#ao3#ao3 fanfic#writeblr#writing community#archive of our own
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I'll suck your clit/dick if you are the type of person that doesn't litter or keeps the trash in your pocket until you find a trash can, you guys are so fucking hot.
I Dont Smoke -Mitski
“What the hell were you thinking?!”
Hazal didn’t know what to say.
“I took a walk.” Hazal bit her lip, avoiding Iselins icy gaze. “I just needed a cigarette, I didnt think anyone would notice.”
“A mission goes awry, two agents are in critical condition and you think I wouldnt look for you?”
The VTLR returned at 3AM, the landing field cleared with sirens and lights to allow immediate access to the injured agents. Resistance hadn’t been expected, but local corruption ran deeper than even Cypher had decoded. The mercenaries hired by corrupt politicians planned an ambush. They fought back, hard.
Waves thundered against the cliffs surrounding HQ, red lights and alarms from the VLTRS early emergency return still echoed, barely audible down in the small relief of beach under the cliffface. Iselin grabbed Hazals sharp wrist and forced their eyes to meet.
“How am I supposed to know what happened? Viper barely spared a word for me; Sage is mid procedure and Brimstone has a small government to placate after we failed our interception of that arms deal.” Iselins breathing labored, she almost had to shout to be heard over the distant waves.
“I didn’t think I’d find you out here Hazal. I really thought you were half dead, in an infirmary I don’t have clearance to search for you in.”
Hazal scoffed, “Then why are you all the way out here? Now?”
Iselin could only laugh, a sharp and incredulous hah! “To smoke.”
Now Hazal was the confused one. She closed the distance between them, searching for any hint of a joke in Iselins stormy grey eyes. Eyes that she was the first to search for in any room, eyes that truly saw her, even if she could not admit it.
“…I thought you quit smoking?”
Iselin dropped Hazals wrist and sighed, “Fuck, Hazal, it’s three in the morning, cold, storming, of course I need a goddamn cigarette. I didn’t know who was hurt, only that a mission went to shit and I couldnt find you. Tobaccos the closest I could get to the taste of you.”
Hazals face warmed at the image of Iselin, returning to bad habits just for the reminder of her.
Her?
Why cant Hazal adapt to a world in which she is more than a shadow? She had so many questions that had no answer. But to Iselin, the only response she could manage was:
“I taste like -like cigarettes?”
“God Hazal, yes. I cant seem to forget it. You make me crave something my sisters endlessly scolded me for indulging in.”
“I just had one. A cigarette.” Hazal swallowed. “Im sorry, but I have a few left.” She pulled a box and a lighter from inside her worn leather jacket.
“…Do you want one of mine? Instead?” Hazal quickly lit one, balancing it between her pointer and middle fingers, and returned the case and light to her jacket.
Iselin only leaned forward, one of Hazals hands resting on her jaw, guiding her pale face forward to meet Hazals fingers, placing the cigarette in her mouth.
They stayed that way, Iselin deeply breathing in the dark smoke as Hazal held her face, her fingers holding the cigarette. Iselins lips pressing against her fingers as her lips closed around the filter, then the heat of Iselins smokey exhale. The smoke of her breath tickled Hazals hands and face, a sensation more striking than the bitter winds and sea spray around them.
Iselin was mesmerized by Hazals hands and face so near to hers, equally intoxicated by the smoke filling her lungs and the henna decorating Hazals long fingers and gentle hands.
Hazals voice broke the silence.
“Im sorry.”
“I know.
..However, this is almost enough to make up for it”
Hazal tilted Iselins jaw up, making their eyes meet, “Don’t start smoking again because of me.”
“This is the last time,” But Iselin smirked against Hazals palm.
“…Unless…you want to help me smoke like this again. If so, I might be addicted.” While taking another long hit, Iselins gaze never left Hazals.
The cigarette bud fell to the ground, the wet sand and gravel extinguishing the dying embers.
my second page, SIX-PACK PIGEON
cut ur rings and throw away ur trash!
Palosand
Drawn by @himboodles
Wanted to share with you the wonderful shirt @i--am-ironman and me might be wearing at one point during the Hungaroring because we're funny (and mindful of the environment) as hell 😂
Don't Mess With Texas means dont fucking litter or crusty will fuck you all up. Right?
.thats right
