle. It’s only natural to be distracted by someone like me.”

“Yeah, you and your stink.” 

Nina gasped, but grinned despite herself. “You --!” She fell into laughter despite herself, leaning forward to take Zorya’s arm again until Noski hissed. She flinched back, holding her hands close as if bitten. “Let’s get you a bag for him first, maybe. You need something nicer than that old travel sack anyway.”

Zorya’s stomach dropped. “But --” Noski wriggled in her arms, trying to escape, and she pressed him tight to her chest. “Fine. But nothing pink.”

Nina smoothed down her fine, bright coat, haughty and refined as ever. “It’s cerise.”

“I don’t know what that is, but I don’t want that either.”

Nina let out a delicate sigh, her breath clouding in the air. “Black, then. Like your wicked, wicked heart.”

“Exactly.”

Noski whined again. Zorya scratched behind his ears, but refused to relax her grip.

Nina guided her inside, nodding at the doormen with a smile. One of them smiled back, apparently infatuated with Nina on looks alone. She walked with her head hell high, piercing eyes glittering with mirth, steps as light as air. She glided in, stopping quickly to admire the flowers offered at a cart near the door.

Zorya did not smile at the men. She slouched and walked with the heavy footfalls of a soldier. If she wasn’t dressed in Nina’s clothes and walking so close to her, Zorya doubted they’d let her in at all.

Only when they were a good few feet away from the doormen did Zorya look up from her feet -- and stopped dead.

The building was massive -- and seemed doubly so from the inside. Four stories high, with a stained glass dome filtering light down into the veritable pavillion in the center of the building -- an atrium trees and artificial streams running underneath bridges that lead to a seating area and cafe in the very middle.

Two wide corridors lined with shops on either side led away from the atrium, and Zorya could see no less than four elevators from where she stood.

“Fuck.” It came out unbidden and unexpectedly, an awestruck whisper under her breath. She caught herself too late, ears burning, a hand clapped over her mouth, grateful she at least remembered to say it in Russian.

“That’s what I thought, too,” Nina agreed, speaking in fine French. “But try to stick to the local language here.” She came close, whispering, “You’ve never met people quite so bourgeoisie as you will in this place.”

Zorya didn’t have to wonder at that. It was a veritable palace of commerce and capitalism, and even the staffers and doormen wore clothes finer than anyone she had known back in Moscow. She nodded dumbly.

“Let’s get a coffee, shall we? It’s delicious here, and there’s an open table right by the fountain.” 

“Wait, I thought--” 

But Nina was already making her way to the atrium. Zorya rushed to follow, hating how lost she felt here. This wasn’t the place for people like her -- for soldiers with soot on their hands and scars on her skin. Zorya had just wanted a haircut -- nothing more than a few quick cuts with scissors and then to be out of there. Now Nina had added in a new bag and coffee in the atrium of all things. 

Zorya felt too small and too out of place here. As if she hadn’t bathed recently enough or didn’t wear enough perfume. A mix of fear and resentment crept up her spine as she, reluctantly, followed her friend to the center cafe. 

Or tried to, anyway.

“One moment, Mademoiselle,” a man’s voice called out. Zorya turned to see two uniformed men coming her way -- a tall, burly man, and a slimmer one with a full beard. They both wore batons at their hip, and, though her instincts told her to search for one, they both lacked a visible firearm. “We can’t allow unleashed pets into the Gallerie.”

Zorya hesitated, looking down at her bristling cat, his yellow eyes trained on the larger gard. “Uh...no, he’s…” She fumbled, couldn’t remember the French word for familiar, and her accent was too strong to ignore. “He is my, um, companion. He is…” Panic rose up in her as she realized just how helpless she was in a place like this. She was a soldier. A working class soldier stuck in a pretty dress and wearing the disguise of a society girl. They’d kick her out in an instant, and that was if she was lucky.

“Is there trouble, gentlemen?”

Zorya flinched at Nina’s voice, suddenly so close. She had approached silently. Her French was flawless and her accent had been mostly subdued. She almost blended right in. The burly man softened at the sight of her.

His companion, however, did not. “Where did these Russians come from?” he grumbled.

“Nothing terribly wrong, of course, Mademoiselle, but I’m afraid we can’t have unleashed pets in the Gallerie. Your companion will have to wait outside.”

Zorya’s ears burned. She grit her jaw, eyes on the bundle in her arms. Noski continued to bristle, not once glancing away from the guards.

“Well, certainly not,” Nina said with a nod. “I wouldn’t dream of letting my dear poodle loose in a place like this, and risk everyone’s safety.”

The beareed guard nodded, stepping forward to assert himself. “So you see, your companion here --”

“My companion? Oh, of course.” Nina chuckled, shook her head. “You mean Zorya Kosheka, the Grand Magician’s apprentice. I’m not used to hearing her referred to with such, ah … well, carelessness, I suppose. You are familiar with the Grand Magician and his apprentice, of course?”

He paled, fumbling. “Yes, err. Well --”

Nina didn’t let him finish. “And, even if she wasn’t, I can’t imagine any Magician would have any need for a pet when she has a familiar, wouldn’t you say, monsieur?” She directed the question to the burly guard.

“Well, yes, I suppose so…”

The bearded man spoke up again. “It’s still an animal, Mademoiselle, and it must be on a lead.”

Zorya glanced around, aware that they were attracting attention. Anger and fear rose up further in equal measure, both at Nina and at herself for letting things go so far. “Nina, let’s just...”

Nina paid her no mind. She raised her brows, just slightly, lips pursed. It was a disapproving look, the look of someone with quite a lot of power, and quite a little patience. “It? Did you just call a Magician’s familiar it?” There was a hint of disbelief in her otherwise even voice -- no anger, no frustration. Just a hint of confusion. She waved a hand at them. “I don’t know where you were raised, monsieur, nor should I like to insult what I’m sure is a fine, fine town, but where we come from, we have some respect for the arkane.”

The message was more than received, and the guards looked not unlike children having been scolded by a school teacher. Properly cowed, and most likely now aware of the looks they’d gotten from the other people, the guards nodded their assent. 

The burly man spoke first: “Our apologies, mademoiselles. We meant no disrespect.”

The bearded man continued: “But do, please, keep your familiar close. We wouldn’t want -- er-- him? Her?” He looked to Zorya almost helplessly.

It took her a moment to realize what he was asking for. “Oh. Him. He’s a him.”

“Yes, of course. Please keep him close. Wouldn’t want him getting lost here. Good day.”

With a tip of their hats, the guards took their leave. Noski’s fur finally settled, and he snuggled in closer to Zorya.

Nina let out a short sigh. “Well, I think that went very well. Don’t you?”

Zorya frowned. “You know I’m not a Magician, right?”

“I do, but they don’t.” Mischief gleamed in her eyes.

Zorya knew that look. Didn’t like that look. “What did you do?”

“What do you mean? I did nothing.”

“Nina.”

She shrugged, waved a hand about. “I might have charmed their minds. Just a little bit.”

Zorya’s eyes went wide. “Nina--” Dominion of any sort was a dangerous magic, illegal in nearly every part of Europe. 

“Only a bit!” she countered, hushed and insistent, though she appeared as calm as ever. “I only made them slightly more amenable to the idea of familiars running around -- just a suggestion, that’s all. It won’t last more than twenty minutes.”

Zorya pressed her lips together, unconvinced.

But Nina wasn’t so easily cowed. She waved the conversation away. “Let’s get coffee. I’m still cold, and we haven’t even dropped our coats off yet. All right?”

“Fine. Fine, but no more diversions. We’re here to get my hair cut, and that’s it, all right?”

“Okay.”

“Promise?”

Nina made a show of considering it, but eventually nodded with a smile. “Promise.”

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