#they have the same green tassels at the waist too???

[therealraewest]

[loosesodamarble]

Magic Knight Squad Robe Redesigns

A long time ago, I had the idea of redesigning the uniforms of the Magic Knight squads for the (many) next gen ocs that me and my friends have. I thought it would be fun for the squads to each have a unique article of clothing for the squads' uniforms, to make each group a little more unique beyond their colors.

With the help of my beloved friend Steph ( @cringeyvanillamilk ), that idea has now come to fruition! I commissioned her for all the art you are to see.

And modeling the redesigned uniforms are mine and my friends' next gen ocs.

Representing the Golden Dawn is @lyranova's oc, Alistar Vangeance.

For the Black Bulls is @eme-eleff's oc, Hikari Yami.

Wearing the Crimson Lion King's uniform is @thoughtfullyrainynightmare's oc, Leonidas Vermillion.

From my own collection of ocs and representing the Blue Rose Knights is Dawn Faust.

The representative for the Aqua Deers is also my oc, Merel Faust.

The Silver Eagle's uniform is worn by @koneko-pi's oc, Avalinia Silva.

Representing the Coral Peacocks is @sailor-muno's oc, Bellini Fortuna.

Showing off for the Green Praying Mantises is @faewraithsworld's oc, Sullivan Vixen.

And the model for the Purple Orcas is another of @/faewraithsworld's ocs, Zoisite Ideale.

The CLK and GPM's uniforms have different versions that can be worn by the squad members. As seen below.

Thank you to Steph for taking my commission. And thank you to all my lovely friends for allowing me to turn your next gens into some gorgeous models!

Further notes about the uniforms below the cut.

Golden Dawn: they wear full body coats that are meant to be worn open. Squad members can have tassels added to their coats so they can be tied close if they so choose.

Black Bulls: they're not wearing leather jackets. It's standard fabric, that's all. Jacket length is somewhat adjustable though longer jackets are avoided to steer clear of having the same silhouette as the Golden Dawn.

Crimson Lion Kings: the sashes are sewn so that squad members don't have to wrap the fabric over their shoulder and around their waist every time they don their uniform.

Blue Rose Knights: it's a short cape already attached to a shirt. You'd just put it on like a regular shirt and hope that you don't get the cape in your face as you put it on.

Aqua Deer: it's a scarf, plain and simple. The ends of the scarf are to be a clean cut.

Silver Eagles: this squad retains the original form that a majority of the squad robes have in canon, a short mantle with an long cape attached. For the next gen's version, the fluff of the mantle was made a smaller component so that the feathers can be the main focus, instead of being mostly equal parts fluff and feather.

Coral Peacocks: a waist sash with the end of the fabric being shaped to resemble the tail feathers of a peacock.

Green Praying Mantises: arm sleeves that can just cover the forearms or cover the upper arms too. There's also a version with a slit in the sleeves in case there are squad members who don't want to wear the form fitting sleeves.

Purple Orcas: a vest with pointed hems reminiscent of the triangular shape of the squad robe worn by the previous generation. There are buttons on the vest so they can be worn open or closed to a squad member's preferences. (And most members tend to wear a shirt under the vest. Zoisite only wears his uniform this way because he can.)

[lilianvanrouge]

Malleus and Lilia x Frail and Abused Reader Part 8

When you all stepped through the Dark Mirror you all were immediately teleported to The Land of Hot Sands. It was extremely hot there, but you were prepared with a giant sunhat and cold packs to crush and put under your clothes. You glanced at Malleus and saw that he was deep in thought.

“Malyulus, are you-” you said.

You immediately stopped talking to him once you saw Grim fall into the canal.

“Grim!!” you shouted.

You tried to jump into the canal after him, but Trey and Cater grabbed onto you. Grim was nearly ran over by a boat, but escaped unharmed. You were now holding onto him as the limo drove you to Kalim’s house. When you were entering the limo Malleus was about to ask you if you would care to sit next to him, but you were already sitting in between Kalim and Jamil.

Malleus frown and sat down on the other side of the car. Jamil took notice to how Malleus was frowning while staring out the window. Everyone, except you thought that he was getting motion sickness and began to panic.

“You guys need to calm down. He’s perfectly fine. He’s just looking out the window,” you said.

“She’s right, you all are being too noisy. This is just my first time in a car, since we fly everywhere in the Valley of Thorns,” Malleus said, not technically lying.

Once you all arrived at Kalim’s house you were astonished by the peacock fountain and so was Malleus as he followed right behind you. Jamil freaked out about Malleus getting wet and ran over to y’all with an umbrella. Malleus shielded you both from the water by using a magic barrier.

“Thanks Malyulus! Isn’t it the most beautiful thing you have ever see?!” you asked with a big smile.

Malleus smirked and said, “I’ve seen prettier.”

“Really? Like what?” you said, very interested.

Malleus was about to answer when Grim jumped into the fountain. Once again you went after Grim leaving Malleus alone. Once you got a firm hold on Grim you walked back to Malleus.

“I’m sorry, Malyulus, but just think about all the fun we’re all going to have on this trip,” you said happily, while holding a waterlogged Grim.

Malleus frowned.

“All of us. . .” he mumbled.

Malleus realized that he wasn’t going to get no alone time with you unless he did something.

Once you arrived at Kalim’s palace you were in awe of how big it was. Grim said the top of the palace looked like an onion. Trey said it looked like a turnip or a tomato and you joined in.

“It also could be a radish or a beet. Oh, what about a rutabaga?!” you laughed.

“Kalim’s house looks like a pumpkin,” laughed Grim.

Malleus once again looked deep in thought.

“Malyulus?” you said.

“I think it looks more like a bell pepper,” he said.

You started laughing and he smiled. You all went inside the palace and put on the Land of Hot Sands traditional clothing. Everyone was done getting dressed and was waiting for you. You walked out and everyone was staring at you.

You were well adorned in gold and fine silks of purple and turquoise like your hair. You were in a hot pink dress embroidered with gold leaves and flowers with matching sandals. The silk scarf wrapped around your head was peacock green with the same embroidery with a pink jasmine flower. You also had a golden rope tied around your waist with golden bells and tassels.

Your face was red from blushing, because you weren’t used to dressing like this.

“Wow you look beautiful, (Y/N)-chan!” said Cater.

“Yeah, her clothes look the most expensive out of all of ours,” said Trey.

“Well we have to treat ladies special! This is also my first time bringing a girl home!” said Kalim happily.

Jamil gathered all of you into the limo to take you all to the Camel Bazaar. Unfortunately, Kalim had to stay behind and greet the oncoming guests. When you all made it to the bazaar it was all crowded with people. Grim started to get frustrated by hunger so you all stopped at a skewer stall and ordered shawarmas.

Malleus ordered a traditional one while you ordered one with lots of meat, since (Y/B/F) wasn’t here to nag you on eating your vegetables. When Jamil realized his shawarma was missing he saw that his sister Najma was the one who took it. Najma was there to deliver a message from their father to Jamil. Cater brought the idea for Najma to stay with you all, but Jamil was against it.

“Why must he hesitate to bring his sister with him? Aren’t they blood related siblings? You should appreciate your family,” said Malleus.

“Besides I can use some girl advice to help me with (Y/N),” Malleus thought with a smirk scheming.

When all of you were gazing around the bazaar Malleus took his chance.

“Vipers, I need your advice on dates, since I’m not well aquatinted with them,” said Malleus.

“Well there are many types of dates. My favorite are kurma!” said Najma.

“No, wrong kind date,” Malleus sighed.

“Eh?!! You can’t mean a romantic one?!!” said Jamil, shocked.

“Yes, there’s someone who lives in my kingdom who wants advice,” said Malleus, trying to ride around the truth.

Jamil was frozen in shock so Najma had to take charge.

“Well he should do something special that the girl is interested in. Get her alone, give her flowers, but don’t move to fast or be too forceful,” said Najma.

“Hmm. I got it. Thank you for your advice,” said Malleus grateful.

Malleus lured Grim away from you with food without you noticing. He then persuaded you that Grim would be alright and you two went on a small, magic boat ride down the canal. You stuck your hand in the cool water as you watched the fish swim around.

“(Y/N), now that we’re alone I wanted to apologize to you for Silver and Sebek. While Sebek was trying to lecture about being in Lilia’s bed he tripped over a floor tile and fell on Silver, which resulted in you getting burned by the hot water. It was all a misunderstanding,” sighed Malleus.

You smiled and thanked him thinking this is why he got you alone.

“And another thing. . . ” Malleus paused.

He couldn’t ask about your scars otherwise he would’ve just admitted he peeped on you in the bathroom.

“Do you have any food allergies?” he asked.

“No, I’m not allergic to any food, but allergies can always come later on for people,” you said.

Malleus was very nervous considering your the first girl he’s been around that wasn’t family. He had no idea on how to seduce you. He then saw a red water lily bud and he picked out the water and gave it to you. He figured that most red flowers must mean love.

“Thank you, Malyulus,” you said, sweetly.

He smiled and used his magic to make the flower bloom, but to his surprise it was a pink lily.

“Wow, I didn’t know you thought I was smart,” you laughed.

“Smart? I thought pink flowers also symbolize love,” he thought.

“Pink water lilies represent knowledge,” you said happily.

Malleus frowned wishing he learned flowers and their color meanings just like (Y/B/F) told him. You saw Malleus’s mood change and decide to take the initiative. You moved next to him and hugged him, which took him by surprise since you weren’t trying to protect him like before.

“You looked sad and if my brothers taught me anything it’s how to deal with sad faces. You give them a big hug, some tickles, double kisses on both cheeks, and some snuggles!” you laughed.

Malleus blushed from you treating him like a child, but he liked all the physical attention. The things he wanted to do to you, but had no idea how start it. But he was sure of one thing. . . He was going to make you his.

Malleus was now laughing happily and you were now too. You began playing little games like I Spy and telling fun facts about each other. The boat ride was soon and you two were walking around more stalls.

“Ohh! This place sells Silky Melon,” you said.

“What is Silky Melon?” he asked.

“Kalim told me about them. They’re melons with ice cream, oranges, blueberries, and other fruits. Kalim said after eating this your friendship and love will last forever. The downside is that it’s so expensive,” you laughed.

“I’ll buy one for us,” said Malleus.

“Huh?! I can pay for my own; I don’t have any money problems,” you said.

You really didn’t want to be a burden.

“There’s no need to fret. Have you forgot that I’m a king? I can buy you as many as you want. But we’ll only need one, right?” Malleus said with a smile.

“Only one?” you said, confused.

“Yes, to share,” he said with a smirk.

You were confused, but thought nothing of it. You clearly couldn’t tell he was flirting. The Silky Melon was bought and was handed to you. You took a spoon and scooped a portion of the ice cream onto it.

“Say ah,” you said.

“Treating me like a child again. Well so be it,” Malleus said with a smirk.

Malleus ate the ice cream and loved it. He then scooped some more and tried to feed you as well. You ate it amazed at how delicious it was. This date was going better than Malleus planned now, since the others are gone.

“Hopefully this fruit will make our love last forever. I will do anything to give me a shot of a relationship with you,” thought Malleus happily.

[llostwriter]

系统错误 | SVSSS Fanfic

CHAPTER 4

【ǫᴜᴇsᴛ ᴀᴄǫᴜɪʀᴇᴅ: ғɪɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪssɪɴɢ ᴋɪᴅ ᴏғ ᴀ ɪɴɴᴏᴄᴇɴᴛ ᴇʟᴅᴇʀʟʏ ᴄʜɪʟᴅ. ᴜsᴇʀ sᴇʟᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ 'ʏᴇs'. ɪғ ᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ɪs sᴜᴄᴄᴇssғᴜʟ, ᴘʟᴀʏᴇʀ sʜᴀʟʟ ʀᴇᴄɪᴇᴠᴇᴅ ᴀ ʙᴏɴᴜs ᴏғ 𝟸𝟶𝟶 ᴘᴏɪɴᴛs】

Xuan Ji seeps onto the green tea that was offered by the old woman. The elderly woman guided them to a tiny store and offered to buy them drinks and food in exchange for their assistance. Just two cups of green tea were ordered by Xuan Ji: one for himself and one for Xiyin. She supposed the actual Xuan Ji would also act in such manner. Knowing that the villagers are already impoverished enough, she also doesn't want the elderly woman to spend any more money. She looked down her long sleeves, making sure to pull the golden hairpin further inside to keep it from falling.

"Where was the last time you saw your son?" Xuan Ji inquired in an effort to learn more about it.

"I'm not sure..." Xuan Ji raising an eyebrow as she carefully listened to the elderly woman’s statement. "How are you not sure, about your own son?" she asked.

"He's always a reckless young man, he never listens to me, he goes wherever he want without telling me anything"

Yes, so the man was killed by his own stupidity. That will most likely also be waiting for Xuan Ji in the event that she is unable to alter her destiny. "Don't worry ma'am, I and Jiejie will find your son!" A startling voice surprised Xuan Ji, it was Xiyin.

Isn't it premature to commit to such promise? Her son might have passed away already, for all we know! Don't make any such promises—especially ones you can't keep—because it's difficult to bring someone back to life!

"If that is the case, I will no longer disturb you two young girls. This old woman shall take her leave," the woman got up from her chair and walked out of the restaurant, leaving Xuan Ji and Xiyin alone with their thoughts. "So Xuan jiejie, what are you deciding for us to do?" Xiyin said, gazing at Xuan in anticipation of a response. If nothing else, at least she knows when to take business seriously.

【+𝟸𝟶 ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ ᴏɴ ᴜsᴇʀ's 'ᴀᴛᴛᴇᴍᴘᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴀᴄᴛ ᴘʀᴏғᴇssɪᴏɴᴀʟ'】

Xuan was annoyed by the notification that showed up in front of her since she could see the system was making fun of her without much thought—not that she isn't intelligent.

She honestly has no idea where to go after she leaves the restaurant. On the left, Xiyin is standing as usual next to her. Ma'am, even though I'm grateful you trust me to keep you safe, I don't think I could do the same for myself! You are usually by my side, so if a beast attacked one of us, it would probably hit both of us!

"YOU SON OF A BITC-"

Xuan and Xiyin are alerted when they hear a loud cry that seems to have come from a dark alleyway across the street. Oh no, Xuan has seen too many scary movies to be naive enough to believe that entering would not yield any positive results. "Should we checked it out?" Xiyin innocently pointed her index finger in the direction of the location and questioned.

It was unnecessary since a larger, stronger man pushed a well-known little child out of the alleyway. That boy was the same one who had run into Xuan Ji earlier. The boy had two other men standing beside him. The younger lad is lifted off the ground by the larger male who grips his collar firmly. A gorgeous blue floral pattern on a small pouch bag with a white tassel dropped from the boy's pocket.

"Xuan Jiejie, isn't that the same exact pocket that usually hanged around your waist robe?"

Because Xuan Ji had just recently "reincarnated" into this body, the pouch bag was absent from its original location. If Xiyin hadn't just now informed her, Xuan Ji wouldn't even be aware that she held the pouch bag. Now it was clear that the youngster had intentionally run into Xuan Ji and taken the pouch bag without her knowing. Since she had never even realized she had a pouch bag on her until now, Xuan felt a little ashamed.

The bigger man picked up the pouch bag after noticing the dropped object and threw the small lad to the ground. "Look, it wasn't even that difficult! If you would have been a good boy and hand over your pouch bag, it would had probably saved you some punches”, The larger male grinned as he eagerly opened the pouch bag in the hopes of finding some precious items, only to be disappointed at the sight of simply herbs.

"What the hell is this?!" The man apparently did not like what he saw because he threw all the herbs onto the ground and then stumped on them with his foot, reducing them into ashes and rubbish. He then tossed the pouch bag away. "You must think this is funny right?!" The youngster yelped in pain when the stranger grabbed hold of his hair.

"Stop this instant!" The man and his lackeys were alarmed by that voice. Xuan looked at Xiyin with an expression of skepticism, as if she were doubting Xiyin's sanity. In addition to the fact that Xiyin's attempt to assist Xuan is unlikely to be successful, both Xuan and Xiyin are likely to become involved in the conflict. Worst of all, the current Xuan Ji is completely untrained in battle, and Xuan has little faith that Xiyin will know how to defend herself. Why couldn't Xiyin see the situation and decide it would be best to remain silent? Xuan now regrets not leaving with Xiyin right away.

Goddammit, even though it's definitely not on purpose, Xiyin really enjoys making issues for Xuan. May the Lord have pity and spare her from assigned to a trouble-attracter!

The man let go of the younger youngster and said, "Look at what we have here," before approaching the two women. One of the lackeys grabbed the small boy's wrist and stopped any attempts at running away when he made an attempt to do so. "You shouldn't treat a little boy in that way. He still has a bright future in front of him”. Where did Xiyin get the bravery, Xuan wasn't sure. The comment was ignored by the buffer man as he licked his lips, drawing an unpleasant response from Xuan. The man tried to grab hold of Xiyin, but Xuan stopped him by twisting his wrist, causing him to grunt in agony. The man stared at Xuan as he withdrew his hand. Xuan looked down at the wrist the man had been twisted by. Muscle memory, perhaps?

"Xuan jiejie look out!"

The man hoisted Xuan off the ground while tightly grabbing her throat. Her nails left scratches on his arm. “What on earth are you moron waiting for? Grab the other female as well!" The boss, who appeared to be the leader, roared at his henchmen who flinched and quickly obliged.

[siriannatan]

Jinn & Other Troubles chapter 3

Why did I decide to put both updates in separate posts?

Today we're hanging out with a Scott. :}

And I'm officially out of old chapters to modify...

AO3

Did Scott like working for the Copper King from time to time? Yes. He paid well. Didn't bother him much outside it and recently asked him less often to join his organisation. And once again, paid very well. But no amount of gold was worth the situation Scott was in now.

But maybe we should start with how it started. fWhip, Copper King's right-hand man, pet mage and bartender of his bar, somehow found Scott when he was picking up his brand new daggers from the Big Eyes Emporium - enchantments might not be cheap but sure are worth the price if they make his life easier. Copper King needed a very specific noble dead and his signet ring brought to the Vigil - the bar. Sounds easy? Scott thought so too back then. Sneak into a villa outside the town. Stab some nasty noble. Sneak out. Get back to town. Big profit. Nothing that sounds like trouble.

Getting into the mansion was a piece of cake but it was also the first sign something was going on. There were no guards anywhere. Or gardeners. Or anyone. No noises of an event of any sort either and those tend to carry pretty far. Same inside. Not a living soul until Scott reached the formal sitting room - the main and the biggest one. When the smell of blood and other nastier in his opinion fluids hit him it was too late. A cold hand with nails too long for a human was wrapped around his neck, lifting him off the ground and pressing into a wall. The ruined and blood-soaked wallpaper sticking unpleasantly to his jacket. But he had no time to think about his clothes. Not with Scott's curved daggers clattering to the ground, his hands grabbing at the arm. Miss-matched eyes frantically looked at who or what he was up against. Went wide as he met the curious blue eyes of a jinn.

Aren't those supposed to be extinct or fat from civilized society? And why must he be damn hot? These were the last thoughts that crossed his mind before the jinn spoke.

"You don't look like you belong here," he hummed - Scott was certain it was he based on his open vest exposing very nice to look at if he wasn't being choked chest. "What is a pretty little elf like you doing here?" he asked as shadowy tendrils pulled and pinned Scott's arms to the wall. The same happened to his legs. But the hand around his throat loosened enough to let him speak comfortably. Why was a whole damn jinn here? What did this dang lord get involved with? Did it really have to be today? Why could the jinn not just leave once he was done killing everyone?

"Working..." Scott said. He knew little about jinn but it seemed like a bad idea to lie. "Someone wanted his signet ring," he pointed his chin at where his target's mangled body lay not quite on the pile. The upper half of it at least... The signet was still on his finger. "Badly enough to hire me to get it for them, and maybe kill him in the process..."

Scott froze as the jinn backed away from him. The same tendril that pinned him to the wall picked up his daggers, moving them away from the blood, and Scott, as the jinn walked to the corpse and pried the ring off. "Why would they need this? It's not magical or anything," he wondered inspecting the thing.

"Don't know, it's not my job to ask questions," Scott answered as well as he could. Maybe if he managed to satiate the jinn's curiosity he'd be allowed to leave with his guts in him and not on the walls. If he did he'd really need a new jacket...

The jinn wore a sleeveless dark green robe with golden embroidery around the neckline and sleeve edges and a maroon sash wrapped around his waist, with golden tassels at the ends. There was not a speck of dirt on his clothes or his heavy-looking leather boots. His dark brown hair curled elegantly with a curl hanging down between two, pointy and sharp-looking, maroon and green horns on his forehead, just under his hairline. With three more on both sides of his head, behind his pointy but shorter than Scott's ears. A single golden earring with a shining red gem hanging off of his right ear. Golden necklaces wrapped around his neck and bracelets decorated his wrists with solid bands and chains and ropes. Rings embedded with colourful gems shining around his fingers and a golden band around his left upper arm, matching his earring red gem. Thin, dragon or lizard-like, tail swishing from under the robes, with spikes on both sides.

"And this ring is all you came here for?" the jinn asked, once again interested in Scott.

"I mean... the guy's dead so there isn't much more for me to do here," the elf shrugged as much as the binding allowed.

The jinn hummed toying with the ring. "Would you happen to know what year it is?"

"Umm, 357 after the Collapse," Scott said hoping the jinn knew what the Collapse was...

"Three hundred years," the jinn hummed as Scott held his breath. "Not bad for a nap," he nodded. "You know what, I like you... eh..."

"Scott," he had no idea if saying his true name was dangerous or not but it sounded better than the jinn finding out he lied to him. And if it was good that a jinn, a creature even the strongest and oldest mages had trouble controlling, liked him. "Scott Smajor."

"Scott," the jinn tested the name. "I like it," he smiled and Scott let the air in his lungs leave, slowly. "You can call me Mythical Sausage, or just Sausage, at least that's how you'd say it in this language. Why don't you talk in elven?"

"I never learned, grew up with humans," Scott explained struggling slightly with his bindings. It wasn't at all comfortable to be pinned to a wall like he was.

"I see," the jinn hummed and put the signet in Scott's breast pocket and patted it. "I think I'll stay with you for some time, it sounds interesting," he decided and snapped his fingers. "Do you happen to know a Pixl Riffs? Or just Pix?" the jinn asked letting Scott clatter to the ground and walked to the corpse.

Scott watched him pry the ring off the corpse's finger. "Not, but the guy who wants this ring knows a lot of people, he might?" Scott offered. He felt in no way bad dropping this guy on Copper King's head. Who knew, jinn-man might just not kill him if he at least attempts to help him... Okay, maybe he felt a bit bad about Copper King's new boy-toy elf but his own life always came first.

"Okay," the jinn hummed staring at the ring as Scott grabbed and sheathed his daggers. He really didn't feel like losing them. "So, I give you the ring, and you bring me to your friend?"

"Employer, but yes, I can bring you to him, I need to get the signet to him anyway," Scott nodded. He was just glad he didn't have to propose it to the jinn.

Scott yelped as the shadows holding him all vanished at once. Bracing for a quick meeting with the floor which never happened. Sausage caught him and steadied him. "Sorry about that, I didn't mean to drop you like that," he hummed patting Scott's shoulder. The unpleasant wetness on his back vanished. "Much better," the jinn nodded as Scott picked up his daggers and sheathed them. Lucky for him they did not land in a blood puddle that covered most of the floor.

"Umm, you might need a human disguise..." Scott hummed. Carefully weighing his words. "I mean if they look weird at my ears... I don't think the general population will like the horns and stuff, not that I d,o they're cool. I mean to say... they suit you but..." Scott rambled as the jinn's eyebrows went up and up. It just occurred to him that Sausage was... well overhead taller than him. "It'd be better if half the town doesn't try to instantly kill us while others flee in terror..."

Sausage hummed, presumably thinking about what Scott said. Or how to best kill him for insolence and speaking out of turn.

"Or lock you in a bottle," Scott added before he could bite himself.

"No, that wouldn't be good," Sausage agreed and soon the horns and tail and claws were gone. His skin went from ashy grey to tan brown, and together with his robes made him look like some merchant from the Eastern Empires. After just one blink his eyes were normal, with white sclera and pupils there. Still as bluer than the Western sea near which Scott grew up. "How is it?" Sausage asked doing a spin as he noticed Scott was staring at him.

"Looks good," Scott nodded, patted the pocket with the ring and sighed. He only needed to get this to Pix's bar, the Vigil, and he was going to be great. Aside from Sausage likely insisting to stay with him longer... "We should go before someone comes here and notices something's wrong," he decided, and if they wanted to be home before sundown.

"Lead the way," Sausage grinned extending an arm towards the door. And Scott did. Luckily they weren't that far from Stratos.

The manor wasn't that terribly far from Stratos but it would still take some time. Scott calculated that they'd have enough time to go to the Vigil and once he left the jinn there he could go and have a good meal at Glitter Grove and be home way before the curfew. He just really hoped he didn't get stuck with the jinn longer than necessary, no matter how good he looked.

Sausage wasn't too terrible a companion. He asked a few things about the city. Humming in that weird thoughtful way when Scott explained that Stratos was technically ruled by the god of the sky, thunder and war, Joel but in practice by the church since the god rarely left his plying palace in the sky. After that, the jinn was content to just follow Scott and look around them with curiosity. Especially when they passed something more interesting than another field. Which wasn't often and was mostly big rocks and small trees. Or a total of three different orchards, from one of which Scott stole them a couple of apples.

By the time they reached the city, the sun has almost set.

"Let's hurry, we have about two hours before everything closes and I hate cooking," Scott huffed pulling his hood up. "I'd rather avoid children pointing at my ears," he grimaced and led Sausage through dark alleyways towards the Vigil, the establishment didn't serve any food, probably for the better.

"How can I help you?" a red-headed, black-skinned tiefling grumbled at them from behind the bar. There was no one else inside and the bartender was lazily wiping some cups.

"I came with a gift for the Copper King," Scott said the secret password and the tiefling's attitude changed.

"Made a friend Scott?" fWhip, the tiefling, grinned, instantly relaxing, and jumping over the bar to close the deal Scott had with his boss.

"He's looking for someone, and you guys know a lot of people," Scott shrugged pulling out the signet.

They had no chance to talk any further. A man Scot guessed was the Copper King by a blonde elf tightly grabbing to his arm. came downstairs. Glaring at no one else but Sausage who, in turn, looked to be mildly pleased and surprised. "You two with me," he growled, pointing at Scott and Sausage. "fWhip, be a dear and bring me something strong to drink," he tossed a bit more kindly at the tiefling and went upstairs, leaving the door open. He pretty much carried the elf

Scott was somewhat worried it was bout the mess Sausage left in the noble's manor. The pile of bodies was a rather ghastly sight.

When they got upstairs, Sausage was smiling smugly like they were in no trouble the whole time while Scott felt like he was about to die.

The Copper King was already in his chair, behind his heavy desk with Jimmy in his lap. Playing with the elves' hair. The corners of his lips lifted when fWhip came in through a hidden door with an expensive bottle of whiskey. No glasses. Pix would say if he wanted them. He didn't leave making Scott feel like he was in even more trouble, instead standing to Pix's right. Playing with the copper bracelet on his left wrist... Scott knew from working alongside him couple of times that it was more than just a sign of who he was working for. It was his damn magic focus, what he used to cast many spells he knew thanks to the Copper King liking to invest in his favourites. Gold for Jimmy and magic books for fWhip.

"So, dear brother," the Copper King finally spoke after a big sip of his alcohol. "Care to explain where in the seven hells were you?"

Scott was shocked. Did he say 'brother'? "Here and there," Sausage shrugged grinning. "I see you're doing well for yourself." Scott felt more than a little lost but kept his mouth shut.

"You disappear for years along with your damned library and now randomly walk to my bar with Scott, no offence, of all people?" Pix growled causing Jimmy to wriggle in his lap. "Does he even know...?"

"He does, does your boy toys know?" Sausage asked back. "Pixl?"

Instead of answering Pixl dropped his disguise... The family resemblance was really there, Scott noticed. In their matching horns, Pix's were brown and dark blue though, and the too-blue eyes. But while Sausage liked to wear gold on himself, Pix preferred to weigh Jimmy down with it.

"So where in the seven hells were you Sausage?" Pix sighed, relaxing a bit. Scott guessed he tried hard to be calm to not freak Jimmy out more than necessary. "I spend three hundred years looking for your dumb ass all over the three continents."

"Having a lovely nap," Sausage hummed, dropping his disguise. His tail instantly wrapped around Scott's ankle and the elf couldn't rid himself of the image of it wrapping around his shin to toss him against Pix's wall of bookshelves. "Scott found me shortly after I woke up, might have killed a whole mansion's worth of humans."

"Ehm the church weirdos will think he was playing with demons or something like that," Pix shrugged. "Did you get the ring at least? Or did my oaf of a brother destroy it?" he finally turned to Scott.

"Yeah, no, got it right here," Scott passed him the signet through fWhip. He was glad the tiefling got it from him and he didn't have to get out of the chair he was pretty much frozen in. He just learned more about the Copper King than he ever wanted to.

"Great," Pix sighed in a 'my day isn't completely ruined' way. "Up," he patted Jimmy's thighs and went to grab Scott's reward money. "What will you do now brother? You can stay here if..."

"Nooo. I'll stick with Scott, he's more interesting," Sausage hummed and Scott's hope of making him Pix's issue got crushed. He really didn't want Sausage anywhere close to him anymore but he was not about to say it. Not with two jinns and a powerful mage loyal to one of them in the room.

"If you say so," Pix shrugged and dropped a big bag of money in front of Scott. "What we agreed on and a little bonus for dealing with my brother," he grinned. "You can go if you want, it's getting late," he added as Jimmy yawned.

"The less I have to see you the better," Sausage nodded, disguising himself again and following Scott out. The elf left with a polite bow as soon as Pix said they can go, not even waiting for him to be done.

As they left they still heard Pix telling Jimmy to remind him of something. Not that Scott cared. All he wanted was some food, a warm bath and a nap. Did elven meditation count? And there was the issue where he'd store Sausage. His house wasn't meant for two. Well, more like it was meant for two if they were very close...

"Eating out?" Sausage asked as Scot lead them to Glimmer Grove. His probably my favourite spot to get food. Katherine was never weird about his ears. After a quick chat and introducing Sausage as 'a friend of a friend,' they squished into a corner booth and waited for their food. Scott's fruit porridge, bread and jam and beer, and bread and meat, just meat, for Sausage. "I hate cooking," Scott sighed in relief once he pulled his hood off.

Unlike the Vigil, the Grove was packed with smiling and cheerful patrons. Relaxing after a hard day of work before everything closed in about an hour. Only a few other patrons stared at Scott and Sausage but still more than usual, the damned jinn was just too tall to hide in the booth, unlike Scott, even when he pretended to be a human.

Scott was not in the mood to talk after the whole thing at the Vigil so he shot down any of Sausage's attempts at conversations. Once they were done Scott led them to his house. A cosy, little place in the middle of three tiers of Stratos. Far enough from the top to avoid religious fanatics. But close enough to be nice and comfy and fairly priced.

"We're here," he announced after a short silent walk, stopping by a quite well taken care of red brick apartment complex. There were a total of four apartments in the building and Scot's was at the very top. At least there was running warm water. Thank you magic, and the Sky God for not being against it. "We're at the very top," he added pulling the jinn in and up the many stairs.

After some fumbling with the keys, Scott let jinn in first and double-checked the lock after them. Just in case.

Scott's home was... small but that wasn't a problem, not usually. On the left of the door was his dining table. Small with just two chairs. On the right was a small kitchen he never used. Deeper in there was a corner bookshelf. It was slightly dusty but if anyone asked Scott would blame it on being busy. Then, on the right again, was his bed. Separated from the kitchen with a wall but still not in a separate room. Other than the toilet the whole place was one room. Then, in the last corner was a solid brass bathtub and a side table of bathing supplies and foldable privacy screens he was about to use for the first time since he moved in.

"Nice place," Sausage hummed inspecting the kitchen and dining area.

"It's a place to stay and keep my stuff," Scott shrugged, dropping his bag on the table, followed by his daggers and the elaborate leather sheath contraption. "You can bathe first if you want," he offered, hanging his cloak by the door.

"You go first," Sausage waved him off settling in the chair by the bookshelf. His disguise was gone. Blue eyes traced Scott's every move as he hung his jacket over a dining chair. "I'll be fine," he grinned showing his teeth. A bit more than there probably should be. All razor-sharp and perfectly white. "What are those for?" he asked as Scott started to set the screens.

"Privacy," the elf tossed over his shoulder. He was starting to feel a bit more confident around the jinn.

"A shame," the jinn sighed but his grin was still there.

"Just get yourself a book or something," Scott huffed. Ignoring the shiver that one word send down his spine. Or were it Sausage staring at him with far too much intensity?

As he undressed Scott listened to what his 'guest' might be up to, worried he'd try something Scott wasn't quite in the mood for. He couldn't hear anything wrong so he relaxed slightly and undressed as the bath filled with warm water. Letting out a low whine as he got in. He really should have loaned a horse even if that manor was decently close to town. Or he just could just blame it on a freaking jinn pinning him to a wall.

"You've got a book in elven here," Sausage announced as Scott relaxed, trying not to think about him.

"Ah, that thing. Can you read it?" Scott hummed lazily washing all the tiredness of the day off. "fWhip passed it to me as a birthday gift from his boss. I have no idea how he found out when it is. And he should know I don't know any elven so I suppose it might have been an attempt at a joke."

"Sounds like Pix," Sausage chuckled. "It's stories for children," he added after some noise of flipped pages. "There's one about an owl eating someone's face," he found it important to say.

"As expected from elves," Scott sighed sinking a bit deeper. If Sausage could shut up it would be so nice.

"I have a feeling you don't like elves," Sausage hummed, dropping the book somewhere.

"All proper elves I met were holier-than-thou jerks, I mean elves who grew up with other elves, as I said, I pretty much grew up a human, in an orphanage in a port city not too far from here, and my hair colour's not helping, reminds them of sky elves," he said, wondering why he was telling this random jinn he knew less than a day his whole life story.

"What are they up to? Winged... sky elves I mean."

"Dead or enslaved by forest elves. Or hiding as far as they can. Shortly before I was born forest elves rebelled and collapsed their flying cities," it felt somewhat nice to tell someone all of that. Even if it was spoiling his bath.

After quickly rinsing the soap out of his hair he left the tub, ignoring Sausage's chatter, and just then remembered he didn't grab any clothes. Ugh. He could just wrap a towel and... As Scott made his plan a certain jinn sneaked up to the screens, worried about the sudden silence from him.

"What are these?" Scott nearly jumped as Sausage touched one of two big scar's on his back. Quickly wrapping a towel around his hips.

"Nothing," Scott groaned as Sausage traced along the edges of the scars. His other hand joined in. He was shockingly gentle when compared with their meeting. "They've been there since I can remember," Scott huffed his legs shaking. When did he last... a while and it was nothing like... Nothing gentle and... He almost moaned as a pair of cold lips left a soft kiss between his shoulder blades.

"They look terrible," Sausage hummed guiding Scott to the edge of the slowly emptying tub.

"As I said they've been there my whole life," Scott huffed trying and failing to move away. "I can..."

"Shh, just relax," Sausage hummed grabbing a fresh towel. "I won't pry," he assured gently drying Scott's hair. Pulling him closer until he was leaning against the jinn's chest.

"You'll get wet..." Scott protested and struggled but got nowhere. Too tired, he told himself. nothing to do with his isolationist tendencies and trust issues making him super touch starved. "Sausage?" he squeaked as his hands moved from Scott's back forward. Teasing and tickling slightly as Sausage pulled the elf into a loose hug.

"Tell me about my brother. It's been a while since I saw him last... He changed a lot," Sausage sighed, continuing to gently dry Scott off. "And he'll never tell me much even if I do get some quality family time with him."

"I'm afraid I know very little," Scott sighed enjoying jinn's warmth. "The Copper King is a mysterious boss behind most of the crime this side of the continent," Scott started.

"Copper King? That's little Pix for you, making up a scary name for himself," Sausage giggled tossing the towel away and started to lead a very much naked Scott towards the bed.

"Mhm, I worked for him a few times as an independent contractor of sorts," Scott shrugged, letting himself be moved about. He did bite back a whine when Sausage went to look for a nightshirt for him. "A few weeks Jimmy showed up..." Scott continued talking as Sausage gently washed him off. "I don't know much but I can guess there was something sad by the state of his ears..."

"His ears?" the jinn asked.

"He's an elf like me but it would seem someone 'trimmed' his ears... He was like this when I first saw him, listening as fWhip explained the contract, I assumed he was just hired to take some of fWhip's duties, but then I saw that fancy necklace and figured out he's probably a bit more important and better to be not messed with," he finished with a shrug. "Not much more to say. He kept me busy since I moved here and hopefully will keep giving me work for many more years."

Sausage hummed but said nothing. Scott assumed he was lost in his memories and simply waited, leaning back into him.

"Thank you for indulging my curiosity," he finally hummed and got them into the bed. Keeping Scott in a tight warm hug through the whole night.

[kopnakproductions]

Chloe: Diary Entry #1

Dear diary,

    My favorite part of living in Frankville is the sunset. I love when the rainbows that normally sit in the east part of the sky start to fade, and the world above changes from cyan to chartreuse, hot pink, and so many other big bright colors. There’s something so magical about the light slowly fading. I could sit on the village cliff for hours, just staring at it.

    But I think I’d get kinda bored after a while. There’s only so long you can stare at the same sky that you see everyday. But maybe it’s good to take joy in the little things? I’m lucky that I live right next to the cliff and that I have such a good view of the sunset. I can take that for granted, I think. 

    Anyway, I started my new job today! I am the newest claims adjustor trainee for Prerogative Insurance. I guess not the newest because I did orientation with like, a bunch of other people. But it’s cuter to say newest.

    I wore my best sparkly pink converse. I tied the sides of my low waisted skinny jeans as tight as I could and pulled on my cheetah print tube top (rainbow, of course). And since I wanted to make a really good impression, I put on my fairy wings too. Not the green ones, because that just like, does not go together. I put on the ones that are shimmery but with holographic rainbows that show in the light. I felt like an angel.

    And the girlies there complimented me. They all looked really good too. A girl named Gretchen had the cutest golden hoop earrings. She also had one of those new crop tops with the tassels on them. I was a little jelly but I kept to myself and just tried to be happy for her. Wish I had tassels!

    Oh my god, not to mention the absolute dreamboat that is Ken. Ohhh my god. He’s tan, tall, handsome, and everything else. He had on some acid wash jeans with some embroidered stuff on the behind. I complimented them and he was like Umm were you staring at my butt? and I was like Ew no! I just saw the pattern and thought it was super cute. And then he smiled at me. It was cool.

    It was an exciting day but I think I’m ready to call it a night. Even when I’m stressed out, I always have the cliff to call home, and the sunset to call my friend. So I’m never really alone.

Love,

Chloe

[finelinevogue]

Imagine if you’d been dating Harry for ages and all the fans love you and him together cause you’re always super nice and love talking to the fans too (maybe you’re slightly famous like an actor or work in fashion or something?) and you’re kinda in the background when Harry is meeting fans before the show, offering to take photos and chatting with them all🥺

okay so let’s pretend hslot has a meet and greet before hand… that’s the dream right? ;

“Love, y’sure you’ll be alright?” Harry asked as you stood off to the side of the room, nearer the drinks and snacks bar stand.

“Yes, H. I’ll be fine!” You replied.

Harry was worried about leaving you alone, although still in the same room as him, when his fans came in for their meet and greet. There wasn’t masses of them, but still enough for if they wanted to gang up and shout at you, which you’ve insisted many times to Harry is a silly notion, that they could successfully do so. You were in the media industry, a photographer no less and you’d met Harry on the shoot for Another Man - having been his designated photographer for the day. He swore he loved you at first sight. Since that shoot you were constantly with each other and the fans fell in love with you more and more each day, however there were still the ones who despised you - that’s what, or rather whom, Harry was worried about tonight.

He looked so good tonight, you could barely focus on anything else. Harry was in his outfit for stage and he was wearing pink trousers, cream-white boots and a gilet style jacket made out of glittery tassels. He was so beautiful and his skin was glowing so gorgeously, from spending the last week or so in LA. You were coordinating with him and were wearing a pink blazer with matching pink pants and then a cream-white bralette underneath the jacket with the same cream-white boots as him. You both couldn’t look more like a couple if you tried. Lambert had taken so many photos of you both, happy that you’d managed to unexpectedly coordinate so well with each other.

It was a soulmate thing, you told him.

It was around 40 minutes until showtime now and the fans should be arriving any moment now, for their opportunity to get photos with their idol.

“Just don’t like leaving y’alone.” He sighed, wrapping his arms around your neck so he could hold you closer. Your arms rested on his inner arms, feeling the warmth of his skin so smoothly as he swayed you from side to side.

“Well i’ll be by the snacks if y’need to find me.” You laughed and so did he, making you feel better that he was feeling a bit better too.

“M’kay.” He said softly and leant down to give you a soft kiss to the lips, cupping you chin lightly so he could pull your further into him. He tasted so good and fresh and he felt so hot against you. He pulled away with much reluctance and smiled when he saw your strawberry-tasting lipstick now slightly smudged. “Did I mention how hot you look tonight?”

“Only a few times.” You smiled and bit your lip as his eyes gazed over you, soaking up every detail of you, your body and outfit. You knew you looked pretty damn good, because you felt so good too.

“Only a few? Well that’s not good enough, is it?” He asked rhetorically, straightening your blazer slightly so the collar wasn’t crooked.

“You can make up for it later.”

“Oh, i’ll make sure of it lovie.” Harry raised his eyebrows and kissed your cheek, before Jeff told him to go stand over by the wall where photos would be taken. He left you be, with a childish pout to his face, and did what he was told.

It was another minute before the fans piled into the room, being told to form an orderly queue within the lines they’d marked out. You took a water bottle and drank from it as the first girl walked up to Harry, the poor thing shaking like a leaf. You watched as Harry comforted her, hugging her only slightly. Everyone here was obligated to wear a mask and also be vaccinated with a negative test result. If you weren’t vaccinated you couldn’t meet Harry, regardless of whether your test was negative. There were very strict rules, but it was for the safety of everyone - including touring staff who were more vulnerable.

A few of the other girls did their solo photos, before asking for a group one too. They were all coordinating in their outfits, but just different colours so they made a rainbow. Harry thought it was genius and made positive comments on all their outfits. You could tell it had made their year, let alone their day.

Once the first group was done they were told they could refresh themselves with some snack, before they would be escorted to their seats because they were in their own pit area. You smiled with your eyes at the group of rainbow girls approaching the table, moving out of the way so that they could grab what they wanted.

“Y/N?” One of the girls asked, the one wearing lilac actually.

“Hi, hello!” You waved awkwardly, not sure whether this was going to be the confrontation Harry had warned you about.

“Can we get a photo?” They asked politely, which made your eyes widen. You’d never been asked for a fan photo before, even when out in public with Harry. You’d always preferred to stick to the shadows unless instructed otherwise, just because you hadn’t always appreciated how good you looked, but now you were feeling great so you didn’t have a problem with it.

“Sure, yeah.” You nodded as the girl brought her camera up to snap a few selfies with you. You smiled through your mask and stuck up a peace sign - just like Harry had taught you to do.

“Thank you so much. You look amazing, by the way.” They complimented your outfit.

“Thank you! So you do lot! You’re giving me heavy TPWK vibes.” You pointed to them and they laughed, agreeing that that is in fact what they were going for.

“Can I get a photo too, sorry?” The green girl asked and you had to admit that they probably looked the best, but maybe you were just biased because that wad your favourite colour because they reminded you of your boyfriend’s eyes.

“Don’t be sorry, ‘course y’can.” You smiled and they came to stand closer to you. You took a few selfies with them and then the blue one asked too. It wasn’t long before you’d taken selfies with the full rainbow. “Shall we have a group photo?”

“Oh my god yes please!” They all cheered at the same time and you called over one of Harry’s security guards to come take a picture for you.

You all huddled together, you in the middle of them. You were stood in between green and yellow, so your pink outfit sort of ruined the flow of colours but they didn’t seem to mind. They especially didn’t seem to mind when Harry sneaked up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your head. He squeezed you tight and everyone’s faces were super happy when the next few photos were taken.

“What’re you playing at?” You asked him, taking your arms off the shoulders of the girls and turning your head around to face him since he wasn’t letting go of your waist.

“Was told to come tell you to stop being a bother so these lot can go and find their seats.” Harry smiled his cheeky grin, knowing that he phrased that in a less than pleasant way.

“A both—”

“Y/N was no bother at all.” Green girl came to your assistance, protecting you against Harry’s playful accusation.

“Yeah we asked to take the photos.” Red girl stepped in next, blushing when they realised that Harry was actually staring at them with a smile on his face.

“Alright. Just this one can be trouble sometimes.” Harry tickled your waist, which made you squirm and laugh.

“Oi i’m not trouble, y’prick.” You whacked him in offence, just joking and the fans could tell because they were all laughing at you two. You noticed that one or two of them were filming you both, or taking photos, and so you tilted your head back onto Harry’s shoulder as he held you tight - feeding the fans the content that they so desperately wanted.

“Thank you so much Y/N. I love you Harry. Thank you Harry.” They all spoke bc over each other as they were escorted out of the room and off to their seats, Harry being told he had ten minutes until stage.

Harry just held you tight, kissing you at every opportune moment until the sounds of Golden called him away.

[moonlightwritesdisney]

YOU. — Wyatt Lykensen

Pairing: Wyatt Lykensen X FEMALE! READER

Requested: Yes / No

Warnings: vulgar swearing. descriptions of blood. unhealthy behavior. mentions of rape.

Author’s Note: please note that you (the reader) and wyatt are both adults in this image. Just to clear up any confusion!

Summary: The first time he saw you he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. He follows you everywhere. He gets jealous when he sees you invite a friend over for old times sake. Things go way to far. You will be his.

HE ALLOWED THE LOUD CHATTER and birds song in the bright summer square of ZombieTown to be slowly drowned out by all his pulsing thoughts. He stood in the distance observing you. Out of all the people that passed by blocking his view, he kept his hard eye on you.

 The way your soft brunette curls laid untouched just inches away from your descending chest. Echoes of your honey dripping laugh rang through his twitching ears. The jealously and anger only grew worse.

Unbeknownst to you, not aware of the wolf watching you had just finished a few hours of shopping, you were making your way down towards the central parking just by ZombieTown’s large water fountain before you were stopped by an old school friend — who was male. 

He was so surprised to see, he complimented you and watched you laugh in sweetness. Both of you stood their for at least 20 minutes catching up on old burnt out memories he was trying to re-flame. He could read your mind. He felt the same as you. He knew you were uncomfortable and wanted to make a fast escape. You didn’t trust this guy but.

“Hey uhm- i was actually wondering if you’d like to have dinner and a movie tonight?” Was this guy serious? After a twenty minute conversation?! You weren’t one to be rude because of your passive personality. “Oh — uhm sure! I’d like that. I’ll be there at seven o’clock”.

 And with that you were off and on your way home. Wyatt watched as you retreated towards the silver Cadillac you owned in the parking lot. He watched all around him. He glared at the young man who was walking the opposite way. That dumb human. He couldn’t stand a chance against him.

Nonetheless, he knew you’d be his one day. He’d let you have the little amount of happiness this human could spare for a while. He’d imagine you helpless crying and running straight into his arms. The way your head laid on his shoulder while he rubbed your back in a calming manner.

 Leaving little kisses on our neck when he was in the mood, the warm feeling of both your sweaty bodies pressed together in pure erotic euphoria. Tingles ran down his spine as he imagines your soft smile in his mind. His heart raced at the thought of your body. Every curve and edge. All the imperfections you could name he’d find absolutely exhilarating.

“Hey man, curfew’s almost up you have to leave”. Another voice snapped him out of deep personal thoughts, he eyed a stern looking officer dressed in a blue SeaBrook uniform, who was very tired and just wanted to go home. He nodded his way respectfully and exited the shopping plaza. The walk to your house wasn’t long. 

The city had separate ZombieTown’s main housing and shopping lot so you had to drive at least a small distance to venture for a desired shopping day. He had taken the path towards your small apartment plenty of times, along with being a wolf came with advanced speed so he made due time. The sky swirled with light pinks and oranges making a beautiful sunset in the small town.

The crunching of grass under his feet made his anxious as he took a deep breathe, his footsteps became silent in worries of you discovering him. He stood calmly in your background his ears twitching hearing you humming to yourself softly — he figured you were in the shower getting ready for you date.

A scoff left his red lips in jealousy, he hated that it wasn’t him. ‘in due time’. He thought to himself confidently as he caught attention to light fogs of steam arising from the running shower. Now, Wyatt was no prude but he absolutely couldn’t resist. His curious brown eyes peered above the brick ledge.

A gasp hitched in his throat. His heart could explode at any moment. Their you stood, pampering yourself in the shower. Looking ever so beautiful. The water dripping down your pale dark skin. Your green textured hair soaking up the moisture from the water. 

He bit down on his lip as goosebumps shot up his back. You were marvelous. Your beautiful voice flowing through his ears as you sung. His eyes grew yellow, his animalistic nature taking full control. Fangs flashed from his mouth.

He tightened his fist in frustration. He wanted to take you right then and there. ‘All mine’. He thought as he found himself skewing up dirty — unholy images in his mind of him senselessly fucking you, clinging to him as you screamed his name. He knew it was wrong. The tightening he felt in his boxers was painful. Too painful to even bear. He wanted you, every inch. 

To him you were everything. All his. After having to agonize through his painful boner he regained composure after zipping up his pale brown pants and moved stalkingly towards the right his eyes casting view into your bedroom window, the soft white shades slightly parted allowing him to see through.

Different collages and pictures of close friends and things you adored plastered all over your walls. Small shelves that held small knickknacks and small plants lightly attracting ray of sunlight bent at the wall. Your bed, freshly made with the soft maroon red and pillows with the dark hues of blue designed with golden tassels laid neatly, untouched.

 You were somewhat messy, but very articulate and decorative. Which he adored. Small white bookshelves filled to the end with large literature of your liking. Pushed up against your light grey accent wall. Posters and cute pieces of art made by yourself were taped just above your bed post.

He adored your room. It was full of positivity, light, and all things that you adored. The sweet vanilla and shea scent from your body streamed into his nose like a running river. Licking his lips in anticipation he closed his eyes and exhaled your delectable scent. 

You walks into the small atmosphere the cold air hitting your bare legs, missing the warmth of the water and steam capture your body in a relaxing shower. It was a sewer green like color to which your full cheeks spread into a large smile ‘perfect’.

After reaching for a pair of distressed and ripped jeans that you had seen in the corner of your eye you pulled down the chain to your light which shut off you quickly threw your clothing on your bed and sat down on the edge freeing the sparkling red cap on your lotion squeezing the lotion onto your hand. 

It smelt amazing, ever since zombies had fought for more equality from the humans. Zombies from everywhere where now able to walk into any store much to the similar human version of their Victoria Secret and others. To which they could by all sorts of cute lipglosses, lotions, night wear, and clothing. The sweet deep smell of cinnamon and rose entered your nostrils as you rubbed the lotion into your calves working your way up to the top of your thighs.

The black pupils widened in arousel and wonder as he stared into the inside of your window without your knowledge — your hands slowly rubbing the white substance on the curve of your plush butt. He was awe stricken, so captivated by the goddess he had known as you. His heart thumped wildly in his chest he couldn’t get enough of you.

 Your finger pulled up the red belt loops of the maroon jeans your legs fitted around, securing the gold buttons of your jeans into the red holes in front. You sighed and fumbled with the thin green fabric you scrunched up the material and pushed your head through, then your arms.

You stood in front of the large white rimmed body mirror that leaned against the back wall with a cute colorful tapestry laid over it with pictures of close friends and fun stickers plastered on the corners of the glass. You loved the way your outfit looked. You felt very satisfied. A huge smile spread across your cheeks. The left of your head swung towards the opening crack of your door — the ring of your front doorbell. 

You drowned in confusion, your eyes reached over to read the square alarm clock on your night side table. ‘6:24’. ‘He is only twenty minutes early’. Which you thought was very weird. You had just met back with your old elementary friend hours ago , and only after having a seemingly awkward conversation for twenty minutes you agree to go on a date but he’s twenty minutes early?!

You pondered at the all the possibilities as to why he suggested this. But nonetheless you shook the feeling away and picking up your towel placing it in your pale green clothing hamper. Stepping out of your room and down into the wide hallway your fingers wrapped around the chilling gold door handle and yanked it open.

 There he stood, bouncing eagerly on his toes. His hair slicked back with hair spray, the clothing he wore was doused with heavy calogne — the foul heavy smell of the body spray stung at your nose the second you opened your front door. Which was something you didn’t find attractive at all. The wide smile he wore seemed like it was too toiled. Like he was trying to hard. His clothes. Ew.

He wore a bright blue and white plaid buttoned, with a black lambskin jacket over it unbuttoned, dark blue low waisted jeans and light brown flats. Yikes. How human of him. You absolutely hated what he was wearing. You knew he was being desperate. You could see it in his body language and his expression. You spotted bright red roses — in front of him you would have scoffed and sent him away.

 If he truly remembered you he would have remembered you like sunflowers instead of basic red roses. How bland. But instead, you gave him the benefit of the doubt. You knew the crippling and heart breaking sorrow of rejection, you were a zombie of course so being cast out was something you knew all to well. Instead you tilted your head to the side and forced your cheeks into a great smile.

“Are these flowers for me?” You asked clasping your hands together. He looked down then up at your a small smirk plastering on his thin lips — ‘ABSOLUTELY NOT SIR PLEASE GOD SO DISGUSTING’. These thoughts screamed in your mind as you watched him with pure unattractive as his licked his lips “yes they are actually”.

 He said with a very man-ly chuckle “they reminded me of you so I picked them up at the zombie market in town on my way here”. As if this dude wasn’t trying hard enough. He truly had to glamorize the fact that he picked the flowers up at a zombie store instead of the regular human one. So he was racist and trying to hard. Great. You let out an awkward laugh and stepped aside allowing him in before the air became filled with his disgusting aroma.

You had retrieved the flowers from his hand and immediately threw them carelessly on the counter. He didn’t question it but instead following closely behind you. ‘I’ll burn them later’. You thought with a pleasing smirk that played on your face. He had already sat down in your living space his flats sprawled on the floor and his feet kicked up on your glass coffee table. Dog behavior. You rolled your eyes he was stupid and too dumb to even understand basic manners.

 Football was playing on your small flat screen, you had taken a seat next to him your feet flat on the floor, your toes curling in the soft plush carpet. “Would you like something to drink?” you asked politely, the man turned his attention towards you, a curl in his lip “hm sure, the finest wine you’ve got?” He requested you stood up and went into the small kitchen opening the oak cabinet next to the sink you had set both wine glasses down on the marble countertop. 

The dark brown hues in your eyes scanned out the closed window above your sink watching the bright pink sky combine with beautiful colors of orange and red cascading over the oval clouds. You twisted the cork out of the bottle of white wine you had just bought from ‘Z’s Gruesome Groceriez” in ZombieTown. 

You wondered if this human had tasted zombie issued wine before, since well zombie wine was a lot more bitter than regular human liquor / wine. It had a hint of brains. You shrugged with a ‘hmp’. ‘He’s too dumb to even notice anyway’.

After filling both glasses to the half point you held both of them in your hands and carefully walked back into the living room where the human sat on your white leather couch his eyes and full attention soaking into the fourth quarter and a fumbling ball. 

You cleared your throat to catch his attention, he smiled towards you and took the wine glass from your right hand and thanked you focusing his content back on the television. “So .. what are you doing for work now?” you asked trying to break the awkward tension to which he perked up after taking a small sip and setting it down.

 “Oh well I’d never thought you’d ask, I work as SeaBrook patrolman, you?” You ignored the sting in your gut “I work as a journalist and a proud activist for the Zombie’s and Werewolves’ against discrimination movement, or ZAWAD, it supports the bright culture of both werewolves and zombies and brings everyone together. 

We try to unite the communities in SeaBrook instead of pushing away and we absolutely do try our best too peacefully speak our thoughts and have mindful conversations without violence.” 

You spoke proudly watching his intense expression burn into your eyes. He nodded slowly and pursed his lips which confused you nonetheless you still tried to ignore the screaming inside your head and gut ‘make him leave’. ‘this is going to end badly’. Chills scattered down your back in anxiousness.

 “That’s interesting and ... very sexy actually, your very passionate about it i can tell”. You internally cringed at that word coming out of his mouth. ‘Sexy’. He definitely wanted something, and it wasn’t a genuine conversation. You froze with disgust his nimble tender cold fingers resting on your knee. “oh uhm, thanks i guess”.

 You spoke trying to give him the hint, you weren’t interested even  if he was the last person on earth you wouldn’t. His hand inched closer towards your inner thigh a evil smirk plastered on his face. “god your so sexy”. He then leaned his lips towards yours capturing you in his grasp. You didn’t give an inch, you squealed in protest.

 You moved your arms to his biceps and tried to push him way from you , he refused now he was on top of you. His rough calloused hands slide up towards your collarbone, you groaned in anger “can you please just stop-- STOP!”  You shouted, his breathe was hot against your neck his left hand slide up towards your neck and pressed down onto your windpipe. 

You gasped gritting your teeth, you used your right hand to try and push him off but his strength held your arm down. You felt helpless, weak, worthless to know that you had somehow allowed this disgusting being to get ahold of you. That is, until you felt him grasping the metal of your Z-band. 

You knew that taking it off could potentially be a very dangerous action, which was only to be taken off in emergencies only. This was a very big problem and it needed to be stopped. His hand gripped the clasp of your band, you felt the dark veins pulsating throughout your body. 

Using the strength to lift your left hand which caused a small chime from your Z-band to sound, it unclasped from you wrist and fell somewhere on the floor. In just a few seconds the light around your eyes had turned a deep purple cracks plunging from under them. A low growl erupted from your stomach then submerged to your throat. 

The man felt you vibrate from below him, he had suddenly noticed you had changed. He gasped and stood up as you growled and snarled, you inched closer towards him as he took steps back defensively. “Stay the hell away from me you bitch!” He shouted sternly but the anger was hot and boiling inside of you. 

Turning into a zombie was something you couldn’t control. It was coded in your genes. Once your Z-band was ripped from you the monster took over inside you, just as it did for anyone. Your vision had turned completely red. The low grumbles and growling roared within you, this is what you were. A monster, and damn, were you proud of it. 

You stepped closer to the cowering man as he flared his arms towards you, which unfortunately, only agitated you more. In this moment you were gone, the zombie inside you was controlling you, and you smelt fear. Which was a bad thing. “Your a waste of human life”. Your normal quiet spoken speech had transformed into a lower deep growl. Using your zombie strength you grabbed the human by his leather collar and bite deeply into his neck, the loud scream leaving the dry of his throat. 

The blood seeped out of his neck like a river, you lifted him to meet eyes with a demon like growl “next time you better stop”. You seethed before letting him drop to the ground, the now scared human scrambled towards his feet holding the gushing wound his hand covered in red. He disappeared out of the living space and out of your life forever. Or at least you hoped he did. Grunting you walked over towards the crack between the couch and the pale wall, getting on your hands and knees you reach down for the metal bracelet. 

After securing it in your grasp you immediately push the clasps together around you wrist. ‘Online’. You let a content sigh slumping back beside the wall the dark veins in your arms slowly recoiled from your arms and legs. Your back ached and your head pounded. The sweet tasting blood of the humans still resting on your lips and along your cheeks. 

Finally, after about a few seconds you steadily returned to your feet. Ignoring the few blood spatters that were now fresh on the floor. ‘I’ll clean it up later”. You let a deep sigh release from your lips as you picked up the two wine glasses and brought them to the kitchen and discarded of the waste in the sink. 

You were fashioned in the bathroom taking a warm cloth and bringing it towards your face wiping off the dried blood. You sucked in a breathe the sound of your beating heart filling your ears. You didn’t feel at all ashamed for what you had done. That bastard human deserved it.

 The overbearing of your anxiety flared, you were worried you might get in huge trouble, since unfortunately, the human is never to blame. You had gone to bed that night in hopes for a better day the next morning -- the only problem was, he saw everything.   

[trishmishtree]

In which I really, truly need to be stopped...but omg I had an idea (ft. amateur research)

So I haven’t been posting my sewing as much lately because I’m currently between projects, but my to-make list just keeps growing and growing and all I’ve made so far is 2 historically inspired/modern dresses and a bunch of historical undergarments that no one is going to see.

Anyway, I have plans for 2 Regency dresses already that I really need to get started on, but I fell down a YouTube “historically accurate Disney princesses” rabbit hole last night and noticed that everybody has been sleeping on Giselle from Enchanted. 

You know, the one whose blue dress is just begging to be refashioned into a proper Regency-silhouette empire waist dress? The one she made from a curtain and wore during the That’s How You Know number?

And now that the idea has been planted in my head, I have to do it. Let’s see what I have to work with.

She has the late-1790s open-robe-over-a-white-dress look going already. Very appropriate for early Regency. (”Regency” as in 1790s to 1820s, not “Regency” in the political sense of 1811-1820.)

The hairstyle is completely modern, but her pink hair ribbons can easily translate into the bandeau in the Grecian-inspired hairstyles of the neoclassical Regency period. 

The puffed sleeves are also very Regency-appropriate, but a little too short to be from the same decade as the open robe (and what looks like a hint of a train on it). That said, there’s this portrait of Pauline Bonaparte sporting a robe with puffed sleeves, which I’m using as my main inspiration, so it’s not unheard of.

Of course, Giselle already has kind of an empire waist going on, but the bustline is a little too low. Nothing that a pair of stays can’t take care of.

I wasn’t sure about the dangly ribbon ties that are keeping Giselle’s blue overgown closed, but then I found this circa 1812 fashion plate from Journal des Dames et des Modes where the robe is closed with ties with tassels on the ends, so I ran with it. 

(Wait, but isn’t that a fashion plate from 1812? Weren’t long trains and open robes out of fashion by then?) Apparently not in France. During this period, English and French court dress differed drastically because Queen Charlotte still required ladies of the English court to wear comically big 18th century skirts under the new fashionable raised waistline, instead of the new slim skirt silhouette that was popular elsewhere in England. 

The more you know... (sung to the tune of That’s How You Know)

Putting all that together, this is the sketch I came up with:

The white undergown is a separate dress that I was already planning to make out of a Swiss dot cotton voile I have. I still haven’t decided what material I’m going to make the blue overgown with, since I don’t like using synthetic fabrics and I like my clothes to be suitable for daily wear in public, and this is  impractically long and over the top and decidedly...not suitable for wearing in public. On the other hand, silk is expensive and I don’t feel like spending money on fabric that I can only use for this one project that I’m not going to get much wear out of. I’m mostly likely going to use some kind of turquoise/aqua polyester brocade fabric and maybe applique some embroidered flowers onto the hem. Historically adequate is good enough.

Oh, and I went back and watched the scene from the movie and it looks like she’s wearing a pink petticoat under the white dress, so I guess I’ll have to make that too.

I’m going to be sewing it all by hand because that’s how I roll and I don’t own or know how to use a sewing machine. I suspect Giselle also made hers by hand, considering I doubt Robert and Morgan had a sewing machine in their apartment, and Giselle probably didn’t have any in Andalasia either. No idea how she did it overnight though. Maybe her new rat and pigeon and cockroach friends helped.

In case anyone is wondering, here are the other 2 regency dresses I want to make: One is Lizzy Bennet’s green 1790s round gown that she wears in the 2005 P&P movie. The other is this lovely little gown from around 1810 that is still the most stunning dress I’ve ever seen. I’m not going to make a direct copy of it because the embroidery is 10,000% too daunting for me to attempt and copyright would probably be an issue, too.

[drarryangels]

want

“I don’t like it.”

Draco stares at him. “You don’t like it?”

Harry shakes his head. “I thought I did once. But I just....”

“Don’t,” Draco finishes for him. 

“Yeah.”

“Hm.” Draco shifts on the couch, folding his legs underneath him, resting his chin on the back of the couch, toying his fingers through the pillow tassels. 

Harry sits absolutely still and watches him, waits for him to say something longer than a couple words at a time. The heater is humming and clicking the same way it’s been doing all autumn, and the wireless taps out an indecipherable rhythm from the far corner. 

The apartment is quiet and comforting in the way it always is, better than it always is because Draco’s here tonight, and they don’t usually come to Harry’s because the clicking heater annoys Draco. All the same, it’s nice. It’s being here instead of at Draco’s that gave Harry the strange burst of courage to tell Draco what he hasn’t been saying since they started dating five months ago. Which is that he doesn’t like sex. 

Draco sighs and Harry blinks. “Can you explain it?” Draco asks. “I want to understand. I’ve always known I wanted to... with someone. Have sex, that is. I suppose there’s no reason to skirt around it.” Draco isn’t looking at Harry, he’s looking down at the olive green pillow tassels, but his feet are still folded up under his bum and his shoulders face Harry, so Harry isn’t worried. Not yet. “You don’t want sex?” he asks, to confirm what Harry’s already said twice. 

“No,” Harry says. 

“And you don’t like it?”

“Not really. It kind of grosses me out.”

Finally, Draco’s eyes lift to Harry’s. His eyebrows run straight across his face, his mouth relaxed. Harry isn’t sure if Draco is calm, or if he’s only pretending to be so he won’t scare Harry off. 

“It doesn’t gross me out,” Draco says, his eyes still settled on Harry’s face. “I like it. I like being close with someone. I like knowing that every part of me is close to every part of someone else. It’s about intimacy, and feeling good.”

Harry swallows. This is the part of the conversation he’d been worried about. Not because he thinks Draco will judge him, or shun him, or think he’s weird, but because it isn’t what Draco wants. Draco wants this, and he likely wants it with Harry, and Harry doesn’t want it, so where does that leave him?

“Right,” Harry says, and clears his throat. 

Draco’s eyebrows tip up at the corners. “Harry,” he says softly. He reaches his hand out, and his fingertips brush over the veins winding over Harry’s knuckles. “Don’t look like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m stabbing you repeatedly with a blunt knife.” Draco smiles a little. “I’m not leaving. I don’t think you’re wrong.” His thumb rubs the back of Harry’s hand, like a soft breeze soothing down the waves of the twisting rivers of Harry’s blood thundering through his veins. “I’m here. Right here.”

Harry looks at him, all the things that Draco is. Silvered strands of hair glowing orange in the reflected light from the fire, dropping over his cheekbones, tangling around his ears. His eyelashes, too dark for the rest of his face, shadowing over his eyes. The jut of his collarbones through his shirt, the bony knobs of his knees and his elbows. His hands, warm and big and real. 

“I’m listening,” Draco says. “I want to know.”

“Okay,” Harry says. “Okay.”

There is quiet in the moments and the space between them. A waiting quiet, a peaceful quiet. Harry sits in it, revels in it, the fact that they have it, before he speaks. 

“I used to think that I would want sex,” Harry begins. It’s easier to stare down at his own knees as he says this, so he does. “I’m attracted to men and women, their bodies. I like their arms, their shoulders, their hands. I want their stomachs, and their chests, and their legs. Their thighs and their heels and the underside of their jaw.” Harry shakes himself a little. “That’s too general. What I want to say, is I want those things from you. I’m attracted to those things about you.”

Draco’s breath catches, Harry hears it. He doesn’t acknowledge it, but carries on with the speech he’s been whispering to his reflection for months, waiting to say it aloud for someone - for Draco - to hear.

“I want to trail my fingers down your stomach, and bury my face in your neck, and hold onto your hips. I want to kiss your thighs, the small of your back, the inside of your arm, the palms of your hands. I want to do those things to you, and I want you to do them to me.” Harry pauses. He’s never said anything like this, so blatant, so loud, so clear. 

Draco, in all of the new sweet goodness that Harry has found in him, lifts one of Harry’s hands to his mouth and kisses it. 

“But I don’t want sex.” Harry breathes slowly, in and out. “Genitalia makes me feel gross. It makes me uncomfortable. I don’t want it. I don’t want anything to do with it. And-” Harry takes another slow breath. “It took me a long time to figure that out. I didn’t know anyone who felt like that, the way I did. People either wanted to have sex, or they didn’t. No one felt desire for someone... but didn’t want to have sex with them.”

Harry glances up from his knees. Draco is nodding, his eyebrows drawn together in the middle, and his hands still holding firm to Harry’s. 

“You know what, Harry?” Draco says. 

"Yeah?”

“I’m in love with you.”

Harry’s throat goes dry. “You- what?”

Draco turns to Harry, holding his hands and looking straight into his face. “I’m in love with you. So, so incredibly in love with you.” The calm look on his face dissolves, and Harry sees Draco, truly. “I don’t care if you want sex, or if you don’t. I don’t care that you drink cheap tea, and you don’t wipe the steam off the mirror when you shower, and that you never let me tidy your hair after your naps.”

“Tidying never works,” Harry mumbles. Draco grins at him. 

“Those things don’t bother me in the slightest.” Draco shuffles closer to Harry on the couch. “Because it’s you. Because-” Draco laughs, his voice cracked and full of air. “Because I’m in love with you.”

Harry’s stomach twists around and drops, and his heart thuds, and the rivers of blood winding over his knuckles are pounding, pounding, pounding. 

“Harry?”

Harry can only nod. Words have abandoned him. 

“You are perfect.”

“’M not,” Harry mutters, shaking his head so hard his cheeks wobble.

“You are perfect for me.” Draco tilts his head and looks at Harry so earnestly and sweetly, that all of Harry’s thoughts and doubts tumble down him and away in dizzying cascades. “I love you.”

Harry doesn’t say it back. He tips over, falling into Draco, his head tumbling into Draco’s stomach and then his lap, and he doesn’t say anything. He winds his arms around Draco’s waist, and he presses his face into his stomach, and he cries a little and whispers thank you, thank you over and over again. 

He doesn’t say it back, but he knows that Draco sees it. In his breath, and the turn of his head, and the press of his fingertips, Draco knows.

[luciusmalfoysimp]

Using Your SafeWord For the First Time With Lucius Malfoy (one shot)

this one shot is going to be nsfw, and it will involve mentions of poor mental health/depression and anxiety. if you are in fact struggling with either of those two, please know you are loved by so many people. message me anytime :)

this is gonna have a dom!Lucius (of course) and a relationship involving bdsm.

warnings: impact (ie spanking and more), restraint, mentions of poor mental health

Your cries of pain rang through the air and echoed against the walls as you received another harsh strike to your rear. You currently found yourself bent over your partner’s bed, your hands harshly tied together behind you with a thick, dark green rope, a piece of black silk covering your eyes, and your ass red, sore, and exposed to Lucius, who stood behind you, staring at your state.

The past few days had been incredibly rough for you mentally. Your mind was filled with all sorts of intrusive and unhealthy thoughts, plagued by depression and anxiety. As much as you wanted to open up, your anxiety only told you that Lucius didn’t want to hear them, as he already had enough stress with work; he didn’t need to be concerned about you.

Your mind was getting so rotted and poisoned that you needed a release. You decided to turn to your partner in a different way, and asked him to just let you have it, hoping the physical pain he’d inflict on you would drown out the mental.

Ragged breaths shook from your body as you anticipated your dominant’s next move. You could hear his quiet footsteps as he paced back and forth, and you could practically hear the smirk on his face. In a condescending voice, he asked you if you were enjoying yourself, and you replied with a hoarse “yes, sir.” The fluttering of the tassels on the flogger in his hand was a noise you were all too familiar with, and you wondered when his next strike would be. You shivered as he chuckled quietly and you heard him walk away. What is he grabbing now...

Your question was quickly answered as you felt the cold metal of your dominant’s cane lightly rub against your flesh. Beneath the blindfold, you felt your eyes widen as you realized what tool he would be using next on you. Can I really handle his cane today...? No, I know I can... Despite what you told yourself, you could feel a pang of doubt in your stomach. A hand suddenly gripped your hair and you felt Lucius’s hot breath on the shell of your ear.

“I’d prepare yourself if I were you...” His voice was a seductive snarl, and your only response was a quiet whine. As he backed away, you could feel your already sweat-slicked palms get damper from anxiety. Your heart began to race as Lucius intentionally stood still, leaving you to wonder when he’d at last begin the torture.

It almost seemed like slow motion. You could hear the air being cut by the sharp swing of the cane, and then the white-hot pain spread all across your rear. Instantly, you let out a voice-clawing yell of surprise and pain, and you felt tears fill your eyes. You couldn’t see it, but Lucius smirked down at you with pride. He loved seeing you so vulnerable and completely his.

Another shriek left your throat as you were hit again, and you gritted your teeth, letting a groan out through your tightly clamped jaw. You didn’t want to cry, you were too strong for that. You needed to focus on the pain...

Even though you told yourself this, you felt your mind wander to the thoughts that clouded all things positive. As you were struck a third time, these thoughts seemed to amplify in volume, with words of not being good enough and feelings of unworthiness getting louder in your head. The silk against your eyes started to dampen, and the shockwave of pain coursed through you, this one being much worse as Lucius decided to put his whole arm into the swing.

Your reaction was instant, as you screeched from the incredible ache on your already burning backside. You instinctively pulled against the ropes restraining your wrists as you felt tears slip from beneath the soft fabric of your blindfold. Internally, you hoped that the next impact would be lighter, but to your horror, it quickly became apparent that he put the same amount of strength in this hit as the last one. You went to scream but no noise came out, only an inhale. Lucius hadn’t put much time between his strikes, and the sting from the last was now more intense.

That’s when your mind began to explode. Hurtful phrases towards yourself began to just completely rip through your brain at what seemed a million miles an hour. Everything became 100% more intense as you began to go into sensory overload. Lucius’s breaths and footsteps from behind you sounded like it was being played through a concert amp at full blast, the light you could vaguely see through the blindfold suddenly was in competition with the sun, the blanket beneath you became course and uncomfortable, the light saltiness from your tears was suddenly the same taste of sea water...

And Lucius struck again.

I can’t fucking do this, I can’t fucking do this...

This phrase drowned out the rest of your thoughts, and with a deep breath...

“WHIPLASH.” You sobbed, your body completely trembling.

This had never happened during a scene before, and Lucius’s then sadistic mindset completely shattered at the raw desperation in your voice. It completely shook him, actually confused him at first, and it took only a split second to ground him and melt from his current headspace. In an instant, he threw the cane to the side, the clattering of it hitting the ground unknowingly frightening you and making you shrink into the mattress, bringing your bound hands closer to your head to protect yourself in some way. Instinctively, you began to repeatedly say your safeword in a hoarse voice, tears flowing faster.

It nearly broke Lucius to see you this distraught. He grabbed his wand and with a flick of his wrist pointed towards your tied hands, the rope loosened. You shuddered as you felt him quickly pull the rope away from you, and despite him removing your blindfold, you kept your eyes screwed shut. Lucius pulled your torso up as he sat in front of you, his hands going to the sides of your face while you sat on your haunches.

“Darling, what’s wrong?” His tone was so soothing and you could feel yourself calm ever so slightly. The warmth from his hands left your face momentarily and you heard some rustling of a soft blanket nearby. Kitten-soft fabric wrapped around your bare shoulders and went down your back, warming up the fabric from your thin black camisole. You gripped the blanket and pulled it tight against you.

“My love, please look at me.” Lucius’s voice was as soft as the blanket, you allowed your eyes to open. His face was clouded by tears, but you could make out his rare worried expression and his beautiful hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail. The tears flooded and your sight was cleared better.

His expression, which was usually cold as ice, was one that you’d only seen on a few occasions, usually when you’d accidentally get hurt or when you got separated from him on Diagon Alley for a good fifteen minutes. His brows were furrowed, his piercing eyes glinting with concern, lips slightly parted as he awaited your response.

Opening your mouth, you went to explain yourself, only to be overwhelmed with emotion. As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t get a word out as your crying took over you, your body shaking with each sob. When you looked at Lucius through your tears, all you could see was an expression of heartbreak on your lover’s face, and you buried your face into your palms, trying to hide your hurt.

He truly was heartbroken as he watched you completely break down in front of him. All he wanted to give you in life was joy, pleasure, and safety. The thought of you experiencing any kind of negative emotion honestly slightly scared him. He’d always hoped to see you content and full of smiles. Of course he knew that you were human and you experienced other emotions than happiness, but seeing this intensity of utter distress and sadness gave him a cold pain in his chest.

You felt his hands move to yours, lightly gripping them and prying them away. You hesitated, but let him remove your shielding hands as you sniffled, your throat burning as you tried to keep yourself from crying any further. All you could do was stare at your hands in your dom’s, trying to avoid eye contact as much as you could. This attempt failed as one of his hands left yours to grasp your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head up and eventually meeting his incredible blue-green eyes.

“My love...” His tone gave away his concern as well. There was a slight tremble to it that you picked up on. “Please, tell me what is going on.”

Taking a deep breath, you slowly began to express your recent painful thoughts to him, instantly tearing up again. You told him your hopes of coping with his sadism, hoping that the pain would overshadow your thoughts, and how when he used his cane, it only amplified everything: your thoughts, your senses, and your pain. A flicker of regret could be seen in Lucius’s eyes as you said this. Lastly, you told him how you didn’t want to burden him with your struggles.

The entire time you spoke, Lucius never broke eye contact, and would stop you to make you look at him when you’d look away. He wanted you to know you had his complete undivided attention and that you yourself wouldn’t get distracted in anyway. As you spoke, his hand ran up and down your shoulder, a reassuring gesture that he was there for you. His other hand lightly wiped your tears away and cupped your face, another soft action to help you feel secure.

Once you’d finally finished your explanation, your dominant pulled you into his lap, his arms around your waist. You put your arms around his neck and buried your face into his shoulder, enjoying his warmth and closeness. His left hand came up from your waist and cupped the back of your head. The two of you sat for a minute in silence as silent tears went down your face.

“Darling...” Lucius’s rich voice broke the silence. “You never, ever need to fear that your feelings can’t be shared with me. I need to know when you are unwell. I absolutely adore you, and I want to make things better for you when you’re hurting.” You felt his embrace tighten. “Let me take care of you...”

And with that, the two of you stayed together for a bit longer before he insisted on you taking a warm, comforting bath, which you agreed to. He gently brought you to his master bathroom, which had a luxurious jacuzzi tub, and sat you on the edge as he waved his wand and the taps turned on instantly, warm water filling the tub quickly.

As the tub filled, you vacantly stared into the water, feeling out-of-body in a way. Your mind felt heavy yet empty, like TV static. While you stared, Lucius was quick to grab a few of your favorite essential oils and drop some into the tub, the water becoming silky. He noticed your vacant gaze and walked over to you, cupping your chin to make you face him. His other hand tugged at the hem of your camisole, asking to take it off. You hazily lifted your arms and allowed your partner to take off your last piece of clothing, throwing it aside. Once the bath was filled (which didn’t take very long), you sank into the warm water and allowed yourself to relax.

Lucius’s hands ran down the back of your neck and landed on your shoulders, which he lightly began to massage. You closed your eyes in bliss at the magic of his hands, which were able to find every knot and tense spot and diffuse it quickly. As he did this, he brought his lips to your ear, whispering nothing but sweet praises to you.

“You’re alright.” “I’m here.” “You’re safe.” “You took everything so well.” “I’m so proud of you.” “I’m so lucky to have you.” “I’m so glad you’re mine.” “You don’t have to worry anymore.”

Each time he spoke did more to ease your mind, and you eventually found yourself crying quietly once again, but tears of relief. He was right: you were safe. Lucius would always be there to protect you and be right by your side.

At last, the water of the tub started to get cold. Lucius helped get you to your feet and wrap you in an incredibly soft towel. As you stood before him, towel covering you from your chest to your knees, your tearstained face finally dry, Lucius couldn’t help but to pull you into a quick embrace, his lips solftly touching your forehead.

“Would you like to get changed into anything, my pet?” He asked in a soft voice. You nodded and Lucius sat you on his bed and left for a minute. When he returned, he produced a long nightgown (or a matching pajama shirt and pants if you’d prefer) and slowly eased you into them.

Usually, when your naked form was in view of your dominant, he couldn’t help but just absolutely salavate at the sight, wanting to indulge you in nothing but utter pleasure until you were seeing stars. But in this moment, your nudity wasn’t anything sexual to him. He didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable after all that you’d endured.

Finally dressed, you were brought to his bed and you climbed in, allowing yourself some peace. After lighting a fire in the fireplace from his wand with a mutter of a spell, Lucius changed out of your view into a simple black pair of elegant silk pajamas and then got into bed behind you, his face going into the back of your neck as his arms went around your torso. You turned over as he held you and buried your face into his chest, your arms returning the embrace. You ended up falling asleep to the blissful sound of your lover’s voice quietly praising you, the fireplace cracking in the background, the warmth of his body against yours, and his hand lightly petting your hair.

Once he noticed you were asleep, Lucius sighed quietly to himself, content to see you at ease. He closed his eyes, thinking to himself how lucky he is to have you in his arms at that moment, and with that, he fell into a peaceful slumber beside you.

[achliegh]

Golden

(Sorry if this Chapter is lack luster :/ )

Yeehaw Leo… it's all because this song came on one day (I don’t even really listen to country anymore so it really is fate). Leo is based off that song, each chapter is going to be based off a yeehaw song too.

Characters belong to @lumosinlove

TW/CW: Smut, terrible yeehaw sayings and jokes, injuries, mentions of past death, minor character death, underage drinking, mentions of past arrests, cringe

Chapter Songs (listening in order is recommended):

Ladies Love Country Boys

Bonfire Playlist: Spotify, Youtube

Watching Airplanes

Chapter 2:

Cowboy Sweet Ass sent you a Location

New Message from Cowboy Sweet Ass

See you there ;)

Finn was nervous, he wasn’t gonna lie, Logan and Him are leaving tomorrow for Gryff and this is the last night they can see Leo. Who, neither of them will admit this, has kindly wiggled his way into their brains for every minute of everyday. Sometimes to break a long silence between the two of them they will talk about Leo. How they were going to cope when they can’t see him again is unknown and something he didn’t want to think about.

They hadn’t actually seen Leo in the past five days, with their training schedule and Leo helping set up a charity arena for the thing they were supposed to meet him at tonight, it was just late night calls that were still kinda awkward at times. But always had them smiling as they fell asleep.

Walking up the dirt path, where the uber had dropped them off, Logan and Finn weren’t sure they were in the right place until they saw the huge crowd gathered around a tall metal fence with bleachers and an announcers corner that's up on a hydraulic lift, speakers set up so people can hear the quick talking of the men commenting on whatever was happening.

Horses and people on them were everywhere. This causes Logan a lot of stress, as someone who is terrified of horses… This is not ideal. Especially when one is trotting toward them at a scary fast speed.

Finn recognized Clayton immediately, trotting over at a leisurely pace on a cool looking horse he waves. He notices Logan hiding himself completely behind Finn’s back. Finn held his hand out for Logan to take and squeeze if everything got too much for him. Logan wasn’t good in big crowds.

“Well look who it is!” Clayton hops off his living vehicle and patting her neck. “Let me introduce you to my babe, This” He gestures towards the mare, “Is Leroy, she is a Blanket Appaloosa! Have you guys met Peanut yet? He’s chilling with Eloise, Leo’s mom, you better hope he likes you or else… yeah, or else.” Clay flashes them his slightly crooked but stupidly white smile as he absentmindedly pets Leroy’s neck.

Feeling a squeeze of his hand he looks back to see an absolutely terrified Logan, not knowing about his fear of horses Finn is just confused. So, he goes into a ‘ get Logan alone’ mind set.

“We will find you in a minute, we’re gonna explore!” Finn smiles back and Clayton nods as he swings his leg back over Leroy and clicks his tongue so she struts back towards the group of other yeehaws on their own horses, they all had numbers pinned to their backs which was weird but Finn guessed Leo would explain later. Claytons was CR243, and it looked like it was about to fall off. He notices how someone would go in real fast and then come out after a minute or two. The announcer talked too fast for him to catch.

Leading Logan to a more open area he turns to face him and raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, what's wrong?”

“Ummmm, J'ai peur des chevaux….” Logan isn’t looking him in the eyes and has an embarrassed flush to his face. Finn, having no clue what he said, gently grabs his chin to make him look at him, Lo hasn’t run his finger through his hair yet so that means he isn’t nervous around Finn at least. Fixing Logan with a slightly irritated but still worried look, Logan sighs and tries to say something but instead what comes out is a terrified yelp as something takes his hat off his head and pulls some of his hair at the same time, then drops it at his feet.

Whipping around and jumping into Finn’s arms bridal style Logan shrieks as he is met with a blonde horse that almost looks smug. The little splotchy white stripes on its snoot may make it look kinda cute but Logan knows what can happen if you get on a horse's bad side. It happened to Sydney, he didn’t need it to happen to him too.

“Peanut!” A very tall and beautiful older woman walks over to them laughing a little, she has a hearing aid in her left ear and soft blue eyes bright with amusement stare them down. “Sorry Y’all, he likes to find new people to mess with.” She smiles and there is just something so familiar about those deep dimples and sharp cheekbones. She is wearing tight jeans with knee high army green cowboy boots, a white button up with a black cowboy hat contrasting the golden curls falling out from under it. She is wearing a sash with the words ‘Miss Louisiana 1971’ the wrinkles on her face didn’t make her look old and crinkly like people like to think, but more like a gracefully aging woman. She holds her hand out to Finn for him to shake, Logan is still in his arms so it is as much of an invitation to him as Finn. “I’m Eloise, this is my son’s horse.” She looks them up and down after shaking both their hands. “He would like you two.” She smiles one last time, giving them a giant wink and leads Peanut away from them back to the bullpens where they spot Leo sitting on the top of a fence talking to a couple of people.

Finn looks at Logan and sets him down.

“So.. horses?”

“Shut up”

“You go for a cowboy and are afraid of horses!” Finn is bent over laughing and clutching his stomach while Logan crosses his arms and looks around annoyed after he dusted off his hat and put it back on his head.

“What’s so funny?” they look over to see Leo in full get up. Smiling bright, showing off his chipped tooth. His hair was flattened by a black sturdy cowboy hat, his blue button up vibrant under his black vest. The vest had a couple of logos stitched into it for Absolut Vodka, Mt. Dew, and Ariat…. Leo was sponsored? He was also wearing some jeans that fit him just right around his booty that they could see through his assless black chaps that had iridescent tassels on them, with his black boots and belt to match. His silver buckle stood out with the light reflecting off it.

“Wow… you look great.” Logan just melts into Leo’s side when Leo wraps an arm around his shoulders. “But tell Finn to stop being a jerk.” Logan put on his best pout when looking up at the taller man, who looked at him with a look that made his heart feel like it was about to jump out of his chest. It didn’t alarm him though, it was nice to feel like this. But it can’t last forever.

“What's he doing that's so mean.” Leo turns his attention to Finn who is smiling at them like he's watching two kittens cuddle into each other. His eyes bright with happiness, his smiles wide.

“He’s making fun of me because I’m scared of horses.” Logan wraps his arms around Leo’s waist and squishes his cheek into his chest to look as cute as possible, so Leo will be on his side. Which… fails.

“You’re afraid of horses!” Leo hugs Logan as he starts laughing, smacking a kiss on the top of Logan’s annoyed forehead and squeezes him. “You’re so cute.” Suddenly they hear numbers coming over other speakers and Leo perks up. “Oh I’m up soon! I hope y’all are gonna stay and watch because I would love to take you to the bonfire tonight.” He pulls Finn into the embrace and gives them both a quick peck on the lips, smiling when they chase his lips. “There should be an open spot in the bleachers or, you could watch from Peanut.”

“Bleachers!” Logan gets out of Leo’s arms and starts pulling both the boys towards the crowd without horses. Leo helps them find a spot next to some girls who flirt with Leo but he has no fucking clue. He is just focused on getting Finn and Logan a good spot.

“Alright, my number is BR11710, so when you hear that you’ll know I’m up! I think Clay might come and find you, he had a good run earlier wrangling those troublemaking claves, so keep an eye out for him.” He smiles and climbs down the bleachers gracefully until the last small step where his spur gets caught and he has to yank it out of the cevous it got stuck in. Looking back up at Finn and Logan his cheeks were red as he shrugged and sauntered off towards the chutes.

“Hola losers!” Clayton plops down above with and slaps a hand on their shoulders. “Excited to see him ride? Or have you already? Actually I would know because we overshare way too much.” Smiling, Clayton is covered in dirt and his cowboy hat has been traded out for a ball cap and his button up taken off to be just a white tank top. A tall pale girl sat down with Clayton and was scrolling on her phone looking uninterested. Clayton sits up and wraps an arm around her waist. “Oh this is Ashley, my girlfriend.” She looks up and gives them an irritated wave before going back to her phone.

“Ride? What’s he doing?” Finn looks at him confused after sharing a look with Logan about the irritated girlfriend, then they hear the announcers call Leo's number.

“Alrighty ladies and gentlefolk! We have something special for y’all! One of our very own PBR riders is here to ride the roughest toughest bull of the day! Ole Forty Days!” The crowd cheers as a confused Finn and Logan look at Clayton who whoops and hollers for his bestie. Whistling with his thumb and forefinger in his mouth.

“Alright Jimmy lets get in some commentary before the ride starts, Leo Knut is a 19 year old Professional Bull Rider, his Mother is Eloise Knut also known as Miss Rodeo of 1970 and Miss Louisiana of 1971. His father was Wyatt Knut, Air Force Veteran who was also Leo’s biggest role model.”

“Was?” Logan whispers and gives a sad look to Finn who is busy watching Leo, he is on this tank of an animal, large, white, horns the size of his whole forearm. Leo was adjusting the way he is sitting and has an underside grip on the rope around the bull, wrapping it around his palm to make sure there isn’t a tether that can be stepped on and yank him off.

“Ole Forty Days is the only PBR bull here today, worth millions he is undefeated 32-0 in his career this year. Will Leo who is 30-2 this year be able to stay on those eight seconds.”

Leo hits the challenge button and the gate flies open, Ole Forte days is wild! Finn is automatically on his feet as he watches Leo with his hand up in the air, eyes hard from focusing and counting in his head. Forte turns a 45 degree buck and just about tosses Leo but his grip is so tight that he lasts those eight seconds. The announcers went crazy the entire time.

As he dismounts the still bucking bull his wrist gets caught in the rope he was holding earlier because of the way his glove is falling apart. The rodeo clowns distract the bull fast enough for Leo to get himself detached, falling on the ground. The bull tosses Leo onto the ground and just misses stomping on his ankles. Leo hops onto the fence, the adrenaline is pumping through his veins and his eyes are bright as he searches for the boys in the stand watching him with fear etched into their faces. When his eyes met Logan’s the fear turned into relief and Leo felt the adrenaline making his heart beat even faster.

After Forte is corralled back into the pen to have the rope around his hips removed Leo jumps off the fence and takes his hat off bowing to the crowd, and they love it, whistling and whoops are heard. He points to Finn, Logan and Clayton. Clayton is so excited and starts dragging the other two down the bleachers leaving Ashley behind. Leo doesn’t like her at all so it's fine. Leo turns around and walks towards sports medicine and lets them take a look at his wrist. As his adrenaline starts to fade away the tweak in his wrist starts to bother him as the medic wraps it up.

“You just ruined Forte’s career!” Clay hugs him from the side and picks him up all excited, his girlfriend who decided to join looks at them unapprovingly. Finn and Logan basically tackle Leo to the ground once Clay puts him down. One on each side of him, balanced.

“Are you insane! That could have killed you!” Finn is shaking a laughing Leo by his collar as Logan examines the way his wrist is wrapped.

“I know, I technically wrecked at the end but I still got my eight seconds!” He smiles and takes his hand from Logan, cupping his cheek and rubbing his thumb over the soft skin.

“You never told us you rode bulls! Leo, a little heads up would have been appreciated!” Logan whacks him on the back of the head after they stand up.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. How can I make it up to you?” Leo puts an arm around them and kisses their temples. They had an idea. Where to do it was the question.

The rodeo ended not long after Leo’s ride, the charities the winners chose would be given a five thousand dollar check courtesy of the Knut’s. After Leo was done taking down the arena, a large pile of wood was set up with large equipment. Leo pulled a Clayton and took off his chaps, vest, button down, and hat off so he was wearing a white shirt and a ball cap.

Leo made up for scaring Finn and Logan by pulling them into the back seat of his truck. Leo sitting in the middle of the seat with Finn straddling one leg, hunched over and sucking on Leo’s neck. Logan straddled Leo’s other leg and kissed him with a ferocity that made them both groan. Leo rested his hands in Finn’s hair and on Logan’s hip. Pulling away Leo turns his head to face Finn, guiding him from his neck to lips. He feels Logan push his hand underneath his shirt and smirks into his kiss with Finn. Moving his hands to squeeze both of their asses, causing Logan’s breath to hitch and Finn to moan. He is about to suggest something spicy when a knock on the window alerts them that the party has started.

Why does Clay always have to stick to his word? Leo asked him to let them know when it was time to move his truck to have the tailgate facing the fire, and now was that time. Leo’s head thumps back onto the seat as he lets out an annoyed sigh.

“Well, I guess we have a party to attend… I’m gonna get so drunk.” He smiles and gives his boys one last kiss before he ushers them out of the truck so he can get out of the backseat to move it.

Finn wanders over to Clayton who has Ashley under his arm, she is tall and very skinny. Her long brown hair was in a French braid, she was wearing short shorts, boots and a crop top. He has a very sour look on her face as Finn walks over to them. Logan on the other hand, goes to take a piss in the porta potty. Something he is not fond of doing.

Leo moves his truck and gets out to put the tailgate down so people can sit on it, climbing into the bed of the truck he opens the cooler in the back and takes out two budlights, Leo doesn't really care for budlight but they need to be drunk.

“CLAYTON!” He shouts as the three walk over to the truck, chucking the beer at his friend; they both take out their keys, puncturing the cans and shotgunning the beers.

A few hours and a lot of drinks later Leo was singing to Finn, standing between his legs as Finn sat on the tailgate next to Logan who was filming.

“You can train 'em, You can try to teach 'em right from wrong. But it's still gonna turn 'em on!” Finn can’t help but laugh and wrap his arms around Leo’s necklaces he sang, every once in while facing Logan's phone and singing into the camera as he filmed. Taking a drink of his beer he smacks a sloppy kiss on Finn's cheek and skips away to Clayton to dance like idiots as Luke Bryan sang about shaking it for birds and bees.

The two drunken best friends wrap and arm around each other hips with their drinks in the other hand, putting left side to right side they swing back and forth to the beat as they scream out the music.

Later on Leo picks Logan up so his arms are around his neck and his legs are around his waist and spins around while humming to a song about wheels and Finn looks so smitten that clayton takes a picture to show him and laughs as he send it to Leo, who has managed to misplace his phone… for the millionth time.

Setting Logan down he wraps his arms around the shorter man's shoulders and rests his chin on top of his head as he bounces to the beat. Logan leans his forehead to rest on Leo’s chest and uses his hand that isn’t holding his water to loop his finger into one of Leo’s belt loops he wishes he could take a screenshot in his brain.

Hours passed, singing and horrible dancing, more drinking for Clay and Leo until it sounded like a good idea to see who could crush a folding table by jumping off Clayton’s truck. Finn managed to lead them away before they actually tried it by telling them’ Leo could def dance better than Clayton’. Which turned into the worst dance battle ever seen. Two drunk teenagers and country music make for terrible dancing but a lot of laughs. Eventually, the fire dies down, the drinks run out and the boys get tired. Finn wrangles Leo into the back seat of the truck after lifting the tailgate, moving to go to the drivers seat because Logan might be to short to drive and they are to dumb to figure out how to move the seats, Leo latches onto him and pulls him into the backseat with him.

“Hey! How do you expect me to drive back here!” Finn pokes Leo’s nose and Leo catches his finger in his mouth biting him. Finn squawks and pulls his finger away. Looking at Leo offended, laughing a little as Leo is looking at him with this tiny smirk. “That was rude.” Leo narrows his eyes playfully and flips them so Finn is laying on his back with Leo snuggling into his chest.

Logan gets in on the passenger side and looks up to see Finn in the back seat being snuggled by an oddly cat like Leo who is rubbing his face on Finn’s soft t shirt, when his eyes meet Logans he blushes so vibrantly pink and has the shyest smiles as he hides his face in Finn’s chest again. Logan looks at Finn who looks like he's dying from cuteness overload. Logan moves over to the driver's seat and sits all the way on the edge of the seat to be able to touch the petals. Logan doesn’t have a clue where Leo lives… but he does remember how to get back to the hotel.

Trying to get a clingy 6’3” cowboy into a hotel room while he is intoxicated is a lot easier than you would think. He was tired, stripping down the second they walk into the door he lands on the bed in his boxer briefs and spoons Logan and grips Finn’s arm as he falls asleep.

They all slept incredibly well that night, warm, close, and together.

The next morning was the morning The Lions leave to go back to Gryffindor. Leo was up before the other two, showered and dressed when he woke them up with peppering kisses all over their faces.

“Good morning, Honey Bees. Y’all need to get up and get ready to leave, you go home today.” Leo runs his hand through Finn’s hair as he greets them with a sad smile. He doesn’t want them to leave, but he knows that this isn’t some fairytale where two princes will give up their dreams to be with him. That’s not what he wants anyway. The other two finally get up, Finn goes to shower as Logan changes and packs his bag. Glancing at Leo every once in a while, like he wants to say something.

“Leo, what are you still doing here?” Logan drops his bag by the door and turns around to face the taller man, crossing his arms and giving Leo a cold look. Leo is a little taken back by this, Logan has never looked at him like that, and he wasn’t expecting it from how nice yesterday was.

“I was to see you two off… is that okay?” Leo starts to feel uncomfortable under the harsh eyes he found so pretty, he starts picking at the wrap around his wrist, breaking eye contact with Logan as a sinking feeling seeps into his chest. He never expected anything to actually come from this but he ached for it.

He knows where this is going.

“I don’t know what you think is going to happen after we leave, but we aren’t going to be fawning over you when we are busy with our own careers. You are just… a guy who we had a fling with. Finn and I aren’t even together so don’t expect anything.” Logan's voice stayed low in volume but echoed in Leo’s ears.

“I wasn’t expecting anything. I just wanted to see you guys leave, say goodbye, maybe…” Leo didn’t finish his sentence when he looked up at an annoyed and frustrated Logan. “What did I do?” He hears the bathroom door open and Finn walks into the room whistling in fresh clothes as he dries his hair with a towel.

“You don’t mean anything to us Leo'' Finn hears Logan and knows exactly what’s going on, Logan has done this to him many times. This is Logan’s way of cutting off something he wants in a way he knows won't bring the person back, even though he always feels horrible eventually. Finn has been a victim of Logan’s lashing out many times, and he hasn’t left, because he loves Logan. He really really likes Leo, he gives his heart a similar jolt that Logan does. From what they have discussed, Logan felt the same. Logan doesn’t allow himself the luxury of feeling like this though.

Leo looks absolutely shattered after Logan’s words sank in. He looks over to Finn who looks like he’s in his own head, then back to Logan. “I really really like you guys-”

“Stop being a fucking child Leo! This isn’t something we can continue after we leave, we would get torn to shreds by the league! Not everything is about you and we don’t want you! So just go back to your fucking farm and forget us.” Logan grabs his bag and walks out the door slamming it shut, going to be the first one on the bus that just pulled up to take the team to the airport.

Leo stares at where Logan was when red catches his eye, Finn stops and gives Leo a sad smile, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear. Finn then turns his back to Leo and follows Logan out the door. Leaving Leo alone in the hotel room… He reaches in his pocket and pulls out the hotel keycard, standing up he goes to leave it on the table of the room, he stops just before he sets the key down.

He takes the card and walks out of the room, Climbing into his truck that was horribly parked, he finds his phone on the floor of the passenger side. Picking up his phone, he calls up the only person he knows who would be willing to hang out even if he was sick from last night.

“Clay? Can you meet me somewhere?”

A half hour and some McDonald's hash browns later. Clayton and Leo were sitting on top of Leo’s truck hood watching the airplanes take off, sipping on soda they got with their food. They watched in a comfortable silence as planes brought people in and took people away.

Logan and Finn were on one of those.

[iv-aur-y]

-| 1

A Plethora of Dead Ends ~' Chapter One

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Amidst the misty haze, there was a duo who sat by the grass, gazing upon the brightly lit city of Liyue. Even from as high as Mt. Tainheng, the hustle and bustle of the Liyue Harbor was still audible to the two adepti. However, with their adept hearing, it was inevitable.

"Have you heard of the traveler who appeared in Mondstadt, yet?" the female adeptus asked. As the wind blew past the two, her platinum hair fluttered in the wind. Gaining no reply from the latter, she opted to continue on with her tale. "Not long ago, I heard from a mortal traveler that one of the four winds of Mondstadt had began to wreak havoc upon it's people. And when it reached the central area of the capital city, where the population was most dense, a traveler of distant origin defeated it. Quite fascinating, no?" She glanced at the tortoise-haired male, hoping for an answer this time, one of which she got.

"I don't concern myself with human matters. Rather, I'm not really interested by such tall tales." he replied. "Oh, but I'm telling you! Apparently, that same four wind was infested with the fatui, and that said traveler helped eliminate another threat. The people of Mondstadt treat him as a hero, and he even has a position in the Knights of Favonius." she continued on, however the male adeptus remained silent regarding the topic.

Simply watching her as she spoke, her hair bounced up and down as she expressed her interest in the traveler. Though, she was quick to catch on to his act. Opting now for silence as well.

"You know, Xiao, the Rite of Descension is nearing. I wonder if Rex Lapis will come meet us this year. It's been quite a while since I've either seen him, or even conversed with him. Don't you want to talk with him once?"

"Rex Lapis has no obligation to come visit us, you are doing your job as per your contract, and so am I. There's nothing for him to see." she pouted at his hostile-like behavior. Though she knew him well enough to make sense that he hadn't meant any harm to her, she, too, got upset sometimes. "Seulgi." he spoke, standing up beside her as he lent out a hand. "Let's go home."

The word home had no meaning to the two adepti, however they found themselves using the word often. Home referred to the balcony of Wangshu Inn. Home was a wooden floor with an open sky, with a sight so surreal that even tourists would sigh as moon was nigh. Home was a place inhabited by two close friends, two adepti.

Seulgi took his hand, standing up to peer deep into his amber pools. Xiao eyed her complexion which was lit up by the moon's watchful gaze. Beautiful long platinum hair which reached her waist, pale ivory green eyes and slightly tanned skin. Mortals would call her a beauty, a grace but others, an angel. She also dressed the part.

A long kimono that trailed after her, stained silky white and lined with gold, it was slit down the middle and was left open up 'till her upper thighs. Bellowed out sleeves which were cinched at her forearm. Along with white socks that reach her thighs. A dendro vision tied neatly into an anklet against her ankle and golden heels. And sitting atop her hip was a mask sporting an assortment of accessories, a feather, a tassel, a glaze lily and a diamond shaped noctilucous jade piece.

Her hair was usually done in a half-up-half-down look, her fringe swept to the right side as two wavy strands of hair were left out to frame her face. She kept her hair in an odango hairstyle with two long pigtails following from behind the buns. Centered to the middle of her buns were two antennae and a curly ahoge in middle of her head.

This was Seulgi. An adeptus with an overabundant amount of knowledge, who had participated amongst the Archon War as the Geo Archon's most trusted subject. She had had many accomplishments, so many that even as Xiao could recall them, he would run out of fingers to count on.

In the war of eons past, Seulgi was an important figure, which was a given as she served second-in-command to Rex Lapis' army. Many held her name to high status, but as years past and the people under her faltered, she was left forgotten. It was an inevitable notion, and it didn't bother Seulgi much, however Xiao didn't understand it.

There were those who needed to be recognized, and those, not so much. It was as simple as that, though many mortals disregarded the adeptus as simply normal. But to Xiao, she wasn't just normal, the word would be undermining her entire existence. To him, she was so much more, she was someone...

"Xiao?" she unconsciously interrupted him. His amber eyes snapped back to reality as he saw her face, where rested a worried expression. "It's nothing, let's go." Seulgi laced her fingers into his, she was someone who kept her promise, her side of the contract.

To protect the yaksha from the evil they purged, to protect them from the timely decay. She was there to take on all forms of evil, to banish, to lend a hand, to smile at them. And she had already failed four times, and this was her last chance to redeem herself.

The platinum-haired adeptus glanced at the latter. She would save him even at the cost of her life, she would stay beside him until time has come to it's end. She wouldn't fail, again. And Xiao, whom she devoted herself to, would never come to know of any of the sacrifices she will bleed. Even as her wounds rot and burn into her, imprinting scars that the devil would carve into her skin. No, she would not show him any of her weaknesses, that was her promise. Her deal. Her will. Her wish.

"It's you, I welcome death with. It's you, it's you."

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[alextir-creates]

Jawa Jedi by Tigrette-of-Fire

Back at the end of 2020 Jedi Appreciation Discord got into a discussion about the potential of Jawa Jedi, causing a bunch of us to make designs. I decided to actually turn the sketch into a finished piece. I was really enamored with the idea of a Jawa having a tassel as a padawan braid, just because I thought it it’d be cute.

Her name’s A’Vri, but other than that, I’ve got nothing about her. I really just wanted to design a Jawa Jedi. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Design wise, the robes are a mix of Chinese hanfu and the classic brown robe we see Jawa’s wearing in canon.

Image ID below the cut!

Star Wars © Lucasfilm Ltd

Art, A’Vri © Me

[Image ID: A digital drawing of a Jawa, dressed in dark red robes. The robes have a hood and are styled inspired by both the classic Jawa brown robe and Chinese hanfu. No facial features beyond the glowing yellow eyes typical of Jawas can be seen – the rest of the face in shadow due to the hood. The collar of the robe is crossed left over right and feature a lighter red trimming. The robes are held together by a sash the same color as the trim. On the Jawa’s left side, part of the sash hangs over the portion tied around her waist. This too has a trim, this time in the same darker red color as the main body of the robe. The trim features a repeated pattern – a diamond within a diamond. On the trim on the robe, this pattern is gold. On the trim on the sash, this pattern is the same color as the body of the sash. The skirt of the robe is parted at the bottom, and shows a bit of an orange skirt in a lighter

Over the sash is a black leather belt. Her lightsaber – silver and ribbed with a darker grey base of the handle – is partially visible from around the Jawa’s right side (viewer left). Close by, but offset towards the midline of the Jawa’s body, is a small, rectangular, silver ornamentation or clip. Coming out of the left side of the Jawa’s hood (viewer’s right) is a gold tassel on a twisted gold rope. It falls about three quarters of the way down her chest.

Off-set to the left of the Jawa is a medium, olive-green shadow. This is all offset over a simple background – a thicker and then thinner set of squares, the latter set within the former. To the left of the shadow is a scrawled signature reading “Alex Tir,” which is set on a slant along the edge of the shadow.

End ID]

[queen-rowenas]

destiel december 2020 - doing this thing hosted by @jellydeans and @galaxycastiel

day 4 - sledding (wc - 1k)

(very late but we’re catching up lol)

To say that Dean was blindsided would have been an understatement. And really, he should have seen it coming.

It had been his idea originally to go to the winter festival a few hours away. It sounded like a fun date idea. And while things with Cas were still pretty new and Dean had very little experience with actual dates, he knew that festivals were classic date material.

And then Jack had slid into the kitchen, holding out a news article about the event, giddy over another human thing to do for the holidays. Eileen seemed interested too, which meant Sam was guaranteed to tag along.

So it had turned into a little family trip. Which Dean...didn’t mind.

They all got hot chocolate and walked down the rows of vendors selling holiday items. Cas bought Dean a pair of Christmas novelty socks, and Dean convinced Eileen to get Sam a headband with light-up reindeer antlers.

“You know they’re not moose antlers right, Dean?” Sam had said, leaning over to let Eileen put them on him.

“Close enough.”

And Dean got to hold Cas’s hand the whole time. So it was a good day.

The main event at the festival was the free public sledding. Sleds were provided, which was a relief because they didn’t own any. Jack was practically bouncing, clutching one sled as the group made their way to the crest of the hill already dotted with other families taking advantage of the festivities.

Dean set his sled down beside Sam’s, surveying the hill. Sam nudged his arm. “Race you.”

“You sure you wanna do that? ‘Cause I’ve been sledding since before you were born.”

Sam scoffed. “Mom and Dad let you do this when you were four?”

“Well, I’ve known how to sled longer than you. I’m the one who taught you.”

“Yeah, and I remember us crashing on a trash can lid.”

Dean waved him off. “Whatever. And I accept, by the way.”

A red blur shot passed them down the hill. “Let’s go!” Jack called back at them.

“Be careful!” Dean trailed off, watching anxiously as their kid flew down the slope. He hadn’t gone through the same trash can lip tutorial with Jack that he had with Sam.

Cas wrapped a comforting hand around his arm, somehow always warm despite the crisp chill in the air. “He’ll be fine. Nothing here can kill him.”

“Hey, are we gonna race or not?” Sam asked, sitting on the back of his sled, handing his antlers to Eileen as she tucked herself in front.

“Hell yeah.” Dean pushed his sled in place and sat down, motioning for Cas. “If we win, you have to wear those dumb antlers until Christmas.”

“Well if we win, you have to buy one of those ugly ski hats and wear it whenever we go out.”

Dean made a face, remembering the far too colorful hats they had passed while shopping. “Deal.”

Cas settled behind Dean with a few questioning glances, awkward and uncertain as he brought his knees up on either side. Dean only smiled over his shoulder as he shimmied back to press into his chest.

“Don’t worry. This’ll be fun,” he said, taking Cas’s arms and bringing them around his waist, enjoying the feeling of his angel wrapped around him.

“Alright.” He looked over at his sister-in-law. “Eileen, count us off.”

She grinned and nodded. “Ready!”

Dean tightened his grip on the rope, a younger simpler kind of adrenaline rushing through him. There was no way he was gonna let Sam beat him.

“Set!”

I got this, he thought. He had way more experience than Sam, no matter what logic his brother tried to use.

Dean tensed, ready for the go.

And then the arms around his waist tightened, holding him closer, and a warm pair of lips pressed to the back of his neck, dragging down from his nape. Dean’s eyes slipped closed as he melted back into the touch.

The chest pressed against his back rumbled with a chuckle. “Dean.”

“Hmm?” Dean blinked his eyes open...

And saw Sam and Eileen’s sled racing down the hill.

“Crap!” Dean gripped the rope and pushed off to give chase.

“C’mon!” he yelled into the wind, willing the sled to go faster. But he knew it was a lost cause. Sam and Eileen were too far ahead.

When they got to the bottom of the hill, Sam was already pumping his fists in the air, only encouraged by Jack’s clapping.

Dean jumped up from his sled. “No! No, that one doesn’t count. I was distracted. He distracted me.”

“Oh yeah.” Sam grinned back at the angel. “Thanks, Cas.”

“No, he didn’t—” Dean turned back only to find Cas smiling something almost guilty but far too smug.

Dean’s jaw dropped. “You did it on purpose? You betrayed me?”

“I’m sorry,” Cas said, sliding his arms around his waist and giving him a peck on the cheek which Dean only leaned into a little, “I just wanted to see you in one of those hats.”

“I just can’t believe you would betray me like this.”

“Dean, I have certainly done far worse—”

“No, this is definitely the worst.”

Dean physically cringed when they got to the stand selling the ski hats. The colors were way too bright and the tassels hanging on the sides were too short.

Sam made a big show of looking at each gaudy hat and handing them to Dean to try on. But he ultimately gave the choice to Cas, who carefully selected a green hat.

And ok, maybe Dean found it a little harder to grumble as Cas put the hat on his head, looking all dumb and happy and cute. And maybe, as Cas tugged on the tassels to pull him in for a kiss, Dean thought it wasn’t so bad.

[angelisverba]

i’ll hold you so you don’t fall again

in which y/n is just really creative and harry writes erotica under a pseudonym.

pairing: interiordesing!y/n and eroticawriter!harry

word count: 21k+

note: i’m so freaking sorry this took so long. thank you for being patient with me, and i hope its what you expected :) also the formatting is all wonky i have no idea why.

Y/n wasn’t one to brag.

She knew what it felt like to sit and nod while someone else talked about their accomplishment. The itchy pull of heart strings; the yearning of wanting success, too. 

But, she also knew how awkward it was to go back and forth declining compliments. 

Which is why she never bragged about her newfound success. Or did the whole ‘oh you’re too sweet’ ordeal. She said thank you, and moved on. 

Because it definitely was one.

 A sudden change of no recognition to suddenly everyone wants her.

She had her friend, Lucy, to thank. Lucy had just opened up a coffee shop. One of those cute artsy ones on a street in West Hollywood somewhere, with money she had saved up over the years. It just so happened that her best friend was a talented painter, designer, and dabbled in all kinds of crafts. Y/n was known for always maintaining a tiny business of whatever it was she could come up with, and when her friend asked for help to decorate and set up shop, she jumped at the opportunity to go big. 

The store was a loft-y type space. A blank, grey walls and metal; an industrial room. The first time Y/n looked at it, her mind  flooded with ideas. Mirrors, art, frames, flowers, and anything that could be put up. Different themes and approaches to light up the room. But, before doing anything, she had a nice long talk with Lucy, about what she wanted to see. Had her set up a pinterest board with items for the shop. Color schemes, movies, plants, etc. From that, y/n took hold of the project, asking for Lucy’s opinion here and there, but taking most choices to her own judgement. 

The end result… well, it was the reason why Lucy was full all the damn time. Y/n had turned the lofty space into an Instagram hippie galore. Lucy’s mood board consisted of a weird mix of Madonna, pearls, and David Bowie. So, all over there were some of the most famous pop-culture posters. Streams of pearls. Mason jars lined with pearls. Velvet curtains with golden tassels; the stringy ones that tickled when you rub them all over your palm. There were light bulbs and fairy lights hanging in the wooden beams from the ceiling, that were turned on everyday 30 minutes after sunset, like the headlights on cars. Additional records were set to look through and buy in a corner, and opposite that a jukebox with records that both y/n, Lucy, and Lucy’s boyfriend, Mike, had picked. The labels were written in y/n’s writing, a mix between curly-cue and messy doctors cursive; clean enough to read, messy enough to enjoy. 

No plants. Or succulents, at least, but y/n had bought 5 dozens of roses from downtown. She’d hung them up to dry, left some where they were, and others she put in empty glass cola bottles that were in the center of each of the 10 booths. On the single, middle tables, y/n had placed leather table cloths. No flowers. 

And the menus? Oh gosh, the menus. They were y/n’s pride and joy. 

She’d closed herself in an entire day, to create the finishing look. With a copy of drinks (labeled like ‘Madonna’ and then the actual coffee order that star would’ve wanted)  and the small variety of sandwiches (& other finger foods) y/n drew portraits on blackboards, used different fonts, painting mediums, and at a certain point even incorporated glitter, to create these magnificent hand drawn chalk menus. 

Then the outside of the shop. This is what got her word out. 

A journalist of some sort had happened to stumble upon Coffee for Rockstars the day that y/n was painting the windows. 

You know, like with a brush and paint can. 

She’d blocked off her workspace with chairs and caution tape, jammed her newly bought airpods in, and pressed play to her music. 

The mural- Lucy labeled it, but to y/n it really wasn’t all that much, consisted of a the planet Saturn, with David Bowie, Elton John, Prince, Stevie Nicks, Freddie Mercury, and The Beatles prancing along the rings (all picked by Lucy). The window was a 5-or-so feet taller than her, so she had to use one of the chairs to reach the top half of the planet. 

While she painted Elton’s fluffy feather suit on, the journalist had approached her, his waist pushing through the tape y/n had put up. 

“Excuse me?” he called out to her, hands positioned on one of those Canon Rebel whatever they were called everyone seemed to be carrying around these days. 

And Wild Night by Van Morrison may have been playing a little too loud because y/n didn’t hear him the first time, and he had to call out again, leaning forward slightly to catch her attention.  

“Excuse me?” The guy says a little louder. This time, she sees him, and turns while removing her headphones, getting paint on her forehead and hair. 

“Oh!” she said, startled. “How can I help you?” Her cheeks flame a bit when he gives her a boyish smile, lips twirling up to the corner of his eyes. He’s cute, she thinks, floppy hair that’s sunbleached at the tips from the sun, and freckles in the bridge of his roman nose. 

“Yes, actually. My names’ James. I was wondering if I could take your picture for an article I’m doing. I work with the LA times, in the local business section, and there's a piece on West Hollywood’s hottest places. This one’s trending.” He lifts his camera in a ‘here it is!’ gesture. 

“Me?” she asked in disbelief. Her eyebrows raised high above their usually places, and her eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. “Shouldn’t you be photographing inside? You know, like the people?” 

“You worked on this place didn’t you? That’s what Lucy told me. You’re a big part of what makes this place hot ‘n trendy. Plus, this live painting action will look wonderful…” he trailed off, his glance drifting to the window and to the picture she was painting. “It’s really good. Deserves some recognition.” 

“Uhm…” Y/n looks around. There’s people on the opposite street staring at her, some that linger as they walk by. She catches a window roll down as the car goes by. 

She’s always been small. In size, in popularity. She’s never been in demand. If she said yes, there's a possibility that that would change. A small part of her wanted that… she could finally start her business, like she’s always wanted to...

    “Okay, how do you want me?”

    He laughed, and told her to just continue with what she was doing. So, she did. She added more paint to her glass palette, and unprofessionally used her bare thigh to rid the brush of the excess paint. Momentarily, the brush found its way to the bite of her teeth, so the girl could put her earphones back in and get back into the right headspace to work. 

The journalist, chuckled as he watched her, amused by her tactics, how she leaned back to look at the bigger picture. He was done in a matter of minutes, taking pictures of everything she’d set up in her closed off area. The tarp she’s laid on the floor.  The cans of paint; red, blue, yellow, green, white, and black. An uneaten sandwich and a glass bottle filled with pink liquid (lemonade and a bit of vodka, y/n’s choice of drink when she was painting, claiming it got her ‘creative juices flowing’). 

He has to get her attention again the same way, because she’d managed to lose herself in what she was doing. 

“You’re all done?” she asked him, once again plucking the earphone out with a yank. 

“Yep, got more than enough.” James said, placing  a black cap on the lens of his camera. “Can I ask you a few questions?”     Y/n smirked a bit, thinking back to her school days when smartass teachers would respond with ‘i don’t know, can you?’ and she nearly did as well. 

She didn’t though. She just said, “Go right ahead.” 

“Well, first thing’s first,” he reached into his front pocket, and pulled out his phone. Who keeps their phone in their front pocket, she thought. “Name, age, and what you did for Rockstar’s cafe?” 

“My name is y/n, I’m 21, and I was interior and, as you can see, exterior, designer as well for Rockstar Cafe.” She’s shifting awkwardly side to side, tugging at the ends of her large,  orange Garfield shirt nervously. Flashes of her jean cut-offs peeked where her shirt lifted. 

“Tell me a little bit about the process of creating the entire ‘astro-70’s’ vibe you got going on here are the shop.” James doesn’t look up at her, because he’s furiously typing away at his phone, noting down what y/n says. 

    “Well, that was really Lucy’s doing. She provided me with pictures of things she wanted, kinda like… uhm.. that aura? I guess you could say that she wanted the place to have. I worked side by side with her, to make this happen. This was her vision, I just helped it....” she struggled for a moment, to put her thoughts into words, “come to life.” 

He looked up at her then, a small smile on  his lips. “What’s your favorite thing about it so far?” 

“I’d say, the way the menu is set up. An artist’s name, and the drink they’d get. Lucy did her reasearch, and found out like, I guess you could say, their ‘regulars’. So, what’s on the menus are what the artist actually would like.” Subconsciously, she points to the inside of the shop, referring to the menus. 

“Last question, have you ever done anything like this before?” 

Y/n stammered for a moment, then said, “No. I haven't.” She taps the tips of her shoes together, all paint splattered and scuffed. “Nothing at this level of big. I’ve always kinda, worked on crafts. In highschool I had a small business, where’d I’d sell personalized things.  I think that’s why Lucy trusted me so much. Because I have a history of reaching to the stars when it comes to paper and pencil.” 

“That was great. Thank you so much, y/n. It was interesting to hear about you, and the cafe.” James places his phone back in his front pocket, and hooks his thumbs onto the straps of his camera as if they were suspenders. “Is there a website or business card you’d like me to reference in the article, after your name and all that?”  

“I don’t have anything like that actually. Just that I worked with Lucy, I guess you could say.” She puckers her lips at the end, shaking her head slightly. 

“Okay, well then. I’ll leave you to it. It’s coming along amazing.” James nods politely. “Have a great rest of your day, y/n.” Then walks away. 

“Bye, James.” She twiddles her fingers at him her way of saying goodbye. It doesn’t take her long to get sucked back into her work. In fact, as soon as she puts the earphones back in, she’s gone off the face of the earth, and doesn't notice when a green-eyed stranger stops to stare at her, right by the tree that she’d wrapped the caution tape around. The man pinched his lip as he watched, eyebrows furrowed with the same concentration y/n had for her work.

Except that he was watching her. The way her wrist flicked, how she tilted her face to look at what she was doing. How she stood like a flamingo, with her ankle pressed against her calf. The way she blew the wisps of hair off her mouth. 

He watched her intently, wondering who she was and how did she get there and what her name was.

And then, 

Brushing those thoughts out of his mind, he walked into the shop and didn’t look back. 

.

.

“Y/N!!” Lucy yelled from the counter. 

Y/n, covered head to toe in sparkly purple fabric, rushed out with a bit of hummus on toast in her mouth still. 

It was Halloween, and Lucy had demanded they both dress up as part of the uniform at Rockstar that day. Y/n, had decided she would go as Selena Quintanilla, and had crafted herself a halter top-style romper with purple cloth she had bought at the fashion district earlier that week. She’s woken up early too, and gone to her mom’s house so she could do her hair, and make up (given she’d lived at the same time Selena had). 

Lucy, ever the creative one, teased her blonde hair, spray painted it with a cheap can of green hair dye from the dollar store, and bought a pinstripe tux. TA-da! Beetlejuice, beetlejuice, beetlejuice. 

“Y/n!” Lucy was hissing now, impatient and demanding. It was a busy day at Rockstar. Social media influencers had come out for photo-ops and the like. Also, Lucy had a deal going of buy one get another iced coffee half off, and a free cassette with the $20+ purchase. 

“I’m coming, Luce! I’m coming, Jesus Christ,” y/n finished off chewing, tugged on the halter top to make sure nothing would pop out of place and washed her hands in the sink to help Lucy at the register. 

After she finished, she took place along side the three baristas, Kelsey, Tilly, and Kim. Kelsey was a broke college student, Tilly an Asian girl who doubled as a pole dancer on certain nights (she wore a mask to make sure her identity stayed secret), and Kim was a 30- year old who lives in his parents house. Bit of a creep if you asked y/n. 

“Y/n, you wanna take order 48 or 50?” Asked Tilly while rinsing a measuring cup. 

“I’ll take 50 and start on 52.” Y/n responded, tying the apron straps behind her neck. She didn’t tell Tilly that she picked order 50 because she hated making espressos, and order 48 consisted of three espressos. Order 50 was only four iced coffees. 

After she finished decorating Lucy’s coffee shop a month ago, Lucy didn’t offere y/n a job, but she was always around to help, and Lucy paid her for it. After class, y/n would stop by the shop, and that would lead to her working as a barista. Which she didn’t mind, the money helped and it gave her something to go. Otherwise, she’d be at home with her nose stuck in a regency novel and a buzzing feeling of want in her crotch at the cue of poetically beautiful yet smutty words. 

“Order number 50!” She called out. She set the plastic cup on the pick-up counter and plucked a stray from the jars to place alongside the drink. Seconds later, the drink was picked up by a tall and tanned man with green eyes; nails painted black; rings adorning each finger; soft, pink lips and a scruffy jaw. Curly strands of brown hair peeked out of a green beanie. 

He smiled at y/n. The way you smile at the cashier in the market. Polite. A bit disconnected in the eyes. He said, “Good morning, Selena. May I have a cup holder please?” 

In a British accent made heavier by the morning gruffness in his voice. Scratchy, deep, manly. And incredibly sexy. 

Of course, y/n took a moment to take in and drink the image presented before her, but after she felt her cheeks heat up like the fire underneath a witches feet, she cleared her throat and responded with, “You recognized who I was! Kudos to you, sir!” with a grin on her red lips. The man chuckled, and took the carton cup holder y/n gave him. 

“Have a great rest of your day,” was the last thing he said before he walked away. Y/n stared after him, watching the way his thighs filled in the fitting yellow pants he where, and how his biceps looked deliciously muscular; bulging in a white tee. 

“Y/N!”

“Sorry, Lucy!” Y/n skipped back to her post in front of the screen,and began reading off orders for Tilly, and Kim to make, and picked one for herself. Two iced coffees, one heated croissant. She was in the middle of measuring the milk when Lucy called her name again. 

“Lucy, I’m doing it, okay?” Y/n responded, frazzled. 

Lucy sucked on her teeth. “Y/n, come over here.” When y/n looked up, she saw that not only was Lucy looking at her, but a tall skinny blond with a sharp cut bob and a long white silk dress. 

Confused, y/n dumped the milk into the mixing cup and handed the order over to Kelsy for her to finish. “Yes?”

“This is Karime, and she wants you to help her decorate her store.” Lucy held a palm out towards the woman. “Karime, this is y/n.” 

“It’s so nice to finally meet you!” Karime said, and y/n had to restrain from cringing at her nasally, high-pitched voice. “I love what you’ve done with this place! My store could use some re-camping, and when I saw the article I just had to come and see if I could hire you.” Karime makes gestures with her manicured hands, and titles her head in ways that makes her hair shake like sheets in the wind.

“Oh! Um…” 

“Why don’t you go ahead and talk with Karime, we’re all covered back here.” said Lucy, an extra-pleased tone in her voice; the voice she used with customers to keep them happy, y/n had recognized. Oh so now you don’t want me to work? y/n thought to herself, but gave the same smile the green-eyed stranger had given her, and walked out through the waist high swinging door to meet with Karime.  

“So, I wanted to know if it was possible to hire you on a month to month basis. Ou could come in the first week of every month, decorate, redecorate, while I suggest and give you a picture of what I want, like you did for Lucy.” Karime had a bamboo handle purse, and they clacked together every time she moved her hands in ‘here’ or ‘there’ gestures.  

They’re both standing at the start of the record shelves, and Y/n is awkwardly shifting her weight from foot to foot and fiddling with her hands. She’s sweating, too. This was huge. Big. Is this what networking was? Getting the word out? Expanding? If she said yes, it’s possible that it’d create a cycle. Someone else would come in, asking for help, to hire, to contract. It was a rush. She was giddy, excited. But most of all, nervous. One, because she’s a bit clumsy in the social aspect, and Two, because she had a standard to meet. 

Despite all this, she said, “Of course, when do I start?” 

Then, Karime had given y/n the address of her shop (a weird mix of aromatherapy, kale smoothies with books), and they decided on a day to meet up (the second day of every month starting November, two days from that day). 

Karime left after that. She hadn’t bought anything. Lucy congratulated y/n, squealed over it even, and Lucy never squeals. Kim looked over at them when he heard Lucy, and tried to ask what all the fuss was about. Lucy demanded he go back to work, and y/n ignored him. 

When closing time came, the girls did the bare minimum, and rushed out to pregame at Mike’s apartment. Like crazy teenagers, Lucy and y/n shared three bottles of a Stella Rosa bottle that had been on sale at the grocery store at the corner of Mike’s apartment complex. Inside, Mike was 2 beers in, and claimed he wouldn’t drink anymore since he was the DD. 

“You guys go on and drink yourselves black.” he said, sitting on the couch with a water in his hand and Lucy in his lap.  Mike, a slender punk rock kid who proved his mom wrong in the fact that his like for the color black is ‘not a phase’ is the sweetest guy y/n had ever met. He wasn’t afraid to show his love for Lucy, always doting on her, and if she asked, would rip out his heart and give it to her. 

Y/n was jealous. She yearned for a relationship like theirs, and no matter how long she waited, how hard she tried, Prince Charming never showed. Instead, she was stuck with watching Mike and Lucy rub into her face what she wanted so badly. 

Affection. Love. Companionship. 

Cheers to that, y/n thought. Her bottle of Mango and whatever the heck the flavor was called, was nearly done and she could still walk in a straight line. The wine was juice in her hands. Child’s play. Water. It had no effect on her. Not until she was three bottles in. It took an entire bottle of Smirnoff vodka shots to get her going once. Only then could she completely let go. 

“A lonely soul drowns in Stella Rosa, Mike.” Lucy, her hair sticking up like Einstein from the re-teasing she’d done in the bathroom. “There it stands, taking the shape of Selena. Poor, poor, Selena.” Lucy giggled. A teasing jab that made y/n pout, and y/n heart to clench because she knew Lucy was right. A lonely soul she was. 

“That’s not very nice of you, Lucy.” Y/n pointed at her friend, bottle in her hand. “First you yell at me at work, now you make fun of my love life?” Shes joking, too, but there's a bit of truth to her words. Meaning, Intention. 

“Drink up, lonely soul, and prepare for the battle that lies ahead: the making intercourse with an attendee of the club.”

“Blah,blah, and screw you.” grumbled y/n, finally, finishing the bottle with a final drink. 

.

.

Not that y/n had anything against it, but fuck the club. She hated it. She only ever went because Lucy or Mike or whoever else begged her to go with them and promised something in return. (Lucy promised she wouldn’t ask her for help the following day). She hated the lights, how load it was, and how much she was being touched. Sweaty men and women alike, rubbing up on her in places where she didn’t want to be, it was too hot, and her toes always got stepped on. 

“The usual for you, y/n?” Mike was yelling. His mouth was at her ear, but even then, only some of what he was saying made it into her ears. She simply nodded, and lifted up to fingers. Two gin and tonics. One part water, three parts gin. 

Lucy and y/n had managed to snatch a tiny booth when they walked in, and this was the place y/n was planning to spend most of her night. Not out on the blue-lit dance floor, not standing at the bar. Sitting at the dark booth, glumly sipping at her two gin-n-tonics. 

“You are not gonna sit here sippin’ glumly at your drinks, got that?” Luccy pulled at the lapels of her suit, popping her collar so the tips touched her jaw. 

“Lucy, please.” Y/n’s bangs were deflated and her lipstick was smudged, at her friends comment, she sunk into her seat and pulled her head around.  

“Let’s go.” 

Lucy tugged her onto the dancefloor just as some song by Cardi B or Nicki Minaj (y/n couldn't tell anymore) blared through the speakers, and the bass beat thrummed in her chest. They stayed for a few minutes, and in those few minutes, y/n’s toes grew numb with how much they’d been stepped on, and her hair was beginning to stick at the back of her neck. Lucy’s black and white makeup was gleaming with her sweat, and her hair dropped with condensation. 

It looked a bit funny really. Selene and Beetlejuice together on the dance floor. An odd pairing, but a parenting nonetheless. Lucy led her back to where Mike was when she got tired of dancing, and like an obedient puppy, y/n trailed behind her. When Lucy ordered y/n to chug her drink, she did it.

She couldn’t say not. Not to Lucy. Not to Karime. Not to James.

She couldn’t say no. 

And because she couldn’t say no, y/n woke up the next morning and couldn't remember a thing. She had a Katy Perry Last Friday Night moment. Sadly, there was no really hot guy next to her on her bed, and thankfully, she hasn’t wearing headgear. 

What woke her, was the pain behind her eyelids that started when the light hit her. With a groan, she hid in the crease of her elbow while she scraped her thoughts together. Y/n was still in her Selena get up. She itched, smelled, and had a headache that hurt like...well, it hurts so much that she didn’t even know what to compare it to. She felt on her nightstand, and there it was. Bless his heart. 

Mike had left her a glass of something cold, and two pills. She didn’t know for sure because she didn’t have the energy to peek and see, but the class was probably pedialyte. The hangover cure. The pills were Tylenol. They had to be, because he knew ibuprofen doesn’t do shit for her. 

“Fuck, fuck,fuck,” y/n mumbled. Her tongue felt like sandpaper against the dry roof of her mouth, and when she swallowed, there was a dangerous taste of gin to her spit. Pressing her fingertips to her aching temples, she curses Lucy for making her go out last night, and Mike for letting y/n chug alcohol. 

    Unfortunately, she makes the stupid mistake of rising quickly from her potition on the bed to ‘get it over with’ and not even a full second goes by when she feels her stomach contents worming up her throat. She had to clamp her lips together and rush to the bathroom with her blanket wrapped around her ankles so she doesn’t barf all over her floor. 

    She doesn’t make it in time, and she spilled her gut on the toilet seat, before she’s made it so that her head is positioned right over the toilet bowl. She heaves and heaves until her chest hurts from the muscle contractions and her throat burns from the amount of acidity her bile holds. Tears drop from the corner of her eyes to where her thumbs grasp the seat because it fucking hurts and she’s gotten throw up in her hair. 

    The pain in her chest seems to have gone deeper, and wrapped its sharp talons into her heart. Her tears become purposeful; there’s a reason behind them not. She wishes there was someone there to hold her hair. To rub her back and tell her it was all going to be okay. To bring her the glass of pedialyte of her bedside table and coax her to drink it because she’d forgotten it. 

 Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, y/n gets up and flushes the toilet, wiping down the toilet seat with paper from the roll. The blanket, still curled around her ankles, she picks up and hoists it over her shoulders. She gurgles water from the sink before heading out, avoiding making eye-contact with the horrendous image in her mirror. 

Pedialyte goes down like the gin did last night, and she throws in the pills when she drinks, simultaneously pulling the strings so her blings flip downwards and cut off the light coming in from the outside. Quickly, she strips from the itchy Selena ensemble, and slips on a red t-shirt with the Kool-Aid man’s face on it over her head. Y/n has learned that its worse to go to bed and not eat, so she doesn't get back into bed, even though she really wants to and instead throws the blanket on top of her scattered pillows, and turns to make breakfast in her impossibly tiny kitchen. 

She lives in a little lofty space in the downtown area. The cheapest of all her options, and the best kept compared to the rest. The windows were blackened around the edges, and her air conditioner didn’t work, but hey, at least she had a roof over her head that she didn’t have to share with her parents. And she liked the window wall, too, and how the windows propped open on hinges. The way her brick walls looked during golden hour. It was very pretty. Relaxing. 

Slowly but surely, she’s built herself a little home that she feels comfortable in. In her tiny little space, her favorite thing was her radio. An absolute steal at the thrift store: a really old radio with big knobs and the red line that moved left and right when you tried to pick a station. She went to it now, and turned it on at a soft volume. The song that always feels like it's about a one winged dove by Fleetwood Mac came on, and she hums it softly while she turns on the stove. It click, click, clicks on when the gas catches flames, and she pours oil into a pan to crack an egg over it. The white edges sizzle, and bits of oil jump up and splash onto her skin. It happens so much it doesnt hurt her; she doesn't even flinch.  When the egg begins to turn golden, she turns down the knob, and goes back to her fridge in search of an avocado. Call her a trend follower, but she’d be damned if egg and avocado didn’t hit the spot. Plus, she makes an ace toast. 

Surprisingly, the smell of egg (her dad likes to say eggs smell like ass) doesn’t upset her stomach, no. Actually, her stomach grumbled when she smelled it, and the ache that had begun to spread across the lower region of her abdomen made her hurry to cut open the avocado, and pop in a slice of sourdough bread into the toaster. She fore-went mayo that time, instead just wanted to get something into her burning stomach because she was so hungry. Her eyes blearily while she does all this. 

By the time she’d spread her avocado and egg of the long slices of bread, the radio was playing Girls Just Wanna Have Fun By Cindy Lauper and y/n is doing a little happy dance on her way to her wicker table by the window, next to the bookshelf resting against her wall. Before she sat down, she reached for a novel on the shelf, and set it alongside her plate on the table. 

Biting into her toast, she opened the book. 

    Dani’s cheeks blushed a wine-pink color. She looked away.

“You confuse me so,” she mumbled just loud enough for him to hear. 

“How?” He grazed her jaw with gentle fingers, enough to turn her so she’s looking at him.

“You say that what we have, this spectacle we put on, is simple only to convince the people you will be a good king, but them you look at me… like that.”

“Like what? Like I want to kiss you?” he whispered, smiling faintly. “Because I do.” 

She seemed not to know what to say, and resolutely, she turned so she sat facing forward between his spread thighs, back to him. 

He realized then, that her shyness had caught up with her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and set his chin on her shoulder. 

“I’m no expert in etiquette, Your Highness, but I’m sure this is high;y improper.” She sait, stiffly and primly while he cuddled her.

“Proper? They call me Rafe the Rake. I’d say, my little peach, that we passed proper a long time ago.” 

“Don’t call me that,” she mumbled. 

“What do you wish I call you then?”

“Dani.” 

He chuckled at her response. “It’s a hellions name. It suits you well, all right. You can call me Rafe, if you like.”

“I do not wish to call you Rafe.” “No?”

“It’s a scoundrel’s name. I wish to call you Rafael. Like the angel.” 

“An optimist, aren’t you?” Rafael began combing his fingers through her hair, sifting through the silking

strands then massaging down her neck and shoulders.

She sank back into his chest with a sigh. “That feels wonderful.” 

“I should probably warn you,” he leans forward so that his lips are pressed against the shell of her ear. “I’m rather gifted with my hands.” She tensed again when he leaned down and nibbled on the skin of her neck, but Rafael left her melt in his arms when he continued his sensual massage on her shoulders. “Are you uneasy with this?” He paused to take her hands into his own, feeling as if he were young again with the first girl he had taken a liking towards.

“No,” she said quietly.

“Good.” With fingers still threaded through hers, he drew her hands back, and pinned her arms ever so gently behind her for a moment, gazing down her neckline at her creamy chest. Her breasts her small, but awfully perky and firm. He wondered if he could fit the entirety of one in his mouth. He bet that she’d like it if he did. 

Y/n paused for a moment, and clenched her thighs together. A buzzing feeling was starting to form on her clit, and she felt the space where her thighs touch grow warm. The Kool-aid man’s eye popped with hoe erect her nipples were. She was aroused. And she knew that the feeling would only grow more intense the longer she read, which she planned on doing. So, she picked up her plate, placed it in the sink, and took her and her book into her dark room. 

    Her novel, Our Sign of the Times by Lemus Knox was tatted and bent this way and that from all the times she’s cracked the pages open for a steamy read. A painting of a bodacious woman and handsome prince posing in front of a castle adorned the front cover (one of the main reasons why she bought it). The was was strong, with raven hair and a strong jaw that portured strongly as he kissed the brunette woman in a lilly gown that he held in his arms. The castle was cottage like, with ivy covered walls and stone hedges; complete with a moat and bridge wrapping around the area. The author, Lemus Knox, painted the image himself, as he say so in the acknowledgements. No one knows who he is, how old he is, where he lives, or anything else about him really. A pseudonym, he says. A way to keep his life private life and still do what he loves to do: write.Y/n stumbled upon his book two years ago, in the best sellers section at Barnes and Nobles, and has been slowly falling in love with him and his characters ever since.

    When she settled back into her blankets, y/n opened her book, and placed a single hand on her tummy, over the Kool-aid man’s mouth.

    “It’s getting dark,” she said rather breathlessly, “don’t you think it’s time we head back?”

    “I like being on the water at night. You can’t see. You can only hear the wares and you have to feel,” he teasingly brushed his fingers over the tops of her breasts, “your way back to shore. Feel your way through the dark.” He whispered into her ear,one of his hands splaying on her stomach and pushing back up, up, up to her breasts. “A man has to know exactly what he’s doing.” 

    She arched against him with a soft catch in her breath as he finally cupped her small breast in his large hands; her generous nipples turned hard underneath his circling thumbs. 

    “Rafael,” she moaned breathlessly, arms wrapped against his neck as she pushed her swollen mounds against his roaming hands. “We can’t. We’re not married yet.”

    “Oh, my sweet love.” Rafael’s hands slid back down against her belly and began stroking her thighs. “I don’t plan on deflowering you yet. I simply wish to learn what it is you like.”

    “But… I do not know what I like.” Her words were gasps of dreamy pleasure. 

    “Then I guess we’ll have to find out, won’t we?” 

    Knowingly, y/n’s hand began to follow the same path that Rafael’s had. Thumbs circling against swollen nipples, fingertips teasing the insides of her thighs.

    Her head was cushioned against his chest, and she turned her fact to him, seeking his mouth in innocent yearning. He lowered his head, and parted her lips with long strokes of his tongue into her sweet mouth, savoring the way she tasted. She reached up, and caressed his cheek as they kissed in slow, soulful agony. 

While she ran her fingers through his unbound hair, Rafael deftly inched her skirts upward over her exquisite legs. His heart pounded as she let his hands roam under the gathered layers of silk gown and muslin petticoat. He groaned into her lips when his fingers came to the edge of her white stockings, and found tenderly warm skin. His groin flooded with heat and his body turned rock hard in an instant. Unwilling to push her beyond what she was currently willing to give him, Rafael fought to keep his needs in check. 

Having been with many of the calculating damsels of the court, he knew that Dani was unlike them. She was soft, fragile, small, so precious in his arms. And while she may think herself independent, Rafael wanted nothing more than to hold her close and protect her, as much as he wanted to give her glimpses of what was in store for the night of their wedding. 

Under her dress, he took his time exploring, kneading, caressing her belly, her hips, all the while devouring her mouth. Behind closed eyelids, he smiled to himself when she began to writhe and twist in his hold, virginal madness getting the best of her. 

“Rafael, Rafael,” her voice grew drunk with urgent need. 

When he stroked her at her ore, he was more than pleased to find she was soaked with silky wetness, throbbing under his fingertips with pure female invitation. 

“Dani,” he mumbled against her earlobe, as her took her skirts with his empty hands and raised them higher and higher. “Would you like to watch?”

“NO! I couldn’t.” Her chest heaved. “Don’t make me.”

“Watch me touch you.” he murmured as his fingertips began to circle. “There’s nothing to be ashamed  of, my darling. I only want to fulfill your desires. Watch me pleasure you. Look at how beautiful you are , your sweet body. My wild, virgin love.” 

“Oh , Rafael!” she turned and kissed him ardently. A burning moisture inexplicably rose behind his eyelids, and quickly fled as their kiss ended. 

    He kissed the curve of her neck, moved by his shy uncertainty as she lowered her heat to watch as he touched her, panting slightly. She was so ready, he thought in pure agony as his hardness chafed against her back through their clothes. It would have been easy to take her then and there, on the warm glossy planks of the deck, but her repeatedly shoved that temptation aside, vowing to prove his respect for her by making their wedding night her first time.

        Y/n, too, was panting as she continued to read, her vision growing blurry with pleasure and need. 

    His thumb deftly teased her jeweled center, while his middle finger gently stroked inside her tight, fluid heat ,and as he kissed her ear and the back of her neck.

    Y/n threw the book aside, letting her own hands take the pace it needed to to bring her to her high. HEr slender fingers deftly pumped in and out of her slick hole, the hand that was holding her book now rubbing fast circles against her swollen button.  Wet mewls left her swollen lips, and her chest arched to meet hands that weren't there. The feeling of clenching in her abdomen and a squirming need something increased. 

    She left herself clenching on nothing, pinching her pert nipples with damp fingers as she rubbed faster and harder circles onto her mound. 

    “Fuck, fuck fuck,” she gasped under her breath, a long groan escaping her as she felt it instenifsy; anticipation of water nearly spilling. It hit her like a splash of cold water, her head thrown back against her pillows with her mouth open; a scream and no sound. Her body felt electrifies, her veins fueled by fire. 

    And when it died out,

    She fell back like a ragdoll, limp and tired onto her sheets. Y/n was all droopy eyelids and noodle limbs after her orgasm. 

    She fell back asleep with sticking fingers on top of her red Kool-Aid man t-shirt.

.

.

“... you know what I mean?”

“So… you don’t want a beach theme?” y/n asked. Karime, dressed in another silk dress, but this time in floral red pattern, was having a very hard time identifying the theme she wanted for her Aromatherapy cafe/library. 

“No, but I just want like, beach-y vibes. Airy? Ooopen. Yes, open.” 

“So plants,” Y/n jotted bulleted notes into her planner, in a blank section under ‘Karime’. “White and green color scheme. Open, clear room.” 

The two are standing at Karime’s shop, three streets away from Rockstar; an alarmingly vast space with plain walls and counters. Y/n has a lot of blank canvas to work with, and much to improvise because Karime wasn’t being exact with her vision. She hadn’t even set up a moodboard like she said she was because ‘an LA girl has a wild life you know, hun?’ 

Y/n truly wished she didn’t know. 

“Okay now, what’s your budget?”  she asked, her tone businesslike but full of warmth and interest. 

“Um, how much do you think you’ll need?” Karime wasn’t looking at her, no, she was picking at her cuticles, and pushing them back with her thumbs; her nails had grown and blank space separated the polish from her skin. Karime was across y/n, behind the quick-serve counter where smokey machines and masks where all lined up; one for each stool. 

“Plants are expensive. If you want big and already grown plants, they’re expensive- ranging from $20 to, I don't know… maybe $80?” Y/n taps her pen on her chin. “Furniture, and other wall decor I can craft and thrift, so that right there is maybe $200? $400 tops.” 

“Okay.” Karime said, shrugging her shoulders with a crescent moon smile on her pink lips, “I’ll write you a check for $3,000 to start. I don’t want anything from second-hand like Goodwill or anything like that. I’ll give you addresses to pre-selected antique stores and the likes. Now, you mentioned something about measurements?”

“Yes! Thanks for reminding me,” she’d forgotten all about that, and it truly is a key process in the decor department. “Do you happen to have a measuring tape?”

“Actually, yes. There’s one in the back, I’ll go get it.” Karime pushed herself off the granite table top, and turned on her heel to walk through a golden confetti curtain, leaving y/n seated at the counter.  

For a moment. She fiddled with the tubes coming from the humidifying machine in front of her, an opaque purple bowl with two tubes sticking out from opposite sides that connect to facemasks that cover your mouth. They’re cool to the touch, but warm when her fingers linger. A humming sound emits from the machine when she accidentally presses the start button, and she pushes it again in a panicked state to make it stop. She decides it’s best if she stops messing around with expensive machinery, and instead turns to looking at the small amount of people that are in the shop.  

There’s no one really up and about at 10 in the morning on a Sunday. The few that were, came with laptops to do work in the library section of the shop, with coffees on their tables, or some kind of breakfast, which had to be from somewhere else because Karime didn’t have a menu for food. Just drinks.

One of these really risers, a man who hunched over a sticker covered Mac, looked strangely familiar. Y/n was staring at his choice of clothing (a worn down Brittney Spears shirt with jeans and rolled at the ankles and pristine white vans) when he turned to look at her. It was then, looking onto his dazzling green eyes and watching his taffy pink lips curl into a smile and a hand coming up in a small wave, did y/n recognize that it was the stranger that recognized her Halloween costume a few days ago.  

Cheeks heating with clear embarrassment, y/n raised her own hand and timidly twiddles her fingers. She mouthed hello and tried to keep from cringing when he raised a finger to rub under his nose to hide the way his lips twitch upwards. His nose scrunches and wiggles, and his eyes wrinkle at the corner, a cheeky gleam in his look.

“Y/n!” Karime, reappearing, held a ruler in her hand. A ruler. “This is the best we’ve got, babe.” 

Her head snaps from the familiar stranger to Karime, who smiled as if she’d just solved all their problems when she’d really just created more because measuring with a ruler? Seriously. Y/n curses at herself for forgetting to bring her own measuring tape. 

She has no other option than to nod, smile, and take the ruler, and start taking measurements.  

Like the hand-over-hand motions of steering a car, y/n has to place the ruler, mark where it ends with her nail, and repeat the process again and again. 

The walls, the patio, window space, countertops, tables, and the one she’s dreading to do: the dimensions of the room the stranger is sitting in. Karime’s place was split in two and a half. A small outdoor patio, the man space with tables and machines, and the library lounging space. The library lounge space, a doorway cut into a small cozy room to the left when you walk in. 

    She’d yet to go in there and measure the walls and bookshelves, putting in on to last in hopes that he’d leave because measuring with a ruler is really embarrassing and it’s possible that she’d be shuffling around him. 

God.

    Getting a grip, she pulled her shoulders back and walked into the room, counting how many steps it took to walk through the door frame. She felt like fingers trapped in a Chinese finger trap, constricted. 

Walking into the room, the stranger didn’t look up, instead he looked even more immersed in his work than ever. Eyebrows furrowed and fingers tapping away on his keyboard. He was even leaning into his computer screen, like he couldn’t get whatever it was he needed to type onto the screen fast enough. 

Sure enough, staring at him, lost in whatever it was he was typing, y/n stumbled on her own two feet, and an absurd noise escapes her lips when she tried to catch herself. 

She doesn’t turn to see if he’s looked at her (he did, with a grin that showed off his bunny-like teeth) and instead hangs her head and makes her way to the opposite wall. Great way to be inconspicuous, she thought to herself. 

The wall opposite the stranger, was tall, like the others were. And even though she was sure that it was most likely the same dimensions, she wasn’t going to take any chances. Pulling up a chair so she could stand on it once her arm couldn't reach anymore; huffing because Karime had those really heavy metal chairs that screeched if you didn’t pick them off the floor. Seven feet later, y/n had to step up on the chair, wobbling on her legs while she hiked up, pressing harder on the wooden ruler to make sure it’s place didn’t move.  

Her nail pins into the wall, at the end of the ruler, before using her other hand to move up the start of the ruler where her nail left off. When the ruler reached her hip, y/n stumbled leaned forward and effectively knocked out her balance so she was left flailing, falling, fa- 

Not falling. 

No, not falling, because two hands grip her hips, and pull her back on the chair to make sure she doesn't fall flat on her face. Her eyes are pinched un closed anticipation, waiting for the smashing of knees against the cold, hard floors but it never comes. 

“Gotcha!” says a deep british voice. A warm gust of minty wind flutters in y/n’s nose, and when she opens her eyes. Glittering green eyes, wispy strands of hair, and petal pink lips.

Right. In front. Of her face. 

“Selena, you’ve really got to be more careful,” he says, chuckling as his speaks so his words are broken with sounds of laughter. He’s even lifting her up from her leaned position off of the chair, and settling her down on the floor, biceps tightening and a humming noise coming from his throat as he does so. 

She’s flabbergasted. Doesn’t know what to say because she doesn’t think she’d ever been picked up before. Its ridiculous really, seconds away from eating shit on hard ass surface and all she can think about is how she was picked up. But jeez, who could blame her, the man was hot. 

    All sharp jawline, clavicles peeking out of his shirt, and the column of his throat such a nice pretty color. Quite handsome, really. 

    “Shit,” y/n finally manages to get out, her eyes wide, shoulders tense, and instinctively, her fingers are digging into his shoulders (though she’s not aware of it yet).  

    “You alright?” The man says, when he notices the way she’s gone rigid. He doesn’t say anything about the way her fingers are gripping at him.

    “Uhm, yes. I am now. Thank you…” Y/n’s voice comes out in breathy spurts, and her forehead glistens like she’s just run to catch the bus. That’s when she noticed where her fingers were placed; the way the white cloth dipped in from the amount of pressure she was exerting onto his skin. Cheeks turning a darker pink, she cleared her throat and avoided looking at him when she removed her hands. 

    “Harry” He mumbled. “My name’s Harry. Yours? Not quite sure if it’s Selena or not…”  

    “HA!” A loud exclamation, a bit too loud that it was awkward. “No. Not Selena. Y/n.” She looked into his eyes them, raising her chin the last inch to move from Brittney Spears face to his eyes. Eyes the color of light streaming through a tree leaves in a forest on a spring forest. Y/n sucks in a breath.

    “Well, wonderful to meet you, y/n.” He leans towards her, a ringed finger pointing jeeringly at the stick still in her hands. “I gotta say, measuring with a ruler?” 

    “Very efficient. As you can see,” She shakes the hand the ruler is in, and then uses the ruler to point at the seemingly innocent metal chair “You should try it sometime.”

    “Only if you catch me.” Harry grabs his own wrists behind his back, his shoulders hunching forwards and head shaking side to side a bit as his speaks. 

    It takes a moment for her to drink in what he’s said, to fully react with a scoff and a smile. “Catch you? I’ll hold you up on my shoulder’s myself.” 

“Then we’ll both end up sprawled on the floor, all roughed up and bruised.”

They both laugh at their jokes, and Harry even goes as far as to clap his jean clad knee. When it gets quiet, their laughs dying down, Harry speaks again.

“Saw you in the paper. Helped decorate Rockstar didn’t you?” 

Y/n’s jaw drops. Her lips opening and closing like a fish eating crumbs at the water’s surface. “The paper? What paper?” This was news to her. She was aware that the article James would write would be like, online or something. But a physical paper. That’s a little bigger. And him having remembered. Having identified her. 

“The local paper. WeHoVille.” He quirked an eyebrow at her, one side of his lips pulling up in a confused manner. “Was picking up a sleepy time tea and honey at the Wholefoods, and you painting was a feature next to the counter. Didn’t show your face, but I walked past that day and remembered.” 

    “The paper… wow. I didn’t know. But yes,”Y/n twirls the ruler on in circles with her fingers, putting all her weight on one hip so on of her feet could tap loosely on the floor. “I decorated Rockstar.” After a beat, “What’d you think about it?”

    “The place is amazin’!” A strand of Harry’s hair flops down to the space between his eyebrows and eyelashes, tickling his skin. He had to brush his fingers through his hair to comb it back.  “Love the feel of it. Gotta stop myself from going in everyday or might blow all my money on Stevie’s usual.”

    “That’s my favorite too! Next time you’re there, give me a wave down and I’ll have you covered.” Y/n’s offers had Harry’s eyebrows raised in seconds. “Least I could do, given you saved me from a concussion and all that.” She tried to explain, words coming out in a flurry from her mouth. 

He chuckles at her flustered stare, the same repressed smirk that he’d given her when he caught her staring. “I’ll definitely keep that in mind.” Silence and then, “What do you plan on doing with the place?” 

“Turn it into a greenhouse,” y/n said bluntly. The two were still standing next to the wall y/n was measuring, and Harry leaned one of his shoulders against it, moving his hands from behind his back to his front, wrapping one around the other one’s wrist.

    “That’ll be nice. Even more uh, how do you say, therapeutic? I guess more relaxing than the place already is. Karime said plants?” He asked. It didn’t quite settle with y/n that he knew Karime on a first name basis, that he was interested in knowing she picked plants, and she wanted so badly to say: Karime doesn’t know what she wants, but instead pushes that feeling away and goes with,

    “Well, she gave me a scope to work with. A color scheme. A gist. Certain decorations she wanted to see. So on and so on. Plants is just what I took from it. And it goes with her place because it has to deal with aromatherapy and all that. What do you think?”

    “I think you’ve hit it right on. Can’t wait to see what it’ll look like.” He raps a knuckle on the wall. “Did you still need wall measurements? I’ll hold you so you don’t fall again.” 

    Timidly, she responds, “Okay.”

    “Up you get, then.” Harry pointed to the chair, and y/n raises her leg to hike up, this time with Harry’s hands placed on her hips, steadying her. 

    A tiny dash on the wall where her nail slid off marks where she was at when she nearly fell off the metal chair, and this is where she places the ruler. She left off at 7 feet, the ruler at her hip. Resuming the same positions, she starts to wobble again, and Harry's hands tight, holding her straight. 

    She guesses he hears her gasp when she feels herself wobble because he says “I’ve gotcha.” 

    Y/n moved the ruler up one, two, and three more times, and then her arm can’t stretch anymore and pinches one eye closed to cry and guess how many more feet are left. She guessed four… ish. On a whim, she tries to push the ruler up once more, and her shirt rides up on the left side of her hips. Warm sequential breaths hit her skin, and a shiver drops down her spine when she realizes what’s happened. 

    Harry, ever the gentleman, doesn’t waste a second, and slides his pointer and middle finger over her skin, his warm fingers splaying over goosebumps to pinch her shirt and pull it down for her. 

    “All done,” she squeaks. “Coming back down.” 

    Harry released her, but offers her a hand and she takes it, holding on to his as she comes down, his palms warm and rings cool; a nice contrast. 

    “Thank you so much for h-”

    “Y/n?” 

    Booth Harry and y/n tun to the doorway that leads to the main room, where Karime stands with a checkbook in her hands. Y/n turns back to look at Harry. The curls behind his ears, the blonde hairs on his top lip. He turns to look at her, and gives her a closed lip smile. She smiles back and twiddles her fingers, mouthing a bye bye.

    Karime walks away when she sees that y/n is following her, and takes them both back to their position on the counter. 

   “Here’s the check. Two thousand dollars. Deposit it into your account, and use it for gas, furniture, anything that has to do with Aromareads you can pull from this.” She opens the book and tears out the slip of paper. “I will need receipts. And your name?” 

   Karime glances up at y/n, only to see that she’s busy looking back through the door frame at Harry. The manager is slightly irked at the fact that the person she’s hiring to reshape her business isn’t paying attention, but following her line of gaze, Karimer can’t blame her. Harry, a usual in her store, is a very very handsome man. Towering, with broad back and a neck Karime would love to bite into if she wasn’t gay. He sat at his laptop, thighs spread and eyes hard and stern, pondering with a pout. Karime is sure that what caught my/n’s attention is the way Harry’s thighs and crotch looked at that very moment, enticing, strong, sensual. 

    Clearing her throat, “Y/n. I need a full name to address the check.”

    Y/n’s neck snaps towards Karime, her hair getting caught on her lips at her velocity. “Uh- yes, sorry it’ll be Y/n Y/l/n.” 

    Karime repeated her name, and asked for her to spell it, which she did while stuttering mildy. 

    “Here you go.” Clicking her pen against the marble countertop, Karime handed the check to y/n. “Listen, by no means do I wanna pressure you, but if you could get this down before the holidays are in full force, I would love that.” 

    “Oh, don’t worry. It won’t take me that long.” 

    .

    .

    And it definitely didn’t. 

    On Monday, y/n spent the entire day (and part of her night) driving to most of the places Karime had sent her through a text. She spent a few minutes googling the places and looking through the pictures that came up and cursing every time it would redirect her to yelp- because really who has yelp? The antique stores were all spread out in the Los Angeles area.

    There was one in Long Beach. The pictures showed a really big warehouse with chair lying on top of each other and tables littered with little statues and the likes. Here she bought baskets. Tons of them. Gus (the owner) has dedicated an entire isle to them. When he saw y/n’s cart, the laughed then asked her “Why dolly, whadda ya need all them baskets for?” And when she told him it was for business, he offered her coupons and package deals. 

    “Tell ya what,” he scratched the scruff on his chin, the only hair he had because he was bald, “You buy all these baskets,” he pointed to her cart, “I’ll give you a twenty pa’cent discount on ya purchase, and if ya want, you can pick anathin’ ya want from over there because no one wants tuh buy them.” Then he pointed to a pile of books that lay haphazardly next to a stove and a turquoise refrigerator. She paid one hundred and fifty.

    She walked out with wicker baskets, one being a picnic basket she snatched for herself, lined nicely with red patterned cloth and a lid for it to close, and that same picnic basket full of regency novels from the 90’s.

    There was another in Laguna. A beachside thrift shop, where she paid for (very overpriced) frames of painted lighthouses and beach landscapes for that ‘beach’ factor Karime wanted. By this time, she drove back towards Hollywood to drop the items back at Aromareads because her car was getting full. She didn’t go inside, just unloaded the tings in the back and Karime took them inside. If she had, she would’ve seen Harry.

    Y/n then took to the shops in the downtown area. One being, a swapmeet type place where you walked through and looked at all the furniture. They set up different sections for different themes. Victorian, regal, animal skin themed, and a hall full of mirrors. Y/n bought a large 8x8 mirror for five hundred dollars. It would be delivered the following day.

    One of the sections was retro-themed, and she snapped a picture of a hip-height lava lamp and sent it to Lucy. Lucy then proceded to beg y/n through to text to please buy that I fucking need it. Will pay u back. So she bought it; $100 that she knew would be no big deal for Lucy given all the business she had. 

    Her final stop, were the flowers and plants district. There, she placed a large order for 30 succulents, and an assortment of nearly 100 leafy plants to fill the baskets with. She blew $1,000 there. 

    By the end of the day, she’d wasted nearly all of Karime’s check; a measly two hundred remaining after she refilled her car with gas (give or take some). Y/n met with Karime at around 6, in the back parking lot again, and left everything she’d bought. 

    “Oh! And the mirror should be delivered tomorrow before closing time.” 

    Karime was wearing a caramel turtle neck and black slacks tucked into latex ankle boots, her hair pinned back and tied into a spiky ponytail. Her ears were adorned with pearl earrings, and her fingers were jammed into golden rings. Y/n felt embarrassed in her measly purple jumper and paint splattered mom jeans.  Her accessories consisted of a fanny pack full of nails and a hammer at her waist.

    “Good, good. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow-” Karime was already turning back and returning into the shop when Y/n said:

    “Actually I was hoping I could start now.” Her words lifted into a question at the end, half suggesting half stating. 

    Karime’s face morphed into one of confusion and surprise, but in the end she agreed, and told y/n to do as she pleased.

Upon first entering, y/n is disoriented. 

    She walks into a frenzy of… nothing. It’s like an industrial kitchen, but completely empty. Occupied only by the things she had brought in. She remembers that she walked into the back and not the front, and it made sense because Karime doesn’t offer anything that would require use of the kitchen. Everything she has is done at the bar by the barista outside. 

    Karime leaves y/n in the back, where she asses her items. The baskets. The frames. And well, that’s really all there is. It would be more with all the plants coming in. She realizes that she doesn’t really have much to work with and there really isn’t much to do than hang picture frames, and there’s only five of them. 

    Nonetheless, she goes outside with the first frame in hand. A soft blue painting of a lighthouse on an island with light from a hole in a cloudy sky shining on the building. When she picked this one up, she knew exactly where it would go. By the wall next to the sliding door that lead to the patio. She sauntered over to the spot then, dodging a woman on her boyfriend on her way there. It was packed, and rightfully (it was a tuesday).

    She reached the spot, and lifted the picture on the wall, lifting and tilting so it would fit naturally. Eventually, she found the sweet spot, and reached for the hammer she had stuck into her belt loop and the box of nails she’d placed into the fanny pack on her waist. 

    Without hesitation, she put the first nail on the wall, and started banging. Three taps in, and she hung the wire on the nail, balancing it so it looked the way she envisioned it. After she was done, y/n stepped back to admire her handiwork, and tilted her head to the side the way one does when their looking at a picture that’s upside down. 

    Perfect. 

    She walked around the shop then, with the purpose of noticing empty spots on the walls, anything that could be filled up with artistry. The simple tables? No they had to stay that way. Placing something on the tables would clutter them and tarnish the ‘relax’ mode people came in for. The window that faced the street? Yes. Y/n planned on lining them with hanging droopy plants on the edges, not obscuring but not leaving a clear view either. She’d have to buy shelves to place baskets on the walls. Hooks to hang them. This she would do with what was left from the check.

     Yet… something was missing. The alternative-ness she knew should be there. Something ‘hippie’ and ‘aesthetic’, off the minimalist side of things. 

    Looking into a corner where the walls met, a light bulb went off. She knew exactly what was missing. Letters. Y/n had seen an image on Pinterest not even less than a month ago. A picture of a string of letters. Or rather, a message. It said something along the lines of  ‘You are my light’ or something edgy like that. Each word had been hand cut and strung onto a piece of- she didn’t know, string? Tweed? A wire?- and hung in a corner of a room where walls met. It knocked off every box on the checklist. Minimalist. Crafty. Aesthetic. And cheap, considering how low the money was.

She knew she’d have to brainstorm phrases and pass them by Karime, but she’d worry about that later.

    .

    .

    It was Friday. One day after the plants had been delivered, and y/n was set to work full force. Sure, she’d have to work amongst customers, but no matter. It would get done. 

    She started in the back. With the plants. 

    Y/n had bought a plastic-type lining at the Home Depot to place soil in the baskets. She lined then all first, securing the material with tape around the edges. After, came the transfer and placement. She decided this would be a better method, and if there were extras she could have Karime sell them. This way, she wouldn’t overcrowd the place and stop when she saw an adequate fill of green. 

    The first, a circular basket with no handle the color of a waffle cone. Because it was one that would go on a shelf, she placed one of the droopiest plants in it, a green stream of vines and shrubby leaves.

    Last night, y/n had given Karime the benefit of the doubt, and allowed her to place shelves where she’d liked them So, before she opened at 7, Karime had decorated her store with wooden slabs for y/n to decorate. Taking the first plant, she walked out. 

   As expected, Aromareads was bustling with energy.     Women with mojitos in their hands, burnt out college kids hooked up to masks, older men and women laughing like tinkling bells. 

   She’s walking towards the first row of shelves she sees on the wall across from her, besides the sliding doors, basket held gingerly with both hands, when she hears:

   “Y/n!” 

   Looking to her left, she sees a sleepy, just-rolled-out-of-bed looking Harry. He’s wearing a black hoodie with the words ‘Treat people with kindness’ in a gradient rainbow color, and… and grey sweatpants. Grey. Sweatpants. 

   Grey sweatpants. 

   Y/n tries not to visibly swallow him whole as he walks towards her with an innocent smile on his face because god if she isn’t all hot and bothered right now. Her eyes seem to be magnetically attracted to his crotch, trying but failing to grasp and image of what may be lying underneath. 

“H-hey, Harry,” she smiles at him meekly, her voice cracking when she speaks. She cleared her throat and said again, “hey, Harry. S’nice to see you.” 

   “Nice to see you too.” He bows his head towards her, and endearing mannerism that has y/n’s heart pooling down to her ribcage. “I see you’ve brought out the green guns today.” A teasing grin on his extra red and shiny lips. Perhaps it was chapstick. It was rather windy outside.

   “You see correctly.” She giggles at his joke, at the same time, rolling her eyes at how cheesy he was being. “Today’s the day it all comes together.” 

“I’m excited to see how it all turns out. Don’t go falling on any chairs today alright?” He wags his finger at her, mocking a mother shunning her child.

“I’ll try not to. But if I do-” she said, coquettishly. 

“I’ll catch you.” 

“You better.” Laughing at him, she repeats his actions and lifts her finger up to point at him. 

   With a final laugh and a shake of his head, Harry walks away and into the working room. 

   Y/n watches him walk off, and walks off her own way as well, resting the basket against her hip as she went. When she reached the wall with shelves arranged in a checkered pattern, she placed the basket on top of the wooden plank, and tufted leaves so they look naturally messily placed. Unintentionally intentional; they way one teases their hair so it looks nice. 

   She went back to her work station: the now full kitchen, and repeated the process. Picked a basket, filled it with a plant, and took it outside. She left the hooks for last, wanting to leave of being in the way of people until she had too. Almost effortlessly, y/n filled Karime’s space with greenery. Cacti on shelves, large leaves and vines on walls, frames of beach paintings on nails. Once, she pricked her finger because her it had accidentally slipped inside the glass globe in which the succulent was in. 

    When the time finally came to walk into the room Harry was in, the outside was looking rather… forest-y. She liked the way it looked; a calm type of chaos. One that showed relaxation and no care for anything. Which was the point of the entire place. Come in. Relax. Breathe in from diffusers to get that extra push to decompress.

   Harry sat in his usual spot, directly in spot of the doorway, in one of the middle tables. Hunched over his computer with fingers flying over his keyboard. He had earphones in this time, white buds tucked right into his ears, stray strands of hair looping and covering them. His lips were placed in a puckered pout, the scrunched pink skin twitching from left to right.

    Humming to herself, y/n forces herself to walk past him, forces herself to not turn back and glance at Harry even if she can feel his gaze burning into her back. She makes it seem like the hook and plant in her hand are the most interesting things in the world. Turning it over in her fingers, and even going as far as to lift the basket (this on with a handle and curved bowl bottom) to her nose and smell it. 

    “Need a hand with that?” Harry says from behind her. She feels his presence from behind her, standing close enough that she can feel when he reaches to her front and takes the basket from her hands.  Y/n’s heart starts beating as fast as a hummingbird's wings. Closing her eyes to get a hold of herself, all she sees is green. Green, the color of his eyes.

   “Yes, please.” Her voice is small, shy.

    Harry, feeling bold, nudged the tip of his nose on the hair behind her ear. Enough to make her notice, but not enough to make her completely sure that it was there. “Where do you want it?” He says, breath hot on the shell of her ears. Her eyes widen, and her body goes on full alert. She’s suddenly aware of the closeness of his hips on hers, the brushing of the fabric on her the back of her hand.

    “Up…” Y/n steps forward, towards the wall. She places her finger on the smooth surface, and traces it over to where she wants it, doing loopty-loops to her desired spot. “...here.”

  He places the nail on the wall, hits it with the hammer that y/n gives him and hooks the basket as well. He turns to her when he’s done.

  “Got any more?” He asks, placing a hand on his hip.

  “Yeah, in the back. Wanna come help me?” Y/n points with a thumb to the doorway, half of her body turning as well.   

    “Lead the way.” 

    So they leave together to the backroom, y/n holding open the golden curtain for Harry to walk through. He looks around endearingly, his neck stretching and eyes darting from place to place as he takes in his surroundings. Y/n is stuck at the expression on her face, her heart strings pulling when her ears listen to the soft giggle that escapes his lips.

So they leave together to the backroom, y/n holding open the golden curtain for Harry to walk through. He looks around endearingly, his neck stretching and eyes darting from place to place as he takes in his surroundings. Y/n is stuck at the expression on her face, her heart strings pulling when her ears listen to the soft giggle that escapes his lips.

    “S’very nice back here.” 

    “Wanna grab a few baskets? Place ‘em in the lounge?” 

    “Sure thing.” Harry wraps his hand around the handle of three baskets at the same time, and with the other, he grabs the still-packaged hooks and wait for y/n by the doorway. She hurried to grab two succulents, and met Harry at the doorway. They had an awkward moment of deciding who’s going first. A huffle of backwards and forwards until eventually, Harry held his palm out to allow her to go through while biting his lip. Y/n ducked her head and felt the tips of her ears go warm. 

    “So, I tried Elton John yesterday.” He said, trailing behind y/n into the lounge like a little puppy. If he had a tail, it’d be wagging. 

    “Oh? How was it?” She replied, juggling the two glass casings in her hand, and then pricking herself again. She flinches, but doesn’t make any noises. 

    “Think I might have a new favorite,” he said, bashfully ducking his own head and peeking at her through his hair. Her heart fluttered, and if it could, she was sure it would bust out with the dreamy sighs she suppressed.

    “It’s that serious?” She asked. 

    “It’s that serious.” They reach the lounge, and y/n sets the succulents she carries in her hands down on a table.  “Have you had it yet?” Her stretches her hands out to Harry, signaling for him to give her his items. 

    “No, not yet. Should probably give it a try if its changed your mind. Can you pass me a hook?”  Harry gives her all four packages he holds in his one hand. When she wraps her hand around them, her finger brushes against the chubby part of his hand. 

    “Here you go- I only drank it ‘coz like, I’m on this diet thing and needed a drink with oat milk in it. Elton’s was the first one I saw. Woke me right up, too.” 

    “Diet you say?” y/n took the hammer and walked over to her desired stop, a few feet away from the one Harry had put in. 

    “Some altered version of keto. Had a really bad bug, had me feeling icky and ‘just decided it was the best.” He takes place next to her, watching as she positioned the nail and hit it a few times with the hammer. He held out a basket on his finger when she was done. She was a whirlwind, he thought. Busy little bee, never stopping. Harry nearly feels bad because she’s so full of energy, bouncing back from the table to the wall and arranging plants before he could even blink. “S’not fair. Not letting me do any work.” A pout appears on his lips, eyes teasing.

    “You just stand there and look pretty. I’ve-” she points to herself, finger at her chin. “Got this.” 

    Harry grumbles something that she doesn’t catch with his chin tucked into his neck. 

“What was that?’ she hums. 

    “‘Said, can’t exactly be pretty ‘coz you took that job too.” 

    Y/n’s hands still. Immediately, she feels her chest grow red roses blooming on her cheeks. She’s not exactly… embarrassed, per say. No. The familiar feeling of ants running wildly in her lower stomach began to burn, her ribcage tickling as butterflies try to creep out with beating wings. Pretty. He had called her pretty. 

    “Uhm, thank you?” 

    “You’re very welcome, darling.” His tone of voice is smug. And when she looks over at him with eyebrows raised, he’s biting his lip and his looking at her through his eyelashes like he had before, but there was no childish play in it this time. 

    “Say,” she picks up a succulent. “What’s it with you?” 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He shrugs.

“Lovin’ all up on me.”  She puts the succulent back down.

“S’nothing wrong with lovin’ all up on a pretty girl.”

There it is again. Pretty girl. Y/n is on fire her entire face pink, color concentrated on her cheeks and nose as if she had taken a walk in the brisk wind. 

“Stop it,” she said. 

Harry’s face turns concerned, brows kissing and lines appearing on his forehead. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” All work is forgotten, and instead they stand facing each other. 

“No! No, no,” Y/n’s eyes widen and her hands waving back and forth to eradicate the thought of her being disturbed by him. “S’just,” she sighs. “Not used to it, is all.”

Upon hearing this, Harry’s face breaks into a smile. “Well then,” he starts. “Better get used to it.” 

“Oh, you.” She playfully slaps his shoulder and picks up the succulent again, this time actually going to put it on a shelf adjacent to the window; a little alcove Karime has placed in a weird spot.

“When do you get a break?” 

“I think I get to take it whenever I want, why?”     “Wanna head down to Rockstar? Craving a Madonna right about now.”

“Never pegged you as a Madonna guy,” (the Madonna was a sweet caramel iced coffee with whipped cream and chocolate chips; not actually what Madonna would drink, and the beverage itself being one of the few inaccurate ones). “Let me finish with this, and I’ll let Karime know.”

So she did, much faster with Harry’s help. He handed her nails, hooks, and the plants she asked for. He asked if he could leave his stuff in the back, and he followed her back there once again, ticking his bag into an empty cupboard next to y/n’s things. On her way out, she said a quick goodbye to Karime who she was sure didn’t even hear what she said. 

Harry and her walked the short block side by side, with him playfully knocking his shoulder into hers and smiling like a mushy schoolboy when she pushed him back. They made small talk about drinks and the weather, shoulders hunched up and chins tucked in because it was a little cold.   Y/n’s frayed highschool sweater wasn’t doing much to keep her warm, and she had half the wind to pull her hood up the way Harry had his. 

Looking over at his, his nose was going a bit raw. Pink and the skin around it a little pale. By the time he noticed she was looking at him, they’d reached Rockstar, and he was opening the door for her. Murmuring a small thank you she walked through, and stepped to the side to wait for him to step inn as well, given he’d held the door open for the few people that had been walking behind him as well. From inside, she could see him nodding and smiling at everyone who stepped in. 

“You wanna grab a table and I’ll get the drinks?” she says to him when he appears next to her with hands in his hoodie pocket; she’s craning her neck to meet his eyes.

    “Sure. I’ll be in the records?” He takes one hand out to point over to where the records are.

    “Okay.” Y/n nods and head to the counter, where Lucy is busy taking someone’s order. She only see y/n when she walks behind the person and makes a silly face at her. Lucy laughs, but continues taking the order, and y/n pushes through the doors to put on an apron and make her and Harry’s drink. 

“Well if it isn’t y/n!” Says Kim.

“Y/n! Girly its been forever,” Kelsey bumps her hip when y/n get to work alongside her at the steaming machine.  

“Yes, yes, I know. Missed my favorite baristas.” she giggles, bumping her hip a little harder and making Kelsey gasp in faint shock. “Where’s Tilly?”

“Called in sick. Poor think could barely speak.” replied Kelsey. Y/n hummed a response, and made her drink first, a hot chocolate, and set it to the side to allow it to cool down meanwhile she made Harry’s. When Kelsey noticed her reaching for another measuring cup after just making her own she says,

“Two drinks?”

“Got a friend waiting for me in the records.” Y/n explained, pumping an extra pump of caramel into the cup. She puts in less ice too, and extra chocolate chips and whipped cream. 

    “The records…” Kelsey craned her neck out of where customers pick of their drinks to peek tp the records section. “Wait, wait, the one in the hood?”     “Yep,” said y/n, unbothered as she capped Harry’s drink.

    “Y/n!” Kelsey hissed, “He’s hot!” 

    “Yes, Kelsey, I am aware.” Y/n rolls her eyes and picked up both drinks, turning on her heels to walk out but nearly bumps into Kim, who stood not even an inch away from her. She backs up instantly.

    “So are you and he a thing?” He asked, leaning in closer to y/n’s face,his breath smelling on the ramen he always ate during his lunch break. 

    Y/n, uncomfortable by his closeness, tried walking around him but he stepped to the side. “It’s none of your business Kim.”

    “You never accept my dates, but you’ll accept his?” Kim’s tone is angry, and when he takes a step towards her, Kelsey steps in front of her.

    “Kim, leave her alone.” Kelsey says, turning back to y/n and nodding her head in the direction y/n was heading. When she pushes past the swinging doors, she catches a bits of what Kelsey says to him in a harsh whisper, “just wait until Lucy hears about this.” 

    “Haarryy,” Y/n says in a sing-song voice, dodging people as she makes her way to the records. Harry’s standing with  a record in his hand, legs spread apart and leaning back a bit with  his other hand tucked into his opposite armpit. “Here’s your John.” 

    Harry takes the plastic cup from her, giggling as he looks at her. 

    “What’s so funny?” she asks, genuinely confused.

    “Still wearing your apron,” Harry wraps his lips around the straw, tongue poking out to lap at it and take it into his mouth as y/n tries really hard not to stare.

    Looking down at herself, y/n shrugs, and leaves it on, taking a seat on the nearest loveseat and wrapping her now empty hand around the warm cup. 

    “What did you get?” He asked her. 

    “Willy wonka.” She brings the cup to her lips, tilting it up slowly and her mouth waters when she catches the scent of the foaming chocolate. Harry takes a seat next to her, his thigh touching her jean-clad one. He sits with them spread, leaning back in an eased position, and y/n eyes jump down to the bunched grey fabric at his crotch. And… well, there’s a larger than normal bulge through the fabric, drawstrings bending over the imprint, and y/n chokes on her drink. Some of it sputters out onto her apron. 

    “Still hot?” She nods. “ Gotta be careful, love. Who picked the names?”

    Y/n looks over at him, head tilting to the side with eyes squinting. “Picked what?”

    The cloudy skylight streamed in softly, casting a soft grey glow on Harry’s side profile. “The names for the drinks. Who picked them?” He holds his drink in one hand, straw near his face so all he had to do was maneuver his wrist to the plastic tube was in his mouth. 

    “Lucy did. Well, for most of them. I picked Andre 3000, Madonna, Willy Wonka and made the drinks myself. They’re not accurate though.” She sipped from her drink. “The rest of them are.” 

    “How much of this decor did you do? Like, concepts and stuff.” Harry takes out the tucked hand to wave around, and then tucks it back in. 

    “Concepts? Hmm…” she trails off for a moment. “All of them. I don’t want to say that I made this place myself, because I wouldn’t have done it without Lucy’s guidelines, but I went out, bought the furniture. Everything you see me doing at Karime's, I did here… ‘cept Karime’s is just plants and this,” she waves around her in a gesture and leaves it at that.

    “Do you decorate apartments?” He asked.

    “W-what?” Y/n, in the middle of a sip, and very surprised at his question, stuttered at his 

    “‘Coz mine’s looking kinda bland right now, was thinking maybe you could help me put some life into it.” 

    “Harry, I-”

    “Kinda like the Rockstar vibes, but like, a little less on the trendy side? I dunn-” Harry isn’t looking at her, his eyes wandering and landing on everything but her. 

    “Harry.” she said a little more sternly, putting a stop to his little rant. He looked at her then, his expression  unreadable. “I’m not sure you want me to help you decorate your home.”

    “Why not? You’d be helping me is all, and I love the way you’ve made Aromatherapy and Rockstar look.” He licks his lips, moving his head to the side and bringing the straw into his mouth with his tongue (that y/n stare at for longer than necessary).

    “But it’s your home.”

    “I am aware. Help me make it more me.” He shifts his body towards her then, his knee bending so he chest is to her. “Please?” He makes the face Puss in Boots made in that one movie, y/n couldn’t remember then because Harry looked much cuter than that dumb cat did.

    Y/n tosses this idea around in her head. Helping Harry decorate his home. She was scared, not only because Harry was cute, but because home was a personal and private space to be calm and safe. What if she screwed it all up and then Harry was uncomfortable in his own home? What is she did such a shit job that, that- well such a bad job that a horrible result came out of it again. This thing with Harry, a budding friendship? She barely knew the guy, just that he had an affinity for showering her with compliments and he made her turn more red than that really bad sunburn she got in the 10th grade after she refused to put on sunblock on a trip to a pool resort. What her point was, is that decorating someone’s home- a place where the heart is pure- is a really big job. 

    “Of course, this would be after you’re done with Karime’s place. Don’t wanna stress you out or anything like that.” A nike shoe, white and crisp looking like it had come straight out of the box, pressed into his thigh when he wrapped a hand around his ankle and pulled his bent leg in tighter.  “Whadda ya say?”

After hemming and hawing a few times, y/n finally says, “Okay. But you’re gonna have to be one million times more specific okay?” She elbows him, his position causing her elbow to poke at his pec instead of his bicep, and y/n elbows into hard muscle. 

    “Heyyy, can’t go hurting the girls now,” He rubs over where he poked her, and pouts childishly, even going as far as sticking his tongue out at her. “Do you need to head back? I don’t wanna get you into any trouble, y/n.”     The use of her name makes her heart skip a beat. “Yes, we should probably get going.” She moves to get up, and accidentally places her hand on Harry’s thigh. Before she would say sorry for touching him, he says,

    “Alway using me to hold yourself, huh? Sneaky thing, I see what you’re doin.” 

    “You offered! Said it yourself, I’ll hold you so you don’t fall again,” she deepened her voice, and faked a british lilt as best she could. 

    “I do not sound like that,” He whined. 

    He got up right after her, grabbing her hand to ‘pull’ himself back up, but he was really just holding it. His hand was cooler than hers (because he’d used the hand that had been holding his iced coffee) and enormous around hers. If he tried, he could close his finger tips and they’d be overlapping. When he was fully stood up, he reached around her neck, and lifted the black strap over her head, transfering the cloth over to the hand that held his cup, and then reaching again, this time around her waist to undo the knot. His front, not even a full step away from hers, and y/n got a whiff of detergent and something else she could only describe as ‘clean man’. If she were a shark, this would’ve been the moment her eyes turned black and rolled to the back of her head. 

    “There you go, no longer look like a little barista.” He hung the apron over he shoulder, and walked alongside her to the exit. Y/n split from him for a short second to return the apron, but then resumed her place next to him and they walked out together. She was hyper alert the entire way, taking notice of when their hands brushed, or when he pressed his bicep against hers. They walked a little stumbly, walking against each other almost. Had it been Lucy, she would’ve already yelled at y/n, and y/n would’ve walked near the sidewalk to avoid bumping into her again. But Harry?

Harry takes it like a champ. Giggling and pressing back against her, and he even placed her on the inside of the sidewalk when she walked to the side closest to the passing cars. 

    “So, tell me.” He starts, tossing his empty cup at a recycling bin as they waited for the light. “What kind of premeditated preparations should I take to be- as you said- extra specific?”

    Y/n still nurtures her cup in her hands, the coffee lid resting on her bottom lip. “Moodboards. Magazine scraps. Room inspiration on pinterest. Make a list of things you like. Anything really.  Anything that you like and would like to see in your apartment. Also, you need a budget.” 

    “Don’t worry ‘bout a budget. I’ll work on everything else. You want it done by a certain day?” He asked, gallantly placing a hand on the small of her back as they crossed the street.

    “Preferably within the next week or two. I’m pretty much done with Karime.” She straightens up when she feels Harry’s hand on her, a warm feeling spreading from where he pressed, unlike the nastiness Kim made her feel. 

    They’re three shops down when he said, “Gotta give me your number so I can send you everything then. You can keep me updated and I’ll keep you updated.” They pass by a tree whose branch is just low enough to graze Harry’s head, and it hooks onto the hood on his head, effectively pulling it back as he walks through. His hair looks incredibly soft. Wispy strands the color of the drink in her hands, billowing up and around his face, a ringlet falling in front of his right eye. 

    He licks his lips, using his fingers to push his hair back and raise the hoodie over his hair again. HE looks over at her as he does, waiting for her response. 

    “Oh, oh, yes. Sure thing. Got your phone on you?” Harry jams his hand into his pocket and pulls out his phone, the latest model, sleek and looking incredibly small in his hands. He placed it into her outstretched palm, unlocked but not on the contact app. Y/n has to swipe through shamefully, scared he’s gonna think that she’s snooping. She puts her number under ‘y/n :)’. 

    “Thanks, love.” He took the phone from her, his fingers sliding against the back of her hand. He hisses when he does so, saying, “Y/n your hands are so cold,” and then proceeds to take her hand and squeeze it between his own two. 

    She giggles sweetly, “Aye! Trynna hold my hand now?” she teased. 

    “No, trying to hold your hand would be this,” He grabs her hand with one, and lets it wall between them. They walk into AromaReads like that, with him holding her hand and the both of them laughing like they’d heard the funniest thing in the world. 

    Karime, standing at the counter and welcoming everyone as they come in, catches y/n’s eye and she smiles at herself knowingly. Y/n shakes her head while still laughing with Harry, and they both head to the back. Harry to get his stuff, and y/n to continue her job. Just when he’s walking between the isle and cabinets, his phone dings and he takes it out, his jaw dropping and palm slapping his forehead. 

    “SHIT! I completely forgot. I have a lunch meeting with my friend today. Fuck,” Y/n, this being the first time she hears swear words coming out of his mouth, rases her eybrow at him and chuckles. “I’m so sorry. I wanted to keep helping you, but-”

    She raises her hand, silencing him. “You do what you have to do. This is my job anyway. Just don’t forget to text me.” Basket handles fill her hands, wicker patterns pressing into her pals, and she tucks one of the last two frames under her hand too. 

    “I won’t. In fact, I’ll do that right now.” He types into the phone that’s still in his hand, and a few seconds later Y/n’s back pocket buzzes and chimes. She doesn’t pull it out to check. “Now you can text me if I forget.” He says finally, swinging his satchel over his shoulder.

“Bye, sweetheart!” He called out, turning back over to smile at her. Y/n’s  lips pulled up at the corners, gazing at him with a certain look in her eye as he walked out. 

    “Sweetheart, huh?” Karime stepped into her direct line of vision, snapping y/n out of the daydream in her head where she’s the housewife and Harry her husband leaving to work, calling out bye, sweetheart! as he walked out the door. 

    Karime’s looking at her with a smirk and a single pointy eyebrow raise. 

    God, what had she gotten herself into?

    .

    .

    Y/n had saved Harry under “H.”

   And received a text from him that same night.

    She’d been in her bathtub with cucumbers on her eyes when she heard her phone chime. Chin pointed upwards and wrists perched on the edges of her porcelain basin, she lay unbothered and unmotivated to even move. Arms aching and the soles of her feet tired from walking from place to place and lifting she did at Karime’s earlier that day. Tealight candles were the only source of light in the tiny bathroom, a soft yellow glow cascading on the skin of her neck.  The valley of her breast peaked out everytime she took a breath, her mind drifting off into thoughts of green eyes and warm hands, all she’d been able to think about that day.

    She planned on staying there 30 more minutes, but her phone dinged again. After she thought it was the two minute thing the phone does after receiving a message, but when it dinged again, she huffed from her nose and removed the soggy cucumber sliced off of her eyes. Should’ve turned off my phone, she thought to herself, grabbing the towel she left on the toilet seat across from the tub, and wrapping it around her torso. The phone screen a blaring white light in contrast to the dimness of the candles. 

    Y/n, eyes cloudy with sleep and limbs saggy with fatigue, is very much surprised to see that next to the app icon on the display screen, is ‘H.’ Hey eyes pop out of her head at the realization, and her heart shakes up the fatigue to beat up a storm for the boy she’d been thinking about all day since he’d left her. 

Standing in her bathroom, on bare tiles with water still dripping on her, it hit her full force. She liked Harry. Liked the way his cheek squished against his shoulder when he shrugged. They way he looked at her through his eyelashes, and they way he made sure that she was walking on the inside of the street. Liked how he smiled at her and said her name. She was obsessed with him. 

So i think i know what i wanna go for

Was thinking maybe italy in the 70’s 

What do you think :D ??

    And attached were varying pictures of vast rooms with big windows during golden hour and white flowy curtains with art pieces on the wall. It was minimal Even more minimal that what Karime asked for. This is what he wanted help with? Not to mention, the pictures he sent were of rooms far bigger than she’d ever seen for an LA apartment. Hell, those rooms might as well have been in Italy, one of the windows had a view of a pretty pink sunset and orange tree branches littering the way. 

    However, she couldn’t argue that they were very pretty rooms. Sweet and plain, easy for the eye to absorb and just the place you’d be able to melt on the floor with a book. 

    Or the kind in which you have slow, hazy afternoon sex, but who was she to say what harry would use his rooms for right?

    Disclaimer: if this is the look you’re going for

    Like

    This exact look? You’re gonna have 2 have a really big apartment   

        Not even a full minute goes by until the grey delivered letters turns into ‘Read at 10:15pm’ and the grey typing bubble appears at the bottom of her screen. Her palms begin to sweat and her breath hitches. She doesn’t realize she’s been holding in her breath until she releases it after his message comes through. 

        are you doing anything this weekend? 

        Y/n is confused, brows furrowed as she reads his message. Why does he want to know?

    No. why? she responded.

    so you can come and take measurements of my apartments. that way i know how to tweak what i want

  and I have a measuring tape don’t worry

Y/n rolled her eyes and giggled at her phone screen, turning and resting her bum on the edge of her sink. 

    Saturday? 

        Seconds later,

see you Saturday

sweet dreams. H.x

The idiot. Of course he’d sign off a text message. Scoffing, y/n let the towel drop to the floor, and reached into the tub to unclog the drain. As soon as she felt the pop of water flowing down the pipes, she took out her arm and walked out. 

.

.

On Wednesday, y/n laid in bed until 12. When she got up, it was only to brush her teeth, pee, and eat ramen with rice and egg like the asian lady in the liquor store had taught her to make. When she finished, she went back to bed. Maybe she masturbated to get herself to fall asleep again.

Maybe.

.

.

On Thursday, she went took Our Sign Of The Times and took it out to read in her car on signal hill. She finished it. 

She cried. 

When she went home, she started another one. Rogue Lover. This one with a really pretty purple flower on the front, and the first page when you open it is a raven haired man with shoulder length hair who’s propped up next to a busty redhead. Her nipple is in his mouth, and her head is thrown back in pleasure. Y/n fell a little more in love with 

Lemus Knox upon finding the dedication was a note rather than a name. 

It said:

Whoever reads this, I’ll be waiting for you where the stars and clouds meet. My heart is yours. Lemus.

.

.

Friday. 

She helped Lucy at Rockstar. A bald man with a blue beard came in asking for her. He has a boutique in Long Beach. Doesn’t want to come off overbearing. Will he help her? 

She said yes.They were set to meet next week. 

Also, Harry texted her asking if they were still on for tomorrow and come ready to eat because I made Italian food for a few friends I had over and there’s leftovers. 

.

.

Saturday. 

Y/n woke up with an appetite for Italian food. She didn’t have to be at Harry’s house until 12-ish. They hadn’t really clarified. And with it being 8 am and all that, y/n decided to take some time to shower and prep herself all nice and delicate. She spent 15 minutes lathering herself in her tub, letting her skin absorb berry scented bubbles that made her mouth water, and if she didn’t know any better she’d scoop up the bubbles and eat them.When her skin shriveled, she stood and drained the water, letting the stream from the overhead wash her off, and stepped out onto her heart shaped mat, the kind with little stubs that felt really nice against the bottom of her feet.

A little while back, she’d bought a lemon face scrub from a really expensive skincare place that had a sale, and meanwhile she put on her clothes, she put some on her cheekbones and forehead to sit for 15 minutes.  It required extra care when slipping her floral dress over her head. Once she managed to poke her head through, and the material rested all bunched up on her neck, the rest was a breeze. With a careful yank, the light material cascaded down her body, dropping just below her bum. Checking herself in her mirror, she smiled at the way she looked when she swayed her hips side to side. Cheeky flashes of her bum glint at her teasingly. Humming contently, she took off to wash off her face in the restroom. She was eager to find out how Harry liked the way she looked; her dress a low neckline, and she wasn’t wearing a bra because it was one of those dress in which the fabric bunched at the breasts to create a makeshift cup. The patter was a nice pink that looked nice against her skin, dainty little bows at the sleeves and in between her breasts accentuating her features.

Y/n opted for nothing other than a dark shade of lipstick, and let her hair flow down her back. As she was putting on her shoes, a pair of those recycled shoes that sent some of the proceeds to charity, she noticed that much of what she was doing felt like what she would have done if she were getting ready for a date. 

And… and Harry had food waiting for her at his place (apartment? Loft? She didn’t know specifically). Was this a date? She definitely wouldn't mind if it was.

She finished, and grabbed nothing other than her keys and shoulder bag, hesitating at her door whether she should grab the measuring tape, but deciding against it after remembering that Harry, quite teasingly, had said he had one at his house. 

In her car, she scrolled up her and Harry’s text to find the one which contained his address, tapped on it when she found it, and set in on the small mount on the headboard of her cart. Huffing, she set off to Harry’s house.

It didn’t take her long to get there, about ten minutes, and she parked in front of a much nicer version of her own apartment complex, but in Beverly hills.  A beige building that have the similar structure of a hotel, with turquoise patios and green roofing. Palm trees making a walkway to the entrance, which guarded by a security guard who asked who she was there to see.  

“I’m here to see Harry…” she falters, realizing she doesn’t know his name. 

The security, an old man with a limp and scrutinizing eyes, looked her up and down and said, “Ya one of dem girls das always botherin’ him ain’tcha? I suggest you turn back and go home. Mr. Styles won’t see you.” 

Y/n, with her jaw dropped, stood stunned in the middle of the pathway, not sure what to respond. Surely, he was confused. And whichever “girls that came around bothering Mr. Styles” she wasn’t one of them. 

“Go on and git,” he said, crossing his arms and standing possessively in front of a keypad. 

She hurried to reach into her bag for her phone, walking back to her car while she punched Harry’s “call” because she didn’t want to stand while an agitated security man watched her. 

He picks up the phone, and doesn’t even give her a chance to talk before he says, “is Felix giving you a hard time?” His voice gravelly and knowing. 

“The security guard? He said that you won’t see me.” She whines into the receiver. 

“Ah yes, the strict old man. Gimme a second.” He hangs up on her, leaving y/n clutching the strap of her bag so hard her knuckles turn white. 

“Ms. Y/n?!” Felix calls from behind her. She turns around, surprised to see that his face was completely transformed with a smile. His front tooth is gold and he’s missing a molar. “You can go on ahead, dolly. Mr. Styles just called and said you was a nice ‘un.”  He said, punching a thumb into the keypad behind him. “Sorry, bout that Miss. Enjoy the rest ‘ur dey!” He touches the tips of his fore and middle finger to his gleaming forehead and salutes her as she passes him, giggling and blushing. 

“Thank you, Felix. You too.” 

She walks through, and is greeted with a fine lobby. It really does look like a hotel lobby. Carpeted floors, a receptionist, and a door leading to a pool just outside the elevator. Before she can even wonder where to go, she hears her name being called by a familiar voice, 

“Y/n, over here!” Harry calls out, standing in front of open doors to the elevator to her right. He’s wearing a burgundy turtleneck and black slacks that are cuffed at the ankles. Yellow tortoise shell glasses and his hair is parted down the middle making him look like MiloThatch. A lavender towelette is in the grasp of his right hand, and he’s waving it at her like soldier girlfriends saying goodbye on the platforms. 

Stunned at his etherealness, y/n felt the roof of her mouth go dry. Staring at the way he filled out his clothing, she walked to him hypnotized, transfixed by his appearance. His chiseled features, boyish grin. She gravitated towards him. Enchanted.

“H-hi, Harry.” she said dreamily. Harry’s eyes raked her up and down when she came to a stop in front of him. 

“Why, hello. You look exceptionally lovely right now, darling.” He rasped, looking down at her sternly, all traces of a sweet smile gone and replaced by something a little more serious. A little more sinister.  His light green eyes turning a darker shade, y/n’s lips parting and knees weakening. 

She musters the words to say, “so do you,” and Harry’s lips turn up at the corners. 

“Shall we head up. Pasta and salad is waiting for you.” He turns away from her and presses the circular button that goes red when he pushes it. 

“How was-”

“So, you-” 

They both say at the same time, laughing and stopping to let the other speak and Harry says, “You go first.” 

“I see you’ve a few fans that bother you, and Mr. Felix has taken to guarding them off,” y/n commented. Her eyebrow quirked at him. 

Harry laughs, a single loud ha! “Felix just takes his job very seriously. That’s all.” 

“Doesn’t change the fact that you have women-” the elevator rings and the doors open, “lined up on your doorstep.” Harry steps in first, and uses his hand to stop the elevator doors from closing in on y/n. 

She steps through, and they both stand side by side in the metal encasing. Glancing up, she sees the ceiling is covered in mirror panels. 

“Well,” Harry shifts his body so his front is facing her, and takes a step, shoulders taking turns on tilting forward with every slow, torturous step he takes. “Does it,” Y/n takes a step back, breath hitching in her chest, “ bother,” her back collides with the cool wall, the floors on the meter above the doors keep going, 5, 6, “ you?” 

He’s a needle away from her nose, his mouth ghosting over her own and his chest rising up and down slowly while hers is an erratic mess. She’s breathing out of her mouth, her eyes shifting between his own two that are fixed and straight on hers. 7, 8,  Harry’s hand comes to rest on the right side of her face, caging her between the elevator wall and his bicep, his palm cupped her jaw and running a thumb tenderly over her cheekbone. 

“I-I,” she stutters. 

“Cat got your tongue, petal?” His breath smells like mint and coffee. The tips of the curls that hang in front of his eyes tickle y/n’s forehead and down the side of her temple and eventually her cheek when he leans in to put his lips at her ear. “Look so pretty right now, y'know?” HIs british drawl is heavy because his tone of voice is low. 

8, 9, “Harry,” she gasped, involuntarily tilting her head to the side when he noses at the back of her ear. “What are you doing?” 

The elevator comes to a stop at 10, and Harry retracts, leaving her a red, heated mess  and slightly panting. He takes the few steps to stand in front of the elevator doors, and clasps his hands behind his back. “Nothing. Nothing at all. Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He smiled at her sweetly, his demeanor innocent as if we weren't just going to ravish her in an elevator like Robet Patterson for that one Dior commercial.

The doors open to a long hallway that turns sharply at the end to the right, a door where it would’ve turned on the left side. The right wall is a window that looks out onto the middle of the building, where y/n could see the pool that had been behind door. The flooring is a green colored tile, the same as the roofing, and the walls are a flattering soft yellow bordering on white.

Harry’s shoes, expensive looking-black heeled boots that have a rainbow pattern on the, making clacking noises against the floor with every step he takes. Y/n can’t help but feel awkward while walking alongside him, but  Harry, humming along to the tune of Maneater, by Hall and Oates, doesn’t seem to share her opinions. At the end of the hall, he makes a sharp turn to left, and she bumps into him. Mumbling a sorry she steps back to allow him to open the door. 

It’s not locked, and with a quick turn of the brass knob, the door opens and the smell of tomato and basil hits them both in the face. 

Y/n’s stomach grumbles, and she places her hand over her bell and looks over at Harry with wide eyes, embarrassed. 

“I take it you’re hungry?” He steps through, holding the door open for her.

“...yes…” she mumbled, stepping through. 

“Just in time then because I…” Whatever Harry says is drowned out. Y/n is amazed. Harry doesn’t have an apartment. He has a goddamn penthouse suite. His living room wall is a window, his kitchen open and blending in with the rest of the space. There are no walls, just turns where the building walls connect. Tall and wide walls painted with angles of shadows and lights that stream in. No furniture other than a long, wooden dinner table and three white chairs, and his bed. A mattress and a white comforter messily strewn over pillows. Before the walls turn to the streetside view, Y/n catches glimpses of cedar wood bookshelves arranged in the middle of the room; just like in a library. 

“Y/n?”  Harry appears in her line of peripheral vision, a knowing look on his face.

“Sorry, sorry. What was it?” 

“Said, do you want spaghetti and meatballs or fettuccine?”

“Mmm,” She scrunches her face like she’s thinking real hard, “fettuccine.” Then she adds, “please.” 

“You got it.” He said, walking away while playing with the collar of his turtleneck. Y/n follows after him, to the kitchen isle and utilities placed in a little alcove underneath the stairs that lead upstairs. To what, y/n didn’t know. 

Then she sees the pots and pans that are still steaming, the cutting boards with chopped lettuce and other vegetables and realizes that-

“Hey! You said you had takeout,”

“I did.” He picks up the knife next to the tomato, and continues chopping the lettuce.  “But I left it out, and it went bad. I promised you Italian so I made it myself instead. Much better than Olive Garden, anyways.” He shrugs, looking up at her and pointing with the knife to a chair across from him. “Sit.”

“NO!” She said, exasperated. “Let me chop something, too.”

“Darling, this is finished. I’ve got it. Sit, the fettuccine is almost finished. Just,” he twists his neck to look behind him, at the clock above the stove, a cat with a swinging tail. “Five more minutes.” 

Y/n slides the bag she carried off her shoulder and hooks it in the back of the chair he had told her to sit on, which she still wasn’t.

“Harry, that’s not fair.” she stomped her foot, a flat slapping noise of her sole against his wooden floors.

“Oh sit, or I won’t give you any food.” He tuts his tongue at her, shaking his knife and turning to turn down one of the knobs on the stove.

Pouting like a child, y/n sits down with a plop and a screech of the chair sliding against the floor.

She sat and watched Harry as he took plates out of his cupboards and placed food on them. The only noises being the quiet bubbling of pasta sauce, the tapping of his heels, clinks of plates against each other, and y/n’s grumbling stomach. Her face was still puckered in a pout because Harry hadn’t let her help him, but it slowly eased off as she focused more and more on the way he looked in his fitting black pants. The way the fabric was tighter on his ass, how his thighs flexed with each stride. Suddenly, y/n got the urge to bite into them, and she felt herself blush at her own thoughts, especially when Harry turned to her with a sweet smile of his lips.

He placed a plate in front of her, complete with salad and garlic knots. 

“Would you like some wine? Got this really nice one the other day and I haven’t opened it yet. Figured since we’re having Italian, it fits.” Harry was holding a dark wine bottle in his hand, that he had just pulled out of his silver fridge. 

“Harry, I would love some, but-” Y/n tried to explain that she felt bad because she came here for take out and had cooked her a meal.

“NO buts. Have some.” And instantly, there was a cup of red wine next to her plate.

Even though he had a table for eating, he placed his own plate next to her, and sat down to eat. Y/n looked at him, deflated and with a pained look on her face, while he forked spaghetti into his mouth and raised his glass for a drink. 

He froze when he saw she was looking at him. Looking her up and down, he said, “Moppet, eat your food. We have work to do.” 

Y/n rubbed her palm down her face, her lips pulled down. With a groan, she picked up her fork, sulking, and twirled it in her pasta.

She didn’t know what she was expecting, but definitely not the mini piece of heaven that was in her mouth. Harry had managed to create the perfect blend of cheese and cream that glazed her tongue like silk. It was so good, she moaned, her fingers pressing against her mouth and head tilted back. 

“S’good,? Harry questioned, wiping his mouth with a napkin to hide his laugh.

“Very,” she said, shoving more of the pasta into her mouth.

“Good.”

They eat quietly, Harry snickering at her whenever inhumane noises of pleasure left her mouth.Y/n practically cleaned her plate with the garlic knots. She only remembered about the glass of wine when Harry set his down empty, lips stained, and eyes droopy if she looked at him hard enough. After she’d cleaned her plate, she reached for the thin stem of the g;ass and drank it like it was grape juice, only slightly wincing after it had gone down, the tart acidity washing down the sweeter tones of cream. 

“Slow down, Moppet. Don’t want you to get a tummy ache.” Harry said, patting her hand tenderly and pushing himself off the seat to place her plate in the sink. At this, y/n jumped from her chair and took the plates from Harry. 

“You cooked, not I wash the dishes.” She stuck her tongue out at him, the tip red from the wine.

“But-” Harry protested.

“No buts. Go,” she bumped her hip against his, and walked the last few steps to the sink, picking up the sponge and turning on the water. She washed the dishes, and like always, got the front of her dress wet, water splattering onto her chest. Sucking on her teeth, y/n used the towel hanging on the handle of the oven to pat off the water. Harry watched this from where he leaned against the isle across from the stove; a new glass of wine half empty.

Returning to the table, she grabbed her now full- no thanks to Harry- glass of wine and sipped from it. It settled nicely in her stomach, warming down the path it took to settle.

Clasping her hands, she said, “Okay, Harry. Let’s talk decor.”

Harry untucked his hand from underneath his armpit, and smacked his lips together, “Follow me.”

He started walking out to the living room area, and into the bookshelves y/n had seen. Up close, they were actually taller than her, just about Harry’s height. He walked past them, and stopped again at a corner where one building face meets the other. Here, he had pictures upon pictures laid out on the floor. He even had scraps of fabric.

Y/n stared, and nodded approvingly. “You did your research. Good job.” Looking closer, she saw what the images were. Albums (David Bowie, Stevie Nicks, Fleetwood Mac, The Eagles, The Beatles, Prince). Pop culture pieces (Andy Narwhal, Pulp Fiction, Sixteen Candles). Fabric patterns, colors, and a lot of velvet. About half of the pictures were shots of other room like the pictures he’d shown her. 

To her left, Harry tapped onto his phone, and seconds later, that song he’d been humming in the hallway, Maneater, played with clarity on speakers hidden from the eye. When he was satisfied with his queue choices, he knee and sat next to his big circle of inspiration, legs splayed out in front of him looking infinitely long.  Y/n noticed he had taken off his boots, and his feet, knobby and lanky, had toes painted blue and pink. He had black markings on his big toe, but she couldn’t see what it was.

“Look, sit sit, I was thinking…” Harry began, patting the area next to him and grabbing a few of the papers he had spewed on the floor. Y/n, inexplicably endeared, sat with her legs crossed to the side next to him, feeling her butt press onto the cold floor, and listened to him go on and on about his vision. 

Hours passed with them just talking about images, why Fleetwood Mac would go better than Prince (because Fleetwood Mac is more of an afternoon in the meadows, and Prince is a night going down the highway in Malibu) and fabric choices for the windows (i’m sorry Harry, y/n had argued, but unless you can find a near translucent velvet its not gonna work. If you want the summer in italy during the 70’s look, you need transparent curtains).

They sat long enough that the way the light filtered in at an angle according to the sun, changed completely (it was at a harsh slant with the morning light, now its at a soft bend with golden light). When the light made Harry’s face look a golden pink, he fell back onto the wooden floors with a groan and said,

“How do you do this, y/n?” He blew hair out of his lips to move the few strands that had fallen in front of his eyes.

“Dunno, its just second natur- heeyy,”

A midst the mess, she guesses they missed it. Underneath a picture of a fruit bowl and flowers, was a picture of a naked woman, with birds eye view from the bot of her head, so you could see the tips of her breasts with they way she arched her back, and the head of hair in between her thighs. Her mouth was open in a silent scream of pleasure, eyes closed and a hand fisting her own hair like she was doing to the man in between her thighs.

Her cheeks burn upon her discovery, and she feels a familiar buzz in the place where the woman in the picture had a tongue pressed against her. 

When he heard her little gasp, Harry shot straight up and when he saw the image in her hands he said, “Ah, I see you’ve finally found it. Was wonderin’ when it would come out.” Reaching across her, his chest smushed againt her shoulder, he plucks it from her hands and look at it, smirking.

“You didn’t tell me we’d be doing x-rated work.” 

She says it teasingly.

But maybe it was the way she was looking at him then. She couldn’t help it. The roots of his hair looked blonde in the light, and his eyes were clear, almost see through as light passed them. His lips looked particularly tasty, having been tinted red from the wine, glinting from his own spit, and swollen from how he’d plucked at them while he was thinking about her suggestions. The juncture of his throat was partly hidden, but she could still see every time he swallowed, hos his adam’s apple bobbed up and down. And… and it wasn’t her fault that black pants looked good on him either. The material stretching taught over his muscles, flexing with every, single movement he made, no matter how small.  

So, maybe she had been looking at his provocatively, and her comment had… fueled Harry. Tuned him in on what had been on her mind.

He lifts himself with one arm from his indian-style position on the floor, up to his knees, and crawls to her. Eyes looking with hers, y/n’s chest starts to heave, her breaths growing bated; shorter; faster. 

“Do you want to do x-rated work?” He said, his voice dangerously low. His rings clink against the wooden planks, and brush against her thighs when he comes close, hands bracketing her hips, his nose nudging hers.

She’s gupping, like a little guppy fish, her lips opening and close, but nothing comes out of them.

Harry’s nose moves to her cheek, pushing back her hair. “It’s okay, pet. I can ask you again. Do you want,” his lips are at her ear for the second time that day, except that she thinks maybe they’ll actually gets somewhere this time. All she has to do is say,

“Yes.” Her voice is small, an airy squeak when Harry presses a kiss to the back of her ear. Her hands, sitting dumbly on her lap, move tentatively to his chest, searching from something to hold onto. She clenches the soft fabric in her hands just as Harry starts to lean back, his palm falling into her naval, and pushing her back, back, back, until she has to stretch her legs out to lay comfortable on her back, staring up at him with bleary eyes, glossed over.

“Yes? Course you do, pet.” He moves his knees to straddle her hips, leaning down close so he’s almost talking into her mouth, and one of his hands smooths down the shape of her waist. Y/n feels herself grow wet when Harry dips his thumb into her belly button, and she’s whining because she hasn’t done anything with anybody in so long and she wants him to do something.

But, if he’s not gonna do anything, that she might as well. She stretched her neck the last of the way, flattening her lips against Harry’s. The relief is instant, she quells her desire of being closer to him, and Harry responds almost immediately, swiping his tongue on her bottom lip and licking into her when she lets him. Harry groans, because she still tastes like wine and a sweetness he can only credit to her. His kiss becomes urgent, smashing his against her soft, malleable mouth.

Y/n whimpers, hips jutting upwards when Harry takes her lower lip between his teeth, and bites down on it,hard enough to where the pain was pleasure. Although her mind is swimming, she knows that the bulge she feels through the flimsy cloth of her dress is Harry’s cock. Elated and driven mad by her need, she arches up into him, needing any friction she could.

Harry pulls away from her, their lips separating with a wet noise, and tuts his tongue at her. “Ah, ah, ah. You’re not getting my cock tonight, y/n. Not yet.”

She mewls, her eyebrows dipping and red, puffy lips pouting, “Harry, don’t be a tease. S’not fair.” She doesn’t care is she sounds pathetic, the space between her thighs aches, and she’d like him to very much sate it “Do something, please.”

He coos at her, pressing wet kisses along her neck, his hand sneaking past her waist, to the start of her dress, and slipping underneath it. “Whining like a little puppy, aren’t you?” His hand glides of her thigh, the shill of his rings sending a violent shiver up her spine. His nail scratches a path near the place where she’s most warm. Most needy, and she moans when he feels how close he is to touching her, the splotch on her panties expanding every time he spoke. “You’re alright puppy, I’ll take care of you.”

Y/n’s breath hitches when his finger hooks onto the strap of her underwear, snapping the material twice with a chuckle at the cries he elicited from her. 

“Harry, harry, harry,” she’s half mad with need, her eyes squeezed shut with anticipation, and when Harry sees the desperation in her slack mouth, his own features go soft, and he takes out his hand from underneath her dress to cup her cheek. 

“Puppy,” he said, and when she didn’t open her eyes, he said again, “Puppy, look at me.” his thumb rubs over her cheek, ignoring the imploring whines that leave her lips, and instead leaning down and kissing her to shut her up. “It’s okay, its okay. Do you want me to keep going?”

“Yes!” She shouted, eyes going wide, amazed that he’d even ask that. “Do something.” She ruts up again, the head of Harry’s cock nudging against her hood. Harry groans, noticing how fucking hard he is. He’s leaked through his pants, a darker splotch where his head it.

“Fuck, baby,” he said, more to himself than to her.

His hand makes the same trail it had before, flipping up her dress this time to see her clothed center. Her panties make him want to cum on the spot. Baby pink cotton with a bow on the center of the band. Biting his lip, he uses a knee to spread her thighs, and then he sees just how much she needs him. 

“Oh puppy. We’ve made a mess of your panties haven’t we?” He looks at her with amusement, “Guess they have to go, don’t they?” 

Y/n hums desperately, her hips writhing up to meet his fingers. Pressing a last kiss to her lips, Harry scoots back so his knees are by her feet, and he and slip off the material all the way off. Suddenly aware of how bare she is, he clasps her thighs sht, obscuring Harry’s view of her pussy. 

“C’mon now, honey. Don’t be shy,” with a strong hand, he pries her knees apart and lays himself down in front of her, his breath hot on her swollen clit. From that angle, he can see how much she glistens, and how her juices spill out of her every time she clenched her hole around nothing. “Look at you, just begging to be stuffed.”

With a single finger, he slides up and down her slit, collecting her wetness, and then slipping into her. 

Y/n bleats, his intrusion stirring her heat up more; she wanted more. Wanted to be filled than more with just his finger, but was scared to say. Instead she said, “another,”

Harry slid his middle finger inside her, scissoring his fingers and leaning down to lick a stripe on her clit. Y/n arched her back, and moaned loudly, her eyes squeezing shut and hands touching at the area around her, looking for something to hold on to and settling to clenching at her own dress.

He hears the sound of her hands colliding with the floor, and looks up to see her knuckles going white with hoe hands she was fondling her dress.

“Y’can pull my hair, puppy.” he said against her slit, the vibrations of his words sending prickled of pleasure to the building orgasm she feels in the pit of her stomach. The second her muddled brain comprehends what Harry said, her fingers jam themselves into her his hair, just as he suckles on her. Y/n’s eyes roll to the back of her head, and her gasps come out in staccatos.

Harry’s fingers are still pumping in an out of her, twisting every time he pushed them back into her. He’s looking for the spongy spot inside of her, when he hears her say something incoherently.

“What was that?” he asked her,his fingers stilling inside her.

“Said, what about you?”

Her voice is faint and weak, her voice and comment sending pin-pricks of satisfaction to his throbbing member. His heart clenches at her considerations, so touched by the fact that she’s so lost in her own heat but she’s still worried about him.

“This isn’t about me. It’s about you. Y’gonna cum for me, puppy?” He feels the pad of his middle finger slide against something that has a different texture that the rest of her, and when her breathing hitches and she lets out a long moan, he knows hes found what he’s looking for. Y/n’s pussy clenches around, her fingers tighten in his hair, so hard it makes Harry yelp. “Clenching m’fingers, puppy, I know you’re there.” 

Y/n feels the familiar slow burn of her orgasm twisting in the pit of her stomach, her entire body hyper aware of Harry and what he was doing to her. How he pressed a hand on her navel to keep her from lifting her hips, the harsh sucking of her clit, and then finally the flick of his pointer finger curling inside her.  The build-up unravels, and her mouth opens up in a silent scream like the women in the picture, her body going taught, and then falling limp when the wave calms.

“That’s it, love. All better now isn’t it?” Harry slowly takes his fingers out of her, reveling in the way she’s still squeezing around him. She’s sensitive and jerking from her orgasm when He lick his fingers clean, kissing his path up her body. Her thighs, her exposed navel, her clothed valley of her breasts, her collarbones, and up her throat, behind her ear where he’s taken a liking to kissing.

“Jesus, Harry. Where’d you learn to talk like that?” She titters sleepily.

“S’my job, puppy.” He nibbles at her earlobe and down her jawline.

Alarmed, y/n’s eyes pop open, and she sits up, pushing Harry’s chest and holding him at arms length. “What do you mean, it’s your job?” She’s scared she’s just been used or something along those lines.

“I mean it’s my job. Learned a few skills from writing erotica, pet.” He responses calmly, diving back in to continue his assault on the skin of her jaw. His voice warped against her, he adds, “write under a pseudonym. Lemus Knox.” 

Lemus Knox. 

Harry was Lemus Knox. Harry was Lemus fucking Knox.

“You’re…” she’s still. Almost like that fight or flight instinct. 

Harry stills when he realizes she has. He knows, simply by the tone of her voice that she knows who he is. Who Lemus Knox is.He withdraws to look at her, grinning fro  ear to ear.

“You know who I am?” he said slowly.

“Harry, I’d even go as far as saying I’m in love with Lemus,” she blurts, reddening as soon as the words leave her mouth, but Harry just smiles fondly at her.

“That’s okay, puppy. Lemus and I aren’t the same person. You have a right to love him,” he nuzzles into her neck, kissing down her shoulder, “Just as long as you save some love for me.”

And lying there, completely stunned ant with Harry’s hard cock pressing into her hip, y/n bursts out laughing. She laughs because she’s happy. Because she likes Harry. Because she loves Lemus Knox.

She laughs because for the first time in a long time, someone is laughing along with her, kissing her, holding her.

She laughs because she can’t wait to see where Harry will lead her.