#save yourselves light skin women

[enlightenedbeauties]

Rest in paradise, Jacky Oh. Even in death, us light skin women still get bullied and attacked.

[maguro13-2]

Demons Unleashed ~ Origins of the Ink Demon Gaiden Pt.2 ~

[Shadow Army - Masamichi Amano]

Dimentio : Seven Lights...Eight hearts...and thirteen Darknesses. Oh what a fine discovery that this world and the others had to split the spoils from that bamboozling Count Bleck, the Will of Shinra Kusakabe had made every human or witch as a pawn to destroy the other. I despise that mustache man in red for ruining my plans. Perhaps, the boy who saved the world in the Ohkuboverse 1000 years ago, was somehow this world's creator and spread his influence into the Real World. Ah, yes the boy who was one of the eight pillars that are same as the same of the Eight Pure hearts, were uses sacrifices as keys to the door to darkness, this entity has been using the hearts of Shinra and his people in order to create a new planet for all heartlesses shrouded within the darkness. That entity is Demon Vibe. But after Shinra manifested and created a new world, the evangelist that he and everyone in his world fought was nothing more than an astral puppet from that manipulated his entire world to be destroyed with the simple meaning of spontaneous human combustion caused by Firaga, a technique that was used by the Black Mages.

Man in Hazmat Suit : My lord, the vessels of the eight pure hearts have finally awakened.

Dimentio : Good. Shall we greet them into this "Real world" of ours?

Man in Hazmat Suit : That's correct, sir. But just assure that there are only four of them, they're female vessels of the eight pure hearts, we don't why the Evangelist wanted to use his people's hearts keys to opening the Darkness.

Dimentio : That's exactly what I need to hear. Wake up, Eight vessels of the Pure hearts, or I say Eight Pillars from Shinra's World. Awaken yourselves from your 1000 years of death.

Amaterasu : Where...Where are we?

Haumea : What's going on? Who are you?

Inca Kasugatani : I can't even remember a thing.

Sumire : What on earth is this place?

Inca Kasugatani : How long have we've died?

Dimentio : It's simple. This is the Real World that you all have woken up, ever since Demon Vibe used your hearts as keys to open the door to darkness, the one who manipulated into destroying Shinra's world and the Ohkuboverse was the One Winged Angel Sephiroth. The evangelist you've been under working with was just a only a mere puppet.

Inca Kasugatani : You mean...

Amaterasu : We've been puppets to Demon Vibe's will?

Sumire : Oh, I've been a miserable nun. If it wasn't for that Sephiroth person, we would've soaked in Shinra's blood after the Time Eater annihilated us for being under the will of Demon Vibe right before Shinra spreaded his influence.

*images flashing*

Haumea : I remember, that was the day when we were lost to the Time Eater! We all died and it's all of Sephiroth's fault for using me as a tool! I felt so ashamed for what I've done to everything and for ruining Shinra's life! I should've apologized to him! Onegai...let us forgive Shinra-kun.

Inca Kasugatani : Please, we wanted to forgive Shinra for what we have done.

Amaterasu : You gotta believe us, it's women that is the ohkuboverse's problem and not men! I'm sorry for how we treated each other like pawns in a corrupt game!

Inca Kasugatani : If only that...that we could love shinra back, the same thing that he wanted to give us something that isn't hate.

Dimentio : Fair words, mother of witchkind, since I brought you back to life after the 1000 years of Shinra's death, I decided to give you all to earn your freedom like a good wild creature. There's nothing wrong with the fear of shaming yourself with those bodies of bare skin. If you want to apologize for ruining the devil's life, then forgiveness is what you needed after that. Forgiveness and kindness is the option to forget the sins or crimes that humanity grudges against. You there, put them in the cultivated storage tanks for transportation. I got a pair of two mustache losers in overalls to give them a fair greeting.

Inca, Amterasu, Haumea : [together] Shinra-kun...Onegai...Yurushite.

"Meanwhile..."

Erazor Djinn : The World is mine! I cannot be denied by that filthy rat. WHYYYYYYY!?!

Dream Sonic : I told you I'm not a rat! (traps Erazor in his light) I'm a hedgehog! (blows out fire) Phew! I knew it! I felt good for saying but for one thing for you, Shahra. Just grant me wish, I wish for a mountain of handkerchiefs.

[Worth a Chance - Steve Conte, Fumie Kumatani]

(a rain of handkerchiefs falls down) Now, just let yourself cry. As much as you need to. You'll have plenty of handkerchiefs to help you through it.

Dream Shahra : Oh thank you, Sonic. I would use plenty of them to help me through it.

Dream Sonic : Oh yes, thank you indeed.

*BELL DING*

Sonic : Hold on I'll go check with the Piano. Composer, have you been messing with the Piano lately?

Fumie Kumatani : No that wasn't me.

Sonic : Then what's the...(clock ringing) Hey, that sounded like a clock ringing. Why is there son

Fumie Kumatani : That's because you need to wake yourself up, Sonic.

Sonic : Uhh, what was that?

Fumie Kumatani : I said...(with Tails' voice) Sonic, wake up!

[Party Dress - Fumie Kumatani]

Sonic : (wakes up from dream) Huh? Ah man, it was only a dream? Way to go for having this thing ruining my perfect dream. (stops clock) Alright, Tails. I'm up. Now that it is the year 2007 I finally get a chance to meet with Shahra and saved the Arabian Nights from that mean Erazor Djinn.

Tails : Good, Well I guess the 06 was seriously not having the greatest time, I mean a girl saved a world from one-eyed star entity who took body of her ancestor that ruled the galaxy before the birth of humanity. But it's a good thing that Sonic Rivals is canon thanks to the to Sony's greatest handheld console, the Playstation Portable.

Sonic : Otherwise know as PSP, since Sonci 06 was retconned by failures, Silver managed to come back from the future he finds out that Blaze was another dimension or something, I guess it's probably her world since sealed away that fire demon that burned down mobius 200 years ago. All of this Sonic 06 nonesense was only just a retcon of retcons, of course that was the time that I got a kiss from a human princess and It was so embarrassing.

Tails : Like what?

Sonic : Well...

(cuts to Sonic getting suck faced by elise)

Sonic : [muffled yelling]

Tails : Oh this did not go well.

Elise : AHH!!! I GOT RABIES!!!

[Super Sonic theme plays]

Amy : GET OFF OUR MAN, BEEYOTCH! (the girls starts beating up elise)

Sonic : (to the viewers) I don't know what's creepier, the fact she made out with an animal or a corpse.

*flashback ends*

Sonic : Oh yeah, that's right. Some recolored doofus shot me down in the back and got away with a second-degree manslaughter, thankfully I never died, also that kiss from a human princess in my mouth is not what expected, so I decided to use some mouthwash. Anyways, what's happening in 2007 now after I defeated that Genie who was using Shaula Gorgon's heartless?

Tails : Well, I heard the news that they're saying the Chao were kidnapped by Dr. Eggman Nega, don't you know who Eggman Nega is, he's not also clone from Blaze's World, but a descendant from future that is Silver's World. He kidnapped all of them.

Sonic : Who knew that he would make a great comeback, I knew something like that would easily thought of a Chao-napping, that's right. Chao-napping by Dr. Eggman Nega! And what did you find about. Is it something from before and after the arabian nights.

Tails : Yep. I found a book about a demon made out of fire called the Ifrit, it's not the one that Erazor summoned, it's the name of a fire demon that is a relative to the Flames of disaster during the 06 story, the story that you retconned it. Although, The Ifrit and the Flames of disaster aren't related by Blaze's powers, but it also can gain more power by finding something edible to eat. Food of course.

Sonic : I hope it's not it's brunch, but what could be more devasting we gotta go find Eggman Nega, he's running wild of stealing chao. Let's get ourselves ready!

Tails : Right away!

[Race to Win ~ Title ver. ~ - Ted Poley, Jun Senoue]

Sonic : So once we find Eggman Nega, we will put that world-destroying ifrit a taste of medicine! I'm sure the eggman we know is not behind all of this! But it's gotta be the same man we encountered since the Black Arms invasion. Luckily, everyone is involved of finding this Eggman Nega fella that is stealing chao! I wonder who could it be this time? And I heard that he wants a rematch with Blaze from her as well!

Tails : True that! Let's get going! A new adventure! (the two runs off)

Sonic : 2007, let's start a new year, and this time it will be good!

~ Stage 1 : The New Adventures ~

[ptergwen]

smoke and mirrors

⇢ richkid!tom x richkid!reader ⇠

w/c: 4.1k

warnings: swearing, drinking, light angst, and implied smut

summary: because of your mother’s insistence on a pristine family image and tom’s messy one, you deny your true feelings for him

a/n: ok ok ok the pics of tom in monaco really made me think and i had to get everything out of my system so here we are! thank you and enjoy x

-

your living room is engulfed by a hushed chatter that comes from far too many guests. half the people, you hardly know. it’s overcrowded, superficial, and the last place you want to be. it’s one of your mother’s get-togethers, as she likes to call them. these things are always far from the casual affairs they sound like.

weeks go into planning, caterers and decorators making themselves at home in yours. the family’s image is everything to your mom, so being a good hostess is her top priority. ironically, she’s more concerned with throwing her gatherings than raising you. so much for family, huh?

the only reason you agreed to make an appearance tonight is that tom might do the same. he’s a really good friend, someone you’ve been able to count on through all the mess that is your lives. you met in high school, when he moved from london to the states. his dad was offered a job promotion he couldn’t pass up. plus, tom and his brothers would be receiving a stellar private education here in america.

it was a win for everyone, especially you. the freckle faced boy who got lost on his way to english class became your closest confidant. tom’s company is such a sweet escape. he’s not interested in opera or the stock market like most people you meet are. he sneaks you out to go on walks at dawn and does shots with you until you can’t stand straight.

as you two continue to grow together, revelations about yourselves have come to light. what you want beyond your inheritances, who you want beyond friendship. you figured out the second part on a faithful night recently. tom showed up to your place with a bottle of tequila. after you drank it down through lots of lime chasers and giggles, he kissed you. you didn’t kiss back.

your heart said to go for it, but your mind pulled you back in. you were so shocked and overcome with new feelings, you froze up. that, and you’d infuriate your mother. although she cares about tom a great deal, she loathes his public figure. he’s always getting papped in places and with people he shouldn’t be. the two of you together would just destroy her.

you still want to please your mom at the end of the day, no matter how deep under your skin she gets.

tom immediately apologized and tried play it off as him being drunk. you grew up with him, became part of each other’s families, which means you know him well enough to know he was lying. he meant every second his lips were on yours.

what you need to do now is something you’ve meant to for a while. the only problem is that you’re stuck at your mother’s party, and tom hasn’t shown up yet.

“y/n, darling,” your mom calls for your attention. she’s dragged you into a conversation with some bloggers, but you haven’t spoken a word. “why don’t you tell us about your trip to spain last summer?” she plasters on her award winning grin and squeezes your shoulder. it’s time to play along.

“oh, it was beautiful,” you halfheartedly reply, more to the bloggers than her. they nod in clear interest. one jots down notes. “we went for a few weeks and visited a bunch of different cities. i’d love to go back sometime.” the typical press formatted answer earns your mom’s approval. you’re off the hook. your eyes start to wander around the room, hoping to set on tom.

“we?” the woman taking notes asks. must everyone pry? “my friend and i,” you shortly reply. you’re standing up on your tiptoes to see over the crowd. you’d think six inch heels would do the trick. “i’m actually looking for him right now, so if you’ll excuse me,” you offer a polite smile and silently pray they won’t ask who. unfortunately, your wishes don’t come true.

the other blogger, a short and stubborn man, speaks up. “just a friend you say? come on, tell us. who’s the lucky fella?” he inquires. your mother raises a firm eyebrow, signaling for you not to.

tom has a reputation for his reckless behavior. it’s your mom’s worst nightmare when the media associates your names under most circumstances. you’re representing her, so she does whatever she can to control how you’re seen. you’re constantly in the papers, being a young socialite and all. it sucks.

“he’d like to stay out of the tabloids, sorry,” you cover for tom, on your mom’s behalf. “i should really go. it was nice meeting you.” the bloggers don’t bother to hide their disappointment as you shake their hands. your mother rubs your back in approval. “thank you for doing that. we’ll talk later,” she speaks lowly. “bye, mom!” you practically make a run for it. 

weaving through the sea of people, you end up by the main entrance. it’s hard not to get lost even though it’s your house. the place is packed with girls just a couple years older than you, wearing pearls around their necks. men’s strong colognes flow through the air. you’re in a form fitting red slip dress and louboutins yourself.

smoke and mirrors is what they call it. you show the pretty parts to distract from your ugly ones.

harrison suddenly comes waltzing in with a lady on either of his arms. you’d expect nothing less. he’s tom’s best friend besides you, considering the failed kiss attempt didn’t change that. their parents worked at the london branch of the same company. they each came to the states and met you. you happily introduced them to your world, helping to make it theirs as well.

“haz!” you meet him at the front door. he’s smirking while he leads the women inside. “fancy seeing you here, isn’t it?” he jokes. “very funny. i died laughing,” you deadpan, curiously eyeing harrison’s plus two. they merely giggle. “listen, have you seen tom anywhere? if he’s coming.” you’re fighting back a frown. “why wouldn’t he be?” harrison questions in a more serious tone this time.

“long story. you have guests to entertain, so i won’t get into it now,” you decide and manage a small smile instead. he perks up. “right. i’ll let you know if i see him?” nodding, you give him a wave goodbye. “enjoy yourself.” “you too, love. cheers!” the girls lean into him, harrison wiggling his eyebrows at you. he’s ridiculous.

hours pass by without word of tom. it isn’t like him to miss an event, especially if you’re in attendance. you despise these exhausting nights, and he’s supposed to be your rock during them. he should have his arm draped around your shoulders, whispering silly remarks to you while you hide out somewhere. you miss him more than you thought possible.

you’re just about to give up when you spot nikki ushering her husband inside. behind them follows tom, clad in a grey checkered suit with his locks perfectly tousled. he’s here. you waited the whole night, and he finally came.

tom kisses his mom on the cheek before strutting over to the drink table, not without a few reporters hassling him. they’re probably looking for another holland scandal to break. he declines their requests for comments on this and opinions on that, instead pulling up a chair next to harrison. the two exchange hugs and fix themselves glasses of champagne, you watching their encounter.

harrison fills tom in on the drama he’s missed tonight while they sip their drinks. tom keeps forcing smiles that don’t reach his eyes. he’s fiddling with his fingers, leg bouncing up and down steadily. those are the telltale signs he needs saving. however awkward it may be, you’re going to have to break your silence. it was bound to happen eventually.

“mate, i’m telling you. she fit her entire first right up her-“ “boys,” you cut into harrison’s story, greeting him and tom. his face tints deep pink upon your arrival. “don’t let me stop you. finish your charming anecdote,” you encourage him and subtly glance over at tom. he’s biting back a grin as he sets his elbows on the table.

“not with a lady present. let’s just… pretend you didn’t hear that,” harrison chuckles nervously and hops to his feet. “i’m gonna leave you two to chat.” humming, you move to take his chair. tom sucks in a breath. “what happened to the girls you brought?” you wonder. “they left. said they got bored,” harrison admits, tom stifling laughter. he elbows his friend for that.

“oh, fuck off. i’ll see you later,” he mopes, flicking your arm for good measure. tom salutes him and grabs his nearly empty champagne. “so long, bruv.”

it’s just you and tom now, seated side by side, silently so. he has no intentions of speaking first. he’s too embarrassed, and you don’t blame him. this is on you. you clear your throat before starting the conversation.

“can i top you off?” you tap the bottom of his glass with a tiny smile. tom shakes his head. “i’m alright, thanks.” he finishes the last sip and sets it down, turning to face you. your smile has vanished. “wasn’t sure you were gonna make it. i’m glad you did,” you change the subject. as if he’s considering the sincerity behind your words, tom furrows his eyebrows.

“mum wanted us to. she dragged me and dad straight off the golf course,” he explains and clasps his hands in his lap. his fingers interlock with each other. you fight off the urge to replace them with yours. “we would’ve been here sooner, but the paps are camped outside.” the hint of a smile forms on his lips, at last. “guess it’s not often you get the town’s finest under one roof.”

“you think i’m one of the town’s finest?” you tease, resting your chin in your palm. something flashes behind tom’s eyes. he looks right into yours, scooting closer. “absolutely. you’re the most eligible bachelorette in this whole building.” you allow a toothy grin to spread across your face. “tommy, stop it. you’re too nice to me.”

the nickname is music to his ears. tom looks you up and down, licking his lips simultaneously. “no, seriously. you look gorgeous,” he muses, you pushing at his chest. he exhales a breathy laugh, and you giggle yourself. “red’s definitely your color.” “reverse card. you wear it way better than i do,” you insist. your fingers tug at the collar of his suit. “too bad you didn’t match me.”

you’re relieved you two can talk like you usually do, light flirting and good vibes. it might not be so hard to put the kiss behind you. well, you can’t go on pretending it didn’t happen. you have to at least discuss the fiasco. tom should know why you didn’t reciprocate, then you can take it from there. whether he still has feelings for you, assuming he ever did, will depend on how that turns out.

“not to ruin the fun, but we still have to talk,” you murmur, tom’s body stiffening across from yours. he’s not sure he’s ready to discuss that. “can it wait? we’re at a party,” tom reminds you, running a hand through his styled locks. “yeah, my mother’s. don’t tell me you’re having a good time,” you playfully chastise him. he simply shrugs. “hardly. you’re the best part.”

you ignore the butterflies roaming about your body.

“you won’t mind a quick convo, then. it is with me,” you attempt to persuade him and place a hand on his knee. tom coughs a bit too loudly, the contact surprising him. “you know what? i think i’ll take you up on that drink first,” he decides with a mustered up smile. “coming right up.” you pat his leg before taking his glass. he chews on his lower lip while you poor the bubbling liquid. that was certainly… odd.

you slide tom his champagne back with an exaggerated wink. tom scoffs at this. “mm, thanks. care to join me?” he brings the alcohol to his lips, eyes never leaving yours. your mother specifically said no drinking tonight, since the press would be here. screw your mother, though. “please. could you hand me a glass?” you eagerly grab the champagne bottle. tom searches for an empty cup next to him.

you two are unspoken drinking buddies at this point.

“here you are, darling,” tom drawls, holding out the glass for you. every time he calls you that, you completely melt. “thanks, tommy,” you purr in response. you’re finally pouring your own drink when someone taps you on the shoulder, and hard. you look behind you to find your mother standing with her hands on her hips, less than thrilled. speak of the devil.

“hello, mother. can i help you?” you make sure to ask rudely. she responds with a smile that’s obviously fake. if tom weren’t here, you’d be getting scolded. “yes, my darling. those bloggers from earlier were hoping you’d finish your interview.” your mom shakes your shoulder in a motherly way. you squint up at her. “didn’t they leave hours ago-“ “they’re back,” she sharply informs you.

she’s lying, and you have a hunch as to why.

frowning, you hold tom’s hand in both of yours. “sorry, this won’t take long. why don’t you go find tuwaine?” you suggest instead. “he’s around here somewhere.” tom gives you an understanding nod and laces your fingers together, even if it’s only for a moment. “must be chatting up some producers or whatnot. i’ll see if i can help.” he’s such an incredible friend to everyone. he deserves the same from you.

“thomas, so lovely to see you,” your mom interrupts. tom stands up, kissing both her cheeks out of courtesy. “you, too. what a wonderful party. thank you for having us.” despite what the rest of the world believes, his manners are impeccable. “of course. give nikki my best, will you?” your mom puts her hands on his shoulders. he grins at her. “definitely. take care, mrs. y/l/n.” “always a pleasure,” she states, nudging you to come along with her.

you shoot tom one last apologetic look as your mother pulls you along and towards the crowd.

tom is no idiot. he’s well aware how she really feels about him.

when a swarm of guests is surrounding you, your mom lets go. you scowl, crossing your arms over your chest. “why would you do that? i haven’t seen tom in days.” she sighs without a care. “isn’t it time you branch out? expand your social circle?” her manicured fingers ruffle your hair. you push away her touch. “i’m social enough. we were in the middle of something really important.”

you begin to walk away, but your mother takes your arm. “whatever you’re about to do, it’s a mistake. he’ll make a fool of you,” she practically spits. yanking your arm from her grasp, you laugh bitterly. “of me, or of the family name? look around, mom.” you gesture to the spot beside her where your dad should be. “as far as i’m concerned, i have no family except tom. i’m gonna go check on him.”

you’re gone before your mom can stop you. she simply stands there, utterly mortified by what you said.

you run around the house to find tom, stumbling in your heels and not giving a fuck. you’d truly meant the part about him being your family. all the holland’s, honestly. they’re the most genuine and caring souls, and you don’t want to lose the one you’re closest to because of your mother’s delusions. 

tom is in a circle with harrison and tuwaine, the three of them chuckling amongst themselves. you’d hate to bug him, but this can’t wait anymore.

“uh, tom?” you mumble his name, appearing behind him. he steps away with another quiet laugh. “hey, y/n/n. that was quick, hm?” your face gives away your distress. his whole demeanor shifting, tom reaches for your hands. “what is it, love? is something the matter?” “just… come with me,” you croak out.

you manage to smile at harrison and tuwaine, dropping one of tom’s hands so you can lead him upstairs. they each return the smile and share curious looks.

following behind you, tom keeps your hand tight in his own. he’d thought you were going to grill him about the kiss that barely happened. it seems like this is a much more pressing matter. his outburst of emotions can be discussed another time. now, it’s time to deal with yours.

you drag tom into the first room on the second floor, which is your dad’s study. he’s away on business this weekend, so he luckily couldn’t make the party. tom sits down in the office chair. you sit up on the desk, in front of him. your lip quivers the second his worried features come into view.

“y/n/n, what’s going on? why are we in here?” tom wonders, his tone soft. your heart clenches. “i- i wanted us to have some privacy when i told you this,” you sniffle out and blink back the tears forming. you’re sort of shaken from the conversation with your mother, and mostly because you have no idea how tom will react to your confession.

his hands come to stay on your thighs, right below your dress. they feel warm against your bare skin.

“tell me what? i’m listening, yeah?” tom gazes up at you with so much love. “lay it all out for me.” god, he’s fucking amazing. if only you knew where to start. “do you, um…” you trail off, letting your tears subside and words settle. “do you remember when your family made your big debut in town?”

a grin replaces tom’s frown, painting his beautiful face. “how could i forget? you made it quite memorable.” he traces circles on your thigh and elicits a giggle from you. “i spilled a whole thing of soda on your white fucking button down,” you recount with a lighthearted sigh. “right before your dad was supposed to introduce you to everyone, too.”

tom presses his tongue into his cheek to hold back another grin. “took ages to get it out. dad went mad when i didn’t show.” he cocks his head to the side, you leaning back on your hands. “you held me hostage in the laundry room so you could do that bloody stain stick.” your mouth drops open in mock offense. “i had to clean up my mess! i wasn’t gonna let the world meet you covered in pepsi.”

that was one of your earliest memories together. the holland’s threw a party and invited everyone who was willing to attend. they had been hoping to properly introduce themselves to the town, and this was their way of doing so. although yours and tom’s friendship was fairly new, you spent all night together because you had experience with such events.

tom’s dad was making a speech to thank the guests for coming. you and him listened from the snack table, until his name was called. he rushed to go up there while you were pouring yourself a drink. he’d bumped into you, and the bottle ended up all over him. you snuck tom right off to his laundry room.

you’d felt terrible as he stood there shirtless and blushing, you aggressively swiping his button down with a stain stick.

“why do you bring that up?” tom questions and continues circling your skin. you purse your lips. “i dunno. it was the last party i actually enjoyed,” you admit, putting your hand over his that rests on your thigh. “like to reminisce when i’m suffering through one of my mother’s.” his eyes shift to where your hands are laced. “i see,” he affirms. “so, is that… all you wanted to talk about?” “not even close,” you laugh out.

a burst of courage coursing through your body, you say it. “when you kissed me the other night-“ “i won’t do it again,” tom cuts in, trying to avoid the rejection he thinks you’ll give him. “it was a mistake, and i’m so sorry. our friendship is more important than my feelings.” you seem excited to hear that, though it’s not for the reason tom expects. “you do have feelings for me?”

he’d forgotten about his i was drunk excuse.

“um, yeah. i do,” he admits, cheeks rosy and lip caught in his teeth. “but, i’ll learn to put them aside, if that’s what’s best.” “no, no. it isn’t,” you dismiss him and put your free hand on his chest. “i love you, tom. that’s what i was really trying to tell you.” your words bring an instant grin to his face. he chuckles in disbelief, standing from the chair.

“fuck, thank god. that’s all i’ve ever wanted to hear.” he’s between your legs now, his hands moving up to your hips. you’re beaming at him as your arms snake around his neck. a burning question comes to tom’s mind. “hang on. why didn’t you kiss me back, then?” he almost whispers, thumb brushing over your hipbone. “this is gonna sound weird, but… my mom,” you reluctantly let out.

“you’re gonna have to elaborate,” tom prompts you and raises an eyebrow. you can’t hold back your eye roll. “she’s never been a fan of the person you are in the media.” his lips form a line. “i gathered.” your fingers tangle in his curls at the nape of his neck reassuringly. “i was subconsciously scared i would be letting her down in some way, if we were together.”

tom allows your hands to work their way up to his scalp. he exhales contentedly as you play with his ever so soft hair. “i understand, she’s intimidating. what’s changed that brilliant mind of yours about coming clean?” your nose scrunches up when he pokes one of your temples. “oh, yeah. i yelled at her earlier ‘cuz she stole me away from you.” his face lights up. “sexy.” “shut up,” you groan. “someone had to tell her off.”

“good thing it got to be you,” tom agrees with a squeeze at your hip. “‘m proud of you, y/n/n. it’s not easy, standing up to mummy dearest.” you tug on his hair. “like you’d know. nikki is a saint.” “that’s what she’ll have you believe,” he says under his breath, you gasping. his lips turn up in a smirk. “on that note… i love you, too.”

“would’ve been embarrassing if you didn’t say it back,” you acknowledge with a cheesy smile. tom dips his head down to rest his forehead against yours. “yeah, yeah. save the attitude for your mum.” your legs easily wrap around his waist, tom’s breath hot as it hits your face. “let’s give that kiss another go,” you mewl. he doesn’t hesitate to reply. “with pleasure.”

tom’s lips land on yours, you kissing back right away. he smiles into it as your lips gently move together. “about fucking time,” he grumbles, your hands situating in his chocolate curls once again. he’s savoring every second you touch him, kiss him, love him. the taste of your mouth is one he’s craved for longer than you could imagine.

it doesn’t take long for things to heat up, you messing with tom’s hair and tom rubbing your hips. you lay back on the desk as his tongue enters your mouth. holding you by your waist, tom hovers over you. his tongue tangles with yours in a deep kiss. between that and his fingers beginning to massage your thigh, you’re done for. you’re ready to take this a step further by the time he’s kissing down your neck.

“tommy?” you grab onto his shoulders, your head back. his lips detach from your skin with a grin. “yeah, love? ‘s everything okay?” he coos, pressing a final kiss to your collarbone. “more than.” you tilt his chin up to peck his lips. “you wouldn’t happen to have a condom, would you? just thinking ahead.” he laughs breathlessly, reaching into his suit pocket.

“conveniently enough, i do. not sure your dad would like me fucking you on his desk, though.” tom sets his hand on your leg that’s still hooked around his waist. “my room’s always available. carry me?” you make grabby hands and bat your lashes. he hoists you up by your waist, not lifting you just yet. “that would break the news of us, no? your mum’s gonna go apeshit.” he keeps his arms around you, chuckling.

“let her. besides, i know a couple of bloggers that would love to announce our status update.” you peck tom’s lips, grinning as you do. you’re suddenly in the air and being picked up by tom. the surprise of it makes you squeal, clutching onto his broad shoulders instinctively. he gives you the look of adoration that’s reserved for you only.

“we’ll go pop a few bottles with everyone, then we’re celebrating on our own.”

[starshipsofstarlord]

Those who fell - Natasha Romanoff x reader x Gamora

Masterlist link

Summary; in life and death, the three of you are able to unite, and make the most of the time that the sacrifices of your lives have given you

Warnings; smut, threesome, oral sex (female receiving obviously), strap on sex, tribbing, fingering, mentions of death, angst

divider by @firefly-graphics

Gamora sunk her strap into your cunt, as Nat, your friend and fellow avenger clambered upon your face, sinking her pussy down onto your awaiting tongue as you hum satisfyingly at the taste of her silken essence. The green woman began to thrust as her hands secured their grip onto your waist, the red strap on affirming penetration consistently in and out of your walls.

You had all lost everything; life, lovers, hope, and thus all you had now was the sentence of rejoicing in your freedom from all the fabrications of the complications that were in regards to being alive. Natasha had faith that her and your family were to succeed in their mission, they were heroes, and they had saved you both from yourselves once upon a time, many long moons ago.

“Y/n.” Nat scrambled out your name as she rocked her hips against your face, spreading her juices down to the sides of your cheeks, you shook your head as you attached your mouth around her clit, enforcing a squeal to beckon out of her plump lips, as she bit on them, lost in the pleasure that you were granting them. Life had been cruel and deceiving, there was no light at the end of the tunnel, and thus, similar to now, you were responsible for crafting your own.

At the sound of your name, Gamora upped her pace, her emerald hands digging into the thickness of your thighs as she delved deeper within you, extracting a moan from you, that rumbled up and through Natasha’s body. “Shit, don’t stop ‘Mora.” Your words were muffled by the purchase of Natasha fucking herself down onto your face, but the message, though pursed together, was clear. You wanted more, and she, as a guardian of the galaxy, was here to help, and take partially for herself.

And the one thing that she was to be stealing was your orgasm, as she pulled away, as she had done to her own father, rejecting him and his ill wishes, removing the fake cock from inside of you, watching as your legs quivered for attention. Whines spurred out from your throat, peeking through Natasha’s body like shots of lightning cursing vigilantly through her. “Patience, I have something better; much better.”

She disengaged the harness from around her legs and waist, allowing the support to drop to the floor as she shuffled closer, hooking her palm around the curve and inside of your knee, bracing it to some height, as she steadied herself in the air, her feet prompting her against gravity, as she lowered her own cunt upon yours, descending the swell of her clit against the hood of yours, rubbing the skin grafted fabrics together, recalling tears in your eyes as you submitted to the pleasure.

Your own hands strayed from Nat’s hips, running down the crevice of her thighs as you looked up to her, the shadow of her full breasts blocking most of your view, trailing your fingertips down to prod at her swept aside labia, stroking the earnest and moist lips with the pads of your fingers, as you switched the position of your tongue upwards, so that it was flicking and delivering harsh sucks to her sensitive clit.

With your right hand, you swiped through her swollen folds, rasping in the feeling of Gamora’s pussy moving swiftly upon your own, as you entered a finger into the red head, listening intently as your name was preached from her rosy lips. You hummed at the taste of the assassin, softly shaking your head beneath her, as she tentatively ground down, revelling in the pleasure that you were basking upon her.

Gamora threw her black and red hair back, her lids closing as she felt your clit twitch at her notions, as you tried to grind back up against her. With hooded eyes, she watched as your tits softly swayed under the pressure that both women were laying upon your body; you were in absolute bliss, distracting yourself from the fall that had lead you all to be here. You had tried to save Nat, Clint was so focused on doing the same that he didn’t even have a chance of saving you as you descended, and he was left to survive of watching Natasha let go of his hand, wanting to save at least one life out of your iconic trio.

Even in the afterlife, the two of you remained together, fulfilling every fantasy that you had about the other. You had found Gamora lurking, lost in this imprisonment of a world, ashamed of having lead Thanos to Vormir, but proud that she had gotten her sister’s life spared. She was always the favourite, but here, she wasn’t judged upon her combat skills; rather instead there were other skills required to keep the pair of you happy and content, and she was more than eager to oblige.

The situation and those in the past were nothing more than distractions to the prospect of life that you were all missing out on. And like a white light, the same which she had seen whence her head had been unforced by a harsh impact to the behind, Natasha felt herself unravel. When she was done lulling in the glow of her orgasm, the redhead climbed off from your face, watching with flushed cheeks as you and Gamora went at it. Without her reducing your breaths, you were pursuing the thrill of the chase like animals, huffing and growling as you eagerly smashed your hips together, with intwined legs.

There was wetness spooling out from the main crevice of contact, spreading down your thighs as you and Gamora endlessly ground your folds and furthermore together, throwing your necks back as you leant in a stretch to get the best angle of stimulation. Nat found herself crawling closer as she pressed her lips to yours, delving her tongue within your mouth as your own swirled around the intrusion of hers, allowing her a second hand taste of her sweetness. Her hands ran down and pinched your nipples, evoking the image of fluttering eyelashes upon your face, as you grew mad with pleasure, spasming against Gamora as you joined her juices with her own.

A heavy sigh lifted from her chest as she untangled her legs from your own, turning over onto her front as she crawled towards you, smacking your legs apart as she took in the view of your pussy that was clenching around nothing, and the painted in her own cum, that was perfectly intermingled with the excess of your own. Out from the corner of your eye, as you passionately kissed Nat, you watched the enchantress, as she snuck her head in a closer vicinity to your personal parts, darting her tongue out to collect the blend of fulfilment, bringing her hand up to rub your clit as she ate you out.

“Holy shit.” You mumbled against Natasha’s mouth as your sensitive cunt took in more pleasure, despite practically having just came under the whim of the same woman that was tending to your will of overcoming a settlement of self mourning, reducing you to atoms of sweat and a heated body as her tongue rolled around your centre, Natasha nibbling on your tongue in the meanwhile. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” And you did, as you rolled your hips against Gamora’s face.

Natasha left you as she went in search of the strap, discovering it with a pleasant smile, as she put it on herself without aid, sending you a tender look as her eyes ran over your stimulated form. She grasped onto Gamora’s leant ass, as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, as she knelt behind the woman, leaving the two in the doggy position. Nat grabbed the harnessed dildo with a gentle hand, rubbing against the hood of Gamora’s clit, as you shuffled back, and bent your knees upwards, absentmindedly fondling with your button, despite the growing burn in the bead of muscle.

Beginning to thrust into the guardian, Nat became rough, a tense and affirmative expression taking over her face, whilst Gamora wore one of dazed eyes and an agape mouth. It was quite the show, more so as Nat clapped her hand down on the other woman’s backside, pulling a strangled sound out of her throat. Perhaps being dead wasn’t so bad if you were to be gifted with the freedom of performing such erotic acts without a crunch of time and saving the world, but you missed your friends, this again, whilst being a grave fantasy, was a way to forget about them all, even if it be only momentarily.

“Natasha!” At the sound of her name, you remembered the way Clint would say it as he was piloting at the front of the quintet with her, or how Thor would formally greet her. Your hand went slack as you mulled over the memories, it felt like you were being stabbed in the chest. As Gamora was rendered through an orgasm by the black widow herself, you felt yourself cry, wanting nothing more, despite it being a gruelling task, than to fight, hell, even go through another accords. Anything was better than being dead.

feedback is always appreciated 💙

[insomniasymphony]

Obsessive Hisoka Morow x Female Reader [He cannot hate you]

Constellation: Obsessive Hisoka Morow x Female Reader Words I got: → Protective → Duality → Affection Rating: Teen up and Audience

                            ►► He is the devil with a sweet tooth,                               And you are the candy on his tongue.                       Get on your knees and ask him to choose                                     Nothing sweeter than you.                              For sweetness doesn't last long. ◄◄

Hectically, you jerk your head from left to right, look around for other cars and take a breath when there are no others blocking the road. In the cold evening air, your legs carry you in hurried steps across the asphalt, to the other side of the pavement that should lead you through the houses of Yorknew. Further and further, until the hotel room is forever gone.

The breath on your lips rises in white clouds, bringing something wistful with it that you don't want to pay attention to. Still, you can't rid yourself of the thought in the back of your mind.

It's not too late to give up on your plan.

You could drag yourself back to the room you've been sharing with Hisoka for four days, put on something pretty and wait for the magician to return from his meeting. He'd tell you about his new plan, kiss you, and fuck your senses into no-man's land for half the night because you're his favourite toy.

That's the problem: you're just a doll that can be replaced.

He's never said that he loves you, even though you've been spending every spare minute together for six months. Hisoka took you on his journey and he hasn't let you out of his sight since.

You shower together, eat together, he kills anyone you exchange too many kind words with. It's as if he wants to shut you off from the world so that you belong to him alone.

But this obsessive nature of his is nothing but terror for you. Sometimes you long for freedom, which you know Hisoka will never give you. He would rather strangle to death with his own hands than see you go. His subliminal threats make that clear time and time again.

And tonight you are ready to die for your freedom.

A little more hastily, you hurry ahead, turn into a narrow alley and hear the echo of your footsteps rising up the stone walls. Each reverberation makes your skin seem colder under your soft woolen coat. The goosebumps don't subside, the shiver persists, and you can't help but believe that behind every shadow is a part of Hisoka. His intense gaze has made you paranoid.

Briefly, you shake your head. This time his eyes won't be able to pierce you. When Hisoka returns, the hotel room will be empty and you will be long gone – so far away from him, with a new name and a new life, that he won't find you. For three weeks you have been looking for someone who would save you and Hisoka from this relationship and you have indeed found someone who wants to fulfil all your wishes for a lot of money in exchange.

Your gaze wanders once briefly over your shoulder. Through the echo of your own flight, you can no longer perceive anything but your own movements. Hisoka could be walking right behind you and you wouldn't notice. The racing of your heart makes the blood rush in your ears and everything else inside you is so erratically tense that you don't know if your nerves can hold it all together.

Only when the alley ends and sends you between other streets to find safety, a tiny part of the fear falls away, still simmering underneath.

Across the street, at least fourteen cars have parked. This area of the city seems like a residential neighbourhood where men return to their loving wives. The husband old-fashioned in a suit while she wears an apron because dinner is boiling on the cooker. Docile women in the kitchen who have no time to look for other men. Probably that's exactly what Hisoka is longing for too. A woman who only has eyes for him. All day long. Without exception. Locked up like a bird in a cage.

Even though you never intended to replace him. Hisoka is the man who won your heart. A guy who goes through life strong and ruthless, but always takes great care to make sure you're okay.

Your steps slow down as you stop at the edge of the pavement. One of the vehicles is started, flashing its headlights three times. The sign that this is your getaway car. The man who will take you away. Away from Hisoka, whose arms have wrapped protectively around you more than once in the last six months. His warmth on your skin has always been comforting and even though you know he hates it when you talk to other men and he has left marks on your body as a safety for himself as a result, his company has always been loving. He has never hurt you unless you found sexual pleasure in it. He never raised his voice at you. Never did he try to lock you up. His only crimes are the threats that still jump through your senses and also the fact that he likes to corner and intimidate you.

On top of that, he messes with people for your sake who are more dangerous than one might think at first. Yes, you love him. But if you don't leave, he will either throw you away or he will be killed because of you. You are poison to each other, you can't explain it any other way.

Yet, you don't want to go. The fear in your heart has made room for sorrow and the desire to run back into his strong, protective arms is strong.

Swallowing dryly, you give yourself a push. You have no choice but to make the best decision for both of you. Your feet start moving again and you drag yourself along, reaching the car you're getting into. You find room in the back seat, the fabric of which clings to you strangely and uncomfortably as you take a shaky breath and look in the rearview mirror for a half-glimpse of your helper's round face.

“Are you ready, good lady?” His smoky voice scrapes through the atmosphere, merely making you nod before he finally starts the engine and drives off. Your heart sinks four floors deeper, smothered in grief and fear, both of which settle on too many things in your chest. Maybe you're making a mistake, but this relationship has no future.

You feel the car smoothly take the turns, hear the engine accelerate, sense every bump in your bones. You claw your sweaty hands into the upholstery as you reprimand yourself to rest with conscious inhales and exhales. It's over, you've escaped, given you both the freedom you deserve.

Yorknew's houses diminish for a moment, bringing trees and the parkland to the fore where you would have loved to have a romantic walk. But Hisoka doesn't think much of boring strolls. He likes sex. Togetherness where you are close to each other – all to yourselves, so that you can snuggle up to him and you just sit there. Amusement parks. Bungee gum. You.

The thought draws a sigh from you before the car makes a strange rattling sound, forcing the driver to stop. You halt at the side of the road, so you can't help but hold your breath.

“What was that?” you press out.

“If I saw right, I just accidentally drove over a marten,” the stranger returns to you, making you exhale because it's not a horror movie you're in after all. Then he gets out.

The open door, which he doesn't close, brightens up the inside of the vehicle, makes the outside world a little more unfriendly than it really is and forces you to get out too, because you can't find a quiet minute alone on this upholstery.

Slowly you push your way back into the cold of the darkness, glancing at the streetlights flickering conspiratorially before circling the car to check on your driver. But all you see in front of the bonnet is a trail of blood. Not a marten. No one. Probably he's just taking the dead animal away, burying it so the kids won't get spooked in the park the next day.

The cool air seems to bite down to your bones, numbing your skin as you count off two minutes. The restlessness keeps you looking around and for a moment you are willing to jump in the car and eagerly drive on. But your driver also has your new identity and all the other things that have been so painstakingly prepared. You can't leave without him. So you stroll a few steps towards the park. Just until the blackness seems to swallow everything, because the flickering streetlamps don't give enough light for more.

Tense, you cross your arms in front of your chest, bobbing up and down before gnawing fear begs for action. “Hello?”

Only silence returns to your question and you can't help but take a step over the dark threshold and venture further ahead to find your driver. Three, four feet ahead to the first tree closest to you. “What's wrong?”

Again you meet only silence, staggering a few more steps ahead and giving up in the same breath. A glance over your shoulder moves the car, which is already a few metres away from you, into a ghostly, almost lonely picture, apart from the other vehicles that pass by every now and then. No one seems to care about the abandoned automobile.

A little more annoyed, you take a breath, shake your head as something wet hits your cheek and you instantly look up because the sky didn't look like rain at all when you started running.

And it still doesn't.

Nevertheless, your heart stops for a beat.

Cold seems to consume you from within, makes you pull your coat tighter.

Up there, above you, fixed between branches, the lifeless eyes of the man who was supposed to help you escape stare back at you. His arms hang twisted above him and his legs are missing entirely. In the darkness, suffused with moonlight, you can only make out the bitter facts. And one of them is death.

“Do you like it?”

Instantly you suck in the air sharply, turning around in an instant only to catch sight of Hisoka. Leaning relaxed against a tree, he shuffles his cards as if nothing has happened. “I thought we had decided that you would wait in the hotel room. Where were you going with that man at such a late hour?”

His gaze lifts so that his amber eyes can look at you, while his features wait in a lack of enthusiasm for answers. You don't know if he's angry, but his expression seems to threaten you.

“I-I... I wanted to...” What do you want to say anyway? You don't know yourself what exactly you wanted other than to just get away from him for too many things that seem wrong. “Away.”

“Where to?”, Hisoka inquires, pushing himself off the trunk and coming closer. The cards disappear into the pockets of his white trousers in the same blink.

“Just... away,” you counter, unable to look at him any further because his eyes seem to look right down into your core.

“From me?” He pauses in front of you. “Why?”

Again your attention jerks to him and you hate the fact that he is wearing heels because it only makes him taller than he already is.

“You... are... constricting me.”

“Is that so?” The almost biting undertone in his voice is frightening. But you don't have time to think of what his next move might be as he grabs you by the chin and forces you to look at him very closely. His grip is so tight around your jawbone as he does so that you panic he might break it.

Then he leans towards you, breathes such a gentle kiss on your lips that, along with fear, terrible warmth rises up inside you. Your heart races wildly, but you don't know if it's the fear or the longing. Seeing him like this, knowing he is so close to you, is cruel because you love him, don't want to leave him, but don't want to see either of you die either.

The mere thought of losing him, or not being good enough anymore, knots your stomach as your vision blurs and the sobs in your throat quietly spill out.

Hisoka watches this rection, loosening his grip around your chin and running his thumb over your lips. A little like he wants more words from you. And you can't help but give them to him in a gush.

“I love you, Hisoka. I really do. But this can't work.” You have to swallow to keep from breaking into a raspy cough. “You lock me up like I'm your pet and you're messing with people who might kill you one day.” The first tear rolls down your cheeks unintentionally, making you wipe it away in frustration because you don't want to seem like an effeminate damsel in distress. “You're going to kill yourself because of me. And if not for that, then one day you'll just throw me away because you're not a man for life. And I'm afraid that by then I'll love you so much that I won't be able to stand it. So I was gonna let you go. And I can understand if you hate the decision, but isn't that the duality you love to talk about? Love and hate, both sides of the same coin? I-” Hisoka interrupts you as he takes your face in his hands and forcibly pulls you to him, far enough to force you onto your toes to press a kiss to your lips. A warm touch full of affection so gentle it takes your breath away.

Then he lets go of you, remains close in front, but his features are adorned with a friendly smile that makes him a little suspicious, while his hand caresses your cheek. As he does so, he brushes your lower eyelid, collecting another tear that was about to escape.

The tenderness he has for you irritates you so much that every one of your brain cells shuts down for a breath before Hisoka focuses on you again, piercing you with a blank stare. The atmosphere between you grows heavier.

“You think too much about nothingness, love.” His voice is so soft that it seems almost deadly at the same time. “And because you're like that, I'm going to let you get away with it for today.” He leans down to your ear, licks once over the shell with the tip of his tongue. “But if you run away again, I will kill you.”

“H-Hisoka...” You don't know what you can say to appease him. Nothing seems good enough. But Hisoka understands, straightening up to look at you again, putting on that playful smile he goes through life with. “Or I can put you in chains so I can have you with me for the rest of my life. Whichever option you like better.”

He tilts his head, looking at you with mockery and at the same time with a barely perceptible commitment so that you can feel the blush on your cheeks. On one hand, he's making a fool of you, on the other, he's conveying in his own unique way that he's sure he wants you for himself – forever.

He can't stay mad at you for long, can't even punish you for your terrible action, just takes you as you are, as if he has a weakness for all your stupid words and your troubled feelings.

And in those seconds you know that he loves you no less than you love him.

[Picture from a card collecting game]

[Want to give me kudos or a request? Check here!]

[fandom-monium]

For the Holidays - Part 3

Summary: In which Spencer doesn’t want to go to his high school reunion, but you tagging along changes things. “Please, we're FBI agents. I think we have enough stealth training to get by.”

WC: 2k

Tags/Warnings: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader, fake-dating trope, pining (so much pining), fluff, descriptions of panic/anxiety (non-extreme), defensive Spencer, angst but not from unnecessary trauma, emotional-support Reader, reunion arc, song fic

I'm at a party I don't wanna be at And I don't ever wear a suit and tie, yeah Wondering if I could sneak out the back Nobody's even looking me in my eyes Then you take my hand Finish my drink, say, "Shall we dance?" (Hell, yeah) You know I love ya, did I ever tell ya? You make it better like that

You shield your eyes, “Your class sure knows how to throw a party.”

Immediately, you’re blinded by white and gold, the strobe lights bouncing off the matching streamers and balloons surrounding you. Gingerbread and peppermint bombards your noses as Mariah Carey blasts from the overhead speakers, well-dressed men and women swaying all over the gymnasium. Others laugh, walk around, eat, catching up with old friends. It reminds you of a middle school winter formal, aside from the understandable sophistication that comes with age. And the alcohol.

However, there’s hundreds of faces; they’re worn, deep-set, and wrinkled over time but Spencer would recognize them anywhere.

Memories flood in. His heart rate skyrockets.

No, no, no! Not now!

You feel Spencer tense next to you before you see it. His eyes are unblinking and his breathing quickens.

You don’t hesitate, dragging him aside and sticking to the wall.

“I-I’m so-sorry,” Spencer manages between shuttered breaths.

"Sorry? For what?" You don’t look at him, gently guiding him with a hand on his back, eyes searching. You stop next to a Christmas tree. Perfect. Shadowed, private. No one will look twice at a couple in a secluded corner.

Spencer ducks his chin, “F-for all this.”

Although Underneath the Christmas Tree thunders overhead, you still catch the small whimper that escapes him. Your chest tightens; you knew he was bullied, but what the hell did these people do to make him react like this?

Knowing you won’t get answers now, you rest his back against the wall, shielding him from prying eyes. “Reid, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not 'fine',” He rasps, shaking his head. He tries to focus on something⎼anything⎼but tears muddle his vision. So he shuts his eyes and presses a hand over his pounding heart, willing it to calm down. It refuses. “You came all this way to help me, and-and now I’m wasting your time⎼”

“Woah, hold up,” You grasp his free arm, stepping closer and trying to meet his eyes. Mindful of his aversion to touch and his germaphobic tendencies, you leave a sliver of space. 

It doesn’t go unnoticed. Spencer feels your warmth bloom even through the sleeve of his blazer. 

“You have nothing to apologize for. None of this was a waste of time, and honestly, I still would have come along had you asked, even if I didn’t have to act as your partner.” Your smile turns shy as you add, “And for what it’s worth, I had a lot of fun today.” 

Your words, while an attempt to comfort him, only sends his heart into hyper-speed. He finally meets your gaze, blinking through unshed tears. “Really?”

“Really.” 

Your eyes, tender and earnest, sparkle in the strobe lights. Spencer thinks, if you keep looking at him like that, he might kiss you.

He doesn't even notice his heartbeat leveling as you lace your hand over his tentatively pulling it away from his pounding heart. He flushes when you don’t let go. “Reid, this can wait. Whatever your bullies told you, whatever they did, you prove them wrong every time you put a bad guy behind bars, every time you finish a geo-profile, every time you save a life. You can always try another time. If it really is too much, we can leave now and you can show me that first bar you went to, the one that gave you shots of apple juice?”

Your smile broadens as Spencer gives you a wobbly grin. "You think anyone will notice us leaving?"

You snort, "Please, we're FBI agents. I think we have enough stealth training to get by."

Spencer chuckles. Without another word you pull away from him, leading him towards the exit, hands still intertwined as the double doors come into view. Then you feel Spencer resist and you pause, glancing over your shoulder. 

He’s looking at you, and for the first time, you see him looking at you like he’s never done before. 

But he has. The only difference is it’s completely unrestrained. Spencer has looked at you like this time and time again⎼eyes soft and brimming with adoration⎼never to your face, always held back in fear of what it could mean, how’d you react.

Right now he doesn’t care. He just… wants you to know. To understand.

You chalk it up to the lighting. 

“I know I said this already, but,” His eyes crinkle and his voice, though wavers, is laced with such warmth, you nearly melt on the spot. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

… Oh dear. Only Dr. Spencer Reid could knock the air out of you with just words.

Not sure of what else to say, you bite your lip and nod, lips threatening to turn into a full blown grin. “Me too.” You ignore the way your heart pounds. 

Not now.

Satisfied, he moves to leave, tugging you behind him as you approach the exit.

“Spencer Reid? Is that you?”

You freeze.

We at a party we don't wanna be at Tryna talk, but we can't hear ourselves Read your lips, I'd rather kiss 'em right back With all these people all around

I'm crippled with anxiety But I'm told it's where we're s'posed to be You know what? It's kinda crazy 'cause I really don't mind When you make it better like that

It’s been over a decade. Her voice comes hesitant, deeper than he remembers but he could never forget.

“Reid.” 

Your voice shakes him out of his stupor and he glances at you.

Right, he’s got you. He’s safe with you. 

You frown. “Who’s this?”

Before he can conjure an answer (he’s not even sure if he wants to), the woman steps up, “Hi, I’m Alexa Lisbon. I was Reid’s… classmate.” She says it slow, like she’s not entirely sure either, offering a hand and a tight-lipped smile. You introduce yourself, taking her hand.

Spencer wishes he brought a bottle of hand sanitizer. 

Honestly, the one time he doesn’t bother? IQ 187, my ass.

Pushing down his discomfort, he inches himself between Alexa and you, despite the subtle tremble in his hands.

It’s actually her. She's aged just like everyone around them, wrinkles by her eyes and smile lines at her painted lips. What the hell could she have smiled about after what she did to him?

She's still pretty though. He hates that he still thinks she's pretty.

Alexa’s eyes roam over him, and his skin crawls. "Wow, it’s been so long. You’ve grown.“

“Thanks, it’s the trauma. You know, from working for the FBI, among other things,” He spits out the last part. He feels you press against his side, a warning. He doesn’t care. 

If his biting tone affects Alexa, she doesn’t show it. “Right, right. You’re in the FBI now. That’s amazing,” She trails off, rolling her lips anxiously and clearing her throat. “Hey… can we talk in private?” 

Memories flash like snapshots. 

The grass field. The sports shed. A blank-faced audience.

Spencer bristles, “Whatever you have to say, you can say it in front of (Your Name). Why? You want to laugh at me? Criticize me? Stri-” You adjust your hand in his, reminding him he’s not alone. He grits his teeth. 

He almost feels guilty when Alexa flinches. Almost.

“Okay,” Her tone is soothing, careful like she’s addressing a cornered animal. Her gaze flicks between you two, hesitating. “If it makes you feel better, you can bring (Your Name), but we really need to speak with you.”

Spencer’s brow furrows. “We?”

Alexa steps aside, nodding past the crowd of drunken dancing, waiting for him to decide.

“It’ll be okay,” You watch him from the corner of your eye. It’s strange; you’ve witnessed Spencer snap a few times, usually to unsubs, people who deserved sharp tongues and razored vocabulary. There were rare occasions when the two of you had your spats, but he never lashed out at you. Not like this.

You wonder what Alexa Lisbon did to warrant such hostility. 

“She’s not an unsub, Reid,” He shivers, your whisper brushing against his ear. He clenches his jaw as he stares down Alexa, but he leans into you, listening. “You’re going to be fine. I’ll be right behind you the whole time.”

And you swear if something happens to Spencer, you’ll kill everyone in the room and then yourself.

Apparently, that’s enough for him as he steps after Alexa, weaving through the mass of bodies. His grip tightens around your hand. Eventually, Alexa stops and you find yourselves at the farthest corner of the gym, by the dining tables.

Suddenly, Spencer wants to run. To throw up. 

Like Alexa their faces have aged, matured as he expected. Some have gained and lost weight, dressed completely different than back in the day, while others look like the world treated them so, so kindly. It makes him grimace. 

Of course the universe decided his tormentors didn’t need to suffer after what they did. He’d expect nothing else. Karma is nothing if not a bitch.

Maybe he can projectile vomit onto them.

Wait, he doesn’t have the abdominal strength to do that. Damn it.

“Spencer Reid,” Harper Hillman breathes, as if she’s testing the way it rolls off of her tongue. Like his name is new to her. Makes sense, considering all they’ve ever called him was anything but his name. She stands from her chair, smile tight-lipped like Alexa’s. “I didn’t think you’d make it.”

Spencer gestures lamely. “Well, here I am.”

“Yeah, um, would you like to sit? We saved you a seat,” Harper’s gaze switches between Spencer and the table. 

They saved him a seat? They saved him a seat? 

Who are these people? 

Spencer shifts his stance, eyes flitting over each face but never lingering, unable to look them in the eye for long. “I’d rather stand, thanks.“

“Oh, no problem. You remember everyone, right?” Harper glances at Alexa, the few members of the football team that showed up, gesturing to them. 

“I have an eidetic memory and an IQ of 187,” Spencer’s face hardens. “What do you think?”

To his delight and astonishment, Harper has the sense to look flustered. “Right, almost forgot about that.”

Spencer nods, toeing the hardwood with his converses. The atmosphere is so thick. Seconds go by.

Alexa clears her throat, “Well-uh⎼”

“What do you want?” Spencer grinds out, one hand fisted in his pocket while the other grips yours tighter. He hasn't even been there for an hour, and already he’s tired and afraid. Whatever they had to say, he wants to get it over with.

Mouths open and close as they try to come up with an answer. Harper, Alexa, the entire group trade hesitant looks, like they had a plan and it wasn’t going accordingly. Like they’re not sure how to proceed. Or who should lead the assault.

Then a nod from Alexa and they stand almost in unison. Spencer’s eyes narrow when Harper smoothes down her dress and tugs at her collar, while Alexa wrings her hands together and bites the inside of her cheek. They all exchange looks between each other and the football team, even they look apprehensive, shoulders tense. Readied.

Oh my god they’re going to jump him. Pin him down and strip him naked again. 

“Reid,” Alexa starts, the group stepping forward as if backing her up. 

Waiting, probably for a signal, Spencer realizes. His stomach turns to lead.

“We want to say…”

Well, good fucking luck. The gym is packed with witnesses, and he’s 90% sure you’d risk your job, bust their kneecaps before you’d let them touch him.

It’s a bold but foolish move, really⎼

“We’re sorry.”

He braces himself.

…Wait. ‘Sorry’?

All his brain function stutters to a halt.

AN: 3/4?? 

guess who wrote 4k just to set up a song-fic?? *raises hand* 

yes this entire fic was inspired by I Don’t Care by Ed Sheeran and Justin Bieber okay dont come for me

we all need an emotional-support reader in our lives

also my first reid angst i hope i set the tone and pacing right, wrote it a lot differently :| 

If y'all notice the reference to starstruck by @spacedikut?? Just a small dedication/tribute thingy to them bc I love and appreciate their everything 😚💛

[action]

#BlackExcellence365 Spotlight: Aundre Larrow

Hey Tumblr! Our first #BlackExcellence365 Spotlight of 2020 is Aundre Larrow (@aundrelarrow), a Brooklyn-based visual artist whose work has been featured on Adobe, Walmart, Verizon, and more. We got a chance to talk to him about his favorite projects, including his @teenvogue​ series showcasing the lives of formerly incarcerated women.

Tell us about yourself. When did your passion for photography start?

My name is Aundre Larrow and I’m a black artist based in Brooklyn, New York hailing from South Florida. I’m a Jamaican immigrant, an only child, and a Triscuit lover.

I started taking photos on borrowed film cameras from friends until I turned 15 and my theater teacher gave me his old Minolta SRT 101 as a gift. After that I would use my money from working at Old Navy and whatever I could talk my mom into donating to buy film and get it processed at the Walgreens a mile walk away. The passion started when I realized I could freeze moments I held dear and capture them. I loved getting my film back. I loved sharing it; Making little yearbooks and giving them to friends. I still have some of those prints in my childhood room.

Your work tells many stories, primarily of Black bodies which some photographers find it difficult to capture. What inspired you to make your series about shooting against darker skin tones?

Whew, I don’t know what it is about the phrase Black bodies, but it always hits me hard. I read an article on Mic. And it got me thinking.

I thought back to this teachable moment I had after college. I was interning at the Gainesville Sun. The photo editor had tasked me with taking portraits of the high school athletes in the fall feature, but I didn’t use a hair light. When I came back with the images, he looked at me sideways like “what’re you doing?” We can’t tell where their hair stops. (To make matters worse, I had used a black backdrop.)

I later learned from trial and error, from assisting photographers like Coty Tarr, and from studying the work of folks like Michele Walker, Joshua Kissi. Street etiquette paved the way for me at bevel, TBH.

You recently did a story with Teen Vogue featuring formerly incarcerated women. How did that project impact you and the work you create?

Maaan. You don’t know yourself until you’re in a small room listening to women discuss how painful it is, not being able to see their kids for months and months. One woman explained to me that one parent had abused her, and the other was enraged that she reported it. These women built new identities for themselves while separated from everything they knew. These two quotes will always stick with me:

“When I got out, it wasn’t like a walk in the park or whatever. When you’re in penitentiary, there are certain hours of the morning that you have to stand up to be counted. So I would automatically wake up and stand up. Sometimes, I would get up and lock myself in the bathroom. I spent 18 years in a room with a toilet and a sink. This was the closest thing, you know, to feeling safe. Can’t nobody get to you. It wouldn’t be until my kids would start knocking like, ‘Hey, are you okay?’”

And: 

“Our struggle has been from the beginning of time. Like I said, we’re a nurturing species. This doesn’t go for just the Black mother or person. Everybody, every racial background, has their own struggle. But, I think we’ve been beaten, raped, and downtrodden for so long that our will to survive and save the world has become like our bank.

You might not be my son, but if I see you in trouble, I am going to help. If I see the police run up on you, I’m going to throw myself in front of you. If I can save somebody’s son, I am going to do it because that’s how we’ve been built.

We, you know, from the slave ships, we were the ones singing them love songs, belly to belly and all the feces and stuff. We held on and kept everyone together and told them, ‘I love you and just hold on ’cause we gon’ make it.’”

How do you embody the mission of #BlackExcellence365 in your everyday work?

Existing is a form of resistance, no?  No, but for real, excellence is something I can’t determine for myself. I simply try to embody the process of creation. 

How has Tumblr allowed you to showcase your work and connect with other Black creatives?

Tumblr has brought so so many Black creatives together. Just to name a few, @skinnywashere, @stewyiscool, and Tutes; Tumblr OGs telling the New York story for so many of us to follow along. That community will last forever. Those connections are unbreakable.

When I interviewed @lawrenceagyei he spoke so fondly of finding the work of Joshua Kissi and how it inspired him. It brought a smile to my face 

Tumblr gave me the ability to shoot Fashion Week and a platform to share the full story. It’s one of the best things about the platform. Photo stories pop because you decide the weight of each image. It’s easy to share, reshare and show BTS.

Thank you for sharing your story, Aundre! 

Tumblr, do yourselves a favor and make sure to check out his photography and follow his journey. And, hey, we wanna hear from you. What other Black Tumblr artists or activists should we spotlight? Use the tag #BlackExcellence365 to let us know.

This interview has been condensed for clarity

[enlightenedbeauties]

Here at Enlightened Beauties, you’re genotype doesn’t matter. Whether you’re mixed, biracial, or neither (monoracial), none of that matters. It’s the skin tone that matters, and light skin people overall are heavily demonized because those who are darker than us. Brown skin and dark skin individuals are insecure and uncomfortable with themselves. As a result, they attack us while playing the victim. Then they turn around and imitate us by using makeup, filters, and skin bleaching. Light skin people should continue to embrace the beauty in light skin! Your outward appearance and behavior is what matters most. Just know that questioning someone’s genetic makeup is not going to be tolerated here. That type of behavior is similar to what the Nazis did in Germany! Skin bleaching individuals and those who use heavy filters will not be accepted here either! Enlightened Beauties are AUTHENTIC LIGHT SKIN WOMEN who embrace their natural beauty and femininity. Us Enlightened Beauties will continue to SHINE and RADIATE our light skin and our beauty unapologetically!

[thedevilsmemes]

      PINTEREST QUOTES I USE IN MY MUSINGS BOARDS                         ~ A SENTENCE MEME - PART 2

                         Change pronouns as / when needed to preferred pronoun.

“I do not do justice, I do damage. I do not do empathy, I do damage. I do not do forgiveness, I do damage. I do not do mercy, I do damage.”

“Like, you can boss me around in sexual situations but you better not try to tell me what to do in regular life.”

“I’m fine, I’ve had worse.”

“I’m meaner than my demons.”

“If I cannot bend Heaven, I will raise Hell.”

“Well, aren’t you a little ray of pitch black?”

“He was like a storm.”

“You want to play dirty? Fine, let’s play dirty!”

{ feels an emotion. } “Who the fuck authorised this?!”

“What the fuck? What the fuck is this? What the fuck?”

“Judge if you want. We are all going to die. I intend to deserve it.”

“Goddamn right you should be scared of me.”

“They wanted a monster; I decided to give them one.”

“Seduce and destroy.”

“What the fuck is intimacy? How does that work? Letting… people be close to you? What the fuck?”

“You couldn’t kill me if you tried for one hundred years.”

“I’ll do this my way.”

“I am severely emotionally unstable.”

“What, from the bottom of the heart, the fuck?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t take any orders. I barely take suggestions.”

“I send my best regards from Hell.”

“I like my coffee how I like myself: Dark, bitter and too hot for you.”

“Me and God, we don’t get along.”

“Be brave, Angel.”

“Self care is drinking three pots of coffee and getting into a knife fight with God.”

{ takes gulp of vodka straight from the bottle } “My day was fine.”

“Have I stabbed you? No. Then I am being nice.”

“Holy Shit! I’M the demon living in my house.”

“Sir, that’s my emotional support knife collection.”

“I want an ancient elaborate dagger with my name engraved into the blade as a gift. The only romantic gesture.”

“ ‘Are you a top or a bottom?’ I'm a threat!”

“Stop being so defensive! I’m just trying to hit you with weapons.”

“The more knives you have the more valid you are.”

“She’s strong but she’s exhausted.”

“She loves moonlight and rainstorms and so many other things that have soul.”

“My darling, you can’t see it can you? How like the moon you are. Both of you so timid in yourselves; hiding pieces from the world. Then, there are those rare moments when you are both full, and it becomes hard to look away. You are beautiful.”

“Calm her chaos but never silence her storm.”

“She wears strength and darkness equally well. That girl has always been half Goddess, half Hell.”

“She has been through Hell, so believe me when I say, fear her when she looks into the fire and smiles.”

“She’s proof that you can walk through Hell and still be an angel.”

“She is both hellfire and holy water. And the flavour you taste depends on how you treat her.”

“Even the mountains can not hold all you have been carrying.”

“Storm with skin.”

“She’s thunderstorms”

“Kindness is a language that the deaf can hear and the blind can see.”

“Sometimes it takes only one act of kindness and caring to change a person’s life.”

“You have a heart of gold.”

“Butterflies are the Heaven-sent kisses of an angel.”

“She who is brave is free.”

“Clever as the Devil and twice as pretty.”

“Shut up. I wear heels bigger than your dick.”

“Girls who run in heels should be feared.”

“Family is everything to me.”

“She’s an old soul that believes in chivalry, romance, and love.”

“I hate getting flashbacks from things I don’t want to remember.”

“I run on coffee and grace.”

“I’m glad I’ve got boobs… the last thing I need is people making eye contact with me.”

“Tell me to put on my big girl panties one more time… and I’ll take off my thong and strangle you with it!”

“Please read all my posts in a sarcastic tone. You know, for full effect.”

“I have one nerve left and you’re dry-humping it, go away.”

“If I offend you, cry me a river. I’ll bring snacks and a raft. I will literally float down your tears, eating chips and working on my tan.”

“When she is happy, she can’t stop talking. When she is sad, she doesn’t say a word.”

“Music becomes my best friend when nobody else understands me.”

“Act like a lady, think like a boss.”

“I know I have friends but I feel I have no one to talk to about the shit that goes on in my head.”

“She was special. She combined a mean angel and a kind devil.”

“So much pain for someone so young.”

“She’s one of a kind.”

“Red lips and wine sips.”

“Brave girl, it’s time to love again.”

“She is intelligent.”

“Sometimes, when I say ‘I’m okay.’ I want someone to look me in the eyes, hug me tight, and say, ‘I know you’re not.’ ”

“Because I’m not the kind of girl guys fall in love with.”

“I fear I will spend my life, waiting for a love story that doesn’t exist.”

“You’re a woman, use it; bring every man you meet to his motherfucking knees.”

“She denies it but, the truth is, she’s falling in love with him.”

“Hearing your heels click on the floor sounds like power.”

“She loves deeply, regardless of the love she gets back in return and it’s both her biggest strength and biggest weakness…”

“Experience raised her. Hurt taught her. Neither defined her.”

“She was not fragile like a flower was, she was fragile like a bomb.”

“Life is short; make every hair flip count.”

“I’ve always been someone who looks ‘too deep’ into something or someone. That’s because I realised from a young age that there’s always more than what meets the eye.”

“If I say ‘first of all’ Run away because I have prepared research, data, charts, and will destroy you.”

“Underestimate me, that’ll be fun.”

“You think I’m sarcastic? You should hear what I don’t say!”

“She’s a combination of sensitive and savage.”

“Stay classy, sassy and a bit bad assy.”

“She’s battling things her smile will never tell you about.”

 “Ain't you ever seen a princess be a bad bitch?”

“I was told I was dangerous… I asked why? They said ‘because you don’t need anyone.’ That’s when I smiled.”

“She’s been through hell and came out an angel. You didn’t break her darling, you don’t own that kind of power.”

“Watch me. I will go to my own sun and, if I am burned by the flames, I will fly on scorched wings.”

“Her messy hair is a visible attribute to her stubborn spirit. As she shakes it free, she smiles, knowing wild is her favourite colour.”

“She’s strong. But in the back of her mind she doesn’t think that she was meant to be this strong for this long. And she wonders if there is a man out there, somewhere, who understands this.”

“She’s not for everyone and she knows it. People find her different and strange. She dances in the rain, she laughs when she cries and loves through her pain. People fear the unknown and they never knew a girl like her.”

“Don’t tell a girl with fire in her veins and hurricane bones what she should and shouldn’t do. In the blink of an eye, she will shatter that ridiculous cage you attempt to build around her beautiful bohemian spirit.”

“You provoke her until she roars and then get upset at her for becoming the monster you created.”

“Rip out his ego with your fresh nails.”

“She isn’t the sunrise; she’s the fucking sun.”

“You can’t touch a woman who can wear pain like the grandest of diamonds around her neck.”

“Watch your tongue around her. She will bear her fangs and tear you apart with all the grace of a Queen.” 

“If you won’t embrace her madness, then you’ll never taste her magic.”

“Beauty may be dangerous but intelligence is lethal.”

“She is water. Powerful enough to drown you, soft enough to cleanse you, deep enough to save you.”

“Heavy is the crown and yet she wears it as if it were a feather. There is strength in her heart, determination in her eyes and the will to survive resides within her soul.”

“I wish that I could say that I am a light that never goes out, but I flicker from time to time.”

“Spoil me with loyalty. I can finance myself.”

“Shoutout to all the people with brown hair and brown eyes! We basic as fuck but we cute!”

“I feel a nap coming on.”

“Is horny an emotion?”

“I just really like thigh-highs.”

“Even though she looks innocent, she is really a perverted demon.”

“She didn’t sob or wail. Her pain was horribly discreet but as persistent and almost as silent as bleeding from an unstitched wound.”

“I don’t rise from the ashes, I make them. I’m the whole fucking fire.”

“Beautiful but destructive.”

“I’m aiming for the ‘she’s a badass and cute as hell but I wouldn’t touch her without asking’ look.”

“Loving me must be so fucking hard and I’m so sorry.”

“Some women are lost in the fire. Some women are built from it.”

“You glow differently when you’re actually happy.”

“She’s magic, that one.”

“Kicked out of Hell.”

“Red hair: the crown you never take off.”

“You’ve got a fire inside.”

“She doesn’t need a warrior, she is one. What she needs is a devout heart, and strong arms to hold her after her battles are won.”

“You are the love that came without warning: You had my heart before I could say no.”

“You want battle? I’ll give you war.”

“True evil is, above all things, seductive.”

“The Devil’s got nothing on me, my friend.”

“Haven’t I fallen far enough?”

“I’m not like them, but I can pretend.”

“I don’t like being told what to do.”

“Now I grow wings and rage, and learn how to kill.”

“Life is tough, my darling, but so are you.”

“Though she be little, she be fierce.”

“I know what this is; It’s just myself, talking to myself, about myself.”

“You underestimate my power.”

[regencyslxt]

Let’s Dance

2424 words.

requested on wattpad. 

“can I please do an imagine with a black female reader with black curly hair, big plump lips, a button nose and cat eyes. She is a kind girl but quiet and tends to read a book and observe others instead of talking and is the single mother of two year old twin daughters Teyana and Ayesha which causes everyone to ignore her all the time. can she be a dancer who always dances at parties or balls and her family and other families start to finally notice her and some men and even women become intrigued with her.”

a/n: i tried my best to stick close to the request, i hope you enjoy it!

Breakfast had been served that morning, and even the help could feel the tense atmosphere. Your parents sat on either end of the table and you sat between your two children, helping them eat their breakfast without spilling it down the front of their night gowns. Teyana sat to your right happily nibbling on a slice of buttered toast while you fed Ayesha, to your left, a spoonful of yoghurt, or at least tried to.

“Open up sweetheart,” you told her nicely. She kept her lips tightly shut and moved her head away from the spoon you were holding out. Your mother watched upon the situation with a spiteful eye.

“Is there a reason for your hateful attention mama?” you breathed out.

“You never behaved that way as a child. Maybe it is because your father did not abandon us.” She spat. You looked at her appalled. You sat the spoon you were holding down, Ayesha smiled to herself. You wiped your hands on the front of your night dress as you stood from your chair.

“Girls, go to your rooms and pick out which dress you would like to wear today.” You sent them on their way, the warm smile on your face disappearing as their giggles and the soft patter of their little footsteps faded. You turned back to the table; a scowl evident.

“Mama, I do not appreciate the way you speak about my husband, you know very well he was a fine fellow, who died fighting for this country. I would greatly appreciate it, if you could keep your comments to yourself whilst our children are present.”

“How dare you speak to me in such a manner, you will show me some respect when you are under my roof. Perhaps the paper was right, it is a shame a body so beautiful and a face so perfect is wasted on you.”

“Dear, do not be so cruel,” your father spoke awkwardly from the other end of the table. Your mother looked at him through narrowed eyes and he went back to eating his breakfast quietly, shooting you a sad smile as he did.

“I will not tolerate being told what to do in my own house. Do you understand me Y/N?”

You looked at her, anger settling in your chest.

“Yes, mama.”

“Good. Now go get dressed. And make sure you look presentable, I cannot have Whistledown writing about how my daughter cannot dress herself to impress company.”

You scoffed at her. You bid your father goodbye and made your leave from the room. Your mother hadn’t always been so uptight, but ever since you all moved into town and Lady Whistledown found out you had two little girls but no husband around, assuming he had fled, she had not been civil with you. You and your husband had been very happy, and your parents had loved him, but he enlisted in the war. And after a few months you received a visit from his commanding officer informing you of his passing. You had cried harder than you had ever cried that night, your mother had been the one to comfort you. She held you against her, cradling your head as she smoothed down your tight curled locks which framed your face. You had cried yourself to sleep in her embrace and she had laid you down gently onto your silk pillows, placing a soft kiss onto your forehead. You always tried to remember that night nowadays, to remind yourself that she wasn’t always so cruel.

After that night you had thrown yourself into the company of others. You had made many friends, whom all knew of your heartbreak, and always spent the duration of every ball you attended dancing with them. It did not matter which song was playing or which dance was being danced, you knew them all and happily obliged anybody who requested you join them. Dancing had easily become your new safe haven, when you were sad at home you would simply ask one of the staff to play the pianoforte if they could and you would dance with your daughters as they copied your footsteps as best as they could. But this changed when you moved. You focussed all of your attention on your daughters and made sure they were happy, disregarding your own happiness as you withdrew from the things you once loved.

You had very few friends in town, however, you had become quick friends with Will and Alice Mondrich who lived a few streets away. Their children and yours adored each other and were always asking to go visit, so it was inevitable that you would become friends with the parents. They knew of your situation and were disappointed in both the people in the ton and your mother.

Regardless, you had a busy day planned. You had to dress both of your children as well as yourself and ensure everything was set for tonight as Teyana and Ayesha were going to Alice’s to spend the night there whilst you all attended the duke and duchess’s ball.

“Mummy! Can I please wear the pink one?”

“Of course, you can dear.” You pulled the pink dress from Teyana’s wardrobe. You untied the ribbon on the back and opened it up for her to step into. You fixed the dress up and tied the ribbon into a bow tightly. Ayesha ran up to you, her peach dress clasped tightly in her hand.

“Mama, this one is my favourite…” she whispered.

“Would you like to wear that one?” Your full lips forming into a smile. Your daughters had always been opposites, Teyana was always very outgoing whereas Ayesha was shy and quiet. Ayesha nodded shyly and you did the same for her as you had for Teyana a few minutes before. With both girls now fully dressed, you started sorting their hair. You gently tied a matching headband around both of their heads, to ensure their hair did not fall into their faces as they played later tonight. They both jumped from their chairs and began deciding which shoes they were going to wear. In the meantime, you had taken the small window to get yourself dressed, a maid coming in to help fasten your stay. You allowed your dress to fall over your curved frame, the stay you were wearing highlighted your hips in the most wonderful way.

With everyone ready, you placed a loving kiss on both of your daughter’s heads and made your way down to meet your mother and father and you all set off for the night.

***

The music from the orchestra could be heard as you approached. The wind wrapped itself around you, goosebumps forming on your skin. The nerves you felt weren’t helping either. Your mother and father entered the ball in front of you, and you looked around as you walked in. Will and Alice were behind you, chatting away. You had always admired their relationship, you wished that you could still have something like that however, with your mother’s newfound attitude towards you, you highly doubted that it would happen.

You hadn’t gone to many gatherings alongside your parents since arriving in town because they meant seeing people. Seeing people meant questions. Questions meant answers and you didn’t have all the answers you wanted; you would never have them. You put those thoughts to the back of your mind as you walked into the main hall. The sound of laughter and glasses clinking against each other surrounded you, chatter was high, and the music flowed around the room. The laughter and chatter, however, quietened as your presence was acknowledged. Well at least you thought it had quietened, in reality, it was still as lively as it was before. Not many people paid you any attention.

Balls didn’t bring you as much enjoyment as they once did. You would much rather be at home with your daughters reading them a bedtime story and tucking them into bed, that’s why whenever you did attend them you found a quiet space near the back of the room to situate yourself in for the evening.

With your hand wrapped around your glass, you took in the attendees for the evening. There were so many beautiful women and the men looked awfully handsome. Well, most men, Nigel Berbrooke certainly didn’t fit that bracket. You laughed softly to yourself.

“What is so funny Y/N?” Alice smiled.

“Oh nothing, just thinking.”

“Ah, well do not think too hard. We cannot have you hurting yourself.”

“Oh Alice, you wound me!” you mock offense.

You both laugh light-heartedly between yourselves. Your eyes fall upon those in the center of the room. Watching as the women’s dresses sway against the floor, swishing around the feet of their dance partner for this song. The smiles on their faces matched your own as you admired their movements.

“Will you be dancing this evening?” Alice questioned. You sighed, bringing your glass to your lips to hide your immediate dissatisfaction.

“Unfortunately, not. It appears my mother is doing her best to ward off any men that come my way.”

Your mother had not strayed too far from you. You could still see her, and it would be impossible to not see the looks herself and the men that spoke to her shot you before the men would nod their heads and walk away. Only your mother would try and save her own embarrassment by inflating yours.

“Well, at least you have men enquiring after your availability. However, it does not surprise me, you do look wonderful this evening Y/N.”

She was right. You did. Your hair framed your face perfectly, your makeup was soft but still made sure to bring out your doe eyes. Your plump lips shone with soft rouge. And your dress, your dress complimented your warm skin tone in the best way. You were the sheer definition of beauty this evening.

“And anyway,” Alice continued, “I am sure Will would be more than happy to accompany you for a dance.”

At this invitation, Will excused himself from the conversation he was having with one of the Lord’s there this evening and held his hand out to you.

“My dear Y/N, would you do me the absolute honour of sharing this dance with me?” he laughed out.

Alice nudged him and you chuckled at his joking manner.

“Why of course, kind sir. Only if the next dance goes to your wife.”

“I will make sure of that.” He replies winking at Alice. Her cheeks blushed. Even after a couple of years of marriage they still held so much love for each other. You really missed that.

You walked towards the dance floor with Will, your mother looking on with wide eyes and mouth hanging on. Your father smiled softly and nodded at you.

The next song started, and you and Will began dancing. You let the sound of the violin circle you and you followed the path of the others dancing, your movements catching the eyes of those surrounding the dance floor as you did. People began whispering as they watched on, entranced by the way you seemed to feel the music being performed. The sound of your laughs echoed through the slightly silent room as Will spun you around. Men and women alike were transfixed on you. Your ears picked up on snippets as you circled the floor.

Penelope Featherington and Eloise Bridgerton had shared compliments about you.

“Penelope. Who is that dancing with Mr. Mondrich?”

“That’s Y/N Y/L/N. She moved here not long ago with her parents and daughters. But no husband…”

“Ah who needs a husband Penny. She is beautiful.”

“She truly is.” Penelope agreed.

You had heard Lady Cowper and her daughter Cressida, gossiping as they usually do.

“Dancing with a married man I see.”

“My goodness, has she no shame?”

You chuckled at their foolishness. Meanwhile, on the other side of the floor, the Bridgerton men had stopped and stared.

Benedict smacked his brother’s chest. Colin laughed as Anthony choked slightly on the brandy he had been drinking.

“Benedict you fool what was that for?!” Anthony spoke in between small coughs.

“Look at her…”

Both Colin and Anthony followed their brother’s line of sight and watched with admiring eyes as you danced with their friend.

“Who is that dancing with Will?”

“Colin if I knew, I would not have asked.”

“I must dance with her.” Colin and Benedict looked at their brother shocked.

“You never dance.”

“Yes, I do.”

“No. No, you do not.”

“Well, I do now.” Anthony quickly swallowed the remainder of his drink as the song you had been dancing to finished.

“I believe I should be the one to ask her first, after all, I was the first to see her,” Benedict argued stepping in front of his elder brother. Colin spared no time for their bickering and made his way towards you. His brothers were quick to take notice and the three of them seemingly raced towards you.

You embraced Alice when you returned, your smile beaming. You let out a few breaths and thanked Will for the dance. You had encouraged them to go enjoy the dance they were certain to share while Will still had his dancing shoes on. You took this opportunity to quench your newfound thirst and looked around the room from your quiet spot. Only now had you noticed the number of eyes on you.

You could hear rushed footsteps as you watched the Bridgerton sons speed in your direction. You could hear whispers from all around the hall as the women spoke of you. Some women looked upon you with jealousy, and others, like Eloise and Penelope, looked upon you in awe. Several men were entranced by your performance and tried to work up the courage to come and speak to you, despite some of them already having been steered away from your mother.

Your mother. You focussed your attention on her, and her reaction warmed your heart. Your father had her wrapped in his arms and she looked upon you with fond eyes, a smile perched itself on her face as she blew you a kiss. A tenderness you had not felt in so long filled you. You were warm.

Now, people still spoke. And the questions were inevitable. But you had people to dance with and as you spun around the floor, your dress following you, you could not bring yourself to mind as much as you did before.

[reinerispretty]

beneath the moon. (sokka x reader) pt15

OH WOW okay so because i felt so bad about not updating this for...two weeks? this chapter is extra long. i’m talkin over 5,000 words long. it is also my apology for not updating in so long teehee!!! 

pt1

pt14

pt16

“Friends get excited to see each other,” He said with a shrug of his shoulders.

“I don’t know about you, Aang, but my friends don’t normally kiss me on the cheek when they see me.” Aang laughed as he steered Appa, but Sokka’s expression was less than exuberant. (Y/N) knocked her shoulder against his. “I’m just teasing,” She said lowly, so only Sokka would hear. “I think you guys-“

(Y/N) scrunched her nose in distaste. “This is Lake Laogai?” The place that Joo Dee had mentioned numerous times and Jet had said he had been taken to be brainwashed seemed rather…underwhelming. It was just a lake, albeit an expansive one, with blue green water and a beach surrounding it.  Sokka nudged her side with his elbow. Although she knew he was standing right beside her, the feeling of his touch startled her. She could feel her heartbeat thundering against her chest.

“Come on, Princess. Not everywhere can be a brilliant ice palace.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes.

“I get that, but if they’re going to say that a bunch of people go here for vacation all the time, the least they can do is make it look nice. Did they just think no one would come out here to visit?”

“I think it looks just fine,” Toph said as she strolled past the pair. (Y/N) and Sokka gave her a disapproving look that was completely lost on the young girl.

“All I’m saying is having a few beach chairs wouldn’t kill them. I mean, have you seen the Earth King’s palace! He could definitely spare a few coins.”

“I honestly doubt the Earth King knows this place exists,” Katara said.

“What a chump,” Toph said. She walked to the very edge of the lake and knelt down to the ground, her small hand hovering above the sand. “There’s a whole cave underneath the lake.” With one swift earthbending move, she exposed a platform with a large, round entryway at the end. She moved its cover to the side, and their large group hovered over it and stared into the dark cavern below. Jet went first, since he was leading the group, and Aang followed closely behind. The rest of the group followed one by one until eventually, they were all in the underground cave.

“There should be a cell large enough for Appa up ahead,” Jet whispered. “Follow me!” He led them down the hallway, but (Y/N) found herself breaking away from the group. She stopped in front of a room, peering inside to see countless women being brainwashed. It broke (Y/N’s) heart that she could not help them right now. To rescue those women would be to jeopardize their entire mission and risk captivity.

Katara appeared at her side then, grabbing her by the hand and squeezing her fingers. “We’ll help them,” She whispered, a reassuring Katara smile on her lips, and (Y/N) nodded in agreement. She just wished they didn’t have to pick and choose who they could save.

They reached the room where Appa would have been. (Y/N) could see large shackles on the ground in the dim light, where he probably once was, but then she heard the door being earthbended behind her. Instantly, she and her friends realized they were being surrounded. Dozens of Dai Lee agents dangled from the ceiling, and Long Feng stood at the center of the room with a look of harsh disapproval on his face. (Y/N) knew that the entire time she and her friends had been in Ba Sing Se, he had been trying to intimidate and manipulate them, but she still found herself unafraid of his presence. The agents hanging down from above certainly unsettled her, but Long Feng was like every other tribe elder that had told her what she had done throughout her entire life was wrong. If she had an opportunity, she’d like to toss an ice ball at his face.

“You’ve made yourselves enemies of the state,” Long Feng said, and just as (Y/N) slowly inched her fingers toward the cap of her water satchel on her hip, she was forced back, her wrists clamped against the wall by a Dai Lee agent’s rock glove. She cried out in pain, feeling an uncomfortable sensation in one of her wrists.

“(Y/N)!” She heard Sokka shout, just as Toph released her with one movement and knocked a Dai Lee agent into the wall with another. (Y/N) felt the anger rise within her and with a swift flick of her wrist she started to waterbend, but the crippling pain in her wrist nearly caused her to scream. “Are you okay?” Sokka asked, suddenly at her side. His boomerang was poised in his hands. He took her wrist in his hands, his long fingers wrapping around the already bruising skin. (Y/N) couldn’t find the words to answer him. He stared at her with furrowed brows and bounced on anxious feet, eager to join the fight but remaining with her for a reason (Y/N) couldn’t piece together.

She started to panic. She needed to help her friends, but fighting with waterbending was the sort of thing she had to do with two hands, and Katara didn’t have time to quickly heal her wrist. When she finally pulled her eyes away from Sokka’s, she caught a dark green figure running toward them. She pushed Sokka behind her with her good hand and swiftly lifted her leg up high into the air, her water following its direction, and kicked forward. The stream of water followed exactly what she had intended for it to do, hitting the Dai Lee agent harshly and sending him flying backward into the rock wall.

When (Y/N) turned back to Sokka, his eyes were wide. “That was amazing!” (Y/N) grinned at him. Sokka threw his boomerang at an agent coming from her blind spot and the two spent the remainder of the fight watching each other’s backs.  

The fight against the Dai Lee agents continued, but (Y/N) was quickly getting better at waterbending with her legs. It felt a bit unnatural. Waterbending was about moving the energy through your body, and this transference of energy usually took place within your arms and hands. Very little of the whole body was used in waterbending, but she was still able to help her friends with what she could do, and that was all that mattered to her.

Aang and Jet had followed Long Feng as he fled into another room. It took a while for the remainder of the group to subdue the Dai Lee agents, but by the time they had and reunited, they came upon a grave situation. Jet lay on the floor with Aang by his side. Katara rushed to him and immediately started the healing process, but (Y/N) recognized the scared look on her friend’s face that told her it wasn’t working. (Y/N) looked down at Jet, whose face was soft with acceptance, and felt a tug at her heart. This wasn’t fair. Nothing about this war was fair. Innocent people shouldn’t have to die simply because they want to make the world a better place.

She clenched her hands at her sides, feeling the pain in her wrist but ignoring it. Much to her surprise, Sokka placed his own hand over her fist. (Y/N) refused to look up at him, but she refused to pull away.

They resurfaced as their original group. Jet’s friends, Longshot and Smellerbee, had chosen to stay with him. Although she hadn’t known him long, (Y/N) still shed tears over the loss of Jet’s life. She and her friends had felt too much sorrow for a group of kids. It seemed like it would never end. And the Dai Lee agents standing on the beach nearly confirmed this fact.

“Do you think we can outrun them?” Sokka asked Aang as the agents surrounded them on all sides. There was nowhere for them to run to.

“I don’t think it’ll matter,” Aang said. As he finished his statement, Momo landed on his shoulder, chittering loudly in Aang’s ear. “What is it, Momo?” The lemur monkey soared back into the sky, where a large shadow blocked the light of the sun. Appa dropped to the beach, a hefty groan coming from his chest, as he began blowing the agents away with his own airbending. Toph and Aang used earthbending to send the other Dai Lee agents soaring through the air and into the lake.

“I’ll handle you myself,” Long Feng growled, but Appa was too quick for him. He took Long Feng in his mouth by the leg and flung him into Lake Laogai. (Y/N) and her friends cheered and rushed forward to hug the sky bison.

---

Their group had flown to a small piece of land within the lake to rest. (Y/N) sat on the ground with Katara kneeling beside her as she healed her wrist. Toph laid on the ground beside them, her arms tucked behind her head and her eyes closed, face tilted toward the warmth of the sun. Aang had stuck by Appa the entire time they had been there. (Y/N) figured she wouldn’t have wanted to let Appa out of her sight either, if she were in her shoes.

Katara smiled at (Y/N) as she finished healing her. “Should be good as new in an hour or so.” (Y/N) thanked her friend and rotated her wrist. It was sore more than anything now, but the pain had completely disappeared.

“Listen, Katara, I’m sorry about-“ The pained expression on Katara’s face cut her off. (Y/N) bit her bottom lip so hard until it bled. She was still learning how to comfort people who weren’t Yue.

“It’s okay,” Katara said quietly. “I’ll be okay.” (Y/N) smiled, because Katara was right, as she often tended to be. If there was anyone who could handle any challenge thrown at her, it was Katara.

A shadow stood in front of them, blocking the warmth of the sun from the girls. Toph groaned from her position on the ground. “You’re blocking my light!”

“Look, I think we need to head to the Earth King right away and tell him about our plan. We’re on a roll!” Sokka said.

“I hardly think one good hour is a roll,” Katara said.

“I’d say it was a good forty-five minutes,” (Y/N) added. Sokka rolled his eyes at that.

“Whatever it is, we can build on it. We need the Earth King’s support if we want to invade the Fire Nation in time for the eclipse.” Katara shook her head.

“Sokka, Long Feng controls the city. His conspiracy with the Dai Lee is too powerful. I say we fly away and never turn back.”

“I’m with Sweetness,” Toph said. “I’ve been wanting to get out of here as soon as we step foot in this place.”

(Y/N) frowned. As much as it pained her to agree with Sokka, she said, “But we can’t just let those people suffer at the hands of Long Feng. The quicker we expose him, the quicker this whole Dai Lee business can be over. Those women down there can go back to their normal lives.”

“And since we have Appa back,” Aang said, “There’s nothing holding us back from telling the Earth King about everything. The conspiracy and the war.”

“See!” Sokka said, a bright smile on his face. “Aang and (Y/N) are on my side!”

“I guess if the Earth King knew the truth, things would change…” Katara muttered.

“I don’t like new positive Sokka,” Toph grumbled. As they decided what steps to take next, Sokka noticed ships floating across the lake.

“That’s probably the Dai Lee searching for us.” He turned to Katara. “So?” She narrowed her eyes in determination.

“Let’s fly.”

It was a horrifying flight on the way back to Ba Sing Se. With no saddle, everyone had to hold on to Appa’s fur for dear life. (Y/N’s) wrist was still weak, so her grip kept coming loose as she held on. Sokka reached for her, clasping her hand in his so she had an easier time staying on. (Y/N) felt her face grow warm. This was the second time Sokka had held her hand in a day. She hated that she was reading too much into it despite herself. He’s just trying to be a good friend, she thought. “A good friend,” She repeated quietly, because sometimes hearing the words out loud made them seem more real.

“There it is!” Sokka shouted as they flew over the Inner Ring of Ba Sing Se. “That whole thing’s the palace! The Earth King’s chambers must be in the center!”

“We have to be careful,” Katara said. “Long Feng’s probably already warned the Earth King that we’re coming.”

“What makes you say that?” Sokka asked. “I bet from now on it’s gonna be smooth-“ His sentence was interrupted with a shout as a giant boulder flew past them, narrowly missing him.

“What was that?” Toph asked.

“Rocks!” (Y/N) shouted back.

“More incoming!” Sokka called. A boulder came directly at Aang, but he broke it with one swift move of his hand. He rushed forward and sliced through another boulder with his staff, landing on the ground and creating a harsh seismic wave to knock the rest of the soldiers off of their feet. Appa landed behind him and the rest of their team immediately jumped to the ground.

(Y/N’s) wrist was still sore, but she felt reinvigorated from the break she had with her friends and the success of getting Appa back. She and Katara both formed waterwhips with their hands to knock soldiers out of their way. “Sorry!” Katara called to the guards. “We just need to get through to see the Earth King!”

“Katara!” (Y/N) groaned. “They’re attacking us! You don’t have to apologize to them!”

“I just want them to know I’m not trying to hurt them!” As she said this, (Y/N’s) waterwhip wrapped itself around a soldier, lifting him into the air and slamming him down into the ground. The other guards that had surrounded him scattered in fear. “(Y/N)! They’re on the same side as us!”

“If they’re not holding back, why should I?”

They ran to the stairs of the palace, which Toph and Aang turned into a ramp, causing the remainder of the Earth Kingdom guards to slide down the steps. Aang and Toph then earthbended their group up the ramp to the main entryway of the palace. After a few mishaps, they finally found where they were supposed to go. “Through there!” Sokka shouted, and their group ran through the large, ornately decorated double doors that led into the Earth King’s throne room.

Convincing the Earth King that there was a war happening outside of the walls of his city was no easy task. The Dai Lee had destroyed their cave under Lake Laogai, disrupting their plan of showing King Kuei that evidence. It was only when they finally showed him the Fire Nation drill, still sticking halfway through the outermost wall, that he had started to believe they were telling the truth. He had Long Feng arrested for conspiracy and his office searched and agreed to give his troops to help fight the Fire Nation.

As their group was celebrating this massive victory for their cause, one of the generals entered the king’s quarters. “Your majesty,” said General How. “We searched Long Feng’s office and found something that would be of interest to everybody.” He set a box down on the king’s desk, opening it to reveal dozens of scrolls. “Secret records about everyone in the city, including you kids.” He handed Toph her scroll first, who passed it to Katara to read.

“It’s a letter from your mom! She’s in the city and wants to see you!” And Toph smiled the brightest smile that (Y/N) had ever seen.

“Long Feng intercepted letters from home? That’s just sad.” The General then passed Aang a letter that had been tied to Appa’s horn when he first came to the city. It was from a guru at the Eastern Air Temple who offered help on learning how to control the Avatar State.

“Is there anything for me?” (Y/N) asked, peering into the box. General How pulled out a thinly rolled scroll with her name written on it in small letters. She unrolled it, with all of her friends except Toph looking over her shoulder to see what it said. (Y/N) rolled her eyes as she finished reading it, tearing the letter to shreds.

“What was it?” Toph asked.

“A marriage proposal,” (Y/N) grumbled, crossing her arms. It was another proposal from Hahn, the very same person that had been engaged to her sister and who (Y/N) had punched in the face. It seemed he was bent on gaining access to the throne of the Northern Water Tribe and would do whatever was necessary to obtain it. Even if it was pestering her with another lousy proposal.

“Are you…Are you gonna accept it?” Aang asked, and (Y/N) scoffed.

“Of course not!”

“Is there anything for us?” Katara asked the General, who solemnly shook his head.

“But there is an intelligence report.” He passed it to Katara, who unrolled the scroll and read it with her head pressed against Sokka’s.

“A small fleet of Water Tribe ships,” Katara read aloud, “Protecting the mouth of Chameleon Bay…Led by Hakoda—It is dad!” The siblings hugged each other in their excitement.

It was decided then, after finding out about the different paths they could each go on, that it would be best if the group split up. Toph would reunite with her mother, Aang would travel to the Eastern Air Temple, Sokka and Katara could go see their dad, and (Y/N) supposed she would remain with the Earth King. Someone had to, after all, and it wasn’t like she had received any urgent letters from her own family. The rumors about the state of her tribe that Jet had told her settled in an uncomfortable pit in her stomach, but she didn’t want to ruin the chance of Sokka and Katara reuniting with their father.

“If I’m going to the Eastern Air Temple,” Aang said, “I can drop you off at Chameleon Bay to see your dad.”

“Someone has to stay here and help the Earth King plan the invasion,” Sokka said with a sigh. “I guess that’s me.”

“No, Sokka, I know how much you wanna see Dad. I’ll stay,” Katara offered.

“I could stay,” (Y/N) countered. “I didn’t get any urgent messages or have any family members to see.”

“But didn’t you say things weren’t going well back in your tribe?” Toph asked.  

“Well, yes, but-“

“We could use the military help from the Northern Tribe,” Sokka said, stroking his chin. “And if the Princess goes back there, we could convince them to help!”

“Then it’s settled!” Katara clasped her hands together. “Aang will drop off Sokka and (Y/N) at Chameleon Bay. There, they can take a ship back to the North and work on gathering more volunteers!”

“Katara, I can really stay, I don’t mind!” Part of (Y/N) was eager to go back home and deal with these throne challengers, but another part of her dreaded the idea of going back. It had been so long, and she had wanted to escape from the Northern Water Tribe for so long.

“No, it’s a great plan!” Katara smiled at her friend, who sighed and glanced at Sokka. His own eyes were cast her way and a soft smile rested on his lips.

A few hours later, they were preparing to say their goodbyes to one another. (Y/N) gripped onto Katara tightly as she hugged her, feeling stupid tears welling at the backs of her eyes. The trip to the Northern Water Tribe would take weeks, so it would probably be months before they saw each other again. Katara pulled away from the hug, her own eyes shiny. “Take good care of my idiot brother, okay?” (Y/N) laughed as she wiped away a stray tear with the heel of her hand.

“Your majesty!” An Earth Kingdom soldier approached their group. “A group of female warriors are here to see you. They’re from Kyoshi.”

(Y/N) heard a thud and then Sokka was on the ground, when just a moment ago he had been on top of Appa’s back. “That’s Suki!”

“You know these warriors?” The king asked.

“Oh yeah. The Kyoshi Warriors are a skilled group of fighters. Trustworthy, too. They’re good friends of ours.” As Sokka finished his sentence, (Y/N) couldn’t help but remember just how good of friends he had been with Suki, that night on the Serpent’s Pass. She inhaled a deep breath and forced a smile to her face. Despite her jealousy, she really liked Suki, and was disappointed that they wouldn’t get to see each other.

“Then we will treat them as honored guests.” The Earth King gave a final bow before marching back into the palace.

“I’m really gonna miss you guys,” Toph said, rubbing the bottoms of her feet against the bare rock. (Y/N) wrapped her in a hug.

“It’s not going to be for long!” She reassured her, and before she knew it, Katara had joined their hug, then Aang, until finally Sokka wrapped his arms around all of them. Then (Y/N), Aang, and Sokka climbed into Appa’s saddle and took off into the sky. Their journey to Chameleon Bay wouldn’t be that long; less than a day at most.

“It’s a bummer we couldn’t see Suki,” Aang said. “You’re probably super disappointed, huh Sokka?” Aang smiled up at Sokka innocently, but both he and (Y/N) knew exactly what he was insinuating. (Y/N) looked at Sokka, curious to see what his answer would be.

“Yeah, you guys were pretty close when we were on the Serpent’s Pass.” She knew she was pressing his buttons, but annoying Sokka distracted her from the annoying jealousy she felt. He rolled his eyes.

“Friends get excited to see each other,” He said with a shrug of his shoulders.

“I don’t know about you, Aang, but my friends don’t normally kiss me on the cheek when they see me.” Aang laughed as he steered Appa, but Sokka’s expression was less than exuberant. (Y/N) knocked her shoulder against his. “I’m just teasing,” She said lowly, so only Sokka would hear. “I think you guys-“

“Speaking of excited!” Aang cut her off, having not heard that she was talking. “You haven’t seen your dad in two years! You must be so excited!”

“I know I should be, but I just feel sick to my stomach,” Sokka said, pressing a hand to his stomach.

“I’m sure your dad will be excited enough for the both of you. What’s he like?” (Y/N) rested her chin on her kneecaps to listen to Sokka’s description of his father.

“Well he’s just like me, super intelligent and smart with ruggedly good looks-“

“Intelligent and smart are the same thing.”

“Stop interrupting! Anyway, he was chief back in the Southern Water Tribe, but he kind of passed that role onto Gran Gran when he had to fight the Fire Nation. The last time I saw him he could only stay home for a day, but he spent the whole day playing with Katara and I. He’s a great dad.”

“He sounds really nice.” Sokka smiled at her, resulting in her own smile.

They landed at Chameleon Bay under an hour later. Sokka and (Y/N) said their goodbyes to Aang before walking along the beach to where the men of the Southern Water Tribe were camped. (Y/N) couldn’t help her own nerves. Besides Sokka and Katara, she had never met anyone else from the Southern Water Tribe before. She worried that they would think less of her because she was from the North, where their practices were very backwards.

“Do you think they’ll help me?” She asked suddenly. Sokka raised an eyebrow. “Our two tribes haven’t exactly had the best communication over the years. Why should they help me if my tribe hasn’t helped you all? I mean, we’ve been completely complacent in this war besides what happened a few months ago.”

“That’s why we’re here,” Sokka said. “To convince your tribe that this is a cause worth fighting for! And by doing that, you’d singlehandedly be helping my tribe and the rest of the world.” (Y/N) gulped, not only from the circumstances but from the fact that Sokka had just laced his fingers through hers. “If you’re scared about them not liking you, that’s all you have to say.”

“I’m not scared of that!” (Y/N) snapped. “I don’t care what people think of me.” Sokka snorted.

“Whatever you say, Princess.” He tugged on her hand to lead her forward to camp, but was still holding it as they stepped foot inside.

“Sokka, good to see you,” one of the warriors said, and Sokka gave him a pleasant nod before heading to the war tent. (Y/N) pulled her hand from his as they approached the entrance.

“I’ll wait outside so you guys can have a proper reunion,” She stretched out her hand. Was it possible to still feel someone’s touch after they were done touching you? Sokka hesitated in front of the door flap and (Y/N) rolled her eyes, giving him a hard shove forward. “Go!”

She waited outside the tent for a few minutes, wringing her hands out of nervousness. So maybe Sokka had been just a bit right: she was scared of the people of this tribe not liking her. She was royalty of the Northern Water Tribe, after all. As far as (Y/N) knew, when Sokka and Katara’s tribe had been raided over the years, her tribe hadn’t offered any help. They had locked themselves behind their high ice walls and refused to come out. If (Y/N) ever returned to her tribe to lead it, she wouldn’t be that kind of chief. She had seen how much pain there was in the world and she wanted to do everything in her power to alleviate it.

Sokka left the tent first, with a tall, tanned man following closely behind him. (Y/N) could see the resemblance almost instantly. The man held the same striking blue eyes that Sokka and Katara had and his build was nearly identical to Sokka’s. He looked at her with a soft smile that reached his eyes. “You must be the friend Sokka was telling me about. I’m Hakoda.” (Y/N) bowed.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Sokka and Katara have told me so much about you.”

“(Y/N’s) from the Northern Water Tribe,” Sokka said, and she glared at him because she hadn’t exactly been ready to delve into that information just yet. He gave her a bright grin in return.

“Really! That must be a popular name up there, last I heard there was a princess in the North with the same name.”

“That, um, would be me.” (Y/N) smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck. Hakoda’s eyes widened.

“Apologies, Princess (Y/N), my son neglected to tell me that you were royalty!” He let out a hefty laugh that all dads had in common.

“It’s really alright, I’m not much of a princess anymore.”

“Are you both hungry? Our camp was just about to eat lunch.” Sokka’s stomach grumbled, answering his father’s question. Hakoda led the both of them to the center of the camp, where logs surrounded the campfire. A pot of stew bubbled atop it as men stood in line to gather their bowls.

“I can get your stew for you,” Sokka said, taking (Y/N’s) bowl from her hands. “Can you find us a seat?” She took a seat at a log to the right of the campfire and placed her bag in the spot beside her to signify that someone would be sitting there. Sokka rejoined her just a few minutes later, speed-walking over to her as he wore a pained expression on his face. “These bowls get really hot!” He said with a hissing voice as he handed her one of the bowls. (Y/N) giggled.

Hakoda stood at the front of the beach, where all eyes could see him. “As many of you know, my son Sokka arrived at our camp today.” The men whooped and hollered for him and (Y/N) smiled at the light blush that dusted Sokka’s cheeks. “He brought along his friend and our sister from the Northern Water Tribe, Princess (Y/N).” There were more cheers, but also whispers and murmurs passing through the camp. Suddenly it felt like every eye was on her as Hakoda took his seat beside on the other side of Sokka. Was she supposed to say something? Yue was always the one that addressed the crowds at any gathering, since she was the oldest.

(Y/N) gave a panicked look to Sokka. He placed his hand on her shoulder and stood, his fingertips just barely grazing her and he spoke to the men of his tribe. “(Y/N) and I came here to not only reunite with you all, but to ask for your help. If we sail a few of your ships to the North, we think that (Y/N) can convince them to contribute members of their own military to the war effort.”

“Sokka,” Hakoda said, his voice low in warning. “The Northern tribe hasn’t fought in the war for almost as long as it’s been happening. Do you really think you kids can do this?”

(Y/N) took a deep breath and stood. As she stared at the crowd of men, she thought of how Yue would act in situations like these. “A few months ago, the Fire Nation attacked the Northern Water Tribe. We were able to fight them off, but only because my older sister sacrificed her life to save all of us. I didn’t have much of a say in anything before I left home. I’m sure you’ve heard of some of our more backwards traditions. But I’ve seen what the war is like, what it has done to people and to our world. It is mine and Sokka’s belief that if we go back and tell them, whether it be through your stories or through mine, we can get my father and his troops to back us in this war.” She paused for a moment, her hands tightening in the fabric of her dress. “My people haven’t been good to yours, but I’m devoted to changing that. If you’ll let me.” She sat back down and took her bowl into her hands only to realize that they were shaking. Sokka took his seat once more.

“You did great!” He cheered. “You sounded so…so…princess-y! How did you do that?”

“Well I’m kind of a princess, if you haven’t noticed.” Sokka rolled his eyes.

“You sounded like a leader.” Hakoda leaned behind his son to smile at (Y/N).

A warrior approached them just a few moments later. “Hakoda, our scouts have spotted Fire Nation ships nearby!” All three of them stood as Hakoda began calling out orders.

“Bato! Get those mines loaded up! The rest of you men, prepare for battle!”

“What should I do, Dad?” Hakoda smiled down at his son.

“Aren’t you listening? I said, ‘The rest of you men, prepare for battle.’” He ran off to gather his armor and weapons. Sokka turned back to (Y/N).

“If I asked you to stay here, would you?”

“Absolutely not! There’s got to be some armor around here that will fit me.” He guided her through the camp to where the men were gathering their armor and weapons. (Y/N) had no training in anything other than waterbending, so she avoided the sharp objects and settled for pulling on the pieces of armor that looked like they would fit. Sokka helped her tie the straps and adjust her waterbending pouch on her hip. The armor was heavier than she expected, but (Y/N) hopefully wouldn’t be doing any physical fighting.

Once everything had been properly placed, she turned to look at Sokka. “Do I look ridiculous?” She asked, a light laugh following her question. Sokka looked her up and down, another blush rising to his cheeks as he shook his head and put on his wolf helmet. He and (Y/N) walked side-by-side onto the war ship where his father was waiting.

“I’m fighting too,” Was all (Y/N) said to Hakoda. He smiled.

“Happy to have you.” As they prepared to cast off from shore, (Y/N) filled her waterbending pouch with seawater as Sokka talked to his father. Then she heard a familiar groan coming from the skies and looked up to see Appa close to landing on the beach.

“Sokka…” (Y/N) said. He looked back and gripped his boomerang tightly.

“That can’t be good.”

---

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[highfunctioningflailgirl]

Whumptober 2021

Prompt #5: Broken nose

“Aramis, the Musketeer?”

“Yes?”

Aramis, on his way to the garrison with Porthos, turned around to see who was addressing him - and his head snapped back when a fist landed square in his face. He heard and felt a nasty crack. His vision burst into stars. He stumbled backwards, clutching his nose. Blood gushed through his fingers.

Somewhere, in the haze of pain, Porthos was yelling.

“Oi! What in the Queen’s name-“

A scuffle ensued. Aramis more heard than saw it - he was perilously close to fainting from shock and pain. Next to him, fists hit flesh, cloth tore and yelps and gasps from a voice that wasn’t Porthos’ told him that his friend had the upper hand on whoever had attacked him. When his vision cleared, it was already over: hunched over in the middle of the street, Aramis stood dripping blood into the dirt, circled by aghast Parisians, with Porthos standing over an unconscious man.

The big Musketeer snorted angrily, fists still clenched, shoulders squared. Then he turned to Aramis, his fierce expression melting into worry.

“Y’alright, Aramis?”

“Yeah,” Aramis croaked nasally, gingerly fingering his nose. To his dismay, it felt crooked and hurt like hell. “Or no, that is. He broke my nose.”

“Are you serious?”

Porthos stepped closer and put his hand under Aramis’ chin, carefully tilting his head back to inspect the damage. Aramis sniffed, immediately regretting it. Pain stabbed up his nose, and his mouth filled with a copper taste so thick, it made him nauseous.

“Hell’s bells,” Porthos muttered. “It is broken.”

Aramis blinked tears from his eyes.

“That bad?” he asked nervously.

“It’s kind of bent to one side.” Porthos looked at him with a curious expression, as if he was looking at an interesting insect he’d never seen before. “And it’s swelling up really fast.”

“Wonderful.”

Aramis moaned and spit a mouthful of blood into the street. Around them, a few people were still standing and staring, whispering, while the rest of onlookers had gone back to their business. This was Paris. Street brawls happened and were of little interest unless someone died.

“What are ye starin’ at?!” Porthos waved a big hand. “Move! There’s nothin’ to see here!”

While their audience dispersed, Aramis had fished a handkerchief out of his pocket and tried to staunch the blood. His beard was sticky with it, the front of his leather doublet splattered. Porthos, meanwhile, walked over to the unconscious attacker and shoved him with the tip of his boot. The man moaned a little, starting to come around.

“I s’ppose you know this man?”

Aramis squinted at the tall and overweight figure dressed in the practical but fashionable clothes of the Parisian middle class. The reddish beard and the golden signet ring on one of his hands left no doubt.

“Yes,” he said uncomfortably. “Yes, I know him.”

Porthos lowered his head to glower at Aramis. “And?”

Bleeding into his handkerchief, Aramis looked away. “I know his wife, too.”

Porthos threw his head back in exasperation. His accompanying eye roll was so pronounced, Aramis could practically hear it.

“Unbelievable,” Porthos muttered. And then, louder: “You’re unbelievable! One day, yer gonna get yourself killed! Haven’t you learned anything?!”

Embarrassed and fighting a headache, Aramis said nothing. Michèle was a sweet girl. Milky breasts, black curls, amber eyes and with a love for poetry and soldiers. Why did God put such beautiful, smart women in front of him when he didn’t want Aramis to be with them?

“Well, maybe this will teach you,” Porthos added darkly. “‘M not sure a lot of Paris women have a taste for a man with a smashed potato for a nose.”

Apprehensively, Aramis palpated his injured face. It didn’t feel like his anymore, his skin stretching as the swelling escalated, the tip of his nose off-center, his moustache caked in coagulating blood. Even if Aramis claimed he wasn’t vain, he knew it wasn’t the truth. He’d accepted his prettiness as a convenient gift from God, and he liked what he saw in the mirror when he trimmed his beard or adjusted his hat. It was an advantage he would not like to lose. Frankly, it scared him.

On the ground, Michèle’s husband groaned and began to make an effort at sitting up. One of his eyes was blackening.

“We should get outta here,” Porthos warned.

“Yes. Let’s go.”

XXX

They arrived at the garrison right after morning muster. The regiment had largely dispersed, turning to their daily duties. A few stragglers were still in the yard, casting curious glances when Porthos and Aramis passed through the arch. Against Aramis’ hopes, Captain Treville was among them. Face turning thunderous, he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“Let me guess,” he said, taking in Aramis’ appearance. “It’s a little early for gambling, and Porthos looks unharmed, so it cannot have been a bar brawl. Since it’s morning, and it’s you,” - he pointed at Aramis and sniffed - “with the nosebleed and smelling of perfume, I’ll assume you ran into an admirer? As in: head first?”

His eyes were blazing and Aramis could swear he saw a wisp of the Captain’s thinning hair turn white.

“He got ‘im pretty bad, Cap’n,” Porthos came to Aramis’ defense. “Bashed ‘is nose right in.”

Some of the fury drained from Treville’s face.

“Let me see,” he said, eyebrows knitting to a frown.

Aramis took his hand with the balled-up handkerchief away from his face and revealed the whole extent of the damage.

Treville’s eyebrows rose.

“By God, it is broken.”

Aramis whimpered miserably.

“But you’re lucky, son,” Treville added. “A visitor arrived last night. Just in time to help you out, it seems.”

“Who?” Porthos asked.

“Go see for yourselves,” Treville said. “She’s in the infirmary.”

XXX

When they entered the garrison’s small infirmary, a woman was busy sorting through the medicine cabinet. She was wearing a coarse brown nun’s habit and turned around when she heard them, hazel eyes shining brightly out of a freckled, middle-aged face.

“Sister Marie!” Porthos’ joyful bellow turned into laughter. He crossed the room in four strides and enveloped the petite woman in a hug.

“What are you doing here?”

“Returning some of Athos’ books and bringing some medicines Aramis requested,” she answered cheerfully. Spotting Aramis, she added: “And it seems our Lord knew just when to send me.”

“You are, indeed, a gift sent from Heaven,” Aramis said, relieved. He’d been fearing he would have to attempt to set his nose himself.

“What happened?”

Sister Marie, pragmatic as ever, took Aramis by the shoulders and led him to a chair close to a window where the light was better.

Porthos scoffed. “I don’t think you want to know, Sister.”

The nun looked back and forth between the two Musketeers, her intelligent eyes boring into them. All of a sudden, Aramis felt very stupid.

“You don’t want to know,” he said guiltily.

She cocked her head. “Then I won’t ask. But this,” she pointed at Aramis’ nose,”needs to be set before the swelling gets any worse.”

“Do you think you can fix it?” Aramis asked with new hope.

Sister Marie gently probed his injured face, feeling for the break, and Aramis bit his lip while his eyes began to water again.

“Yes,” she finally stated. “Feels like a clean break. But we have to do it now and you must follow my instructions. Diligently.”

Aramis nodded. Of course he would if she saved him from looking like a monstrosity for the rest of his life. He hadn’t looked in a proper mirror yet, but on the way here, he’d seen his reflection in a window, and it was horrendous.

Sister Marie looked around the infirmary.

“We need cold water, a bowl, a towel, some wool and horsetail tincture. And my comfrey poultice from the cabinet. Thank the Lord I brought a large jar!“

Porthos nodded and fetched what was needed. Often enough, he’d helped Aramis take care of wounded comrades, and he knew his way around the infirmary. If Aramis hadn‘t been so anxious, dreading what was to come, he‘d be proud of him now.

Everything laid out within reach, Sister Marie pushed a bowl into Aramis‘ lap.

“Here,“ she said matter-of-factly. “Hold this. No need to ruin the floorboards, and it’ll keep your hands out of your face.”

Aramis grimaced.

“Are you ready?”

Taking a deep breath through his mouth, Aramis steeled himself. This would not be pretty.

“Yes. Do it.”

Porthos stepped behind him, holding his shoulders. Without hesitation, sister Marie clasped Aramis’ nose between her fingers and gave it a quick, hard wrench. Aramis, eyes widening in shock, felt the bone snap back into place. The pain was monumental. The middle of his face seemed to explode. Briefly, his vision blackened, and he bent low over the bowl in his hands, blood dripping into it, waiting to either throw up or pass out.

“Oh God..” he moaned.

Tears streamed down his cheeks, and waves of nausea washed over him. He felt a cold cloth on his forehead and then at the back of his neck.

“Deep breaths through your mouth, Aramis,” he heard Sister Marie say. “Deep and slow..”

A hand - Porthos’ or hers - was rubbing circles across his back. It helped. Or maybe the pain simply lessened as he sat there and breathed.

Finally, he was able to lift his head and let Sister Marie inspect her work.

“Is it straight?” he asked, trepidation and the swelling making his voice sound strange.

Sister Marie smiled triumphantly.

“Good as new! Once the swelling goes down, that is. And you’ll have to be very careful!”

Porthos slapped Aramis’ shoulder - gently..

“You lucky bastard!

Aramis sighed in relief.

He still had a few unpleasant minutes to suffer through: Sister Marie stuffed both his nostrils with wool dipped into horsetail tincture, and Aramis didn’t know what was worse - the stink or the pain. Afterwards, she had him sit in his chair for an eternity, carefully cooling his swollen face with cold cloths. When his nose at least stopped swelling and the bleeding had stopped, she moved him to one of the beds and applied a thick layer of comfrey poultice to the bridge of his nose that dried out into a hard, itchy crust.

“It’ll peel off, and we will have to reapply it once or twice a day, depending on how good you are at lying still.”

Porthos frowned at her.

“He’ll have to stay in bed?”

“For a few days, yes. I want the bone to start growing back together before you move around again,” the nun explained, giving Aramis an encouraging pat on the leg. “And you’ll have to be extremely careful afterwards. No musketeering for you for a few weeks, I’m afraid.”

Aramis didn’t care. In bed, his head aching and his nose feeling twice its normal size, he was tired and grateful. He knew he was in for a lecture from Treville, and once Athos found out- Aramis swallowed. Athos was going to kill him. And he’d be the target of endless teasing from d’Artagnan.

None of that mattered now. Thanks to Sister Marie, he would not have to live with a disfigured face, although he knew he would probably deserve it. He’d learned his lesson this time. The next time a married woman - any woman - turned her head to smile at him, he would look the other way.

“I can’t thank you enough,” he said to Sister Marie, meaning it with all his heart. “You are a godsend!”

The nun nodded, rolling her eyes in playful reprimand.

“And you are a sinner, Aramis of the King’s Musketeers.” She chuckled. “But it seems even God is a little in love with your handsome face.”

(You can also read and comment on this story on AO3:)

[prose-for-hire]

Always and forever

Pairing: Buffy Summers x fem!reader

Request: Hi I love your writing , may I request a Female reader x Buffy where they go on a small date and the reader is clueless it's a date cause they're awkward and Buffy thinks it's cute 🥺💕

Requested by: Anon

A/N: I’m back writing (slowly, very slowly) and here with Buffy and a female reader no less – hope this is what you wanted anon !! 💜🖤

It started with a smile.

The first time you had met she had been entranced by your smile. She thought you were the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. You had become close friends, the type where you could tell the other everything. Everything except your feelings for the other.

Buffy had liked you for a long time, she had come out to you first telling you that she liked girls. You had smiled, tried your best to be encouraging – explaining that you had those feelings for other women too.

She was beyond pleased when she heard this, she had a crush on your for a long time, but she hadn’t told you this just yet. She was trying to work up the courage to say something. She was usually more self-assured but when it came to you, there was no margin for error. She couldn’t lose you.

It was no secret to your friends that you both had feelings for each other, having both separately confided to the others. You, slightly awkwardly to Willow and Tara one afternoon in the Magic Box when it was quiet). The witches just smiled at each other knowingly, having had a recent and very similar conversation with a certain slayer about her feelings for you.

But nobody had clued either of you in, it was better to let you both discover it yourselves, they decided.

It carried on like this, with the stolen glances you would take at any opportunity. As well as the laughter and the way you both appeared to light up when the other was around.

Until today. Today, was the day. Buffy had just woken up and decided life was too short. You had all just fought your way through an apocalypse and Buffy decided she didn’t want to face the end of the world again without you knowing the way she felt.

She found you in the Magic Box sorting through some scrolls. You worked there and had been left to man the store alone as everyone else had some really important things to be doing until later.

The bell rang at the front and you looked up, smiling when you saw who it was. Buffy. She was wearing a cute cami and you complimented it as soon as you saw it. You wanted to continue, complimenting every feature she had. Every sweet smile and her rosy cheeks after she fought a demon.

Buffy smiled, looking down slightly as she spoke. She was usually so forthright, so self-assured but with you it all melted away.

This was so important to her – you were so important to her. She decided to ask you on a date first, so you could feel out how you wanted to continue.

“You wanna Bronze it tonight?”

“Uh, yeah okay – I’ll ask the others”

“No, uh, you don’t have to. We can have a girls night – where the girls would b-be just us” She hinted, your face smiling softly as you became excited at the prospect of having her alone.

However, you hadn’t realised that you had actually just agreed to a date. You were quite black and white and she made you flustered at the best of times so because she hadn’t actually called it a date – you hadn’t realised that was what it was.

Nevertheless, you dressed up with her in mind. Your favourite outfit, one she had compliment before. You were so excited that she wanted to spend quality time to you but you never even considered she wanted to hold you the way you wished to hold her. Kiss her the way she wanted to kiss you. Or even call each other girlfriend in the way you both desperately wanted.

She smiled as you entered, she had already saved a table. She wouldn’t usually come so early but she had been so excited (and she knew if she went for a walk around the block to kill time she would run into some demon and instead become hideously late because she would get into a fight).

You were right on time, not wanting to miss a second with her. You slid into the seat opposite her. She slid the drink over to you that she had already ordered. You were surprised to note it was your favourite: she had remembered. As you reached for the cup, your hand brushed against hers.

You felt a heat rising in your cheeks as you looked down at the way your hands had touched even slightly. You moved your hand reluctantly and took a massive gulp of your drink for something to do. To distract yourself from thinking about how her hand would feel in yours. How you were sure her fingers were made to entwine perfectly with yours.

She smiled at the contact but moved when you did, pulling her arms to cross them on the table reluctantly. She watched your hand as you clutched the cup and took a drink, you complimented her choice telling her you couldn’t have ordered any better yourself. She was very proud of this, shrugging a little and doing that pleased little smile you loved.

You were friends, you hugged and showed affection but because it was a date she wished she could reach over and take your hand without having to think twice about it.

She started to talk, asking you about your day. Your interests and any hobbies you had been enjoying recently. But she was unsure if you were having second thoughts. She had been really excited when you had agreed to go out just you and her. But you seemed uncomfortable or at least, uninterested in her.

This wasn’t true. Not even a little bit. You were worried that you were showing your feelings too blatantly when you weren’t sure she felt the same. You overcompensated and so it came off the complete opposite of what you felt.

All of Buffy’s not-so-subtle hints had clearly been lost on you.

Eventually you warmed up, knowing you were close friends should be enough. You knew Buffy cared about you so it was odd that you weren’t being the same.

You shared drinks, the best food that the Bronze had to offer and you were even convinced to dance with her. She lit up so beautifully when you agreed to dance with her. The proximity almost left you reeling. You were afraid you would faint at how close to her you were. How she guided your hands to rest on her as you danced to a slower song together.

She told several men more than once that all of your dances were hers. Nobody questioned it, especially seeing as they knew who Buffy was and the amount of strength she had.

You grinned whispering your thanks, despite you still not quite figuring out her reason for being so blunt with everyone else. All you could focus on was how happy you were with her. Swaying against her slowly. The way her perfume clung to her and her hands grazed your lower back made you shiver.

You were feeling so many things at once and she would never know. Never know how much this moment meant to you. You wished that you could take a picture and keep it in a locket around your neck. Keep her by your side always.

At the end of a really nice night, you walked out together, her insisting on walking an extra thirty minutes out of her way to walk you to your house. She needed to make sure that you weren’t ambushed by something big and gross.

When you arrived at your home you turned to thank her for a fun time. You smiled, feeling a little more confident to express your feelings with your close friend and rubbed her upper arm softly. She smiled at the contact, feeling the usual glimmer of hope she would feel. Pleased that now you had been on a date, this meant she had been right. That you harboured affection back.

This, of course was true, but you still weren’t entirely aware that she felt this way despite every sign. As you turned to leave she stopped you gently, holding your hand and smiling. She took a deep breath before finally saying something she had wanted to say for such a long time.

“We could kiss y’know, what with the date… only if the whole romantic kiss-age thing is cool with you and not totally outdated”

“This was… a date?”

“Uh, well, only in the sense that we had food and prolonged eye contact” She said, dropping your hand softly and looking away. She was expecting you to let her down gently. She was starting to get embarrassed, she had put her heart on the line. It had been so long and the last thing she wanted was to lose you as a friend.

“I-I didn’t realise-”

“That’s okay. It’s really fine I’ll just go” She started to babble, her eyes widening slightly, “Hopefully the Hellmouth will swallow me up on the way home” she muttered starting to turn away.

“Don’t go! I’m sorry, I was just trying to figure out how I got so lucky” You grinned, finally able to find your words. You moved closer to her, both of your eyes glistening at the revelation. You moved slowly and she blinked slowly, anticipating the contact from your skin. You tucked a stray strand of her beautiful blonde hair behind her ear before cupping her cheek, “Can I still have that kiss?” You whispered, barely audible. It still didn’t feel real. You were walking on air.

You adored her. And to think she harboured anything close to how you felt about her. You were beyond giddy.

Your lips met, it was perfection. The perfect release. You emotions were heightened and the affection you had both harboured for so long poured between you freely for the first time. It was a revelation, her lips gliding against yours. She pulled you closer, deepening the kiss. She wanted to know every part of you. Her lips were so soft, almost addictive. She tasted so good.

The cold nipped at your exposed skin but neither of you noticed it. You were warm. Filled to the brim with love. With such wanting that could finally be fulfilled. You clung to each other, whispering affection and your feelings between kisses as you started to slow and pull away. You looked at each other and smiled. Laughing slightly. She held your hands, squeezing them. That had been the most beautiful kiss either of you had ever had. You never wanted to part.

But you knew now, deep within, that you would never have to.

Your place was by her side.

For always.

[the-fiction-witch]

The Lady of the Darkness

TV SHOW GAME OF THRONES

COUPLE JOJEN X READER

RATING SMUT

I stood apon the black sand shores of Ellinia, watching the flames rise higher then any house has ever stood.

"All things in the world may fall. All things in this world shall end. No matter how high, how strong, all shall fall back to the earth" my mother said her voice echoing across the beach, "all light ends. And is to be followed by darkness"

"Darkness shall always remain" everyone spoke

"Darkness shall always be." She said

"Darkness shall always be" everyone repeated

"The Lady of Darkness reins"

"The Lady of Darkness reins!"

"Let them return to the darkness" she said and as she did the flames where extinguished.

No flames.

No glow.

No lights but the stars in the sky.

No sounds but the washing of water on sand.

There was a sudden sharp intake of breath.

"Welcome to the darkness" my mother spoke lighting a torch to better see whoever it was that had returned to us. It was a solider boy as it often was, he was someone from a war with wounds across his skin

"Where... Where am I?" He asked in panic "what's going on? What is this place?" He asked

"Welcome to Ellinia, here take her. The ritual is not complete into your soul realigns with your body" she smirked handing elizibethen to him she giggled and tugged him along to the castle

"All of you, hurry home." She says so everyone nodded and headed back to the castle, I staied watching the sea meet the sand, watching it move and wash away the sands.

"Why do you stare into the darkness?" My mother asked "does it frightened you my child?"

"No, it calls for me"

"The darkness always will call to you my child. You are of the darkness, you are to be a queen of Ellinia, to be with the darkness and the lady's voice apon our shores, you shall be the lady's truest form... Of course the darkness calls to you my child. It so home" she explained fixing my hair "the moon is right. Tomorrow shall be for you" she says kissing my head "ready yourself"

"I shall mother" I nodded taking the skirt of my dress and hurrying back up to the castle.

I stood on the shore my bare feet in the sand my dress against the water feeling the waves lap at my feet the flames rising high into the sky to the tallest tower of the castle.

"All things in the world may fall. All things in this world shall end. No matter how high, how strong, all shall fall back to the earth" I said said in as loud a voice as I could "all light ends. And is to be followed by darkness"

"Darkness shall always remain" everyone spoke

"Darkness shall always be." I said

"Darkness shall always be" everyone repeated

"The Lady of Darkness reins"

"The Lady of Darkness reins!"

"Lady of darkness, this daughter seeks what the darkness promised her, to be the voice, the vision of the lady, queen of all Ellinia. We beg her truest to be brought to her her light to her Darkness" my mother called out

"Let them return to the darkness" I said, and the lights went out.

No stars tonight, no moon, this was as dark as the world could ever get, I stood watching the water when suddenly I heard the gasp of air, the splashing of water. My mother lit a torch and came to me and I saw in the water a boy lashing out searching desperately for something to hold onto something to prevent the sea from swallowing him

"Please! Help! Someone help!" He called out my mother took his hand and brought him to the sand "what.... Where am I? What is this place? What's happened to me! What's going on! Please!" He screamed desperately looking around

"Welcome to Ellinia" I smiled to him "take him, I wish to stay moments more" I said everyone began to leave guards taking the boy away and I smiled watching the sea

"Go to him princess, he needs to be with you, his body might be lying in your chambers but his soul... May still be with the waves. You need to be with him princess, your souls are to be with each other. Go to him, make him your own" she says

"Is that how every princess does it?"

"Every princess before you, are you frightened?" She asks

"No, not scared... Excited"

"Then go to him princess"

"I shall. I shall see you at breakfast tomorrow mother" I said

"Do not rush yourselves. I shall see you when I see you" she smiled

"Yes mother" I laughed she gave my head a kiss and I walked the long walk up the sand and the rocks walk all the way to the castle and going up to my tower, and to my chamber.

I smiled as I reached my chamber, and saw the boy from the water his clothes how dry sat on my bed still searching for what was going on.

"Please miss, what's happening? What's going on? Where am I?" He asked

"What's your name?" I asked him going to my table

"Ohh.... Uhh... I uhhh..."

"It's alright if you don't remember" I said pouring two glasses of the sweet wine

"No, no I remember. My name's Jojen of house reed, son of hallon Reed, heir to the greywater watch, marsh men, defenders of the neck the southern most point of the north, sworn to house stark of winterfell" he explained

"Ooh. That's an awfully long name" I giggled going over kneeling on the bed offering him a cup "would you mind if I just called you jojen?"

"No, no that uhh that's fine" he nods

"Drink, you must be ever so thirsty"

"Thank you" he nods taking the cup and having a sip "May I ask your name?"

"Y/n. Or would you like my long name as well?"

"If you have one"

"Princess y/n y/l/n. Heir to be empress of all Ellinia, named lady of the darkness"

"Forgive me, princess. I didn't know" he says moving away from me

"You have no need to apologise" I giggled

"Forgive me princess but... I do not know this name. Nor do I know of a place named Ellinia?"

"Well I have never heard of a house called reed, or stark, or a greywater"

"Greywater is a place, princess"

"Oh. I see. This place is called Ellinia. The kingdom of darkness, we are an island far from anywhere, the goddess let's some who pass on, come back, reborn on the black sand, and tonight was my day of darkness, to take the darkness truley and to become the lady and to be given that which matches me"

"What?"

"Everyone on this world, has someone that matches, someone the goddess made perfect for them" I smiled "we asked the lady to give that who is meant to return and that... Meant you"

"Me- princess I... I died I had my time, I passed from this world doing as I was meant to do. I never planned to return much less a whole new place and time,"

"And you have been returned, to be my prince"

"Your- your prince. My- my lady" he stuttered "I could not im-"

"You where gifted to me. And I'd be happy to be with you, unless you wouldn't like me?"

"I would my princess. But I uhh I fear I would not be of good use to a woman, much less a princess"

"Have you... Never been with a woman before?"

"Never" he blushed "where I uhh where I come from, men and women do not... Lie together unless married well they don't, if once is a lady, or a princess."

"But we must"

"We must?"

"Yes we must, we cannot be princess and prince until it is done"

"Like... A bedding ceremony?"

"Bedding?" I asked

"Uuummm... They make love once there married"

"Oh, here we love, and then marry" I smiled "and we must when reborn. Bodies can be birthed by the darkness would returned by the water and the black sand, sometimes... The soul doesn't go to the body" I smiled taking the cup from him and pushing him gently so he laid down on my bed "the body washes on the shore, meets the sand and... The soul is left swimming, they need to be joined, made sure both have returned" I smiled as he was now flat on my bed looking at me sheepishly as I smirked excitedly egar for this experience as I tugged tenderly at the strings that bound him

"How do you do that?" He blushed as I finished untieing them so I smiled and undid my dress letting it fall leaving me naked, he bit on his lip looking at me as excited as I felt "you- you are unmeasurably beautiful princess"

"How would you know, never been with a woman before" I giggled

"Maybe not, but I know beauty" he smiled "so... How do you do it?"

"Of course you can make sure the body, and soul are connected by" I smiled slipping my hand under his pants meeting his hard cock "By touching the sky" I smiled kissing his soft lips, he kissed back reacting already to my hand "and to save time, and... Humm your stamina, I shall also make my prince my own" I smiled tugging off his shirt he egarly helped me and sat up trying to kiss me

"I would be honored my princess"

"Good" I smiled moving to sit over him I took him fully in my hand feeling his hardness I moved making him stand tall and I moved to hover over him I blushed a little bitting my mouth as I moved down feeling him press against me

"Uumm" he gasped holding my hips I moved still feeling him slip an inch inside me

"Uhh" I gasped feeling already like he was streching me

"Uuuummmm.." he groans watching me, I moved more, struggling not to moan, but I knew I had to keep going moving down and down until I met his hips "uughhhh uuuuhhhhh! Princess" he groans

"Uhhhh, you feel so big inside me" I moaned resting my hands on him

"Uughhh! You feel so heavenly my princess!" He moans "please... Please... My princess,"

"What is it jojen?"

"Please... I'm so close already"

"Already?" I giggled

"I have never known even the touch of a woman, much less one as beautiful as you" he says "I am in awe. And desperation"

"Then I can hardly leave you this way" I smiled gently moving my hips

"Ughhh! UUUUUUUUUUHHHHH! Ughhh!" He groans

"Uummmm ughh! Jojen" I groaned bouncing myself faster and faster,

"Uuuuuuughhh!! Y/n! My princess!"

"Ahhhhh! Uughhh!" I sqeauled hitting my wall so soon but I wasn't surprised with him inside me, I squeezed him tightly around me and

"uhhh! Princess! Uughhhh uuuuhhhhh uughhh! My princess!" He moaned loudly his eyes rolling back and he bit his lip hard and I felt him shoot his seed deep inside me "I'm so sorry my princess"

"Why?"

"I disappointed you"

"You'd never disappoint me my prince" I smiled giving his lips a kiss

"But I... So early"

"To be expected the first night" I smiled

"Then atleast, allow me to pleasure my princess"

"Your princess is pleasured enough for one night" I smiled giving him a kiss and climbing off him laying my head on his chest "welcome to Ellinia Jojen"

"I rather think I'll like it here" he smiled cuddling me too, I smiled and ran my fingers across his chest as we cuddle up kissing and talking all about his world and his life before he died all while we cuddled and kissed between the sheets.

[theseshipsshallsail]

There’s a new club in the Village - Infinity emblazoned in bright, neon letters - and naturally, the building is jam-packed with society’s outcasts on its opening weekend. Oliver grimaces, pressing his third beer to the side of his face, yet the condensation does nothing to soothe his overheated skin. It’s like a furnace of writhing bodies, and with every bead of sweat that bisects his neck to soak into his collar, he can’t help but wonder why he ever agreed to come in the first place.  

“Drink up,” Vanessa says, brandishing a bright amber concoction as she slides into the booth opposite him. “You look like you need something a little stronger.”  

Oliver raises an eyebrow as he returns the bottle to the table, then plucks the wedge of orange peel from the rim of the proffered glass. It’s been three years since he tasted a negroni, and the potent combination of gin, Campari, and vermouth sends his mind reeling in directions he usually fights tooth and nail to avoid. 

“Remind me again why you brought me here?” he asks, trying not to wince at the bitter aftertaste. “This isn’t exactly my scene.”

Vanessa scoffs. “Well, if you ever left your study...”

“I’m up for promotion!”

“You’ll be up for an ulcer if you don’t slow down. Besides, you deserve to let loose after... you know.”

You know, meaning his divorce, and the eighteen month shit-storm that preceded it.

Vanessa has the office next to his, and in between general grousing about University politics they’ve become close friends. It helps, of course, that she understands his situation all too well, and even though her parents never tried to strong-arm her to the altar, she and her girlfriend still have to hide their relationship from the rest of their colleagues.

Oliver sighs as he takes a second sip of his drink. “It’ll take more than a one night stand to loosen me up,” he tells her, and the filthy smirk that curls Vanessa’s lips has him tempted to bang his forehead against the table.

“Whatever tickles your pickle, Professor.”

“Why do I put up with you?”

“Hell if I know.” Slurring somewhat, she taps their cocktails together, and Oliver laughs as she leans forward, poking him in the chest. “Listen, Ollie, you and Micol did a spectacular job of making yourselves miserable, but at least you stayed faithful ‘til the end. Why not enjoy yourself, yeah?” 

“Why not indeed?” 

He’s aiming for sarcastic, yet his tone falls somewhere short of exhausted. She’s right, he realises, but Oliver hasn’t had much interest in men or women for a while. He’s not so deep in denial to admit his heart still belongs to another, and being hopelessly in love with someone he can’t have has done a real number on his libido.

“Damn! This place is heaving!” Simone says, slumping in her seat when she returns from the bathroom. Slinging an arm around Vanessa’s shoulder she drops a quick kiss to her cheek, and Oliver averts his eyes, the casual intimacy leaving him yearning for the impossible. “A few too many student-types for my liking, though. Makes me feel like I’m back in the theatre department.”

“Makes me feel like I’m pushing thirty,” Oliver mutters, painfully aware of the significantly younger crowd as he tugs at the cheap material of his shirt. Too many curries and not enough exercise has made him self-conscious of the few extra pounds at his waistline, and depressingly, twenty-eight feels ancient in comparison. 

“You wanna call it a night?” Vanessa asks, and Oliver nods absently as his gaze catches on a couple in the middle of the dancefloor. 

Caught in a world of their own, they make a striking picture. The taller of the pair is bleached-blond and athletic, his arms wrapped tightly around the slim waist of the man in front of him in a surprisingly protective gesture. Oliver can’t see his partner clearly from this angle, but his skin is pale and shimmering as they move to the beat, dark curls falling in a tousled mess. Whether it’s by artful design or sweat-damp from dancing, he can’t quite tell, yet Oliver is hypnotized by the way they bounce as he loses himself to the music, obscuring his vision until the other man reaches forward, gently brushing them away.  

The bass pounds in his rib cage, and Oliver’s throat feels constricted as he watches the brunette link his hands behind his lover's neck. Profile half in shadows, he raises up on tiptoes to whisper in the shell of his ear, and Oliver experiences a crisis of tenderness when he butts their temples together. Something squirms in his stomach. Something raw and envious. Memories flare, unfair and brutal, and he immediately blames the burning of his retinas on the relentless assault of the strobe lights surrounding them. 

“Oliver? You okay?”

No. 

Definitely not.

The jostling crowd causes the blond to alter their position, and Oliver’s head spins from more than just the alcohol as his blood runs cold in his veins. 

“Elio…” he murmurs, vaguely aware of Vanessa’s stifled gasp when she tries to get a better look.

“Your Elio?”

He wants it not to be - wants his eyes to be deceiving him - yet there’s no denying the truth. All that he’s forgotten - all that he’s clung to - coalesces in a rush of unslaked longing, and between one blink and the next, Oliver remembers everything. 

“Not anymore,” he whispers, but then, why would he be? 

Elio was seventeen when they first met, and Oliver isn’t naive enough to think he hasn’t fallen in and out of love many times since then. He’s beautiful, intelligent, talented beyond measure. Was he really so arrogant to imagine he would still be single? Pining for him, maybe? Saving himself? And for what? A six week romance one too-hot Italian summer? Something his cowardice cut short with a long-distance phone call?

He was, wasn’t he?

Arrogant. 

And so very stupid.

“Of all the gay bars in all the world…” Vanessa takes a swig of her piña colada as he continues to spiral. “I thought you said he lived in Italy?” 

“He did,” Oliver replies, picking at his thumbnail. “He moved here for school.”

“And you didn't contact him?”

“To say what?” His ears ring from the shrillness of her tone. “Hey, Elio. Remember that time I broke both our hearts ‘cause I’m a gutless schmuck? How about I buy you a coffee to make up for it?”

“It would’ve been a start.”

“It would’ve been selfish,” he says, tearing his eyes away. “He has enough on his plate with Juilliard. I’d only get in the  -”

“Juilliard?” Simone’s low whistle interrupts his self-reproach. “Impressive.”

“Son of a professor,” Oliver explains. “I always knew he was a genius.” He gathers himself with a quiet huff. “Though he’ll probably say he knows nothing.” The spark of nostalgia is crippling, and it takes everything he has not to break down on the spot. “I should go,” he says, draining the remains of his drink as he rises to his feet. 

“Oliver -”

“Why don’t you come back to ours?” Vanessa offers, making to follow, but whatever expression is on his face causes Simone to catch her by the wrist.

“We’re here if you need us, alright?”

“I know,” he says, eternally grateful for their support as he pushes some cab money into her hand. “Get home safe. I’ll call you in the morning, okay?”

“You’d better,” Vanessa tells him, obstinate in her concern, yet all he can focus on right now is leaving.

The swirling thoughts inside his head are all-consuming, but Oliver is determined to reign in his emotions for a little while longer. Ignoring the way his shoes stick to the tacky vinyl flooring, he grits his teeth as he snakes his way through the crush of humanity. He needs space. Fresh air. Hell, a damn time machine wouldn’t go amiss. He has nobody to blame but himself, and he’s halfway to the exit sign when his pace grinds to a halt, his masochistic streak unable to resist one last glimpse. 

A flash of irrational panic makes him breathe in deep - hold it for a count of three - and when he turns to scan the roiling bodies that fill up the dance floor, he finds them immediately. The shock doesn’t lessen, and if Oliver thought his heart had broken when they’d clung to one another on a train station platform, it’s naught compared to when Elio tips the other man’s chin up with the same fingers that used to play his body like a finely tuned instrument. White noise fills his ears as he ghosts a kiss to his lips - two chaste pecks at first - and then harder. Hungry. Mouths open. Tongues swirling. Deep and dirty. 

Just the way he likes it.

Fool that he is, Oliver doesn’t turn away. But he’s not the only one. Their bawdy display has garnered a small audience of the jealous and horny, and when the cat-calls eventually die down he notices a clearly disappointed red-head stalk past them on route to her table of friends. 

Time has not domesticated him, it seems, and Oliver feels like crying as the world returns frame by frame - the oscillating pulse of the dance track. The lightning burst of colour from the laser system above. An innate sense of powerlessness floods through him - the depths of which he hasn’t experienced since Elio sobbed against his chest in an attic bedroom - and a heavy weight settles in his belly as he recognises the cues and rituals that were once directed at him alone. 

Elio has obviously flourished in his absence. His body language is looser, more relaxed, assured in a way his younger self could only dream of, and Oliver allows an almost-smile as the couple laugh for a moment before turning to walk away. 

His fingers itch for a cigarette - a habit he’s struggling to waive - and the next thing he knows he’s taking a seat at the bar, a double shot of bourbon in his hand he doesn’t remember ordering, and a screaming admonishment from his better judgement to not do anything stupid. 

All I had to do was find the courage to reach out and touch, Elio said once, rife with self-mockery, and Oliver’s advice was to try again later. Was this it? Their later? And if not now, when? Because whatever his feelings of bitterness - whatever his misguided envy - if he lets this opportunity pass him by, he will always wonder. Always look. 

In truth, he already does. 

Ever since Samuel mentioned Elio was moving to the States, he’s carried the idle fantasy of crossing paths in some random book store, eyes locking across a busy street, a name - his, theirs, both - shouted across a bustling coffee shop. Of all eventualities, though, he hasn’t prepared for an Elio who might not be happy to see him. Who might dismiss him. Cast him aside like some ill-fitting chapter in the editing process. The context is all wrong, and for it to happen like this is akin to being plunged into the icy waters of the berm.

“Accidenti!” an achingly familiar voice says from somewhere behind him. “Are all Americans incapable of taking a hint? Or is it just an East Coast thing?”

“It’s the accent, mio amico. Fries their brains.”

“Never mind their brains,” Elio replies in the same lazy drawl. “I think you’ve sprained my tonsils.”

There’s a snicker to his left, and like a moth to a flame, Oliver peers up into the mirror behind the bar, only to find his living nightmare mere meters away, sharing a cigarette. Elio’s still wearing the same bracelets he did that summer, and three years of sleepwalking collapses around him as Oliver hunches over, palms sweating. 

“Seriously though,” the blond continues. “Look at this place! Wall-to-wall entreés, and you won’t so much as skim the menu. You’re spoiled for choice, compagno.”

Elio scoffs as he brings the filter to his lips. “Didn’t I tell you choice is an illusion?”

“As is time, according to Adams.” The man slings an arm over his shoulders. “And here you are, free as a bird, wasting the perfect opportunity.” 

Elio flips him the middle finger. “Stronzo,” he says, leaving Oliver more confused than ever as he studies him over the rim of his glass. “It’s a curse.”

“Self-inflicted, maybe.”

“So what’s the answer? And don’t say forty-two.”

The guy chuckles. “Variety,” he says, signalling the harried bartender. “Things didn’t work out with the violinist - I get it. È la vita! You’re not in the mood for pushy red-heads? Fine. But don’t sell yourself short. Trust Fund Tina’s not the only one checking you out.”

“Perhaps.”

“What perhaps?” A knowing smirk shoots in Oliver’s direction. “See for yourself.”

It’s like experiencing the first tremor of an earthquake. Elio was always a force of nature, and bracing for disaster, Oliver feels the fault lines buckle beneath him. He thought he was done letting fear and shame dictate his life, yet even now, at peace with his true self, he can’t bear to witness the seismic shift between past and present. Instead, he falls back on avoidance, tearing strips off a frayed beer mat until the hair prickles at his nape.

He can feel it - the instant his fate is sealed - and taking a deep breath Oliver returns his eyes to the mirror, meeting Elio’s stunned features. Dark brows climb towards his hairline as the happiness on his face shifts into something else. Something measured. Unrecognisable. A blank slate, almost. For a moment, Oliver fears he’s going to ignore him completely, but then Elio straightens his spine, offers the half-smoked cigarette to his friend, and with a few whispered words strides forward with purpose.

His daring is a law unto himself, but the look he’s giving him now exudes superiority - omniscience, almost - as if he can read every thought that’s going on inside Oliver’s mind, and has already deemed them wanting. It shouldn’t be such a turn on, yet his heart skips a beat regardless. Then another. Every instinct in his body tells him to reach out, to hold Elio’s hand, tuck those wild curls behind his ear, but it’s no longer his place - if it ever really was to begin with - so Oliver takes a deliberate sip of his whiskey, scared and aroused simultaneously, before swivelling towards him.

“Oliver.” His name on Elio’s lips - three smooth syllables - and he feels reborn. “Long time no see.” Hesitating, he offers up a pack of Luckies. “Fumo?”

“I shouldn’t,” he says, dragging trembling fingers through his hair. “I told myself I’d quit. God knows it won't take much to -” 

“Tempt you?” 

Heat rises to Oliver’s cheeks. “Yes,” he admits, and Elio’s smile is a shallow, brittle thing. 

“Well, you know yourself,” he says, returning the cigarette carton to his pocket. “Don’t let me ruin your good intentions.”

His flippancy is like a red rag to a bull, and Oliver’s hackles rise as he sets his drink on the counter, irritated enough by Elio’s calm exterior to try and provoke a reaction. “Is your boyfriend not the jealous type?” 

All he receives is an eye roll. “Bruno’s not my boyfriend.”

“Could’ve fooled me. From what I saw earlier.”

“You saw nothing,” Elio replies, defensive. “We’re friends. Roommates.”

“Roommates?” Rising from his stool, Oliver takes a step towards him. “That kiss -” 

“Is none of your business. Not anymore.” 

It hits him like a punch to the gut. Oliver’s lips part, but no sound passes between them. He’s being irrational, he’ll accept, but old habits die hard, and through sheer force of will he quashes down his guilt, knowing better than to use it as a weapon. 

“Of course,” he says, chastened. “You’re right.” 

“I usually am.” 

“Elio…” This isn’t how he wants the conversation to go. “I know it’s too much to expect your forgiveness, but please don’t be angry with me. We were friends, once. Before anything else.”

“I’m not angry.” A beat. “Not anymore.” Tipping his chin, Elio folds his arms in front of him. One more barrier despite the brush-off. “I’m processing.“

“Processing?”

“Yes, processing. Originates from the Old French proces. Related to the Latin processus, and from the verb procedere in Middle English.”

“Wise ass.”

“Sempre.” Elio shrugs, watching him openly. “What are you doing here, Oliver?”

“My friends saw the flyers,” he says, bypassing the here, specifically, when Elio’s attention drops a few inches lower, and he realises he’s staring at his ring finger.

At the white line that’s all but vanished since he signed his way to freedom.

“You’re…”

Oliver clears his throat. “Divorced,” he manages, shuffling his feet. “Almost three months now.”

“Divorced?” Elio’s mask slams back into place, the distress in his voice palpable. “Why?”

And there are so many things he could say to that - the stress of his job, money, differing expectations - but this is Elio. His first love. His forever love. He, above anyone, deserves the truth. 

“I think you know why.”

“Do I?” That same phony indifference. “What the eyes see, and the ears hear, the mind believes.” 

“The truth is never that simple.”

“Not for us, it seems. Not in this world.” Elio gives his head a small but firm shake, blowing out a frustrated breath. “You know, tonight was supposed to lower my stress levels, not raise them,” he says, granting them a temporary reprieve. “But then, you always were hazardous to my blood pressure.”

“Trust me. The feeling’s mutual,” Oliver tells him wryly. “Might I recommend some deep breaths?”

“Deep breaths?” Elio rocks back on his heels. “If I had any peaches I’d be using my right hand.”

It catches him unawares, and Oliver can't help it. He snorts. Overcome by relief. Then he laughs - a weak sound, and damn near helpless - but a laugh, nonetheless. Cupping a palm to his mouth. Moving it to his eyes. Feeling the tears he’s been fighting since this whole debacle began.

“My God you’re incorrigible,” he mutters, the sharp stab of regret cutting him to the core as he glances over his shoulder, and the blond - Bruno - shoots him a wink. “When you said I saw nothing...”

The hesitant curve of Elio’s smile lights a fire in his chest. “There was a girl on the dance floor who wouldn’t take no for an answer. Lucky for me, Bruno’s never been shy about putting on a convincing performance.” 

Oliver winces. “Well, I bought it.”

“Mission accomplished, then.” Elio edges closer. “I could’ve said the same for you, once upon a time.” The air between them grows charged. “Do you ever miss it?” he asks. “Italy, I mean?”

“Every single day.” Oliver finds himself captivated by the smattering of stubble along Elio’s jawline. The touch of smudged kohl beneath his lashes that turns his gaze smouldering. “Do you?”

“In a way.”

“Just a way?” He’s not entirely certain they’re talking about the same thing, and Vanessa’s advice seems all the more pertinent. “Let me buy you a coffee?” Oliver asks, and Elio frowns.

“What? Now?”

“If you like.” 

“It’s gone midnight!” 

“Tomorrow, then. Whenever you’re available.” Suddenly desperate, he closes the gap between them. “I can’t excuse my actions, Elio - I know I can’t - but at the very least I owe you an explanation.”

“Oliver...” This time it’s Elio who reaches out, his usually steady hands uncertain as they entwine with his. “I was young, not stupid. What’s there to forgive? You left because you had to. You married because -”

“I was weak.”

“Cazatte!” The tension in Elio’s body snaps back like a coil. “My father would have carted me off to a correctional facility,” he murmurs, squeezing his fingers tightly. “I’ll never forget those words.” 

“I’m sorry...”

“Don’t be!” Elio sounds furious on his behalf. “Weak, you say? No. Control over others is the true weakness. Coercion. Conformity. All it does is breed hatred. And that’s not you. Not my Oliver.” 

“Am I still?” he asks, laying his cards out on the table. “Your Oliver?”

“I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?” 

Oliver swallows thickly. “I guess we will,” he says, dropping his forehead to Elio’s crown.

He’s braver at twenty-one than Oliver could have dared imagine, and for the first time in years the dull ache beneath his ribs is replaced by a different sort of craving. The way they fit together so easily, like no time has passed, fans the banked passions within him - the desire to press his lips against Elio’s neck, to nip his way along countless freckles until he can fist those unruly curls and guide his mouth back to where it belongs. 

Flush against his. 

Devouring.

But not yet.

This isn’t leading to sex. Not tonight. This is about reconciliation. Reassurance. Redemption.

“There’s a late-night diner on the corner…”

It’s a whisper against his cheek - so quiet he barely hears it - and Oliver leans down, pressing his face to Elio’s collarbone, breathing him in. He knows this won’t be easy - knows there will be dark clouds before the dawn - yet here they are, older and wiser, and three years might as well be yesterday as the parting crowds provide a temporary island in which to weather the storm.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Shaw’s Exorcism Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

Note: This date was translated by @redqueenschoice! It’s on my blog because she doesn’t want to put individual translations on hers...

Shaw’s Qixi Collection: Date ♡ / Call 1 / Call 2 / Event / Special Call

Check out Victor’s date (by @lucienism) and Kiro’s date (by @skyholders​) too! A lot of effort has been put in by these three lovely humans T^T💕 Do send them lots of love!!

On the night of Qixi, I had a terrible encounter and happened to be saved by Shaw. In order to repay the favour afterwards, I promised to run errands for him for seven days. Very soon, the seven days are coming to an end…

~

The crescent moon reminiscent of a bow hangs in the sky, the canopy of the heavens are painted pitch black. The little starlight that filters through the dense canopy of the forest scatters, and a line of men make their way through the mountain’s forest in a hurry, the swords on their waists still red with fresh blood.

A drop of blood falls onto the surface of a leaf, before it is trodden underfoot all of a sudden.

MC: Ahh…

Bandit Leader: Tell me the truth!

My head was harshly hit, and I let out a weak, muffled cry through the cloth stuffed in my mouth.

The image of my family’s pitiful state right before the moments of their deaths surface in my mind again, and my throat tightens, both my heart and mind unable to move on from the tumultuous upheaval in my life.

It was only supposed to be a trip to the neighbouring village to visit some relatives. How had it come to this?

Bandit Leader: The ones we’ve gone after the last few days weren’t lacking in anything, huh? Hiding so many goods…

Bandit Underling: That’s right. Especially this young girl here, she’s still young and healthy.

Bandit Underling One: Boss, before we sell her off, how about we… ehehe.

Upon hearing his perverted words and laughter, I start thrashing about in a panic, but the ropes wound tightly around my wrists and ankles just won’t budge no matter how hard I pull. Tears stain the blindfold over my eyes and I stretch my hands towards my waist, getting ready to put up a fight with everything I have - I’d rather die than be disgraced in such a way.

At this moment, however, he is interrupted by another low voice.

Bandit Underling Two: That’s enough. You can make merry anytime you like, but in this instance, it’s better for us to hurry and get on our way. I heard these woods aren’t to be trusted at night, and there are rumours that monsters come out at night.

Bandit Underling One: Big Brother, aren’t you a little too believing of these old folk tales? Where on earth would there be demons, and even if there were, I’m not scared of them!

Note from Red: and here, ladies and gentlemen, is the beginning to every horror movie ever

A cocky laugh leaves his lips, but the second he does, the surroundings in all four directions abruptly fall silent.

All of a sudden, a long, piercing cry rips the still night in two.

The sound is delightful to the ears, yet it is striking enough to tear through the haze - upon hearing it once, it would be irreversibly carved into one’s heart.

I only feel my body sway for a moment, but in the blink of an eye, I find myself shoved down onto the ground. The second my shoulder collides with the wet, slippery dirt, I hear the bandits’ terrified shouts flying to and fro above my head.

Bandits: Mon… Monster!!!

The snarl of a predator beast, the metallic hiss of a blade being unsheathed, frantic and hurried footsteps… followed by bloodcurdling screams.

The chaos and what I experienced a few hours ago are far too similar, the same sounds echoing inside my head until they slowly fade away to nothing.

I cannot see anything in front of me, and can only smell the faint scent of blood mixed with that of the cool forest suffusing my nose.

At this moment, footsteps gradually approach me.

I hold my breath, and feel cold sweat slowly trickling down my back.

Who is it? Did one of the bandits survive?

Or is it… the monster?

The owner of those footsteps stop before me, and a strong hand pulls me up from the ground.

The person lifts up my bangs and a fingertip meets my forehead, the ice cold sensation making me shiver.

Mystery Man: Hah.

He seems to have no intention of loosening my bindings, a peculiar silence filling the space between me and the nameless man before me. With the blindfold over my eyes, my senses of hearing and touch are my only links with the external world.

His breathing is very light, but with each exhale that leaves his mouth, I sense undeniable danger in the air. I can feel his gaze, like that of a wild predator surveying its prey, as if he would sink his fangs into me in the next second.

MC: Mmn!

Terrified, I duck my head away from him, trying to avoid his touch. Instead, I hear a short laugh coming from the person in front of me.

Mystery Man: Fine. Since you don’t want me to save you, just wait here on your own, then.

With these words, the heated breaths across my cheeks vanish and the man seems to disappear into thin air, leaving no trace. My surroundings are completely silent once again.

He left?

I don’t dare to confirm it myself, waiting where he left me for a moment. Once the sound of birds and chirping of crickets returns to the area, I let out a breath of relief and begin to move once again.

Since I was under constant scrutiny of the bandits, I didn’t dare to do this earlier. Now that there’s no one in the vicinity, I can finally reach for the small knife I had secretly strapped to my waist.

This is the last thing my parents, who died earlier this year, left me to defend myself with.

I carefully feel around for the handle of the blade, wrapping my fingers around it. Because I can’t see and my movements are restricted, the tip of the blade ends up nicking my skin a few times. Gritting my teeth, I bear the pain and work on severing my bindings.

Note from Red: guys this is the mc we need but don’t deserve-

When I finally pull off the blindfold around my eyes, I see that the moon has already moved considerably towards the west.

Apart from the goods the bandits had been carrying with them earlier, I don’t see anyone else when I glance about.

MC: Did those people… really get eaten?

At the thought of the danger I experienced earlier, and might still be in, I couldn’t care less about the injuries littering my body, and force myself to my feet with the support of a tree branch, preparing to leave the forest as fast as I can.

The mountain paths are confusing and complicated, and I feel like I’ve been wandering around in circles for awhile when I finally hear the sound of running water coming from nearby.

MC: That’s great! If there’s water, that means I can clean my wounds!

I hobble towards the source of the sound slowly, but just as I’m pushing through the underbrush, a sound suddenly rings out through the air, causing me to freeze where I stand in fear.

Mystery Man: Don’t panic, everyone has a share.

It’s the voice of that man from earlier!

Before I can react, there’s the sound of flapping wings in the distance, taking my attention with it. Several strangely shaped skeletal birds flap over, and from their shrill, clamorous cries, it sounds as if they’re begging for food from someone.

I turn my head, only to see a young man casually lounging in a rowboat on the surface of a pool, next to a grove of trees. In his hand is a bunch of evening primroses. Under the light of the night sky, their petals give off a gentle glow.

The young man’s long legs are crossed, golden eyes half narrowed lazily as he looks at me. His expression is leisurely and indolent, and I see the petal of an evening primrose held casually between his teeth.

If I hadn’t encountered him in such an unusual circumstance, in the depths of a mountain forest, perhaps I would have thought he was the pampered young master of a rich merchant or businessman.

Mystery Man: Oh, that sentence wasn’t quite right. It should have been ‘every bird has a share’.

As if the skeletal birds can understand what he’s saying, they let out noisy chirps before obediently taking the petals from his hand one by one. The second the petals leave his palm, they dissolve into puffs of black smoke being swallowed up instantly by the skeletal birds.

Mystery Man: Today’s haul wasn’t too bad, there’s so much evil energy about, there’s enough for all of you to gorge yourselves on for a long time…

Mystery Man: Oi, you little idiot at the back, I caught you! Be a bit more honest, you’re not allowed to cut the queue…

Skeletal Bird: Squawk squawk?

Mystery Man: What did you say? Why didn’t I swallow up that little lady from earlier?

Mystery Man: Come on, do I really seem like a scoundrel who doesn’t take proper care of women… yeah, I am.

Trivia from Red: The word ‘scoundrel’ was translated from is the negative of a Chinese idiom 怜香惜玉, meaning a gentleman who takes care of the fairer sex. Shaw referred to himself as someone unlike a gentleman, so that’s how I translated it.

Skeletal Bird: Squawk!

Mystery Man: [clicks his tongue] I was just playing around a little. After I feed the lot of you, I’ll go back and save her, is that cool with you?

At hearing his words, I secretly make a face in his direction, muttering under my breath.

MC: I didn’t need you to save me… I got out on my own...

A skeletal bird suddenly caws in my direction. The young man’s eyes narrow instantly, the light in his eyes intensifying to something swift and fierce, before he turns his gaze right in my direction.

Mystery Man: Whoever’s there, come out.

I’ve been found out!

Note from Red: She, in fact, had been found out.

I subconsciously take a step back, but all of a sudden, the injury on my leg flares up with immense pain. My body loses balance all at once, and I find myself pitching backwards before I know what’s happening.

MC: Ah!

Note from Red: MC then proceeds to black out in typical otome heroine fashion… but let’s cut her some slack she was cool here T^T

I drift in the darkness, countless strange dreams blending together and surfacing before my eyes. One moment it’s the leering grin of the bandits, the next it’s the cawing of the skeletal birds I saw earlier. But the final thing is the long, piercing cry I heard in the forest.

When my eyes blink open, I find myself in an unfamiliar room.

It’s a perfectly normal looking bedroom, and the sheets under me are fresh and clean. Somewhere, I can hear the sounds of a vendor selling his goods and the voices of kids peddling flowers drifting in from outside the window.

Everything is so peaceful, it’s as if everything I experienced before has just been nothing but a dream.

MC: Where exactly am I…

Mystery Man: You finally decided to wake up.

A young man dressed in purple appears at the door in the blink of an eye. Startled, I sit up as fast as possible in shock.

MC: Who are you!?

At my question, he leans against the doorframe casually, and after seeing my expression, the corner of his lips turn up in a smirk.

Mystery Man: What are you being so on edge for? I’m the benefactor who saved your life, you know.

MC: What benefactor, I clearly saw you on that lake earlier…

Mystery Man: You’ve had some entertaining dreams.

Note from Red: o k a y shaw

MC: Huh?

Mystery Man: You, little lady, fainted in the wilderness in the nearby mountains. If I hadn’t just happened to be passing by and decided to do a good deed, there’s no guarantee you wouldn’t have been eaten up by a demon.

What he’s saying doesn’t match up with what I remember, but the way he speaks so smoothly with absolute confidence makes it hard for me to doubt his words, and for a moment I question my own memories.

Could the glowing primroses I saw by the lake… and the skeletal birds… all been some sort of strange dream?

Mystery Man: It seems like you’ve slept yourself silly.

The young man runs a hand through his hair before straightening up once more, and I watch as he steps towards me until he’s right next to the bed, bending down to look at me more clearly.

His golden eyes flash with sly amusement.

Mystery Man: Since you’re awake, remember this clearly: you’re on my territory.

Mystery Man: The name’s Shaw, and I’m your benefactor.

Mystery Man: As for what you should do now, you should carefully think… about just how you’re going to repay me for saving your life.

-

Carrying a bucket filled with water, I stagger into the garden, out of breath.

The only other person in the garden is currently lounging next to a flower bed, legs casually swinging back and forth, the picture of idleness.

MC: May. I. Please. Ask. If. Sir. Benefactor. Has. Any. Other. Instructions.

Since the day I woke, in return for Shaw safely bringing me out of the mountain, I agreed to run errands for him for seven days. Today is already the seventh day.

Upon seeing me puffing and panting, his brow lifts in an amused arch.

Shaw: Hmm, go water those flowers over there while you’re at it, then.

MC: Shaw, don’t take your bullying too far!

Shaw: How am I bullying you? Weren’t you the one who said that you wanted to repay me by running errands? Or perhaps you want to do it by offering your body instead?

Trivia from Red: ‘Offering your body’ is translated from the Chinese idiom 以身相许, which means 1) pledge to marry or 2) have sex with a man of her own will.

I stare at him in horrified shock for a moment, face burning red from embarrassment. Grabbing the gourd dipper, I scoop up a full ladle of water and fling it at him with all my might.

Shaw ducks out of the way at lightning speed, and the spray of water splashes onto the flowerbed he had been lounging next to earlier, catching the light of the afternoon sun and forming a rainbow. Shaw’s laughter rings out clearly.

Shaw: I asked you to water the flowers, not water people. Or is your eyesight so bad you can’t tell a human clearly from a flowerbed?

MC: ...You!

These last few days, whenever we’ve had banters like this, I’ve never won even once. Determined not to fall into the same trap again, I ignore his words and instead ask a question.

MC: The seven days are almost up. Can I leave tomorrow?

Shaw’s smile turns teasing.

Shaw: Your house is opposite this mountain, isn’t it? Are you sure you won’t faint halfway on your journey back again?

MC: I definitely won’t!

Upon seeing my determined face, Shaw grins, opening his mouth to say something again. All of a sudden, however, the smile fades from his face.

MC: What’s the matter?

Shaw: Nothing’s up, I’m just heading out for a moment.

Shaw: If you want to go home, I’m not stopping you.

Shaw: But you’re not allowed to leave tomorrow. Stay put in my house, don’t take a step out of the compound.

MC: Why not?

Shaw doesn’t reply my question, and with a few strides of his long legs, he’s vanished from the garden.

MC: Shaw, wait a moment, you haven’t explained yourself-

MC: He’s gone?

This isn’t the first time he’s simply disappeared like this. With a shake of the head, I shrug off his warning. Besides, after tomorrow, I’ll have repaid my debt to him in full, and we’ll have nothing more to do with each other.

On the morning of the next day, Shaw still hasn’t returned.

I chew on my lip, looking at the doors for the seventh time, slightly hesitant to leave without bidding him goodbye.

MC: Well, it’s not like that rascal is going to bother about it anyway…

Trivia from Red: MC quite constantly refers to Shaw as 那家伙, which is a casual way of referring to a mischievous, rascally guy, and can be interpreted as ‘that guy’, or ‘that little punk’.

Even though I say those words, I find my footsteps slowing on the way out of the front courtyard.

MC: Perhaps I should leave him a letter.

I write him a letter and leave it on his table. Just when I’m about to leave, a painting hanging on the wall catches my eye.

MC: This is…

Taking a step closer to look at it more clearly, I realise that it’s a mythical beast that I’ve never seen before.

On the beast’s lower back are five tails, and on its forehead is a single horn. Just from the painting, I can sense a strong aura of pride and arrogance.

MC: This painting… it kind of resembles that guy.

Curiously, I reach out and touch a corner of the painting. All of a sudden, however, the sound of thunder rumbles outside the window.

I look out of the window, and am surprised to see that the sky, that was sunny just moments ago, is now blanketed with thick grey clouds, looking like it’s about to start pouring anytime soon.

MC: If I don’t leave now, it’ll be bad if I’m caught in the rain.

I fasten my cloak, pick up an umbrella and leave Shaw’s house.

Even thought it’s well into the afternoon, the little town is completely covered in a thick fog, as if it has been completely blanketed by a layer of grey. The little river that runs through the town has little lotus lamps dotting the surface, all of them floating along silently.

Just as I’m about to leave the little town, my mind gradually begins to calm.

MC: This feels a little strange…

The town that Shaw resides in might not have too many people, but on a normal day, it would usually be bustling with activity, the smell of firework smoke in the air.

Yet today, there isn’t a single person on the streets.

Note from Red: gee, i wonder why, mc-

The further I go from Shaw’s house, the faster the sky seems to darken and unease wells up in my heart.

MC: Maybe I should go back and wait for him…

[thunder rumbles]

The clouds seem to descend, and the sky darkens even further. I don’t know whether it’s just my imagination, but the mist seems to suffuse and thicken in the tunnel before me, and I can see the outline of dark shapes moving about inside.

Before I can look more closely at them,  there’s a sound behind me, and I turn around. The moment I do, I can’t help but feel shock race through me.

It’s the skeletal bird I saw that night on the mountain!

The bird hops onto the side of the bridge, cocking its head at me. When it opens its beak to speak, what comes out isn’t the shrill squawk of a bird, but the familiar cool and clear voice of a man.

Bird!Shaw: Finally found you… what are you doing here?

MC: Shaw!?

MC: How are you… this bird is-

In typical Shaw fashion, the bird does not answer my question. Instead, it turns its head to look at the tunnel, and lets out a clicking sound even though it doesn’t have a tongue to do so.

Bird!Shaw: Come with me.

With that, it flies to me, taking my sleeve between its beak and tugging me in the opposite direction. Being pulled along into a run with it, all my words come out garbled.

MC: Wait a moment… What, what exactly is going on? Just now, what was that? And you, what are you?

Bird!Shaw: You have so many questions.

MC: It’s not me who has too many questions! It’s just that you’ve hidden too much from me!

Bird!Shaw: ……

Bird!Shaw: It’s the Ghost Festival today.

MC: Ghost Festival… Hungry Ghost Festival!?

Trivia from Red: The Ghost Festival, also known as the Hungry Ghost Festival, is a traditional Buddhist and Taoist festival held in certain East Asian countries. According to the Chinese calendar (a lunisolar calendar), the Ghost Festival is on the 15th night of the seventh month.

In Chinese culture, the fifteenth day of the seventh month in the lunar calendar is called Ghost Day and the seventh month in general is regarded as the Ghost Month (鬼月), in which ghosts and spirits, including those of deceased ancestors, come out from the lower realm. The deceased are believed to visit the living as the realms of Heaven and Hell and the realm of the living are open and both Taoists and Buddhists would perform rituals to transmute and absolve the sufferings of the deceased.

Bird!Shaw: That's right. This is when the nine yin converges, and evil grows easily. It is the day when the Ghost Gate opens, and evil and living souls intersect. It will be more troublesome than a typical day.

Bird!Shaw: I distinctly remember telling you to stay put in my house, who would have thought you’d actually dare to leave and make trouble for me.

As the bird says this, it turns back to eye me. Even though it has no eyes, I can clearly see the words ‘annoyance’ written in its eye sockets.

At that moment, a feeling of unhappiness washes over me, and I can’t help but open my mouth to speak.

MC: All these things… you could have just told me earlier. You made me wait for you for the entirety of yesterday… without so much as an explanation.

MC: Shaw, am I really not worthy of your trust? Am I a burden to you?

The bird stops fluttering its wings for a second before it turns its head, not saying another word.

For a moment, I wonder if Shaw is angry with what I said, but after a while, a small snort of laughter leaves the bird’s mouth, ringing in my ears.

The sound is so clean and clear, it seems like Shaw is standing right next to me.

Bird!Shaw: I don’t think of you as a burden.

Bird!Shaw: I can tell you my true identity, it’s just that at that moment, you can’t be afraid and you’re not allowed to regret it.

MC: I won’t be scared, and I wouldn’t regret it.

Bird!Shaw: Then follow me closely.

The clouds close in on us, and the first drops of rain begin to fall.

It’s going to rain.

I follow after the bird closely, and each time, I narrowly manage to escape every encounter with a dark shape. Just as we’re about to leave the small town, however, it’s as if all the spirits suddenly sense me, and they all turn and start rushing towards me!

Bird!Shaw: Don’t bother about them! Just run towards the exit of the town!

The second it finishes those words, it lets out a caw. As if rallied, a hundred of the skeletal birds suddenly fly over from behind the wall. Like arrows loosed from a bow, they descend on the mass of black spirits and attack them with their sharp beaks and wings, keeping them tightly packed together.

But there is a limit to the number of birds, and the pitch black spirits can’t be stopped.

Understanding that the birds can’t buy me all the time in the world, I grit my teeth and run as hard as I can for the exit of the town.

Even before I can take two steps, pain runs up my leg, as if I’m being yanked back by something. I fall painfully to the ground.

Withstanding the pain, I look down to see a skeletal person grabbing tight onto my ankle, refusing to let go!

No matter how hard I struggle, the person refuses to let go, and only holds on tighter and tighter. Watching the rest of the dark shapes slowly approaching, I yank out something I have tucked in my waist, and bring it down as hard as I can on the person.

Shiing!

A loud wail rings through the air, but the grip loosens enough for me to pry it off. Looking down in my hand, I clasp the dagger that had saved me seven days ago, I’ve never let it leave me even once.

But in the time it took for me to do all that, it’s too late for me to escape the town.

I grip the dagger tight.

The dark shapes draw closer, before they finally rush at me ferociously.

[thunder rumbles intensely]

Thunder rumbles throughout the sky, like the beating of a thousand drums, the galloping of a hundred thousand horses, unceasing. In that second, hundreds of white hot lightning bolts flash through the air before me, bathing the entire sky in bright white light.

Note from Red: that can’t be good for your eyes...

A large hand covers my eyes from behind.

Note from Red: who needs sunglasses when we have shaw’s big hands T^T

Shaw: You idiot, why are you just standing there for? Do you want to keep your eyes or not?

His tone is teasing and lighthearted, but it makes me feel safer than any promise or vow in the world.

MC: Shaw…

Shaw: I didn’t think you’d be able to save yourself, not bad.

Shaw: No wonder I-

The rest of his words are cut off by the rumble of thunder, the flash of lightning. I feel raindrops land pitter patter on my nose and cheeks.

In order to let me hear his words clearly, he leans down and puts his lips right next to my ear when he speaks, breath hot against the shell of my ear.

Shaw: Turn around, open up your umbrella and count to ten in your head before you open your eyes. Got it?

I nod with all my strength.

Shaw releases me and I obey his instructions, opening the umbrella and beginning to count.

MC: One, two, three…

The strikingly familiar cry I heard that night in the forest rings out from behind me, leaving yet another deep impression in my heart.

MC: Four, five, six…

The rain slows to a gentle drizzle, and the oppressive air hanging over the town seems to be slowly fading.

MC: Seven, eight, nine…

Shaw… Shaw…

MC: Ten.

I turn around.

Within the bright flashes of light, I catch sight of a silhouette of the five tailed mythical beast.

-

Evil spirits dealt with and the dark clouds gone, it seems like the town has finally gone back to normal.

Because I injured my foot, Shaw takes me to a small boat, and the two of us drift along slowly on the river. As the boat is slowly carried along beneath a bridge, Shaw, who is lazily sitting at the front, plucks a flower from the side to play with.

The lotus lamps bobbing alongside us glow softly, and what was initially supposed to be a gloomy Hungry Ghost Festival resembles more of a pleasant evening of a wedding night.

Shaw’s purple robes flutter in the wind, and under the light of the lamps hanging from the boat, the horn on his forehead seems to be softened with a soft glow.

The scenery before me reminds me of the time we first met on the lake back in that forest, the only differences being that he’s now missing a few birds, and that I am here with him.

MC: Right, why haven’t I seen any of the other town residents today?

Shaw: You think everyone is like you? I already warned them beforehand not to leave their houses, it’d make way for the souls and I can do what I need to do.

MC: Hahahaha…

Shaw: What are you laughing about?

MC: I’m laughing at you - with that image and disposition, who would have guessed that you’re actually a great immortal?

After hearing my words, Shaw lifts an eyebrow, looking slightly miffed.

Shaw: Then what did you think I was, a monster?

MC: I think that you’re Shaw, that’s all.

Shaw stares blankly at me for a moment.

MC: Shaw, on the day of Qixi, when you brought me out of the mountain, was it you who rescued me from those bandits as well?

Even though my words are phrased as a question, my tone is sure and certain. There’s a flash of surprise in Shaw’s eyes, but he doesn’t reply. He casts his eyes downwards, manner insipid.

Shaw: That isn’t a good memory to have for the Qixi Festival. Just forget it.

MC: I won’t forget it.

What he says is true. The Qixi festival is deserving of good and happy memories, and being by bandits certainly isn’t that, but still…

I look earnestly at Shaw.

MC: But on that day, you also appeared.

All around us, the lotus lamps flicker softly in the night, jade green smoke curling up faintly, the cool sounds of running water in my ears.

MC: I feel like this is the most memorable, and also the most treasured Qixi I have ever experienced.

This world’s thousands of relationships cannot be clearly defined by these dates, but on this Ghost Festival, my heart soars more than it did on the day of the Qixi Festival.

Shaw watches me silently, before he puts down the flower in his hand and leans forward, closer to me.

His hands carry with them the body temperature of one that is not human, fingertips lifting up my bangs once again.

Inch by inch, his finger trails down, as if mapping out my face.

His golden eyes are locked firmly on me, gaze intense and captivating like that of a wild beast, not letting my eyes deviate from him in the least.

This time, I don’t shy away from him.

Shaw: The last time, didn’t you ask for my true self?

Shaw: I’m Zheng, and I consume evil energy as sustenance.

Shaw: I’ve never felt like I’ve done this to help humans, and I’ve never considered myself to be an auspicious sign like the legends say.

Shaw: When I’m hungry, I eat.

Suddenly, my hand is grasped tightly in his, and he lifts it to his mouth.

He bites down slowly on my index finger, sharpened teeth scraping over delicate skin, and slight pain radiates out from where his lips are wrapped around my fingertip.

Shaw: Even if that’s what I am, you’re not going to be afraid of me?

Even though he’s clearly giving off a sense of hidden danger and his words are meant to provoke me into giving him a response, my heart skips a beat at the smile on his face.

MC: I…

Shaw: I… what? Speak louder.

With a self satisfied smirk that looks reminiscent of a cat that got the canary, he nips on my finger again.

MC: I said, I won’t be-

Before the word ‘scared’ can leave my mouth, my finger suddenly slips free of Shaw’s mouth to land on his lower lip. My fingertip softly runs against his lips, breath warm and eyes shining.

It’s clearly… a kiss.

Note from Red: yes mc you get flustered NOW when your finger was on his lips but not when he was literally biting on it priorities on point we stan

In a moment, my entire face burns bright red and I hurriedly pull back my finger.

MC: Shaw!

Shaw grins at me as he releases my hand, his gaze on me filled with an emotion I can’t quite recognise. Having fallen for his tricks yet again, my heart races and I desperately look for something to say, but didn’t expect that Shaw would beat me to it.

Shaw: Shouldn’t you be heading home?

The second he says that, I’m reminded of my original purpose: to bid my farewells to him before leaving for home.

I nod at him for a moment, before I shake my head energetically.

MC: Shaw, I…

Shaw: But today, haven’t I saved you once again?

MC: ...Eh?

Shaw: The timing’s just right. I’ve polished off all the evil energies and spirits here completely, it’s time for a change in scenery.

Shaw: The town near your home… is there anything entertaining?

He speaks so quickly that I have no time to think.

MC: Entertaining… well, not really, but there’s a lot of good food there! Recently it’s been chestnut and lotus seed season, so there should be a lot of confections sold on the streets…

MC: Wait a second, you’re not thinking of following me home, are you?

Shaw: Of course I am. How else are you going to repay this huge favour you owe me for saving you?

His words are bold and upright, but the grin on his face is that of a satisfied hunter.

Shaw: Before you fully repay the favour… don’t even think about escaping from me.