#( if near the shore…. he won’t even look in the water’s direction )

[endawn]

something so funny to remember is his fear of the ocean. he hates getting taken to the storm coast

[ressjeon]

fish out of water | jjk

pairing: human!jungkook x mermaid!reader summary: your routined excursion to the above world is at risk thanks to the harmless-looking stranger who might still be a threat to the discovery of your existence. rating: nc-17 | word count: 1k genre/au: fluff, modern retelling, fantasy, dark comedy, little mermaid!au warnings/content: alcohol consumption, threats (playfully tho), near-death experience

a/n: to celebrate the official release of the Little Mermaid live-action movie and MerMay, here’s a small thing from me ig cuz i can’t just let this jungkook go. poll who atp sorry y’all i wrote this when i was missing him sm 😭

The moon has always enamoured you.

The clouds around it add to the picturesque of what you could have painted if artworks can be perfectly stored underwater.

Watching it from above water is unparalleled when you’re observing it from underneath. You bask in the moonlight, occasionally closing your eyes and imagining being able to moon gaze like this every night. That would be impossible including staying here any longer as it is strictly forbidden for you to be out here in the open on land.

It doesn’t matter as long as no one discovers you here—

“omg, a giant fish!”

You whirled right away in the direction of the loud voice, spotting its owner, a man walking sluggishly by the seashore towards you. Panic rushes through you at the prospect of being identified, your mind prompting you to think of possible ways of escape.

The position you are currently, sitting on top of the huge rocks unfortunately doesn’t give you much of an advantage to attack him unless he comes near. And he was slurring words that you’re trying to decipher. He doesn’t appear to have any weapons with him except for that strange transparent object in one hand with gold liquor in it. 

You ready your stance the closer he gets, bracing both your clawed hands in front of you. He might use that object or the liquor against you. One of your advantages is the lack of enough light where the scenario would’ve been different had it been during the day. You move your tail behind you so he won’t be able to see it further. 

“oh wait, you’re pretty for a fish!” the strange man starts to giggle as a points at you and you’re in confusion.

Did he just compliment you? Aren’t humans supposed to be scared of your kind?

“i’m not a fish” you declare calmly despite the wave of anxiousness bubbling in you. He may be just a human but he could also be acting all innocent, a perfect bait to lure you to his other comrades that may be hiding somewhere.

Waiting to capture you.

Your father warned you of how vicious humans are so you must not trust him even though he seemed harmless. You’ve looked around and a bit of relief washes through you when you found no one on the shore aside from him. Still, you mustn’t lower your guard. 

You continue to observe the man as he continues to walk where you’re sitting by the rocks. Only then you can see his face more clearly. He’s pleasing to look at, different from the humans that you’ve seen in fishing boats before. Wearing only a plain white shirt, its top buttons are undone which makes him more dashing than he already is. 

The simple loose pants he’s wearing perk your interest as you quite can’t figure out what material it was made of yet. 

“i must be drunk holy shit, i’m talking to a fish” he continues to laugh, smiling brightly while looking up to the sky and you’re getting warier of what he is planning.

You’re running out of time and this man is wasting it. You promised the others that you won’t be that long. You wouldn’t want them to come back and find you in a company of a human boy.

He’s right in front of you now, drinking what’s left of the strange object he’s holding before placing it on the dark sand. You’re surprised that he was able to stand up again, wobbly, sure, but it did not affect how he’s acting around you.

Quite the opposite for you the closer he gets.

Your eyes couldn’t help but follow his right arm, adorned with dark markings, some with colour but you couldn’t see the rest of it since he rolled his sleeves up until his elbows.

“how can i be a fish and talk to you like this?”

The man stares at you with furrowed eyebrows, confusion evident on his face.  Only then that you notice his hair, slightly damp curly that almost reaches the base of his neck.

“i can see your tail” he responds with a bit of clarity now, still confused but his curiosity overpowered it. He’s now trying to see behind the rocks, to see more of what the moonlight can show. He looks adorable, tip-toeing to get a glimpse of your tail and you’re tempted to show him just so he can leave you alone.

Fully revealing yourself could scare him or not but you’ll try. It worked with others before along with many threats. If not, then you could kill him though he doesn’t look like he can harm you in this state.

“i could eat you, but i'm full already” you hiss, trying to sound threatening and staring him down with a glare but the man starts laughing hysterically instead.

"i'm supposed to be eating you since you're a fish" he wheezes as he shakes his head, enough for him to lose his balance.

You catch him just in time and you have no idea why you did. You could’ve just let him fall on the rocks in front of you and call your sisters for another feast but you couldn’t find it in you to let it happen.

“damn..strong..fish” he slurred before losing consciousness in your arms. In a strange way, you find yourself smiling at the stranger’s remarks. He might be well-built but he weighs like nothing to you with your inhuman strength.

Up close, his rosy cheeks are glowing and you’re unable to avoid touching them, feeling the warmth coursing through you. Albeit your body’s much colder than humans, it piques your interest that he feels warmer than the others you’ve held before. You can also smell the bitter scent wafting off of him, leading you to think that all this was because of that golden liquor that he consumed.

You eye the glassy object, looking back and forth between him and it on what to do next. But his face distracts you again, noticing the pieces of jewelry on him. A silver necklace is peeking out underneath his shirt and only his right ear has silver bands on them. You’ve also noticed a ring-like silver metal attached to the right corner of his lower lip.

Is this a new way of putting on jewelry? 

It seems that you have plenty of things to catch up on and this man might help you with it. 

But will he when once wakes up or will he turn out just like the others? 

e/n: i have big plans for this one but we’ll see lmao. lmk what you think tho!

[verai-marcel]

Your Hearth Is My Home (BG3 Fanfic, Astarion x Female Reader, Part 1 of 27)

Summary: Not every adventurer wields a weapon. You, a hearth witch living near the banks of River Chionthar, are witness to a craft falling from the sky, and wondering if anyone needed assistance, ran down to find survivors. That was your first mistake. Going along with the survivors on their crazy adventure? That was your second mistake. Will you survive your next mistake of letting a hungry vampire bite you?

Author’s Notes: Full disclosure: at this point, I’ve only played through act 2 without romancing Astarion. So why the fuck am I writing some wholesome Astarion x F!Reader? Because I’m dumb and got spoiled on Youtube, and now I can’t stop thinking about the poor guy. Also this is heavily influenced by a couple of wholesome manga (“Life in Another World as a Housekeeping Mage” and “The Forsaken Saintess and her Foodie Roadtrip in Another World”), but I won’t be writing an isekai. You (reader) are from Faerun like everyone else. I’m just here to have some wholesome feels and hurt/comfort. Let’s go go go.

Tags: wholesome, cozy camp time, Astarion x F!Reader, slow burn, good alignment, BG3 Spoilers

Chapter Word Count: 1,843

Ao3 Link here, Darling.

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Act I, Chapter 1 - The Beginning

You are a hearth witch, living on the banks of the River Chionthar, making potions and herbal remedies for the small villages nearby. For the past three years, you’d been happier than you’d ever been in your life. You loved helping people, but you made sure not to reveal your real name, nor why you always wore long sleeves and gloves, even in the middle of summer.

But the nearby villages had been emptying as of late. News of the goblin camp that recently appeared nearby had first scared off the traveling merchants, and then the locals. You realized that you too should leave, otherwise you’d either have no more customers or goblins on your doorstep. You only had a dagger and a few spells that did little in ways of actual damage, so defending yourself against a horde of enemies was out of the question. So you began to pack up, figuring out what you could bring with you, and what needed to be repurchased once you reached your new home, wherever that might be. 

On a warm sunny day, you decided that this would be your last day here. Your pack was filled, your cottage cleaned out. Tomorrow morning, you would take off to the east, following the river to the next closest town. For now, you decided to grab a few more ingredients for the road, and so, you were out by the river bank, gathering fresh herbs and mushrooms. 

A booming sound followed a strong gust of wind that whipped around you, twigs and grass flying everywhere. Then you saw a ship crash nearby, the land and water being torn asunder, debris flung in all directions. After the chaos died down a bit, you went to go check for survivors. You couldn’t, in good conscience, walk away if someone might need help.

That was a poor decision on your part.

The first survivor you found was a young, dark-haired woman, passed out on the shore. She seemed standoffish, but after helping her up and giving her a drink from your waterskin, you convinced her that the best thing to do was to get out of the area and rest at your cottage while she regained her bearings. 

A little while later, the two of you came upon the strange sight of a single arm, sticking out of a glowing purple rune. You and the young woman, Shadowheart, pulled the poor man out. He introduced himself as Gale, and also joined your party.

As the three of you continued back to your cottage, you came across another stranger. Skin as pale as marble and hair to match. Had some scars on his neck. Perhaps he got them on the ship? He seemed harmless enough. Another escapee of the craft that fell from the sky.

That is, until he tricked you into looking for something in the bushes.

If only he hadn’t touched your exposed neck with his bare hand. Then you wouldn’t have felt the fear, underlined by a desperation you knew all too well. 

The leash is cut.

It made you empathize. And that was one rule that had been burned into your mind at a young age. 

Do not empathize with the enemy.

Fortunately, Gale and Shadowheart talked him down from stabbing you. The man even apologized to you, though it seemed more for show than for sincerity. 

Astarion was his name. He introduced himself with aplomb and decorum, and your hackles raised at the sight. A noble.

After a bit more conversation, they agreed that their shared affliction was enough of a reason to travel together and find a cure.

Swallowing down your general prejudice against nobles, you ignored him and made small talk with the others as you led them back to your cottage. 

***

Your cottage had only one room, enough space for your bed, some storage for herbs and tools, and a work table for your alchemy. Most of your things were packed, but you pulled out enough to take care of your guests. 

The yard to the side of the building was set up as a small campground for travelers to rest. You had figured out a couple years ago that for a small fee, traveling merchants would gladly rest on your land where it was safe, while you made them fresh, nourishing meals and cast spells on their bedrolls to make them feel warm and comfortable. You even managed to get a small tub built in the back to provide a warm bath for an extra fee.

It had been a lucrative idea, one that made you enough money to be quite comfortable out here in the sticks.

You may only know a few cantrips, but you had manipulated them beyond what most people did. Your mending cantrip could fix whole swaths of cloth, your prestidigitation cantrip could keep bedrolls warm all night, or baths hot for hours. It was why you had several repeat customers, traveling merchants who would alter their routes to come to your place to rest. 

You told them of the surrounding area and cooked a meal for them, a simple stew with seasonal vegetables and herbs.

The noble said he wasn’t hungry. You supposed your poor peasant food wasn’t to his taste.

He can suit himself.

While the others were eating, you set up the campground. While you were quietly casting the comfort cantrip on each bedroll, you sensed someone watching you.

“Yes?” you asked, biting the inside of your mouth to keep from being snippy.

Astarion stepped closer to you. He remained standing, looking down on your kneeling form. “What an interesting way to use prestidigitation.”

You shrugged. You had nothing to say to a noble. You finished your spell and started to shuffle over to the next bedroll, but he remained standing in your way.

“Do you mind?”

“Not at all, darling.” He didn’t budge.

You let out a short huff and crawled around him. One bedroll left. Ignoring the man, you began the cantrip.

By the time you finished, you looked up to see all three of them watching you.

“What?” you asked, a little disturbed by the attention.

“I hadn’t thought to use that cantrip like this before,” Gale said as he knelt down to touch the bedroll. “How long does it last?”

“All night,” you responded, feeling a little proud of yourself.

Shadowheart was already crawling into the bedroll. “This feels amazing.” She buried herself into the cloth. “It feels like I’m sleeping on a warm cloud.”

Gale shrugged and followed suit. “Gods, you’re right.” He sat up and looked at you. “I don’t know how you manipulated that spell, but it’s absolutely brilliant.”

You felt a zing of joy. Your little custom cantrip impressed a wizard!

The noble watched you for a few more moments before he too, crawled into a bedroll. His eyes widened slightly. “Oh. My, this is rather comfortable.”

You jutted out your chin, but refrained from being too catty about it. Instead, you switched to being polite. 

“Sweet dreams,” you said to everyone, and went about cleaning up around camp. By the time you were done, the three of them were fast asleep.

***

The motley crew thanked you and took off in the morning to explore the area, seemingly never to return.

You looked around at your unpacked things, and decided that it wouldn’t hurt to start off tomorrow morning instead.

Your plans were sidetracked once more, however, when the group returned that evening with a fourth member, grouchy and prickly as a threatened porcupine. After a couple of bowls of your herbal soup, she became a little bit less prickly. Lae'zel was her name, and she punctuated her Common speech with her Githyanki tongue. You found it a bit endearing, the way one finds a stray animal that always hisses at you endearing. 

You cast a warming spell on their bed rolls once more, burned incense to keep the insects away, and made sure they were all comfortable in your little camp area outside of your cottage before going to bed.

The next morning, you got up early to make breakfast for them before they left to explore the ruins that they had found the day before. As you checked your rabbit traps, you noticed one of them was tripped, but the rabbit within was a mere husk, as if it had been dehydrated. 

Curious. 

You reset your trap and returned to camp.

“What’s that?” Shadowheart asked when she saw the husk of a corpse in your hand.

“A dried up rabbit.”

“That doesn’t sound appetizing,” Lae’zel remarked. 

You shrugged. “I can at least sell the pelt later. Sorry, you’ll have to make do with another vegetable stew tonight.” You furrowed your eyebrows. “That is, if you’re coming back here.”

The four adventurers looked at each other.

“I think we’ve taken advantage of your hospitality long enough,” Gale said. We’ll start heading west from here.”

*** 

The group had finally left, and you had finished packing. You had been delayed by their arrival, but no longer. They truly seemed gone now, with the sun setting and no sign of their return. Tomorrow for sure. Tomorrow, early in the morning, you would set off—

You heard your name being called. Off in the distance, you could see Gale, waving sheepishly at you, followed by the others. 

You sighed. Biting back your annoyance, you smiled and waved back. A customer was a customer. At least this group was entertaining, and quite generous with their gold. And this time, they brought you back some boar meat.

There was one new face, a man with a stone eye. He introduced himself as the Blade of the Frontiers, Wyll. He seemed nice, charismatic even. Someone who had the manners of a noble but the heart of a commoner.

They set up camp once more in your yard, and you unpacked just enough of your supplies to make them a meal. 

"You look like you're ready to go on a journey," Gale commented as you all sat around the campfire, eating a boar roast with herbed potatoes.

"I'm moving. Many people have moved away because of the increase in goblins in the area, and a lot of my business has dried up. And having goblins this close doesn't make me feel all too safe."

“Any plans on where?”

You shrugged. “Not really. I was just going to travel until I found a place to settle.”

"Well, why don't you come with us?" 

Everyone looked at Gale in shock, but then they all looked at you. 

"You do make camp much more comfortable," Shadowheart finally said. 

“And one of us would be standing guard at camp as well, so you would be safe,” Wyll added.

You saw no reason to decline. You liked most of them, save for one snotty noble. A constant flow of income would be nice, for once. You negotiated a decent wage and agreed to head out with them at first light.

That, dear hearth witch, was your second poor decision.

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Chapter End Notes:

Yeah, I basically made up a “hearth witch” class as a combo of druid, wizard, and cleric, but hey, welcome to Dungeons & Dragons, where homebrew classes happen all the time. Hope you enjoyed the fic! I'm actively working on the next chapter!

Update 4/4/24: All chapters are here!

Act I - Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12

Act II - Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | 

Act III - Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 (18+) | Part 28 (END)

[ellstersmash]

the beach house: chapter 3

contact

Fandom: The Wayhaven Chronicles Pairing: Mason x Theo West Rating: T for Teen (flashback to Murphy event, language) Words: 2,639 [Read on Ao3] Unit Bravo take to the beach to recruit some merfolk. Theo earns her keep and Mason proves Adam wrong. | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 |

Theo wakes to a soft knock on the door, her cheek hot and a little sticky as she peels it off Mason’s chest.

Nate pops his head in and drops Mason’s bag just inside, eyes averted. “Adam has spotted signs of the merfolk a few miles down the coast. You two should get dressed and join us—unless you’d prefer to spend the entire mission in here, of course.”

Theo stretches and pretends to consider it, but Mason rolls out from under her. “Thanks, Nate,” he says. “We’ll be right there.”

Right there is a bit optimistic, considering they both need to wash up again. With a little water and a comb, Theo tames her hair into something resembling a braid, and throws on the first thing she yanks from her bag. It’s a sundress, but it’s comfortable, and if she’s remembering correctly, plans A through C do not involve fighting. Besides, she can kick ass in a dress if she has to—that is, if merfolk even have asses. Do fish? She makes a note to look it up later.

Nate, Mason, and Felix are waiting for her in the living room.

“Ooh, pretty,” Felix croons and slings an arm around her shoulder. “You dressing up for me, Agent West Jr.? Or maybe someone else…?”

“Someone else,” Theo says. “Adam won’t know what hit him. Where’s our guy?”

“Outside,” Nate says, while Felix mimes a dagger twist to his heart and throws himself dramatically against the wall. “We don’t know how quickly they’re moving or if they will choose to make contact.”

“Or if they even know we’re here,” Felix adds.

Mason shrugs and heads out the door. “Time to find out.”

It’s still dark outside, but the clouds have dissipated, allowing the moon to cast a silver glow that glitters across the waves. And it’s cooler than before, Theo notes with a shiver. She spots Adam standing near the shore, arms crossed and shoulders tense.

“We should spread out,” he says as they reach him. “They will likely realize what we are as they draw near and are unlikely to approach us as a group. We will also have a better chance of spotting them from multiple vantage points.”

Nate nods his agreement. “I’ll head north,” he says before striding off.

Adam turns to Mason. “If I send you and Theo south, can I trust you to both keep her safe and complete the mission?”

A thick tension rises between the two, Mason glaring at their leader as Adam holds his hard gaze, unflinching as ever. Theo resists the urge to shrink back, feeling very much like a child fallen in a lion enclosure near mealtime.

“Why the fuck would you ask me that?”

“I am asking about your priorities because you abandoned your watch early—”

“By four minutes.” Theo interjects, and Adam turns his disapproval her way.

“Yes, after he spent who knows how long distracted from his responsibilities.”

“That’s bullshit,” Mason says. “I can multitask just fine and you know that.”

Felix warily steps in. “Adam, I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

“Of course we’ll be fine, and of course we’ll do our goddamn jobs.” Mason stalks off, clearly still fuming. “Let’s go.”

Theo shoots Felix a grateful smile, then shoves her hands in her pockets and hurries to catch up and keep pace. They walk down the beach in a charged silence, smothered by the sound of the wind and the sea. Occasionally, Theo casts her eyes across the water’s surface, squinting at every odd shape and shadow, which all turn out to be nothing more than waves breaking as they near the shore.

Mason stops. “This is far enough.”

“You sure?” Theo asks, peering back in the direction of the house. “I think I can still see Adam.” Or a trick of the light on the dunes, one of the two.

He scoffs. “Et tu?”

“What?”

“Forget it. Yes, Theo, I’m sure.”

Theo bumps him with her hip. “You know I have the utmost faith in you, right?”

His expression doesn’t soften, but his eyes do. 

“And so do the others, Adam included. He obviously woke up on the wrong side of the coffin.”

That earns her a smile. “Quit distracting me.”

But he’s the one who has all her attention. Theo may not be as good a multitasker as Mason, but for the next fifteen minutes or so, she is outwardly diligent even as she fights the gravity of his presence. She watches the water instead of the wisps of dark hair that escape his low bun and whip across his face. She keeps her hands deep in her pockets instead of sliding them into his. She ignores the scent of her soap mingling with that of his skin and the briny air.

Yet another movement out on the water draws her gaze. She’s still trying to decide if it’s anything or nothing when Mason says, “Look alive,” and Theo freezes, heart racing.

A rounded shape rises up from the water’s surface, the being’s face in shadow but framed by long wet hair that drapes down to the sides, like a veil disappearing into the inky blackness of the sea. As Theo calms herself and regains control of her limbs, another appears to the left of the first—then another, slightly behind them. She recalls something from the brief about their sense of hearing not working well above water and slowly removes her hands from her pockets to hold them up, spreading her fingers wide to make it clear she doesn’t intend to harm them.

“Hello. My name is Agent Theo West, and this is Specialist Agent Mason,” she calls out, carefully enunciating each word. “We’re with the Agency.”

None of the merfolk react.

“Can you understand me?” she asks, louder this time, and hopes to whatever god is listening they can. If they need a translator, she’s screwed until Nate arrives, and he may not even know he should be booking his ass over here yet.

“We understand,” the first says in a musical voice, and all three advance. At first, they move with a gentle weaving motion, back and forth like sharks do, then it shifts to a more humanlike gait. By the time the water is shallow enough to stand, they each walk on two legs. All have long hair in shades of teal and blue and green that blur toward black in the faint predawn light, and all are lovely in an otherworldly way.

All three are also super naked—a fact she files away to appreciate later and does her best to ignore for the moment.

They stop when the first, presumably their leader, reaches the water’s edge.

“My name is impossible to say above-waves, but you may call me Ciraith.”

“Ciraith,” Theo repeats. “Pleasure to meet you.” Mason grunts from behind her.

“We know of your Agency,” Ciraith says, then extends a long, slender arm to point at Theo. “And we have heard of you as well. What you can do.” Their large dark eyes are fixed on Theo’s own as they tilt their head, sending silken strands of hair cascading down one shoulder as if made of water themselves. They breathe deep as if savoring the lungfuls of air. “And what you have become.”

For a full and eternal second, Murphy’s needles are back in her arms, his foul compound raging through her veins, narrowing her sense of the outside world to pain and rust and his sharp aftershave, before she blinks hard and snaps back to the present. The merfolks’ features may be mostly humanoid, but their mannerisms are different enough to set Theo on edge. She can’t read Ciraith’s intention. Is this their idea of a warning? A threat? Or are they just making conversation?

“I can neither confirm nor deny any such statements at this time.”

“Smooth,” Mason mutters.

Ciraith takes another step forward, and Theo holds her ground. Despite feeling rather like prey for the second time in an hour, she has Mason at her back. Soon there’s no more than an arm’s length between them, and at this distance, Theo can make out starry little flecks of silver in the merperson’s eyes.

“Tell us the truth, young one,” they say, voice pitched lower and far more resonant than before. A headache threatens, a pinching pressure at Theo’s temples reminiscent of when Mason uses his compulsion around her, though not nearly so intense.

Young one. They hadn’t covered lifespans during her crash course on merfolk—or maybe she just missed that bit—and Theo can’t help but wonder how old the supernatural now standing in front of her is. But before she can ask, the pain in her head intensifies and Theo winces, pressing her fingers to her throbbing temples.

“That’s enough,” Mason growls, and the headache abates just as quickly as it came on.

Ciraith’s expression changes from rapt observation to something like amusement. It’s still hard to tell. “Confirmation of the first, at least,” they say.

“I— Yes,” Theo blurts out, dropping her hands to her side. “And?”

“How might we test the second, I wonder?”

Mason’s between them in a flash, his body inches from Ciraith’s as he shields Theo. A shout comes from the water as the other two merfolk, content to remain passive observers until now, take a few startled steps forward.

“You don’t,” Mason growls. Sounds like his fangs are out. “Back off.”

Ciraith smiles placidly but shows their pointed teeth, and Mason hisses.

Predators. Theo almost rolls her eyes. She lays a hand on Mason’s arm to try and soothe the rising tension and gently tugs him out of the way. “Ciraith, the Agency would like to meet with you in an official capacity. They will ask you to sign a treaty on behalf of your people. For their part, they offer shelter, protection, provisions, whatever you might need.”

Ciraith’s gaze stays locked on Mason’s even as they respond to Theo. “And if we do not need what they can provide?”

“I think you do. Even if you stay under forever, the ocean’s not exactly becoming a more welcoming place as time goes on.”

“Thanks to your kind.”

“Most of my kind doesn’t know you exist.” Not that knowing would stop them, she thinks. “Regardless, the Agency won’t force you to sign. It can’t hurt to hear them out.”

“Perhaps not. They offer these things in exchange for our subservience?”

“No.” Theo shakes her head. “They only ask for peace.” Then she adds, too honestly: “As far as I know, anyway.”

Ciraith’s brow furrows, then smooths as they suss out Theo’s tone. A light laughter, like the tinkling notes of a wind chime, escapes their shapely lips, and a smile more pleasant than the last lingers after the sound fades.

“Very well.”

The stale air Theo has been holding in reserve since this encounter began whooshes out of her lungs in relief. “OK,” she says, not sure what happens from here.

“Our people will remain in this area for two days’ time. We will watch this stretch of sand. Send your Agency here and we will meet with them.”

Theo nods. “I will. Thank you, Ciraith.”

The three merfolk move as one to return to the deep, and Theo notices a shimmer on their skin—or scales, perhaps—as the first full light of sunrise spills across the horizon. As they had spoken together, the sky had gone rose and lavender and gold, warming the shallows to a luminous green.

Ciraith looks back and catches her eye, then silently disappears beneath the surface.

Sheer relief washes over Theo and she turns to look at Mason, unable to keep the grin from her face any longer. He’s still glaring at the spot where the merfolk vanished, but finally relaxes and almost smiles back when Theo whoops and jumps into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist and hugging him tight.

“We fucking did it!” she says, maybe a bit high on her success. “Suck it, Adam!”

“I actually did very little,” Mason points out, “other than keep you from being dragged to the seafloor and eaten.”

“Yeah, but that’s really important. I hate getting eaten.” She leans back and caresses his cheeks, one then the other, and adds, “Nonconsensually, anyway.”

The others reach them and Theo twists to high-five Felix.

“Did you guys see that?” she asks and kicks her feet in uncontainable excitement. “Did you see me totally win that negotiation?”

“A negotiation is not a contest,” Adam says, expression stony as usual, “and therefore it cannot be won.” But he does nod to Mason, who almost imperceptibly nods back.

Felix groans and rolls his eyes. “What do you even mean? Winner’s the one who gets more.”

“By that definition, I did not win,” Theo points out.

“Well, you got what we came here to get! So yeah, you won. Ignore Adam, he’s just mad because he didn’t get to talk to the pretty fish people. He made us watch the whole thing from back there so we didn’t intimidate them, and it was going so well, but then shit almost hit the fan and I was like, ‘Oh, damn, she doesn’t have this,’ but then you totally did.” He high-fives her again, then Mason.

Nate smiles as his gaze shifts from her to Mason, then back. “Yes, well done to the both of you. You two made an excellent team, though that should hardly be a surprise at this point. Wouldn’t you agree, Adam?”

Lips pressed tightly together at the light rebuke only Nate could ever get away with, Adam grunts in reluctant agreement.

Theo hugs Mason one last time, smashing her cheek into his neck, then pushes at his shoulder.

“OK,” she says. “I’m sorry I freaked out. I’m good now, you can let me down.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“Then I shall graciously allow you to carry me all the way back down the beach.”

“No, I don’t think I will.” 

His grip tightens into unforgiving steel as he gives her a frighteningly self-satisfied smirk, then walks directly into the surf—boots, jeans, t-shirt, sneakers, sundress, and all.

“Wait! Waitwait wait—”

The last of her protests is swallowed as he dunks them underwater, and when she surfaces to find him soaking wet and shivering right along with her, all she can do is laugh. A yell of “Make room!” comes from the shore, and she whirls around just in time to see Felix charging in after them, stripping shoes and pieces of clothing off as he goes.

“Come on, you two!” Theo yells. “Water’s fine.” 

She yanks her waterlogged shoes off and lobs them up onto the sand. One doesn’t quite make it, bouncing back to drift freely in the swash until Nate rescues it. He shares a long look with Adam, one of their unspoken conversations, then grins and shrugs off his jacket. He’s got a zillion layers, and is meticulous about folding each one he removes, but ages later he finally wades in to join them in just a pair of boxers she can tell are expensive.

“Wow,” he says, hugging his arms tight to his body. “So, by ‘fine,’ you meant ‘freezing.’”

“You’ll warm up.” Theo rears back to splash him, but Felix comes out of nowhere to scoop her up by the waist with a feral yell and dunk her backward.

“Oh, that’s war.” Mason dives toward Felix, who darts around Nate, who tries his best to avoid them both but ends up as wet as Theo would’ve gotten him in the first place. And even though Adam keeps watch from the beach, nice and dry and tactically superior, Theo swears she can see his ass unclench, and maybe even a hint of a smile.

[moon-fics]

Hot Summer Night- Simon "Ghost" Riley

A/n: Another repost from my old account :) Please enjoy again!

Summary: Fun moments on a hot summer day won't lead to new feelings, will they?

Warning: Swears, mention of injury

You’re sweating your ass off in the heat, using a piece of paper as a fan. You’re sitting on the porch of an old safe house that the group gathered in. The house doesn’t have air conditioning during summer, leaving it humid and way too hot. You don’t know how everyone is surviving inside, luckily Soap chose to sit outside with you.

“Fuckin’ hell this is miserable.” Soap groans, resting his back on the floor of the porch. You hum in response, too sweaty and uncomfortable to use your words at the moment. You wipe sweat from your forehead even if you’ll just have more in a second.

“Do you think the others passed out from the heat?” You ask, gesturing to the slightly open front door. It’s painfully quiet inside and you can’t figure out why. “Maybe they left us!” You tease.

“They wouldn’t leave me behind.” He taunts back, nudging your arm. You know the others didn’t leave without you, because they need as many hands on deck right now. Even though the mission is on a break to recuperate they still need you and Soap. “I don’ think I can put up with this heat anymore.”

“If you two are as unhappy as ya say you can just go hop into the lake nearby.” Gaz’s voice startles you. You didn’t hear his footsteps and you realize he’s not wearing his heavy boots, making his steps lighter. You finally realize what he’s said, there’s a lake.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You didn’t tell us earlier?” You whine, getting to your feet. Soap does the same with an excited smile, ready to cool off.

“Ya didn’ ask?” Gaz answers with a raised eyebrow. You roll your eyes and ask for directions. Gaz agrees to walk there with you so you and Soap don’t get lost. He heads inside to put on shoes and you peek inside to see Ghost sitting on a chair. He cannot be comfortable in his getup, especially with a mask on.

“Ghost, you willing to join us?” You ask and his head turns over to you. You give him a smile giving a thumbs up that slowly turns into a thumbs down for his opinion. If you were a stranger you’d go running from his mask, but you’ve stared at it long enough to get used to the unsettling proportions.

“Why the fuck would I go swimmin’?” His eyes don’t change from an unamused glare. You're about to ask him if he can’t swim when you realize he’s talking about his mask, wearing it while swimming would just waterboard him. You frown realizing you won’t get to see Ghost relax, although you rarely do. You shrug and turn away from the door seeing Soap stretching his arms after laying down for so long.

“All right, let's go,” Gaz says exiting the house. After a few steps, you hear distant rustling from inside the house, spinning around to see Ghost exiting the house as well. His eyes lock with yours and a chill runs down your spine, you forget how haunting his eyes look sometimes.

“Don’t get your fuckin’ hopes up. I just don’t want to be alone in the safe house.” He grumbles. Even though he’s right about being better in a group you still give him a smile. You’re glad he’s joining so he doesn’t have to be so tense, even though he’ll probably have one hand on his knife at all times.

“I didn’t say anything!” You defend playfully, walking past him. He doesn’t increase his pace but maintains behind the rest of the group.

Reaching the lake was like heaven and Soap was the first to remove his shirt and pants. He quickly entered the lake, letting out a loud sigh of contentment. You decide to keep your t-shirt and shorts on, not wanting to reveal too much. You walk towards the shore of the lake, only letting the water touch your toes. It’s refreshing already. You twist around to see Ghost sitting on a rock near the shore, hand in pocket. Gaz joins Soap and threatens him if he even tries to splash him.

“Not even gonna let your feet cool off?” You ask Ghost, taking another step into the lake. It’s a beautiful scene, honestly. Trees surround the lake making it a perfect spot to stay low.

“Not even for a second,” He responds and you frown again. His eyes soften for a second before returning to their naturally tired state. “Don’t need sand sticking to parts it shouldn’t even be in.” He jokes and your frown disappears. You head deeper into the water seeing Soap and Gaz floating nearby. Both of them have their fronts facing the sky while their breathing keeps them afloat.

You stand on the shore for a while, not wanting to get soaked. You’re about to go deeper when you hear footsteps nearing. They stop right before the water touches his feet, his hands no longer in his pockets.

You think for a second, bending over so your hand touches the water. Without another thought you push the water as hard as you can behind you, splashing Ghost’s legs. He lets out an annoyed grunt before glaring at you.

“Don’t you dare splash me again or I’ll drown you in this lake,” He threatens but he won’t do it. You trust him with your life and you doubt he’ll do anything crazy. So, you move your hand forward, still touching the water. You have the biggest grin on with your eyes locked with his. “Y/n…” He warns. You don’t hesitate to splash him again, this time getting a bigger hit on him. He doesn’t say anything before removing his boots and socks. Your eyes widen at the realization that he’s coming in after you.

You run deeper into the water, hoping he won’t chase after you. You think you’re deep enough when your legs no longer touch the bottom, the other men still unaware of what’s happening. Your relief is gone when Ghost removes his pants revealing long shorts underneath, even removing his shirt. Seeing him with barely any clothes on makes you extremely aware of how attractive his body is. His tattoos catch your eye and you squint to make them out, knowing you won’t be able to once he enters the water.

“You’re fuckin’ dead!” Ghost shouts, pointing at you. He removes the skull part of his mask, leaving the balaclava which you have no idea how he’ll survive within the water. However, his yelling caught Soap’s attention. He instantly understands what’s happening and begs to laugh.

Ghost begins menacingly entering the lake with daggers hitting you. You squeal, diving underwater. You can’t open your eyes without risking infection, so you use your hands to guide you. You can hear the water being splashed and moving. You can stay underwater for a long time because you trained yourself to hold your breath for long periods.

You begin swimming in one direction hoping you get far enough that Ghost won’t be able to get you. You surface after a few minutes to see Ghost is much closer than you wanted. He somehow followed your trail and he’s still standing, that tall fuck.

“Y/n run! He’ll shove a fish down your throat!” Soap cackles. Ghost is still heading towards you and you dive under again. You use a heavy rock to keep you from floating to the surface. You can hear Ghost getting closer, there’s no way he’ll reach you because his mask will get wet and his makeup will rub off. You’re so sure until a hand grabs your leg and drags you closer to shore. You scream out in surprise, inhaling a bit of water.

You’re pulled above water, coughing up anything you can. “Shit, sorry!” Soap’s voice mutters from behind you. He’s dragging you to a more shallow part of the lake. You struggle against him but his grip around you is too tight to escape. “Ghost offered five dollars if I brought you to him.” Soap chuckles.

“You traitor!” You yell out jokingly and decide to accept your punishment for annoying Ghost. Soap tosses you to where Ghost is standing and you splash in front of the tall man. Ghost grabs you by the shirt and pulls your head above water. At this point, you’d rather drown than be pulled in and out of the water.

“This is going to be fun.” Gaz groans, still floating on his back. You grunt gripping Ghost’s wrist for support. With a playful look in his eyes, he shoves you underwater. Unknown to both of you, there’s a sharp rock right where he dunked you. You’re lucky it grazes your leg, drawing blood. You yelp while still underwater, once again inhaling dirty water. Ghost pulls you out, probably ready to dunk you again once you seem ok enough to go under again.

However, your hand is gripping way too tight on his wrist for nothing to be wrong and you’re gritting your teeth. He’s quick to assess you for any injuries, instantly landing on a deep cut on your thigh. He curses under his breath realizing he’s accidentally hurt you.

“Fun is over, Y/n’s hurt.” Ghost informs Soap and Gaz with an annoyed tone. You don’t understand why he’s upset, he didn’t even want to be here and you’re the one bleeding.

“Awww, too bad I’m staying.” Gaz fakes sympathy and Soap shrugs, walking backward into deeper water. Ghost huffs and puts you back on your feet. You’re lucky your foot doesn't hit the rock as well. Without another word, Ghost drags you to shore. Your shirt is clinging to your body and dripping heavily.

“Fuck, slow down!” You whimper, your leg burning from putting pressure on it. Ghost remains silent still but picks you up swiftly. He crouches to grab his clothes and tells you to hold them. You try your best to keep them dry as he carries you back to the safe house.

Ghost gently puts you on a chair to keep you off your feet and you place his lightly wet clothes down. He opens a drawer and pulls out a med kit. He’s laser-focused on grabbing the right items and pulling out disinfectant and tools for stitches. He walks over to you and crouches on one knee in front of you. He pats your leg and you left it so he can get a better angle.

The cut is lower on your thigh making things less awkward. He pats your cut with a cotton swab drenched in disinfectant. You wince at the sting it causes and his eyes flick up to you with uncertainty. You’ve never seen Ghost this gentle, usually, he’s more intense or brooding. His hands are barely gripping your leg and even when you move your leg away as a reflex to the pain he’s soft. He just puts your leg back in place and continues patching you up.

Once he’s done he throws away the tools used. The lack of touch from him makes you wish you had gotten another cut just so he could hold a part of you again. You realize both of you have been quiet this whole time.

“Thank you.” You try to stand up but once you put pressure on the leg you’re hit with a burst of pain. You hiss and grab onto a table to steady yourself. You’re ready to carry yourself to one of the beds in the other room, hoping your leg doesn’t give out before you can reach it.

An arm stops you, seeing Ghost right next to you. Now that he’s not dunking you or carrying you you can finally get a better look at him. His eyes are gorgeous and captivating. There are many stories hidden behind them and you wish you could ask about them.

“Let me carry you into the other room.” He suggests. You don’t object and he wraps an arm around your legs, pulling you into his chest. He enters the room where all the twin-sized beds are for the team and lightly places you on top. You shut your eyes as the soft mattress consumes you. It’s still burning hot but you don’t mind right now, you’re somehow exhausted. “I’m sorry for getting you hurt.”

“Calm down there, Ghost. It’s not like my life was on the line,” You hum and you get no response. “You didn’t mean to, so I don’t blame you.” You assure him. He’s about to walk out of the room when you open your mouth one more time, “You should wear a shirtless.”

Ghost’s body tenses up and you can clearly see all his muscles. Even with his mask on you can tell he’s handsome. You just want to fall asleep in his large arms, but you can’t outright say that.

“Don’t sleep in your wet clothes, you’ll get sick,” You smile while directing his words. It’s his way of saying he cares about you more than just a team member, perhaps a friend. “If you need anything just call my name.”

[lanitalay]

Among Flames and Starlight Chapter 3

a/n: happy sunday!

Word count: 3k

Warnings: none

Other Chapters

It had been a week of preparing for the trip to the Summer Court. Victoria had dragged Irene from store to store everyday since the invitation arrived. They got new shoes, new hats, new purses, jewelry, cosmetics, perfumes- everything. Celene had spent the week working on the gowns the girls would wear, when they returned to the house from shopping she would corner them into trying on the dresses while she made adjustments. By the end of the week Irene had about four chests for a five day trip. She thought it was overkill, even if she changed three times a day she would not go through all of the clothes that were packed. But Victoria and Celene had done trips like this before and said it was better to have options in case of unforeseen events. She had clothes for swimming, riding, training, walking, dancing, sitting, reading- she even packed a raincoat and the Summer Court was the driest court in Prythian. Whatever might happen, she was prepared.

 Irene could not deny that she was nervous, something in her chest recoiled at the idea of leaving Velaris. It was the only place she had ever known and it would still be here when she returned. But she could not deny her apprehension. So when Rhysand showed up to her room to winnow away the luggage she confessed “I’m gonna be sick.”  

“Why?” His perfect brow arched in curiosity. 

“I’ve never been this far from home… and so many people will be there. What do I say when I introduce myself? “Hi, I’m Irene, ward of the Night Court?” I’m going to be totally out of my league there.” 

“You’ll have us, only Mor is staying behind this time. If I’m busy or Vic’s busy you can be with Az or Cassian. You won’t be alone.” He finished the last chest and walked over to her, putting a stray lock of white hair behind her ear. “Plus, I’ll show you my favorite beaches, so I hope you packed skimpy swimming attire.” Irene rolled her eyes but relaxed a little as she let out a chuckle. 

“As a matter of fact I did pack for a swim…” Rhysand smirked and lowered his head to capture her lips in a kiss. Irene let herself melt into him, relishing in how warm his skin felt in contrast to the sharp winter cold. He tried to deepen the kiss but Irene’s eyes went wide, remembering that anyone could walk in on them. She pulled back, leaving a frown on the heir’s face. “We should go downstairs, I think everyone is ready to go.” 

“You look like a ghost, Ire” Cassian pointed out as the pair made their way down the stairs. “Shut up” Azriel interjected and punched his brother on the shoulder and added “your dress is lovely Irene.” 

“Alright, before we leave let's set the ground rules” Celene spoke with an air of authority she only used when she was not to be questioned. “Cassian, Azriel, Irene you will be polite” she pointed to Cassian as she said that “you will introduce yourselves as courtiers, no need to offer details” she said, looking to Irene “and you will not alienate yourselves by standing in a corner and sulking” she directed at Azriel. “It is supposed to be fun, but diplomacy is important so don’t forget who and what you represent.” Then she turned to her children “you two will do as you are told, no groaning, no moaning, no complaining in front of the other courts. This will be the first time in a long time that this family is seen together and we are to be an unbreakable unit.” She finished with her hands clasped in front of her “am I understood?” The group mumbled a collective “yes” and then they were off. 

Irene squinted as the Summer sun washed over her. She brought a hand to shield her eyes and saw where she stood, next to Rhysand and Victoria, in a magnificent balcony overlooking a sterling sea. She had never seen water so blue, so clear. From where they were she could make out coral reefs beneath the surface and the shapes of various creatures swimming around the shore. In the distance, near the horizon, she could see dozens of ships, their masts blowing. The heat in her face was not due to how Rhysand still held her hand even after they had winnowed. No, the blush was from the burning rays of sun irritating her skin, so accustomed to gloomy skies. She gasped at it. How beautiful the ocean was, how clear the sky.  

She tried to commit it all to memory.  The intoxicating smell of the salt air. How the humidity frizzed up Cassian’s hair instantly. How Victoria looked almost misplaced, her face, a thing of frigid beauty, juxtaposing the warm vibrance of the Summer Court palace.  How Rhysand’s smile reached his eyes and the light squeeze he gave her hand before letting go. How she immediately regretted wearing a long sleeved dress as she now found herself uncomfortably hot. How Azriel remained stoic, his eyes trained on her. How Celene and the High Lord of Night stood next to each other, without touching. What she could never forget, no matter how hard she tried, was how his hair seemed to glitter under the blazing sun. How she had never seen a red so beautiful and so out of place.

Victoria looped her arm with Irene’s and mind to mind said “the High Lord of Summer is coming.” Just like that, blue eyes, the same color as the sea pinned Irene where she stood. “Friends from the Night Court, I am happy you could make it for the celebrations.” He spoke with a disarming smile on his face, the smile remained as the High Lord of Night answered. “Thank you for the invitation. You have been making… impressive improvements to the Court your cousin left behind.” Tarquin’s smile did not falter at the mention of his cousin. Irene admired his poise. She knew how it felt to be goaded by the High Lord of Night. How his voice, gruff and dry, made anybody’s skin crawl with the promise of violence, of pain. 

“I am happy to host your court for the festivities, but you must excuse me, more guests have arrived.” He left them with a nod and that ever present smile. “He inherited the throne from his cousin, they say a witch from Hybern weakened him enough to take him out. That she thought killing him would make his powers shift to her and when that didn’t happen she left before Tarquin could avenge him”, Victoria explained to Irene, still using her daemati abilities. It was a strange theory, and most likely wrong since even Irene knows that the power sources for witches and fae are entirely different. Witches get their powers from the moon. Fae get their powers from the Cauldron and the Mother. Irene thought loud enough for her friend to hear “I don’t think that’s right, Vic. A witch would never want fae powers.” Victoria furrowed her brows but before she could reply a young female approached the group and directed them toward the apartments they’d be staying at for the duration of the visit. 

Everyone had their own rooms, which relieved Azriel and Cassian as they always had to share whenever they visited a place like this. The apartments they were assigned were located at the top of a tower in the palace. Irene stayed at the small balcony of her room until it was time to get ready for dinner. She swore if she looked hard enough she’d be able to see the Continent at the other side of the ocean. Before Victoria came looking for her Irene got dressed in a sage, almost mint green gown. It was floor length and made of a light and flowy fabric, ideal for the persistent heat. It did not have straps, or a back which left her upper half exposed, she was not used to wearing such revealing clothes so she opted to let her hair down, adorning it with silver pins that resembled leaves. The dress and the pins made it seem like she was a grassy meadow, dewy from nightly mist, come to life. She did not seem demure, the way she had learned to carry herself, careful of stepping on wrong toes. No, not demure. Not tonight. Victoria’s jaw dropped when she came looking for her. “Irene you look.. you look so pretty.” 

“It’s not too much?” Irene asked, putting on a diamond earring. 

“You look perfect, wait until my mother sees you. The dress looks amazing.” 

“You look beautiful as well, Vic.” She always did, dressed in Night Court black and accessorized with amethyst jewels that brought out the violet in her eyes. Striking.  “If only Neil could see you,” Irene teased, lips twisted in a smirk. 

“Oh stop it, are you nearly done? We have to go.” 

“I’m ready.” 

The dining hall was packed with fae from all of Prythian. Some were in earnest conversation, maybe they had known each other long before tonight. Others were tight-lipped and courteous. Everyone, it seemed, was trying to maintain the peace. Irene sat next to Azriel and Cassian, the royal family of Night was seated at another table, with the other families of the High Lords. 

“The fish is good,” Cassian said. Nobody had spoken to them so far. Irene’s heritage was unknown by most but Cassian and Azriel had reputations that preceded them. Illyrian brutes and bastards. “It is,” she said between bites. 

“We should get drunk,” Cassian suggested. 

“We should not,” Azriel was quick to shut down. 

“Oh come on brother, the night will be miserable if we don’t drink something. Right, Ire?” 

She considered the idea, a few drinks might make the night more enjoyable. At the very least it would relax her. “I could drink, let’s have something stronger than wine, Az” she nudged the shadowsinger’s arm. He looked at her then at Cassian and relented “alright, but we can’t get too crazy.” Cassian laughed and got up in search of liquor. 

The Ilyrians and the witchling were in a quiet alcove just outside the dining hall passing an ancient bottle between them when they heard footsteps approaching. Irene gasped and then shadows covered her mouth, muffling the noise. Azriel’s eyes were wide as he pressed his index finger to his lips, telling her to not say anything. The footsteps belonged to the High Lord of Night and another male. She could recognize his shrill voice even if she was too far to make out what it was saying, the second male was unknown to her. They spoke calmly but not in a friendly manner. If she had to guess, they were probably negotiating some sort of bargain. Cassian took another swig and offered the bottle to Irene. She gulped down the liquid until she almost gagged at the bitter, malty flavor. 

It felt like a lifetime until the High Lord and his companion returned to the dining hall, Irene let out a breath she had been holding. “He scares me so much,” she said and passed the bottle to Azriel, who sipped it and then passed it to Cassian. “Tell me about it,” Cassian muttered. 

“Do you know who he was speaking to?” Irene asked Azriel. “It was Beron, something about a debt, but they weren’t speaking in full sentences.” She raised her brows “the High Lord of Autumn?” Azriel nodded, then the bottle reached her again and Irene drank, savoring the burn the liquor left in her throat and the way it made her feel weightless. 

A giggle bubbled to her mouth and she quickly brought her hand up as if to put it back in. Cassian had just placed a bet with Azriel that he would jump from the main balcony of the palace into the pool below. The shadowsinger made a weak attempt at changing his mind but then added that if Cassian bailed and flew instead of falling he would have to sit next to Tamlin at the next dinner. It was well known that Cassian was not fond of Spring or its heir, Irene did not know the full story but she knew that during a visit to his court the two had gotten into a fight and Rhys had to break them up. So now the giant Ilyrian stood on the ledge of the balcony, willing himself to jump. 

“Just do it, we don’t have all the time in the world,” Azriel urged. He almost sent a shadow to push him off, but refrained. 

“Go Cass, I hear someone coming,” Irene said, still laughing at the sight of the big strong warrior in his underwear. “This is why you three cannot be left alone,” Victoria’s voice startled Cassian enough that he let go and before he could reach back the railing a stray shadow pushed him all the way off. His curses could be heard as he fell, a few seconds later they were cut off by a splash. “Is this what you’ve been up to all night?” Rhysand asked, looking at the shadowsinger and the ward, clinging to each other and to a bottle of booze. “The dinner was boring, everyone was- was being too… well too boring.” Irene stuttered then wet flapping interrupted  the interrogation as a soaked Cassian flew up to the balcony “at least I don’t have to sit next to that lowlife now, but that water is surprisingly cold. Sobered me right up.” 

Rhys pinched between his brows “lets just call it a night.” 

“But you two just got here! The night is still young!” Irene protested but Victoria walked up, put her arm around her shoulder and in a comforting tone said “let's get you to bed, tomorrow is the first full day of courtier activities and you can’t be too hungover.” Irene rolled her eyes but complied “alright, I’ll see you bats tomorrow.” 

The walk up the stairs to the tower was harrowing, Irene swore the steps kept moving right from under her and Victoria was struggling to keep them both upright. “I got her Vic, go get some sleep.” Rough hands scooped her up. She nuzzled her head in the crook of his neck and played with the buttons of his shirt as he walked the distance to her room. “You look so handsome when you dress up like this” she whispered. He responded when the door shut behind them “you are divine in this gown, darling.”  Irene smiled and lifted her face to pepper kisses on his neck. “Don’t start something you can’t finish” his breath hitched as he felt her bite down on his flesh. “I need help taking off the dress, it’s got too many buttons” she frowned. Rhysand set her down and she turned around so he could access her back. “Liar” Rhysand chuckled as he traced her exposed spine all the way down to her lower back where he undid a clasp and three buttons. 

“I could also use some help washing away all of these cosmetics…” she said as she walked toward the bathing room, dress slipping from her figure. Giving the prince a perfect view of her uncovered body. She smirked as she heard him walking towards her. 

“He won’t stop following me,” Cassian grumbled. Since they had left the apartments a foot soldier had been his shadow. “Tarquin assigned him to watch you after your little diving stunt last night” Celene said with the subtle bite that told Cassian she was not to be messed with. “Understood,” he muttered. 

“Did you get any sleep last night?” Victoria asked Irene as she had yawned for the millionth time. “Oh, not really. It’s so hot I couldn’t really get comfortable,” she lied. Bite marks and scratches littered across her chest, reminders, markers. 

Then he was in front of her. She had not seen him last night at dinner, or during her walk after breakfast. But now he stood, next to his mother, right in front of her. His eyes were amber, like honey. How sweet it must be to be seen by him. Celene was talking to his mother, an old friend. They were smiling and jovial but he remained silent. She couldn’t be sure which son of Autumn he was, only that he was one. The entire Autumn brood had come to Adriata. 

“Oh how rude of me! Irene, this is the High Lady of the Autumn Court and her oldest son, Eris. This is Irene Vallier, one of the members of our court.” Celene introduced them and Irene bowed her head. “Of course you must remember Cassian and Victoria?” The pair bowed their heads as well, Cassian noticeably stiff. 

The two Ladies walked off alone, leaving Eris with Irene, Victoria and Cassian. She knew what happened with Mor, and suspected that the reason she stayed behind was because she did not want to face the court that hurt her. The atmosphere was tense and Victoria broke the silence by saying “it's lovely to see you Eris but we must be on our way to an appointment.” She grabbed Cassian’s arm and they walked towards the beach where Rhysand and Azriel were going to be. 

As she laid on the white sand, Irene lashed herself for the thoughts that crossed her mind about Eris. He was the evil heir to an evil Lord and he was not that remarkable now that she knew his identity. He was beautiful in the way all fae are, ethereal and elusive. But next to her lay Rhys, soaking in the sun and teasing her by sending mental images of what they had gotten up to the night before. Rhys who kept her warm at night. Rhys with sharp violet eyes. Rhys who made her laugh. Rhys, whom she loved. So she shoved that flicker of attraction, no- of curiosity- in a deep dark crevice in her mind. 

That's why she cursed the Gods, the Mother, the Moon and the Cauldron when Eris sat down beside her at dinner.

taglist: @sidthedollface2 @acourtofbatboydreams 

[coffeeghoulie]

Mushy May Day 1: Beach Day

It’s the first real hot day of the year. Everybody in the band pack agrees to finish their chores without hassle and head down to the lake near the abbey. The sun blazes down from high in the sky, and the junebugs hum and whine. 

Rain is the first one to strip down to a pair of tiny, form-fitting shorts and take a running dive off of the end of the pier. The water, despite the hot sun, is still nearly icy. It doesn’t bother him at all. He’s in his element, he’s home. 

The ghoulettes throw a pile of towels down on the pebble beach and wade in, giggling as Swiss tosses an innertube onto the water and tries to follow, immediately hissing at the cold temperature. He gets over himself and splashes in after them. 

Aether settles down on the beach, book under one arm, another pile of towels under the other. He’s content to dip his toes in as Mountain sits down next to him, laying back onto the grass. 

Dew is the last of them out. He trods out to the end of the pier and sits cross-legged, watching longingly out as the girls laugh and try to tip Swiss out of his tube out in the middle of the lake. He tries to hang on and shrieks as he fails, landing with a splash between Cirrus and Sunny. Cumulus laughs, pushing her wet hair out of her eyes.

Rain spends a good ten minutes just sitting at the bottom of the lake, his hair and the reeds around him swaying gently. He doesn’t need to worry about being able to breathe, his gills flaring to life the moment he submerged. But he comes to the surface anyway, ready to join his pack and play. 

But when he surfaces, gasping in a breath he doesn’t really need, he sees Dew. Everyone else has grouped off. But his Dewey’s all on his own. He doesn’t even look up when Rain chirps in his direction. He cocks his head, diving back underwater and swimming back to shore. 

He pops up in front of Dew, who startles hard. “The water’s really nice, Dew.”

From the shore, Aether shakes his head, and Rain hears his voice filter into his mind. He hasn’t been in the water in years, Rainy. Not since before you were summoned. 

He waves a hand through the water in front of him, back and forth. “You don’t have to come in, but it’s nice.”

Dew reaches down to brush a strand of wet hair out of Rain’s face. His hand is sunbaked and warm against Rain’s clammy skin. “Maybe, it’s been a while. Can’t breathe underwater like I used to.”

“It’s alright,” Rain says, reaching up to take Dew’s hand, ignoring the scars where his gills used to be. “I won’t let anything happen. Just want to swim with you. I’ll take your kitchen duty for a week if you do.”

Dew, to give credit where credit is due, pretends to think about it. Rain knows how much he hates doing dishes. “Two weeks of kitchen duty.”

“Deal.” 

Dew pulls off the oversized tank top he stole from Swiss, revealing milky pale skin and pink scars underneath his pecs. He takes a deep breath and unfolds his legs, letting them dangle over the end of the pier. He winces as his toes touch the cold water. “Promise me you won’t let anything happen?”

Rain nods, reaching out and extending his pinky finger. “I promise, Dewey.”

Dew takes a deep breath and locks his own pinky with Rain’s. He shuts his eyes and shoves himself off of the end of the pier with a splash. 

Rain darts forward to hold him up, keeping his head above water. Dew slings an arm over Rain’s shoulders, even as he’s hissing like an angry cat at how cold the water feels, and they move away from the pier, into the lake proper. 

On the shore, Mountain and Aether scramble to their feet. “Rain!” Aether yells, even from a distance looking panicked. “What did you do?”

“Dew, are you okay?” Mountain calls out, less panicked than Aether but still tense. 

“I’m good, Mount!” Dew yells back as he turns to face them. “And Aeth, I went in on my own free will, asshole!” 

Aether and Mountain’s postures relax, though neither of them return to their seats quite yet. Aether cracks a smile. “Love you too, Dew!” 

Rain continues to take them out further into the lake, shifting so that he’s laying on his back. Dew still clings to Rain’s chest, resting his head right over his heart. Rain reaches one hand out and smooths it over Dew’s hair as they float. He’s honored that Dew trusts him with something as big as this, and his heart swells with the thought. They’ll head back to shore the moment Dew asks, but for now, they’re both content to float under the summer sun. 

[harlowvera]

darklina ficlet (prompt - island)

He’s supposed to be alone on the island.

It’s been days, months, years maybe, since he was exiled, cursed to live out the rest of his days in solitude on an island far removed from society, somewhere in the northern True Sea.

Cold has long since seeped into his bones, the constant mist and whipping winds whittling his bones into frozen marrow, no matter how many furs he layers on. The sun rarely breaks through the ever present cover of clouds.

It’s a miserable, lonely existence, but one that he’s resigned himself to. A fair sentence for his crimes, no matter how sincerely he regrets them now.

In the beginning, he talked to himself frequently, trying to keep himself from going mad without human interaction, but when he realized that the lack of response was worse than not having anyone to converse with in the first place, he stopped altogether. When he sees the girl in the water, his first thought is whether or not he remembers how to speak to another person. 

She’s floating, the waves washing over her bare shoulders, hair a slick black mass disappearing below the surface of the water. At first, he thinks he’s finally gone mad, his mind conjuring up figures that aren’t there, but a quick pinch to his forearm grounds him and he comes to the conclusion that she is indeed real.

The rocks are slippery but he clambers down them quickly, desperate to get to the girl in the water who’s surely at risk for hypothermia in the choppy waves. He calls out to her, his voice and any potential response swept away in the wind. Without a second thought, he dives off an outcroppings of rock, cutting through the frigid water in her direction. He swims and swims and swims until his arms are heavy with the effort, and when he finally comes up for air and looks frantically around, realizes she’s not there. His limbs are trembling and he realizes how far he’s strayed from the beach. Not for the first time, he thinks about how easy it would be to just give up, let the sea claim him and wash him away into nothingness, but this time there’s a tiny niggling thought at the back of his brain. 

This ghost of a girl.

He huffs and pants his way back to shore, heaving himself onto the rocky beach with a grunt. Looks around wildly, thinking maybe she’d managed to beat him here, but the stretch of land is empty.

He’s still alone.

~

She haunts his dreams every night until he sees her again.

“Hey!” he shouts into the mist, slip-sliding across the rocky beach towards the large flat rock she’s leaning against off the western shore.

Her head shoots up, eyes as deep as the ocean she’s swimming in and bright with fear. She disappears beneath the water and he runs faster.

Throwing himself onto the rock, he lands on his stomach and hangs over the edge, searching the depths to catch a glimpse of her but is unsuccessful. She’s an enigma, vanishing into thin air (or water, he supposes). It’s a punch to the gut, this second missed chance for a companion, even if it’s a strange girl swimming naked in the water.

Rolling over onto his back with a groan, he stares up at the storm cloud sky, and lets the crash of the tide lull him to sleep. 

When he wakes it’s nearing sunset. Shakily, he pushes himself until he’s sitting upright, mentally preparing himself for the rocky climb back up to where he’s set up his shelter. He pushes the heels of his hands into his eyes until sparks of fuzzy light erupt. When he opens them again, she’s there.

Her dark eyes peek over the edge of the rock and two lily-white hands grip the side, keeping her afloat. She just stares and stares and stares at him, until he realizes he’s going to have to speak first.

“Hello,” he ventures, regarding her curiously. He’s met with silence but her eyes widen so he knows she can hear him. “Who are you?”

His conversational skills are indeed lacking after years of disuse, he knows, but she still doesn’t speak. Just looks with a wary gaze.

“I won’t hurt you,” he says, reaching a slow hand out towards her. “We should probably get you out of the water, you’re bound to freeze if you stay in much longer. Especially if you’re nak—,” he coughs, “if you haven’t got any clothes on.”

She just peers at him.

“Right, well.” He shifts forward, making his intentions of pulling her from the frozen sea clear but she rears back, pushing away from the rock. Falling forward in shock, he barely manages to catch himself on the slick surface.

And then he sees it.

In her haste to move, a tail breaks the surface of the water and he catches a glimpse of glossy black scales where her legs should be. 

“You’re—” It’s obvious but he can’t seem to force the words from his throat. She looks frightened and he raises his hands, a placating motion. “I’m not— I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Will you come back?”

She stares at him warily, eyes scanning his body for any hostility. When she runs her gaze along the stretch of beach, he shakes his head. “It’s just me. I’m alone.”

But when the mermaid approaches again, gripping the rock and staring up at him with wide eyes, he thinks, “not anymore.”

~

From that day forward, he rises with the sun and begins his descent to the beach where he knows she’ll be waiting. He spends hours laid out on the slab of rock, sometimes enjoying her company in silence and other times filling it with words, talking to her about his life before exile. Though she never responds, her presence is comforting. He knows she can hear him when he reminisces on his favorite food, how he wishes he could have blini or borscht just once in this godforsaken place and she responds with a silent gag. He laughs, she smiles.

When night falls and he starts to shiver, she runs a hand down his arm, blinks up at him, and then dives beneath the water’s surface, disappearing to wherever she goes when she isn’t with him.

He comes to rely on her, her soothing presence to make him feel like a semblance of a man again. She’s cheeky, splashing him with her fins when he tells her horrible jokes and doing somersaults in the current to make him smile.

And yet she never speaks.

Perhaps it’s a preference, a protection mechanism against the strange human she spends her days with and doesn’t fully trust. Other days it looks like she wants to respond, words halted on the tip of her tongue, and it's those instances when he wonders if she physically can’t.

Regardless, he falls for the girl without a voice. Her silence isn’t isolating and he finds that when he talks, her expressions are enough to stoke a warmth in his chest, something that makes him feel less alone. 

Weeks go by, maybe months, and he grows more attached every day. She won’t or can’t tell him her name or if she even has one, so he’s taken to calling her pet names from his old life; moya rybka, sometimes solnyshka because what is she if not the sun that brightens his days, makes his life worth living on this miserable island?

When his gaze slips below her chin, tracing the delicate line of her shoulders, down to the waterline where he can see rosy pink nipples below the surface, he tells himself it’s only desperation, a side effect of missing a woman’s touch for so long, but he knows better. Even when his eyes are trained on her heart-shaped face twisted into a grin, his cock stirs in his trousers and his face flushes down his neck.

He sees her staring at the bulge between his legs on a rare sunny afternoon and maybe it’s the rush from the golden light bathing the beach but he doesn’t hesitate when he surges forward, sucking her lower lip between his and cradling the back of her head as he kneels above her.

She kisses him back, tail flicking happily as they waste the day away.

~

It’s easy to call what he feels for her love, even easier to convince himself that she reciprocates his affections. He’s taken to lying nude on the flat rock on the sunny days that come more frequently, a thrill of pleasure humming in his chest when her eyes skim over his figure, trailing over his legs in wonder and curiosity. He has to wonder if her presence in his life was all it took to break the cover of clouds.

She traces patterns on his back with a wet hand while he sunbathes and when she ghosts over the curve of his ass, he sits on the edge of the rock and kisses her senseless until she presses her lips down his chest, his stomach, the line of coarse hair trailing below his bellybutton until her lips wrap around the head of his cock. Her teeth, sharper than his, graze the underside of his shaft and he hisses in pleasure at the stark contrast of her soft tongue following closely behind.

After he comes and she spits into water, his spend mixing with the white frothy waves, he returns the gesture by squeezing and sucking on her breasts, tugging on her peaked nipples with his teeth until she’s squirming.

One day, she swims back and forth between the rock and a point near the shore, waving at him until he realizes she means for him to sit in the surf. His mermaid spends the afternoon lounging between his legs, her back pressed against his chest, head tipped against his shoulder so he can tease her neck with soft kisses, tail splashing in the shallow water. He lets her twine seaweed into his hair and she presses tiny shells and bits of sea glass into his hands to add to his growing collections of things she’s gifted him.

They venture farther and farther out as the weeks pass until he finds himself chest deep in the ocean with her swimming giddy circles around him, hands touching every inch of his exposed form.

He starts to worry that maybe he’s straying too far from the island, that he’ll exhaust himself on the swim out and be unable to make it back to shore but he trusts his rybka to take care of him when he’s in her domain. 

Trust has never come easily to him and one seemingly tranquil day reminds him why that is. 

He’s floating on his back, ears below the waterline so everything sounds muffled, a hushed roar dulling his mind. His mermaid is floating next to him and he closes his eyes, content to bask in her easy presence but when he opens them again, she’s nowhere to be seen. It reminds him of the first time he saw her, out in the surf where he pushed his body to the limit trying to swim out to her only to find her gone. He’d swam dejectedly back to the shore, but a flicker of hope was born that day. 

Looking around, he squints at the water, searching for the glint of her scales beneath the surface and as soon as he thinks he spots them, he feels the hand on his ankle.

The dull rush in his head is back, drowning out his senses and he takes a gulp of saltwater when he’s tugged beneath the surface of the waves. He wants to believe she’s playing, teasing him like she often does, but he keeps sinking, sinking, sinking and the hand keeps pulling, pulling, pulling. His head is heavy as the pressure increases and despite his struggles, he’s unable to break free from the grasp on his leg.

He looks down and sees her form cutting through the depths, tail flicking wildly as she looks back up at him, a soft smile on her lips. 

The last thing he hears before the murky black swallows him whole is a melodious voice, singing the most beautiful song he’s ever heard. 

[nancypullen]

One Week Later

You’d think that seven days later I’d have something really fun to post about, but you’d be wrong.  We did go to the grandgirl’s preschool graduation and it was utterly delightful, but I’m not allowed to share photos. Booooo!  She was so stinkin’ funny.  As the class walked in to Pomp and Circumstance, wearing caps and gown, she was already waving and winking.  Her winks are hilarious, it’s usually accompanied by a head nod.  There are just nine or ten kids in her class and each one received a superlative award with their diploma. There was a reading award, a math award, a spelling award, and so on.  Know what our little miss was given?  Most Likely to be Famous.   We laughed and laughed.  Is that a nice way of calling a kid a drama queen, or is it just a nod to her wonderfully active imagination?  Her teacher is super sweet, so I’m going with the second.  It was such a lovely program, the kids did several songs showing off how smart they are, and after they were pronounced officially graduated there was a nice little reception.  We left the school and went out for a brunchy lunch.  Our tiny scholar opted for chocolate chip pancakes and I had a delicious smoked salmon and roasted vegetables frittata.  YUM.  We spent part of the afternoon at her house, playing and celebrating a bit more, before heading across the bridge trying to beat the Friday beach traffic.  It was a special day, more of the reason that we moved here. Since then, it’s been just ...life.  I cook, I clean, I garden, I repeat. Monday nights we go crazy and spend at the local auction house.  This week I picked up a little table for the porch for about four bucks.  It’s just what I needed.  Today I pot a tablecloth on it and topped that with a gingham napkin (you know my love for gingham) and now Ma and Pa enjoy their porch sittin’ even more.

I’m tickled with it.

I zoomed in because I’d just watered my plants and it looked like this. Still pretty, just messy.

The top and bottom baskets in that planter are both from orphan tables at garden centers.  They’re so happy now!  Look at ‘em go! That’s it, folks. It’s been so slow around here that I’ve taken to painting rocks. I thought I’d put encouraging messages on them and leave them around town.  I painted a few and then the inspiration well ran dry.  That’s how I ended up with this.

It was fun to do, but then I thought that no one would be thrilled to find a rock with a chicken on it, so I flipped it over and added a message.

I had so much fun doing that bird that I painted one for my owl crazy grandgirl.  I’ll let her find this one in my garden.

I need to erase a couple of those pencil lines, but other than that it’s ready.  I just put her name and and a big, red heart on the back. None of them are perfect, but they were fun to make. I hope the people who find them are exactly the ones who need them.

Speaking of putting that rock in my garden, I found Lazy Susan Vine!.  I’d been looking for it everywhere and finally found some!   It was itty bitty, but I stuck in  the ground near my little porch nook and gave it some twine to climb up to the porch railings.  It’s thriving!  It’s so sweet!

It’s tripled in size in about ten days, I hope that soon it’s blooming all over the porch railings.  I need to direct some of those tendrils, it’s looking a bit jumbled. But I love it! And that’s that.  I’ll be back tomorrow to share a couple of yummy recipes and some products that I like.  Life is slow here on the Eastern Shore, Mickey is busy with his photography, taking pics and teaching a class at Parks and Rec., but there’s not much for me to do - so I’ll just keep feeding us and trying to make things pretty.  This weekend is Father’s Day and the mister’s gift won’t be a surprise.  He asked for a kayak and that’s what he’ll get. I suppose I could make a giant bow for it. I’ll make him something yummy for breakfast, and we’ll reminisce about the decades of boys in the house.  Seems a little silly to celebrate when we’re no longer in the trenches (I feel the same way about Mother’s Day), but  I don’t suppose we should ever pass up an opportunity to celebrate and be happy, right? So that’s what we’ll do. I’m off to soak in the tub and read about murder, then I’ll slide under the covers and call it a day.  I hope that your June is bumping along nicely, that the air is clear and the gardens are lush.  Until tomorrow, stay safe, stay well.

XOXO,

Nancy

[the-brain-cells]

Eli and Michael’s outing

Words: 2200

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

"Can you two please keep it down? I'm trying to take notes of the local plants," she asked, looking up at them underneath the tree she was leaning against. Belle, her cat, meows, and curls up next to Flora for her afternoon nap.

"Sorry, Flora," apologized Eliyen, elbowing Michael "Let's go back inside." 

Michael glared at Eliyen while moving to sit underneath the tree with Flora. "I'm staying here."

Eliyen opened her mouth to retort, but Flora cut her off. "I need to make some potions today, so why don't you two go to the lake," she suggested.

"That sounds like a great idea," said Michael.

"Fine, but I won't like it," said Eliyen heading back inside to grab her backpack. Michael followed her to put on his shoes. 

Flora picked up her pencil again and started to draw a marigold flower, so she would have a reference in case someone else needed to collect it for her. Michael ran out of this house shouting something about going canoeing at the lake; he's been talking about going canoeing for the past few weeks since he saw those canoes at the last town. Eliyen agreed as long as Michael did her chores for the next two days.

"Bye, Flora," said Eliyen chasing after an energetic Michael, who waved to Flora as he ran past her.

"Bye, stay safe, and don't kill each other," Flora said, happy she would finally get her work done.

Walking down the nearby lake was difficult when she was trying to keep up with Michael. In the few weeks, she had known Michael he had never shown this much excitement before. The sound of leaves crunching beneath her shoes was probably going to be the most enjoyable thing about this outing; Birds chirped in the trees towering the path as if they were agreeing with her.

The booth to rent canoes was in the distance; the booth was made out of dark oak wood and had an old sign that read 'canoes available for renting' in faded letters. Michael was already talking to the cashier, who seemed to be in his sixties. 

"How much is it to rent two canoes?" Michael asked, placing his wallet down on the booth. The cashier's name tag said, Cedric. There was nothing stating the prices on or near the strange booth. 

"Eighty-eight dollars, young man," said Cedric, Michael sighed and pulled out his credit card to pay. Cedric seemed joyful that someone was finally stopping by his booth. "Not many people stop here these days." 

"There was a time when this place was busy?"

"Yes, many years ago until towns built on the other lake became popular."

Michael nodded his head and followed Cedric to get the canoes; Eliyen followed him though staying far enough away to make it clear she doesn't want to talk to him. Cedric led them to a shack that contained a variety of water vessels, he handed them both a life vest and paddle.

"Young man, could you help me move these canoes to the lake?"

Michael nodded and did whatever Cedric directed him to do. They managed to get a couple of canoes down to the shore while Eliyen stayed a few feet behind them.

"Is that your sister behind us?"

"What, no! She's just a friend."

"It isn't nice to disown family members just because you're mad at them, young man." Cedric gave him a look of disappointment that made shame crawl around in his throat and stomach.

Eliyen appeared behind him, her footsteps being silent like usual towards him. "Are we free to go now or not?" she asked, her arms crossed over her chest the only part of her expression that gave away her annoyance.

"I still need to tell you, kids, the rules of this lake." Cedric smiled as if he'd been waiting for this moment. "We only have a couple of rules and those are: wear your life jackets at all times, put all of your belongings in one of the lockers we offer and return the equipment when you're finished with it."

"Yes sir," they both said in unison.

"Jinx!" Michael shouted in victory.

"Michael, we're not five years old," replied Eliyen, exhausted with Michael's antics and the day is not even halfway over for them.

Michael pouted, "You're no fun." He put on the life jacket and jumped in the canoe to beat Eliyen who was first in the lake. 

Eliyen sighed and turned to Cedric, who was smiling at their interaction, a weird man for thinking that she and Michael were siblings. She shoved her canoes out into the water and jumped in.

"You kids be safe out there."

"Race you to the dock over there," shouted Michael.

"You're on."

The canoes glided through the water, Eliyen, and Michael both racing each other to the empty dock on the other side of this area of the lake. Eliyen was shocked about how well Michael seemed to be doing with this being his first time; he managed to reach the dock without any problems like she has with not being able to remember how to turn right or left. 

Michael smiled at a family of geese residing near the dock, he stayed far enough away to not aggravate them. A stray goose swam to him and shoved its head into Michael's outstretched hand; the goose left after a few moments to swim back to their flock. The water was cool and wasn't as dirty as the lake he lived by was. 

A few minutes passed by and Eliyen finally made it to the docks. "You cheated. There's no way that this is your first time," she said out of breath from the trip.

Michael shook his head. "Maybe this is the time to learn your rights from your lefts." Eliyen glared at him as if he were some fly buzzing around her room. He splashed some water at her with his paddle for fun and as a joke. 

"Race you to the…" he glanced around for a suitable place to stay while he waited for Eliyen to catch up. All there was for defining features in the lake was the dock and the canoe shack, but there was a water depth pole in the water they could use. "Water depth pole over there."

Eliyen sighed in annoyance. "I just got here and you want to race again," she whined.

"What else are we supposed to do here?" he asked, using his question as a distraction to give him an advantage in the race.

"Hey, get back here," she shouted, paddling trying to desperately catch up, but failing and splashing water all over herself. Michael laughed at the sounds of Eliyen's failed attempts to catch up. 

Michael paddles easily toward the water depth meter, his paddle got stuck in some algae beneath the water. He tugged to free his paddle, but to no avail each pull caused his canoe to sway dangerously close to flipping over. With one final pull, the paddle was free and Michael fell into the lake; his life jacket saved him from falling into the dark depths of the lake. Eliyen was still far enough away that if he played this carefully he could pull off his best prank yet. Unbuttoning his life jacket and taking a gulp of air he submerged himself into the water, waiting for Eliyen to make it to their finish line.

The splashing of water alerted him of Eliyen's presence. Swimming towards her canoe carefully to not give away his location he made his way over to the side of the canoe and flipped it over. A speak escaped Eliyen's mouth as she fell into the lake.

Eliyen swam out from underneath her canoe and allowed her life jacket to get her head above water. She coughed out some lake water that: tasted like mud, and her two braids were getting tangled and frizzy due to the wind and humidity in the air. "Michael, why would you do that?" She complained attempting to flip her canoe over but failing from having poor upper body strength.

"Here let me help you," Michael said, diving underneath the waves and flipping the canoe over with ease. With a laugh, he splashed Eliyen and she splashed him afterward; their little competition on who could splash the other with more water ended when a family of ducks swam near them.

"I won that game," Michael cheers.

"No, you didn't, I won that time," Eliyen retorts, climbing into her canoe. "Meet you back at the canoe shack." She paddles towards the worn-down shack leaving Michael to attempt to catch up. A difficult task is given how he still had to flip his canoe over. 

Michael grumbles in annoyance as he starts to paddle through the murky blue water. A peach light filled the air as the sun lowered in the sky. Flora's worried sick at this point when they normally hang out with each other it's only for a few minutes, not hours, and especially not most of the day. His canoe crashed onshore, flicking some water onto his face. His clothes were sticking to his skin; maybe he should've worn a swimsuit out.

"I won, Michael."

"Yeah yeah, let's just put all the equipment back."

Dragging the canoes back was easy though miserable with their wet clothes. Any breeze sent a shiver down Eliyen's spine. "We should get something to eat on the way back," said Michael as his stomach loudly rumbles.

"I don't care as long as you're paying."

"Okay," Michael said, looking around the marketplace there wasn't any place that stood out to him; with having a meal to give Flora as an apology for being late. A booth with a neon sign above it was what he settled on to avoid irritating Eliyen with how long he was taking. 

The booth wasn't busy with only a couple of people in line and the menu contained vegetarian meals instead of fast food like most places. The cashier was a young woman, whose name was Katherine, she seemed short from behind the booth and how avoids eye contact with him.

"What is your order, sir?"

"I would like two caesar salads and a vegetarian burger."

"Your total is thirty dollars and 25 cents."

Michael dug in his wallet for cash and placed it on the booth and placed five dollars into the glass jar that read tips on it in bright green letters.

"Thank you, sir," mumbled Katherine, shoving a brown paper bag into Michael's hands.

The walk back to the cottage was quiet; moonlight illuminates the path and frogs croaked in a nearby stream. "Thank you for dinner," said Eliyen. She was shivering a bit with how fast the temperature was dropping.

"No problem, besides I wanted to get Flora dinner as an apology."

"Sorry, about lashing out at you earlier."

"It was also my fault for provoking you."

Michael grins. "Last one to the cottage is a rotten egg." He starts running into the darkness and the rustling of food being thrown around in the bag is what follows him.

Eliyen manages to catch up to him quickly. "Looks like I'm winning this time." She falls over a tree root earning a laugh from Michael.

"Let me help you up," said Michael, extending a hand down to her; Eliyen grabs the hand and Michael pulls her up with ease, causing Eliyen to squeak in surprise.

Leaves crunch underneath their shoes as the cottage appears in the distance. He and Eliyen were shoving each other playfully as they continued their walk. A wooden path led them up to the front door where golden light was pooling from underneath the door. A gentle push opens the door; Flora was laying in the living room on the small loveseat that was covered with blankets most days. 

Flora looks up from her sketchbook. "Oh, you're back," she notices the water droplets hitting the wooden floor and how Eliyen was shivering. "Why are you two wet?"

"I fell into the lake," said Michael, placing the brown bag onto the small coffee table and shooing Belle away when she gets close to the bag.

"And Michael flipped my canoe over, so I would also be wet like him."

"Okay," Flora said, "What is in the bag?"

"Dinner," replies Michael, handing Flora her salad and grabbing his burger. "The other salad is for you Eli."

"Okay, let me just grab some napkins first."

Flora's eyes widened, Michael just called Eliyen by her nickname, and Eliyen just ignored him. "When did you two become friends?"

"I pet a goose at the lake," shouted Michael, glossing over her question. His burger was already half-eaten while she barely ate any of her salad. Eliyen was eating her salad on the floor, so she didn't have to eat on the chairs on the other side of the room.

"You better not have Michael," said Eliyen.

"You weren't there when it happened because you were still trying to catch up to me."

"I still would've seen you petting the goose."

"No, you wouldn't because you were busy."

Flora quietly laughs, some things never change.

[casspurrjoybell-17]

HEART'S REDEMPTION - CHAPTER 20

*Warning: Adult Content* 

The emotion in Ian Foley's voice is unmistakable, even to someone who's never heard such tones directed towards himself. 

Whoever he's talking to is someone he loves.

At the very least, someone he once loved. 

Sam Asato doesn't know why but it makes him unspeakably sad. 

He supposes that, more than anything, he wants to hear him sound like that when he talks to him. 

Sam lingers near the door for a minute or two, listening to the side of the conversation he can hear. 

He doesn't mean to eavesdrop but he doesn't want to interrupt Ian either and he ends up hearing more than is good for him.

Shutting the door as softly as he can, Sam retreats, heading towards the shores of the lake. 

A twilight gloom has settled over the woods and the distant, mournful cry of some bird or animal carries high and wailing on the still air. 

He shivers and gazes out at the silver and black water, smooth as glass beneath the dimming sky. 

The crack of a twig startles him, a zip of nerves shooting down his spine he and he turns to see Carlos walking towards him through the trees.  

He's looking down at his phone, scrolling with his thumb and a slight frown pulls at the corners of mouth.

After passing through large swathes of territory with no signal, Ian and Carlos seemed relieved that the area around the lodge got reception. 

They'd both been glued to their devices since we arrived. 

Never having had one of his own, Sam didn't really understand and felt a little left out, somehow.

"Hey," Sam calls, hoping not to startle Carlos like he had done to him. 

Unfortunately, his thoughtfulness backfires and Carlos drops his phone in surprise. 

He bends to pick it up and when he straightens, he shoots Sam a look that's not quite a glare but it's close, a look of hostile wariness, the sort an animal might give to someone who's recently been mean to it. Sam sighs. 

It was not Sam’s intention to be a bitch to the guy but Carlos just draws it out of him. 

Sam decides to make an effort and walks forward to meet him. 

He realizes that he doesn't have a lot of practice at relationship building and he’s not sure where to begin. 

From what he’s observed, though, it seems like an apology might be a good place to start.

"Hey, Carlos. Um..."

Apparently, saying ‘I'm sorry’ is a lot harder than he thought. 

He takes a breath and tries again.

"I'm sorry for how I've been treating you. I know what happened to you isn't your fault and that you didn't mean to hurt Ian when you were possessed. Can we start over?"

‘He looks at me with suspicion and I guess I don't blame him.’ 

"Sure," Carlos says at last. 

"Why not."

"What are you looking at?" Sam asks, as Carlos turns his attention back to his cell-phone.

He doesn't answer right away and at first Sam thinks that he's not interested in being friendly after all. 

But when Carlos looks up at Sam, his expression is more troubled than hostile.

"Calls and texts from Toni," he says. 

"She's been trying to contact me nonstop since I left. I've been too angry to talk to her, but she won't stop and I don't know what to do."

Sam moves to Carlo’s side and peers at his cell-phone. 

He's not lying. 

There are hundreds of calls and texts from Toni's number. 

Even as Sam watches, a new texts pop up on the screen.

Toni: Carlos, please. I just want to know if you're okay.

Toni: Please?

"You haven't talked to her at all since we left the garage?" Sam asks.

He shakes his head, still frowning at his phone.

"You know," Sam says, having considered a moment, 

"Toni doesn't know you left with us voluntarily. She might think we took you by force, kidnapped you or something. It seemed like she didn't have a very good opinion of us, after all."

"Yeah," Carlos answers, sounding torn. 

"And I don't want her to be worried. I'm just not sure I'm ready to forgive her yet."

"I'm not saying you have to, only that you might let her know you're alive, at least. She's your aunt and she sort of raised you, right?"

Carlos nods. 

"Did she, like... hurt you?" Sam ventures.

He shakes his head. 

"No, never. Getting possessed and exorcised all the time wasn't fun, though and she knew I hated it. That's part of why she gave up the business. But when she used me against you guys like that, it made me feel...unsafe. Like she really betrayed my trust, you know?" 

Carlos shrugs. 

"I guess I'd just had enough."

Sam think for a minute. 

"Ian said that you and I have a lot in common. I told him to shove it but I guess he's sort of right. We both ended up looking to him to take us away from a life we wanted to leave behind. Now, maybe we're both afraid he doesn't want the baggage that's claimed him."

They've stopped at the edge of the lake and Sam swats at a huge mosquito as it lands on his arm.

"I guess I don't know much about you," Carlos admits. 

"You want to fill me in?"

Sam Asato shrugs. 

"Sure. I was like you growing up but unlike Toni, my mom had no idea how to deal with demons. Karin took me off her hands and then used me for his own ends. I can see and interact with things that most people can't, as you know and Karin found ways to profit by that. Some were okay, good even but some were really bad. Karin didn't care as long as he got his money. Sometimes I'd refuse to do what he asked and then..." 

Sam takes a deep breath and stretches to relieve the tension building in his shoulders and neck as memories come swarming to the surface like a nest of disturbed ants. 

"He'd make use of my other ability, too," he adds looking up at the lavender-gray sky. 

"Not for himself but for anyone willing to pay his price."

"Other ability?" Carlos asks, disarmingly innocent and curious.

Sam feels my mouth twitch with unsettled nerves and sigh. 

“Here, I'll show you."

Sam reaches over and touches the side of Carlos’ face with his fingertips, tracing his brow, the arch of his cheekbone and the line of his jaw. 

As the pad of Sam’s thumb brushes over Carlos’ lower lip and down the side of his throat, his pupils go wide and he sucks in air.

"Oh shit," he swears, stepping away from Sam. 

"What the fuck did you just do?"

Sam looks down to see a distinct bulge below Carlos’ belt.

"Just a little influence," he says, frowning. 

"I'm part incubus, remember? I should have remembered how susceptible to demons you are, though. That was just supposed to feel a little good, not make you need a fresh pair of undies."

Carlos gives Sam a dark look but then laughs and shakes his head. 

"That is one awkward super-power," he says. 

"Can you, uh...undo it?"

Sam raises a brow and turns away from him, heading back towards the cabin. 

"No Carlos, I can not help you get rid of your boner. Sorry."

"But it's your fault!"

"I'm sure you can deal with it yourself."

Carlos mumbles something that sounds kind of like 'sock tees'...

Maybe he's talking about clothes?

And then trails after Sam towards the cabin. 

Sam doesn't sleep well that night and from the sound of all the shifting and snuffling, neither do Ian or Carlos. 

Ian is the first to rise, sitting up in his bunk and brushing his hands through his short red hair with a sigh. 

Sam watches him from where he lies, perched on the edge of his mattress in his striped boxers and white t-shirt. 

Sam imagines sliding his hands up the curve of his back, feeling the sharp angles of his shoulder blades, the hard muscles bunched beneath his skin, drawing a sigh from his lips as he makes him relax beneath his touch. 

Sam sits up as well, wondering if maybe he'll let him bring his fantasy to life if he says I need his help shedding his demon shape but when Ian looks over at Sam his eyes widen in surprise.

“Sam.”

"What?" 

Sam freezes, wondering if my 'condition' has somehow gotten worse.

Rather than answer, Ian just points to the little mirror mounted on the wall next to the tiny bathroom. 

Sam leaps up and crosses the room, bracing myself for something awful. 

Instead, what stares back at Sam is his usual, human face, dark-eyed, pale and girlish. 

The only difference is that he appears slightly paler than usual and dark, purple-toned shadows ring his eyes. 

Sam laughs softly, though he doesn't know what's funny.

"I guess I needed my beauty sleep after all," Sam says, turning back to face Ian with a shrug. 

"Oh well, you're off the hook today. Lucky you."

Ian Foley frowns. 

"Sam, I..."

Before Ian can say more, a loud whooping call rings out, echoing through the air from a short distance away. 

Carlos sits up in his top bunk, hair disheveled from sleep and eyes wide in alarm.

What was that?" he asks.

"Don't know," Ian answers, rising and pulling on his jeans. 

"Let's find out."

Sam follows his lead and Carlos joins us on the porch a moment later. 

As they watch, Maria, Jack and Elliot emerge from the main house, while two other figures materialize from the mist hanging low and dense around the edge of the lake. 

One is petite and androgynous, with short hair and neutral clothes.  

The other has glossy black hair that falls to her waist and even dressed in khaki hiking pants and a plaid shirt, Sam can tell she's tall, slender and shapely, the front of her shirt bulging with well-rounded promises. 

As the pair draw near, Maria greets them.

"Daughters, how goes the search? Any luck?"

The androgynous woman shakes her head.

"I'm sorry Mother, cousins. We found nothing."

"We have guests?" the feminine woman asks sharply, casting a look at them. 

Her features are beautiful in a way that doesn't often extend beyond the realm of fantasy, a small mouth, high cheekbones, a sharp jawline and large, lash-fringed eyes below thick, even brows.

"Not exactly," Maria says, as we descend the steps of our cabin and join them below. 

"This is Ian Foley, the one Inez invited and his two... companions. Ian, Sam, Carlos, meet my daughters, Sofia and Cass."

She gestures at the two women, indicating that Sofia has the long hair and Cass the short. 

Cass raises a hand in welcome and gives us a daring, unguarded grin. 

Sofia's expression remains impassive and veiled. 

Her liquid dark gaze moves to each of them in turn. 

When she reaches Ian, she pauses and one of her thick, even brows lifts a fraction, just enough to send a signal, like a delicate, manicured finger flipping the switch that sets off a hydrogen bomb. 

Sam can almost see Ian's heart explode in his chest and glances over at Carlos and they share a frown. 

Now this looks like real trouble.

[five-rivers]

Three Twilights

Can be considered a loose sequel to Deep Sea Diver (same vibes).

Warnings: Soft body horror, Danny totally ignoring objectively horrifying things

.

.

.

“I was thinking,” started Maddie over breakfast, “we could start observations of that island that came into view last week, the blue one.”

Danny shook his head. “You’ll have to use the Speeder, then,” he said. “I’ve got an errand to run.”

There was a pause as both of Danny’s parents looked at him, confused. He didn’t blame them. Danny rarely went out as a human anymore, and certainly not for anything like errands. Looking like he was still fourteen after all this time made doing anything even remotely official difficult.

But this wasn’t a human errand. “Yeah,” said Danny. “In the Ghost Zone. I’ve got to go to Three Twilights.”

“Where?” asked Jack.

“It’s, um, a city,” said Danny. “Well, three cities, I suppose, depending on how you want to group them. One Realm. On the shores of the Celestial Sea. I’m sure I’ve put it in your files.” Probably a direct copy from his files from before he came clean to them, but still. He stirred his cereal counterclockwise, letting his ice powers chill the milk.

“Yes,” said Maddie, “but there are a lot of places in there. I’m not sure we’ve had a chance to properly look at them all, much less memorize them.”

“Okay, yeah,” said Danny. “I guess that makes sense.”

“What kind of errand are you running, Danno?”

“I’m picking something up for a friend. A book,” he clarified. “They lent it to someone there, but they need it back.”

“A book,” said Maddie. “For the Library of Tongues?”

“No, they’ve got a contract service for overdue loans.”

“Contract service?” asked Jack.

“Yeah. Moonlighting bounty hunters mostly.”

“For a library?”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” said Danny, shrugging. “They’re really serious about their work.”

“If it isn’t for them, who is it for?” asked Maddie. “The princess? Wulf?” Wulf had actually been over a few times, and his parents had… Well, saying they got along would be an overstatement, they didn’t really have anything in common beyond ripping portals in the fabric of the universe, but everyone had been civil. “The boy at the school?”

“No,” said Danny. “Wulf would just get it himself.”

“Who, then?” pressed Maddie.

Danny put a spoonful of cereal in his mouth, delaying. Maddie hadn’t eaten anything since Danny had mentioned the errand. The errand was, in fact, for Clockwork. Danny was always more than happy to do anything for Clockwork. The older ghost had saved him too many times for him to be otherwise. But Jack and Maddie were wary of Clockwork. Danny didn’t get it, but talking about it hadn’t been productive so far.

He didn’t want to lie to his parents. Not ever again.

“It’s for Clockwork,” he said.

Ah, yes, there were those suspicious looks. The ones Danny could have interpreted even without being able to almost literally taste emotions.

“I see,” said Maddie.

“Anyway,” said Danny, quickly, “if I haven’t shown you Three Twilights yet, it’s really cool. I don’t want to take the full rig, but maybe the little ectocam would be okay? The one that I can clip on.”

“Why not the normal camera with an ectofilter?” asked Jack. “That has more features, and it’s easier for us to get data from.”

“Three Twilights. It’s dark there,” said Danny. “It might work in Civila, but not so much in Naŭtika and Astronomia, and I sort of want to go down to the beach and see if I can find any star pearls, and that’s really dark, so if you want to see anything properly, it’ll have to be the sonar setup, which I’m not doing, the noises that thing makes are offensive, or the ectocam.”

“And the Fenton Phones?” asked Maddie.

“Sure,” said Danny. “But I always bring those.”

“Yes,” said Maddie, after a moment. “You do.”

“Great. It’s settled, then.”

.

Most of the journey to Three Twilights could be made by air. Or, rather, what passed for air in the Infinite Realms. But when the rocky edge of an island came into view, Danny touched down. Further in was a blue wood, and Danny walked under its inviting branches.

The atmosphere started sunny, summery. The leaves and needles of the trees were the color of a clear blue sky. But as he got deeper, the leaves were touched with sunset colors: golds, reds, oranges, purples, and pinks. They fell to the ground, crunching beneath Danny’s feet. The sunset grew longer, deeper. The leaves on the trees grew sparser, revealing patches of sky.

By the time only bare branches framed the sky, it was a dusky, dim, purple. A few lonely stars twinkled in the sky.

He passed out of the forest. The city of Civila rose above him. Windows glowed in the near dark like eyes.

Danny had changed, too. His aura had dimmed. The whites of his suit were now dark gray, and patterns swirled on its surface like camouflage, like wind-twisted clouds, like nebulae.

Shadows bled around the corners of the city buildings like ink in water. Will-o-the-wisps bobbed, casting pools of illumination in lieu of streetlamps. Ghosts walked up and down the streets, or floated only a few meters up.

The buildings glittered. Everything was dark, vibrant, colors. A sharp, sweet scent filled the air, something dark and rich beneath it.

The canals in the center of the street were filled with flashing fish. Or perhaps serpents. Or perhaps worms. Between how fast they moved and the dimness of the light, it was difficult to tell.

Danny could feel his irises contracting, shrinking down to needle-thin rings. His teeth were sharp. He matched the other ghosts around him. This was how the Civila liked it, how things were in this part of Three Twilights.

Everything in order. Everything peaceful. Everything civil.

Danny walked through the market square, and bought some charcoal-colored cherry pastries from a vendor who looked like someone’s nightmare demon with a chip of ghost ice.

Much to his parents’ protests. They didn’t care for him eating ghost food.

There were seven bridges to Naŭtika, which was built half underwater and half on boats that floated both on the water and in the air. As the dark waters of the inlet lapped at his feet, Danny felt the changes ripple across his skin. To a human, he would look pure black, except for the faintest glimmer of rim lighting and the stars of his eyes. He and the other ghosts moved silently, cutting through the waters like shadows.

To Danny’s ghostly senses, the place was alive with emotion and force, energy loud and crackling against his senses.

“We’re solely on the ectocam, now,” said Maddie. “You were right about that.”

“Mhm,” said Danny, half distracted by a whispered sea-shanty backed by a choir of not-voices and not-sound that wove together with the mastery of a hundred years of practice.

He glided up a rope net, and began to navigate the ropes to the taller ships. The very tallest, the ones that scraped the ever-darkening sky and blotted out uneven sections of stars, moored the glass-like ships that floated above. He’d need to reach them, to get to Astronomia.

“What’s that?” asked Maddie, breaking his concentration on his path.

“What’s what?” asked Danny, whisper soft, drawing some looks. He turned, slowly, on the spot, planks barely creaking under his steps. A gentle wind ruffled his hair.

“There,” said Maddie. “By the ghost that’s registering red.”

It had taken Danny a long time to learn what color on the ectocam’s artificial sensor signified what, but he had, if only to reduce the guessing when they played this game.

“Star pearls,” said Danny, eyeing the ropes of stone that glimmered brighter than his eyes currently did. They were one of the only reliable forms of light, out on the Celestial Sea, although they were valued for other things, too.

“They’re putting out a massive amount of energy,” said Maddie.

“You mentioned them before,” said Jack. “You wanted to look for some?”

“On the shore,” said Danny. “Out past Astronomia.” He wanted to find his own, rather than buy them.

Partially because they were expensive. He didn’t really want to think about how much unmelting ice he’d have to conjure up to equal one of them. They were usually bartered in exchange for… more significant things.

The ghost by the pearls beckoned him closer, clearly hoping to make a sale. Danny shook his head, broadcasting regret and admiration for his wares. Speech might be faster but, under these circumstances, it would not be polite.

When Danny left, the social rules of Three Twilights would only leave the faintest impression on his mind. But, for now, they were a heavy, but not uncomfortable weight. One he could shrug off if necessary, but which was currently useful.

“What are they?” asked Maddie, as Danny turned away.

“They happen when big enough things fall into stars,” said Danny. “They’re all the memories of what they used to be… and the imagination of what they could become, when the star dies. Well, that’s what they’re supposed to be. I don’t think anyone really knows for sure.”

“And you can just… find these? Lying around?”

“Not… not really,” said Danny, slowly drifting towards a crow’s nest. “It’s like that one national park. That one where you can collect diamonds? You never really find anything good, but you can look.”

“I see,” said Maddie. “So, you don’t expect to find one?”

“Yes and no,” said Danny. “If I don’t expect to find one, I probably won’t. Unless the sea is feeling ironic, which it usually is, apparently. I mean, it’s an ocean and the stars. And prophecy is, like, ninety percent irony, but mostly for an outside observer. Which honestly makes sense, I think. An observer, not an Observant. Those are different things.”

The kind of silence on the other side of the line was the one that emerged when Danny used too much ghost logic.

“Anyway,” he continued as he scaled the crow’s nest and started traversing the glass ropes and chains to the all-but-invisible glass ships, “no, I don’t really expect to.”

The path to Astronomia was a staircase carved from moonstone harvested in October, when the moon was full and orange-red. It burned Danny’s eyes to look at and feet to walk upon. Like many ghosts who fixated on things like astronomy, he adapted quickly and thoroughly to the spiritual dark.

This darkest twilight was built of delicate bubbles, whorls, and arches of glass, any of which could cradle a ghost, all of which could be phased through with impunity. There were no true roads here, but certain places were easier to travel through. Addresses were carved in the glass in glimmering, holographic sigils made from glass-caught starlight that humans would never be able to read, but Danny could understand with a glance. It was not silent in Astronomia, the high wind sung through the glass like the immense instrument it was, playing ethereal and eternal music that mirrored heaven.

As always, Danny was enraptured. Perhaps the stars here were not true stars, only their memory and imagination (or simulacra made from stripped ghost cores, he remembered with a shudder), but he felt so close here.

“Danny? Are you still with us?”

Danny started to reply, but realized he had forgotten, once again, that he had no mouth here.

A phantabulist played a story for a group of not-quite-children, characters made of carefully constructed light chasing each other about with vigour. Danny stopped for a while to watch the story, a parable about spiders and fish. They were common here, storytellers who plied their craft this way. The stories could be pressed into glass prisms and orbs that served as books and viewed even in other environs of the Ghost Zone.

He moved on, passing through a glass bubble full of ghosts that snatched at and stroked him as he passed by, leaving stars and dark clouds to swirl across his skin. His suit had long since smoothed over and sunk in. His skin was a thin surface, a membrane holding in liquid night. He was like smoke, like vapour, thin and easily overlooked.

The places he passed were homes, places of business, warehouses, and hotels, organized without any apparent reason. A phantabularium glowed like a struck match, snatches of story visible inside its walls. He walked by.

Eventually, he reached the palace at the city center.

The ghost who lived there was old. Older, perhaps, than Pandora. She filled the vessels of her palace in placid pools connected by crystalized threads and looping tubes. Seven round-bottom flasks, radiating outward, like the spheres of heaven. The music here was almost deafening.

This was Urania, Muse of Astronomy. Astronomia was her city, and subordinate to her will before all else.

Danny resisted the urge to kneel. He was not here as a supplicant, and they both knew it.

The lowest pool bubbled, and slowly a glass prism, a dodecahedron, floated to the top. Danny took it with careful hands and left Urania’s direct presence as quickly as possible.

Being near her was always difficult. She was the Muse of Astronomy, and she felt he did not indulge his second Obsession as much as was proper.

Indeed, she thought it should be his first.

(The starlight inside him pulsed. He was never sure how much influence Urania could exert on him when he visited Three Twilights, never sure how much the relationship between his passions shifted when he was here. He loved it here too much to stay away forever.)

Astronomia did not end all at once. Instead, as one walked farther from the palace, the delicate, clear glass was replaced by black sand. When Danny had feet again, and could feel the grains beneath them, he knew he was no longer in Astronomia, but on the Shores of Night. The Isles of the Moon were faintly visible in the distance, sea-spray framing them in silvery halos.

He felt human here. His breath moved in his lungs, and his skin rose in goosebumps, the sleeves of his t-shirt fluttering in the wind. The sea and the sky were the same, and twice as beautiful for it.

“Sorry for going silent on you there,” said Danny. “I keep forgetting I don’t have a mouth there.”

“How do you forget that?” asked Jack.

“I don’t know.” Danny shrugged, even though he knew Jack couldn’t see him. “Do you think the ectocam might be able to spot buried star pearls?”

[blzzrdstryr]

Prize of war

Yandere!Morax x water deity!reader

Wordcount: 1459

CW: Yandere, violence, confinement, sexual harassment

The archon war is at its peak, when an oceanid, Periboea, brings sudden news to you - the deaths of Guizhong and sealing of Osial. The former produces nothing but a sly smirk - the Dust Goddess, despite her kindness and wisdom was still a formidable opponent, another competitor for the title of the Seven.

The latter, however, makes you both frown and sigh in relief - the Vortex Lord was your ally, a needed help to fight and defy Morax of Guili plains, yet he also was a future enemy - the grounds of your so called alliance were shaky, unreliable, ready to change at any moment like dark waters you both command.

Now, with him sealed away you don’t have to worry, you don’t have to worry about Osial turning against you, you have to worry about facing the Lord of Rock alone instead.

“Out”, you dismiss Periboea, sensing the forming headache. What should you do? What should you do? With the Guizhong out of the picture it would be easier for both you and Osial to finally overpower Morax and take over the plains if it wasn’t for him being sealed away.

You stay motionless and deep thought for a while, thousands of possibilities appearing in your mind - none of them a clear solution, a path to absolute victory. Suddenly water spirits visit your abode, bowing in both fear and deep respect - Morax has made a new step in this bloody version of xiangqi. You stand up then, gritting your teeth and taking your weapon - war never waits.

With no reckless but also insanely strong and fast Osial by your side, Morax’s power shines in a new light - his presence is felt everywhere, despite his figure still being unseen. You call to the power of the seas, sending wave after wave to look for your enemy, until a voice booms nearby.

Ah.

That’s why you couldn’t see him.

Morax looks pitifully small and weak in his human form - with a razor sharp talons and long serpentine body replaced by the soft mortal flesh he doesn’t inspire usual awe or terror, yet you keep your guard up. He stands on the shore, surrounded by his lackey adepti near some strange machine.

Guizhong was working on that ballista, you realize, focusing your eyes a bit longer.

“[First]”, Morax says, his usually calm voice now gravelly and dead - Guizhong’s passing must have been hard on him.

“Morax”, you reply, understanding his intention - it’s the last battle then.

You start to fight - adepti lunge at you, while their lord stays on the ground, fiddling with the ballista. You keep an eye on him, while carefully evading the blows from his lackeys - they might be lesser creatures, but even a snake can kill a lion, so you keep a distance, slowly but surely approaching the sandy shore.

“Now”, Morax yells, to his adepti, not you. You quickly turn in his direction, alarmed of what he might do next, only to see a bright glowing bolt shooting your way. The time freezes, as you scramble away and somehow you succeed, projectile grazing only a side of you.

“Huh”, you whimper, seeing how the nearby waters turn red from your blood - oh, Morax will pay for that. You will make him pay for that.

“Oceanids!”, you command your servants, voice travelling through the entirety of the seas: “rip Morax’s loyal dogs to shreds”, a thousand of voices echo your war cry, water spirits finally emerging from the blue deeps.

With the loch folk on the surface, the tides of battle turn against your opponents, as you shift your look on the Morax again - he feeds ballista his energy, hastening the next shot - you won’t have it. Focusing hydro energy is easy, forming your own water mimic is even easier.

You send the replica of a great leviathan to Morax’s direction, the volume of water splatters everywhere upon crushing on the shore, breaking Guizhong’s last masterpiece. This prompts Morax to finally face off you, with his spear in hand and fierce amber eyes burning brighter than any star.

“You will pay for that”, he whispers, the dragon evident in each syllable.

“We’ll see”, you taunt, finally taking out your weapon. Your battle looks like a dance, with your moves fluid and flexible, yet fast and unstoppable, like a river flowing in the spring. A laugh escapes your lips, the thrill of the battle getting into your head, so you don’t notice his lackeys disappearing from the battlefield.

“Now”, Morax says again, looking past you.

A blindingly bright bolt flies into your direction - you haven’t destroyed the ballista completely - there's not enough time to dodge.

It goes right through you.

You scream.

Everything fades to black.

***

You wake up in the unfamiliar room, clothed in the unfamiliar clothes and surrounded by unfamiliar things. You can’t sense the call of Celestia, meaning that you’re either outside the Teyvat or in someone’s pocket dimension. This is bad. You almost jerk, but you can't - a burst of pain explodes in your solar plexus upon the slightest of movements.

With a shaking hand you touch your midriff, feel a hastily sewn hole and then you come to a horrifying realization - you can't feel your hydro. A distressed noise escapes you as you caress the injury, a lack of elemental core crushing you better than any humiliation or defeat.

Consumed by your grief for the lost powers, you miss the moments someone enters the room. It’s Morax again - he looks vastly different now, with all hints of his usual bloodlust and cold fury gone, he resembles a kind and wise dragon from the fairy tales human parents tell to their children.

“[First]”, he starts, taking one slow step after another, careful not to scare or enrage you: “I am happy you’re finally awake. You’ve been unconscious for a while now”.

You look at him with angry, accusing eyes, all of your grievances temporarily forgotten: “I can’t believe you did it, I thought you were an honourable person”, he lightly tilts his head, feigning ignorance: “You ripped out my core! I bet you were enjoying every second of it, you sick bastard!”.

“None of that”, he deflects your insults: “your core was destroyed by the ballista, not me. The last projectile went through you and subsequently your core”.

“Well”, you rise from the bed, despite the agonizing pain: “you stole me too! Ballista has nothing to do with this!”

“It’s either that or the eternal seal”, he adopts the patronizing tone and you want to kill him just for that: “with your core gone, I doubt you will restore even a fraction of your power, so sealing you away will be a waste”.

“A waste”, you repeat, remembering that Morax is not only a god of martial arts, but also business and commerce: “What is there to waste? I have no power now, no reason to live”

He wordlessly comes to you after this phrase, his hand touching the bandaged torso, before his amber eyes glance at you momentarily. You know that look, have seen it during the countless battles - cold, calculating and thoroughly fixated - a shiver goes through you.

“I am the one who defeated you”, he finally says, so quietly that even you with your superhuman hearing have to strain your ears: “You belong to me now, I can give you a new reason for living, I can make you accept and embrace it”.

You look at his eyes and the hand he laid upon the injury, fear caused by his words alone paralyzing your whole being. A whole tornado of thoughts appeared in your mind, each one of them anxious, nervous and unsettling.

“You should have expected this”, Morax mutters, noticing the dread that clings to you: “your insufferable taunts and your little tricks, you wanted to be my first thought in the morning and the last in the night, you have succeeded”.

A warm hand cups your face, and you can’t find any comfort in it, as strong fingers pry open your lips. He forcefully kisses you, his tongue invading your mouth, as you desperately battle the panic. Finally you take control of your body back and quickly shut your teeth together, biting him, tasting a coppery blood”.

He leans back, still collected, despite the blood escaping past his lips: “I should have expected this”, he says more to himself than to you and then he shifts his eyes back to you: “Still, I have a lot of time to tame a wild sea beast like you”.

He leans in again, his hand forcing your mouth open with a renewed strength: “Water can take any shape, [First], and I’ll guide you to the shape I want you to be, my prize of war”

[moonstrider9904]

Pristine

Chapter 5 of Moonlight

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{crossposted to AO3}

Series summary: Not even Clair, with her promising quiet life as the owner of a small restaurant on Naboo, could escape the war after her restaurant is destroyed in a strange, terrorist-like event. Left with nothing, she is taken in by a squad of four clone troopers who are all very protective of her, particularly the team’s sarcastic, arrogant sniper, who battles to maintain his tough exterior as sweet Clair slowly crawls her way into him.

Chapter summary: Things prove to take a turn for the better after Clair and Crosshair have bonded more and their relationship develops.

Warnings/tags: Literally just fluff. Nothing intense in this chapter :3 definitely a comfort read!

Word count: 7k

Playlist: spells to fall asleep, opus 2

Wrecker blew a chef’s kiss in Clair’s direction with his other hand petting his stomach. “Girl, you have just made your way into my heart. That was amazing.”

“I must agree,” Tech seconded. “That was easily one of the finest meals I’ve had in my whole life.”

“You’re both too kind, but remember Crosshair made the dumplings,” Clair smiled over at the sharpshooter who, as opposed to the previous few days, returned the gesture with a soft curve of his lips.

“The dumplings, the pie, they were both—I repeat—amazing!”

“You’re welcome, buffoon,” Crosshair nudged Wrecker, who nudged him back in a soft, brotherly manner, still with a satisfied grin painted on his face.

Clair chuckled in adoration at their relationship as she took the kettle off the small electric stove they had set up and poured the water equally in five different cups.

“Alright, tea’s ready. It’ll be perfect if you want any more pie, or simply to wash it all down.”

“Not me,” Wrecker said. “I want that to be in my system my whole life. That’s why I eat Cheetos.”

Tech nearly physically cringed. “Wrecker, that would so not be good for you. Those Cheetos take years to fully digest.”

“Exactly.”

“Okay, gross,” Hunter stopped their conversation as he took his cup of tea, thanking Clair in the process. “It really was great. You both did a real good job with it.”

“I’m glad you liked it,” Clair said as she brought the cup up to her lips. “It had been a while since I cooked just for the pleasure of it. I think I forgot how much I could love it.”

“Well, then it’s a good thing you could do it now,” Hunter told her with a soft pat on her shoulder before addressing the whole team. “There’s still some hours of sunlight, what do you all want to do?”

“I’d like to take some time to calibrate the ship now that we’ve been on land for a bit,” Tech said. “And that reminds me, Clair and Crosshair don’t know about the boat.”

“What boat?” Clair asked.

“We got a boat!” Wrecker said with excitement.

“Technically, we borrowed it. And I might as well remind you that you’re no longer allowed on it.”

“It happened one time, Tech! At least let me use it when I’m by myself.”

“No.”

Clair shot a questioning look over at Tech, who adjusted his goggles to then facepalm at Wrecker’s tantrum. “Wrecker tried to use the boat and he got so excited he flipped it over near the middle of the lake.”

“Sounds about right,” Crosshair remarked.

Clair only giggled in response and continued to finish her tea, as did the rest of the batch. Afterwards, they all got to cleaning up and finally Tech led them out behind the Marauder where the medium sized wooden boat rested peacefully. Wrecker and Crosshair carried the boat onto the nearby shore of the lake, which Clair found really endearing. She knew Wrecker needed no help carrying the boat, Crosshair was just being nice to his brother.

“I’ll get started on the ship’s calibration. The sooner I do it the better, that way we won’t have to wait for anything if and when we’re directed to go elsewhere.”

He even said those last few words with a bit of weight in his voice, and it dawned on everyone that they’d all forgotten the four clones were soldiers still fighting a war. It seemed as if that respite had been wonderful to all of them, but Tech was right. Eventually they’d have to leave the cozy, lovely planet.

“I’d like to see the village,” Hunter addressed Crosshair. “I haven’t been there yet.”

“You’ll like it,” Clair told him. “It’s really cozy and colorful.”

“I’m going with you for the food,” Wrecker said.

While the brothers discussed the logistics of their plan for the evening, Clair’s gaze drifted onto the boat. She realized she didn’t yet know how they came across it, but Tech was already below one of the ship’s cannons working on the calibration. Clair quietly stepped away from the remaining three clones and made her way towards Tech.

Crosshair watched her. Her paces were short and delicate and her fingers interlaced behind her back as she approached Tech with a small air of shyness. The flutter in his chest, which had become familiar to him by then, returned as he observed her, reveling in the way she seemed so pure, so harmless and sweet. Crosshair thought back to the kiss she gave him before they left the bakery. He thought back to the turmoil he’d faced since Clair arrived and it all seemed like idiot’s play as he watched her. Acknowledging how she made him feel, he allowed himself to admit he truly liked this girl since the moment he first saw her.

What could he say? Sweet Clair clawed her way into his heart.

“How exactly did you get that boat?” Clair asked Tech with a hint of mischievous curiosity.

“While I was investigating some things in the nearby forest, I came across one of the locals. He doesn’t live in the village but rather in a cottage within the forest, not very far from here. Wrecker saw the boat and thought it might make a nice addition to our stay and shamelessly asked if we could borrow it. To my surprise, the man was kind enough to agree.”

“I love how trusting the people around here are,” Clair smiled, thinking of Mora. “What was his name?”

“Iroh,” Tech answered. “A peculiar man, but very well-mannered. You may have liked him.”

“I’m sure about that. Anyway, how long is the calibration going to take?”

“I’m not quite sure,” Tech answered. “Since I have to make some adjustments to the canons and run a standard diagnostic on the engines to make sure everything is normal, plus the time it’ll take for any eventualities, I’d say about an hour or two. I’ll be fine on my own, Clair. Go ahead and enjoy yourself for the day.”

“You sure about that?”

“Of course I’m sure. Besides, I’m sure your company will be much more wanted elsewhere.”

“I’m still willing to keep you company if you ever want to.”

“Last call for whoever wants to go to the village!” Wrecker’s booming voice interrupted their conversation.

Clair gazed over at the three clones waiting near the ramp of the ship, but she had the feeling she wanted to be alone with her thoughts for a while. She hadn’t done much of that since she arrived with the Batch and being at the bakery stirred up emotions she hadn’t yet dealt with. She acknowledged Tech with a nod before walking up to Hunter.

“Are you all going to the village?”

“Yes. You’ll come, right?”

She wasn’t quite sure how to reject the offer, but she knew Hunter wouldn’t take anything the wrong way.

“I was thinking maybe I’d sit this one out.”

The three clones all got concerned looks on their faces and it was Wrecker who crouched down as if to examine Clair.

“What, why? Are you feeling okay? Are you hurt? You look pale—she looks pale, doesn’t she?” He addressed Crosshair for that last part.

Clair let out a laugh that filled the openness of the lake shore like music. “Wrecker, I’m fine. I just really want to sit on that boat and be with nature for a bit.”

“Well, we won’t be gone too long,” Hunter said as he placed a hand on each of his brothers’ shoulders to ease their worries. “You can stay in the meantime and we can all go to the village later, finally all of us at the same time.”

“That’s right,” Clair agreed. “I was there all morning and last night and I really want to enjoy the lake for now.”

“Sounds fair. Is there anything you want from the village?”

“Not right now, I’ll wait for when we go later. But thanks,” she smiled sweetly.

Hunter nodded at her and gestured to Wrecker to walk alongside him. Wrecker gave Clair a small smile before walking off with his brother. Crosshair stayed behind, as Hunter had already expected he would, and the sharpshooter stood in front of Clair with his chest heaving up and down, eyes betraying him as he tried to keep a nonchalant attitude.

“Why are you really staying?” He asked her.

Clair was taken aback for a moment but she soon realized what it seemed like for him. Maybe he thought she was insecure around him and wanted to keep her distance after that kiss, but she wouldn’t allow herself to let him believe that.

“When we were at the bakery, I got a lot of memories of my old restaurant. I’ve been thinking a lot about it and I just want to get my thoughts in order before I’m overwhelmed.”

Crosshair nodded slowly, his eyes trailing to the ground, and Clair couldn’t help but quiver at his vulnerability. She tilted her head to get his attention and directed a smile at him, hoping it would convince him she was telling the truth.

“Thanks for asking,” she told him.

In response, Crosshair’s lips curved up slightly as he uncrossed his arms to take his hands to his sides, finally seeming more at ease.

“You sure you’ll be fine?” He asked her.

“I’m sure. Few things could go wrong anyway.”

His smile faded a bit as he looked into her eyes with that piercing gaze of his that made Clair feel like he was examining her very soul.

“Don’t take the boat too far from the shore,” he said, neither too harshly nor softly.

Clair chuckled nervously. “Don’t worry, I barely have any experience rowing a boat. I wasn’t planning on moving it anyway.”

“Good,” he said bluntly as his chest fell down releasing all the tension he was holding up.

Clair’s smile widened as her eyes drifted on the ground and her cheeks got a faint shade of pink. Hearing Crosshair be concerned for her safety made her feel all soft inside. The sight of her at that moment would have made Crosshair fall to his knees if he hadn’t enough self-control, but he limited himself to looking out at the lake.

“Go on, then,” Clair told him. “Your brothers will miss you if you don’t leave now. And you know you’ll need to watch over Wrecker and make sure he doesn’t do anything reckless.”

Crosshair shook his head. “A leisure outing with him is like a trip to a fair with four toddlers.”

Clair chuckled at his remark as she remembered how excited Wrecker was at the marketplace the night before. Her gaze snapped back up to meet Crosshair’s as she noticed him begin to turn around even though his eyes were still firmly placed on her.

“Don’t miss me too much, Dumpling,” he said with a tiny smirk as he began to pace away from her.

Clair was certain her cheeks had gone from pink to red. Her grin widened as she watched Crosshair walking away from her, heading to meet his brothers, although she would have loved to keep looking at his reaction. She brough her hands up to her chest as if that would help her still her heart as she realized what the pet name embodied for both of them having been something they shared closely, and Clair had to resist the urge to run after him if only to kiss his cheek once more.

But soon enough, Crosshair faded into the trees and he and his two brothers were well on their way to the village. She lost track of the amount of time she’d remained there standing with her mind dwelling on Crosshair until the delicate sound of the water drew her attention back to nature. She made her way to where the boat was secured to a makeshift post on the shore and hesitated briefly before stepping inside it, afraid for a moment it would tip over. She figured there would be no problem if she remained near the boat’s center and soon se managed to get in, sitting down facing the lake and the wonderful view it offered.

For the longest time, Crosshair was the only thing in her mind. While the shade of red had faded from her cheeks, he was still ever present to her. He’d finally opened up to her so much that it made it weird for her to think of all those times he’d brushed her aside. She was still really grateful for the way things were going with him, with everyone really. But specifically with Crosshair, she didn’t really know when she started to feel all fuzzy whenever she thought of him. She just did, gradually. Clair found herself smiling at herself yet again.

And to think Crosshair had told her not to miss him too much. She might have to let him know one day she hadn’t been successful with that.

Her gaze traveled outside the boat to the still water that rippled ever so slightly with her weight on the boat. It was crystal clear, pristine enough to make out the shapes of the pebbles on the ground as it got deeper. Eventually, some small fish swam by quickly observing the boat before minding their own business once more. She took a moment to even look at her reflection in the water as her thoughts quieted down before lifting her gaze to look at the rest of the scenery.

The gentle breeze made the trees sway gently and the air danced on the water from time to time. She’d heard many metaphors regarding the stillness of water and its agitation and how they represented the mind, how if the water is still, it’s easy to see through it. Clair wasn’t sure how clear her mind had been up until that moment. Losing everything had been devastating to her, but she didn’t find herself breaking down in despair as often as she’d expected. A big part of that was the squad of clones who took her in. They’d been so kind and caring that they refused to leaver her to her own luck with something they deemed beneath her.

Still, a lingering doubt in Clair’s mind made her wonder if perhaps she’d been avoiding the subject with herself, and being at Mora’s bakery inevitably brought the whole thing back to her. Tech had mentioned earlier that they’d have to move elsewhere soon, and she realized they’d have missions she wouldn’t often be able to tag along to. It would be reckless to even think of it. She didn’t want to be their pet though, she wanted to do something even if she was comfortable being with them.

The breeze shifted her focus as it blew through her hair and lifted a few strands. Clair closed her eyes for a bit as she took a deep breath in and felt the way the fresh breeze cleansed her. Upon opening her eyes again, she observed the tree-filled mountain lines and hilltops. The sky was cloudy that day and gleamed in a cozy, bright grey. All Clair figured was missing was a tiny cottage of her own, with flower gardens outside and maybe even a greenhouse.

Thinking about a home made her feel as if she could stay there forever. She’d felt so good for those past couple of days and the spot was breathtaking, not to mention, close to a village that held anything she might need. She didn’t want to think of war or pirates. After having cooked and baked again and feeling the peace of that moment in the openness of the lake, Clair felt like she could truly belong there.

But what would that imply? Her boys wouldn’t stay there with her forever. They couldn’t. The war needed them, and they needed each other. Clair brushed off any thoughts of leaving them or saying goodbye, knowing it was way too soon for that. She wouldn’t abruptly part from them, not with how well things were going.

“Don’t miss me too much, Dumpling.” The sentence echoed within her mind in his velvety voice. With that, it was even harder to think of her staying without them or going elsewhere.

The time passed by and the sun moved across the sky hidden by all those clouds. Clair was so relaxed she nearly fell asleep, finally feeling close to nature. No concrete answers were found, but that wasn’t a problem for her. She just wanted a moment to pause, and at the very least, now she had an idea of what she thought and what she’d have to figure out eventually. The good thing was that even though they’d move elsewhere soon, no one was putting any pressure on her to do anything. She could live with that for the moment.

She didn’t know how long it had been before she heard Wrecker’s voice in the distance signifying that he and his two brothers were returning. She hadn’t even seen Tech in all that time. Just how long had she been sitting on that boat? When the trio of brothers emerged from the forest, Crosshair was the first one she saw and he made her previous questions vanish into thin air. His gaze instantly scanned the lake, looking for her, and she met his eyes with a warm smile. Hunter began making his way towards Clair with Crosshair following him while Wrecker made his way into the Marauder, most likely looking for Tech.

“How was it?” Clair greeted them. “Did you like the village?”

“Pretty great. It’s nice to have a town that’s not too loud and busy. Living around here might actually be pretty sweet,” Hunter said as he climbed into the boat to sit next to Clair.

“Funny you should mention that,” she answered. “I’d been thinking the same.”

The two clones looked at her with eyes wide in concern, but she only chuckled sweetly at them.

“Don’t worry, I’m not deciding to move here immediately. I’m just saying a place like this would be nice in the future if I ever decide to settle down, you know?”

“You better not be thinking about leaving us,” Hunter told her with a teasing tone, even though he was speaking for the sniper in front of him who would have spoken that same thought in all seriousness. “We’d never let you, anyway.”

“I’m sure you’d have Wrecker grab my wrist. That’s all he’d need to do and I’d never be able to break away from him.”

“Good to know,” Hunter told her.

Clair laughed softly before a brief moment of silence engulfed the three of them. Having Crosshair in front of her being quiet made her want to approach him, talk to him, even if he never was one to say much. She found herself looking at him until his eyes met hers, and Clair feared for a moment he’d brush her off again. Luckily, she was proven wrong and Crosshair kept his gaze on hers. He didn’t really smile, but his eyes were soft, and that was all she needed to know.

“Did you pass by the bakery?” She asked him.

He nodded slightly. “It was closed.”

“Oh,” Clair said. Mora did mention she’d be out. “I hope she opens later tonight when we go there. I’d like to thank her for letting us cook there.”

As usual, Crosshair didn’t respond with many words. Hunter noticed the small look he and Clair gave each other though, and as much as he would have loved to remain on the boat enjoying nature as well, he felt he’d be more helpful doing otherwise. Carefully, he began shifting to get up and made his way out of the boat with Clair and Crosshair looking after him.

“I’ll go check on whatever Tech did to my ship,” he said, walking off with a subtle salute.

“Your ship?” Clair raised a brow, teasing him.

“Yes. My ship.”

“Tech’s the one who flies it and looks after its repairs, Hunny. I think it’s his ship.”

Crosshair couldn’t help but snicker at the nickname Clair had come up with for Hunter and he instantly decided he’d get on board with it as well. Meanwhile, Hunter rolled his eyes at both of them and saluted once more as he walked away from them. His ship or not, he’d done what he had to, and the rest was up to Crosshair.

But the sharpshooter quieted down once Hunter was gone and he was alone with Clair once more. He expected to be jealous when Clair addressed Hunter with a nickname, but he didn’t feel possessive or upset. Being honest to himself, he didn’t quite know what that meant; he still wasn’t that familiar with all those feelings.

Their eyes would meet shyly every now and then, and each time she looked at him, Clair would have that sweet smile and faint shade of pink on her cheeks. It was doing things to Crosshair; it made him want to hold her, squeeze her, do everything his usual attitude wouldn’t allow him to do lest he’d look soft in front of everyone.

He was observative enough to notice that whenever Clair wasn’t looking at him, she’d look out at the lake. His own gaze drifted to the side of the boat where two large paddles were tucked in and he effortlessly brought them to him, setting one at each side and adjusting his position to begin rowing the boat once he undid the rope that was anchoring it to the post.

“What, now?” Clair said, just a bit nervously.

“Well, why not? You want to, don’t you?”

Her blush intensified. “It would be nice.”

Having made his point, Crosshair began rowing the boat towards the middle of the lake. The breeze had already been wonderful to Clair, but it felt even better as they glided through the water. It felt more refreshing and she felt alive, free. She looked out at the open scenery and her lips curved into a grin without her even noticing. But Crosshair did notice her grin and he found his own lips curl up into a smirk as he observed her, glad that she was enjoying herself.

Crosshair stopped the boat near the middle of the lake and tucked the paddles away to not risk losing them. Clair bent safely over the edge to gaze down at the pristine water and was amazed when she saw larger schools of fish, all of them colorful and swimming gracefully under the water as though they were dancing. She’d never seen fish like those before and wanted to memorize every detail, and she even reached a hand down to dip into the cool water, allowing for some guppies to brush past her hand. The soft laughter she let out upon feeling their touch had Crosshair’s heart doing backflips and now he was the one who didn’t notice his smile widen at the sight of Clair.

Maker, what is this girl doing to me? He thought to himself more as a praise rather than denial.

Clair looked at Crosshair as she brought her hand back up. He memorized the look on her face for the brief second it lasted before she became shy seeing the way he was looking at her. She bashfully looked down, but she wouldn’t deny she liked having Crosshair look at her that way. It reminded her of when she first met him, and in a very strange way it made her happy things turned out the way they did, otherwise she probably wouldn’t have gotten with him on a deeper level.

“What?” She asked softly, her grin still visible.

Crosshair chuckled at her as he placed a toothpick between his teeth, baring them in a smile not even his brothers saw often. Clair raised her eyebrows at him, prompting him to answer, but all he did was shake his head while looking out at the distance.

“You really aren’t one to hide it, Dumpling.”

“Unless you can say the actual words for what you mean, I won’t respond,” she crossed her arms and pretended to turn away, all the while with a mischievous look in her eyes. Crosshair scoffed and shook his head once more and the two remained in silence merely enjoying the other’s company as the tone of the conversation shifted from playful to something more trusting and sincere.

Crosshair’s eyes softened. “How’re you doing?”

She smiled slightly. “Better.”

Skeptical, he raised an eyebrow at her.

She sighed, knowing she should have known he’d see right through her. “I am doing better. I just needed to think for a bit.”

“And?”

“And I think if I ever settle down and start over, I’d like it to be in a place like this.”

He nodded at her, not really having anything to say.

“But that’s down the road,” Clair continued. “Nothing’s settled for now.”

Somehow, that response made Crosshair feel more at ease. He flicked his toothpick at the ground of the boat and stood up to sit down next to Clair. Their arms touched each other and he took a moment to look at the scenery from her perspective.

“Yeah, I see why you like it here,” he said before looking at her, seeing her more flustered with her knees pressed together, her hands tugging at her skirt and slightly hunched. She looked so adorable Crosshair wondered how he could ever keep from doing anything daring with her, and the sight of her being so shy made him laugh smoothly.

“You can do it whenever you want, you know,” he said nonchalantly at her.

She looked up at him and with a soft voice inquired, “Do what?”

Crosshair laughed. “Oh, darlin’, you really can’t hide anything.”

A second pet name? Clair was sure her knees would have wobbled if she had been standing. But he was right, the proximity he was in, his arm touching hers, his figure so close she could lightly whiff his scent (he smelled amazing, by the way)… As Clair let her eyes scan his features, she noticed the sharp form of his eyes, one of which had the thin-lined crosshair tattoo, the way they were framed by his eyebrows, the fine expression lines he had at the outer corners of those eyes as well as his forehead, and the faint gray shadow covering his jawline that would one day make for a fantastic beard. For the first time, she allowed herself to look at his lips and she realized they looked delicious. She wanted to brush them, press on them, feel them on her skin…

Clair began to lean in closer to Crosshair and he mirrored the movement. They could feel each other breathing and were so dangerously close to one another. When their lips barely began to brush, a single spark ignited between them, and it felt so right that even the wind blew faster in approval—

“How come they get to be on the boat and I can’t?!”

Crosshair pulled away, directing his glare upwards with a frustrated sigh that barely muffled the word kriff as he spoke it while Clair shyly turned away and played with her hair, tucking a rebellious strand of hair behind her ear. Crosshair saw that final little gesture and wished with every fiber of his body his buffoon of a brother hadn’t yelled out in all his Wreckerly fashion.

Clair looked up at him again, hoping that maybe after their little mishap they could return to what they were doing, but Crosshair’s eyes remained trailed in the distance. She turned around to see Wrecker standing next to Tech, both of them seemingly small over there on the shore. From that distance, she could tell Wrecker was pouting and even that Tech was uncomfortable with the situation, and she realized she and Crosshair might not kiss after all.

“I’d rather do it someplace romantic where no one is watching us,” Crosshair told Clair, still glaring in the direction of his brothers before returning to his initial spot on the boat. “Come on, before Wrecker swims all the way over here.”

Clair could tell he was still frustrated as he reached for the paddles and positioned them to begin rowing back to land. She didn’t dare look him in the eyes, but not out of embarrassment or being hurt. She didn’t want to begin to hurt.

“We’re heading to the village,” Tech said. “Sunset has begun and it will be dark soon.”

“Is that really the time?” Clair asked, shocked that she’d spent so long on that little boat.

“It sure is. Now we’re just waiting for Hunter.”

“What were you to doing out there?” Wrecker nudged Crosshair, who shoved him away with a scowl.

“Mind your own business,” Crosshair snarled.

Before Wrecker could say anything else, Hunter walked down the Marauder’s platform, closing it behind him. “Are we set?”

“Yes, Hunny,” Crosshair said with a sly smirk.

Hunter playfully shoved Crosshair. “Only Clair can call me that.”

“I’m sure she agrees with me using the nickname too.”

“Is that so? What makes you so sure, ram’ser?”

Tech gave a quick clear of his throat, only confirming to Clair and Crosshair that he doo had seen the scene from before, and he’d clearly paid more attention to it than Wrecker.

“She said so. Right, Dumpling?”

“Ugh, you guys and your nicknames!” Wrecker bellowed. “Let’s go! I’m—”

“Starving!” His three brothers echoed.

“We know, Wreck,” Clair said comfortingly after laughing.

“Hey, girl, if you’re going to give me a nickname, make it something like King of the World or something,” Wrecker winked at her as he began pacing away with a confident sway of his built body.

Crosshair glared after Wrecker as he led the way back to the village. Clair, knowing he’d be angry soon, walked past him with a reassuring smile that meant so many things to Crosshair, it very well managed to calm him down. After that tender brush, Clair walked on followed by Tech, who pretended to be too immersed in his datapad. At the backline, Crosshair was left with Hunter, who gestured at him to begin walking as well.

Wrecker made some conversation with Clair on their way to the village and were soon joined by Tech, leaving Hunter and Crosshair to tread behind quietly. Crosshair didn’t mind that much, he had a lovely view of Clair and the way her skirt went along with the gentle sway of her hips as she walked, each of her paces making her hair bounce slightly. Hunter approached his taller brother and once again nudged him.

“Well? What happened?”

Crosshair sighed. He knew better than to not trust Hunter with these affairs, but he was still pretty pissed off.

“We almost kissed.”

“Almost?” Hunter did his best to keep his voice down, but the surprise he felt was real. “Why ‘almost’? What happened?”

“Wrecker happened.”

“Well that explains why you’re angry at him.”

Crosshair kept his gaze forward, relying on Clair’s beautiful walking figure to keep him from getting furious.

“Well then tell me, how was it? Were you on the boat?”

“What the hell does it matter to you? It didn’t happen, end of story.”

Hunter chuckled softly as he understood how Crosshair must have felt. He continued smiling at Crosshair though, and the sharpshooter’s attention soon went back onto him.

“What?” Crosshair asked him.

Hunter gave Crosshair a few reassuring pats on the shoulder. “You’ll get your chance, you’ll see. You’re doing good.”

Crosshair’s walking became a bit slower as he processed what Hunter said. Had he actually told him in a way he was proud of him?

“Hunter,” Crosshair said, coming to a stop.

They faced each other as the other three kept walking, oblivious to what was going on with them.

“Thanks,” Crosshair managed surprisingly clearly. He didn’t say anything else, but he didn’t have to. Hunter already knew he was grateful, and he knew that Crosshair didn’t admit humility to just anyone. In any case, he was honored.

“Anytime, brother,” Hunter nudged Crosshair yet again. “Though I will remind you that you just thanked me whenever you call me Hunny.”

“Sure thing, Hunny.”

*

The evening was becoming chilly as the sun continued to go down. Clair and the Bad Batch went to a small restaurant that specialized in snack foods and drinks, but it was a perfect setting for a night spent in friendship. Each one with a drink, telling embarrassing stories of each other for Clair to hear as they ordered different dishes to the center of the table to share with each other, it was every definition of a night out with friends.

Thankfully, none of them had drank too much, which meant they had some spare time to walk around in the lovely marketplace. With the sky already dark, they walked in a horizontal line formation, still giggling and laughing at some of their stories as they went in the direction of the bakery as Clair had told them she wanted to.

Clair was thankful that Mora’s shop was open at that hour. They decided it should be Crosshair to go with her while the other three waited outside. Only a bit reluctant, Crosshair followed after Clair as she approached the entrance of the shop. The scent of lavender filled the entire entryway and Clair felt a familiar sense of home as she stepped through the shop’s entrance looking for Mora, but she wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Clair decided she’d wait for Mora either way.

Crosshair examined the shop, noticing how it looked different than it had in the morning when he’d been there with Clair. At that hour it had more life, purpose, even. Then he noticed the brief shudder Clair gave as she took her hands to hug her elbows.

“What is it?” Crosshair asked her.

“I’m just a bit cold,” she said, her teeth chattering a bit. “The night’s chilly and I only felt it now that I’ve stopped walking.”

“Here,” said Crosshair as he began to remove the black jacket he was wearing.

“No!” Clair protested with a sweet tone. “You need it too, you’ll be cold.”

“I told you before, Dumpling. I’m stronger than I look,” he smirked at her as he put his jacket around her, securing it with his hand around the neckline. Something about seeing her wear his clothing made him softer for her, as though in that gesture he was protecting her, claiming her as his.

Clair smiled up at him, not only at the gesture but at the memory of him and her under moonlight as well. She instantly caught up on Crosshair’s scent, which emanated from the fabric of his jacket, and she couldn’t help but smile dreamily as she lightly swayed from side to side, feeling adored as she had his jacket over her.

“Little Moon!”

Clair turned her attention to the back of the shop when she heard Mora’s voice fill the bakery. The old woman walked in with her distinctive kind smile and her arms open to receive Clair with a hug.

“Mora!” Clair greeted her with a tight and happy embrace.

As they hugged, Mora scanned Crosshair with her eyes and, parting the hug, her gaze lingered on him. She smiled at him, having seen the way he wrapped his jacket over Clair as well as the way he smiled at her. Mora was a wise woman, and she could tell a lot of things about the man with the crosshair tattoo from that gesture.

Yes, she knew it just from his eyes. Those were the eyes of a man who would do anything for his vod, and even more for his cyare.

Clair observed as Mora and Crosshair looked each other in the eyes. Mora was still smiling at him, albeit with a gleam of mischief and a raised eyebrow.

“You’re new,” she told him.

“Actually, he came here in the morning. He cooked with me.”

“Is that so?” Mora seemed pleased and she addressed Clair. “I’m glad. That pie was amazing, me’suum’ika.”

“Thank you,” Clair beamed. “That recipe was my own making after years of tweaking. It’s one of my best,” her eyes trailed over to Crosshair. “I love it very much.”

Crosshair kept looking at Mora, watching closely. He found an odd coincidence between her features and her knowledge of the Mandalorian language, but he didn’t feel any mistrust towards her. On the contrary, anyone who treated Clair with such kindness was alright in his book.

Clair broke the silence again. “I just wanted to come here to thank you. It did wonders for me and for the team as well.”

“It makes me happy to hear you poured your soul into it,” Mora said. “Never cease doing that, Little Moon.”

“I won’t,” she smiled, thoroughly enjoying the new nickname.

Mora gave Clair’s hands a gentle squeeze, and next to each other, that scene would make it seem as if Clair and Mora were relatives even despite the differences in their features. Mora carefully set Clair’s hands down and she looked at Crosshair once more.

“I have the feeling you will need to be on your way soon,” Mora told him. “You must promise to take good care of her, ram’ser.”

The way Mora said it had made it seem as if Clair and Crosshair were together, which to Clair’s knowledge wasn’t yet officially true, and she didn’t want Crosshair to become uncomfortable. She was just beginning to speak up, “Oh, he and I aren’t—”

“I will,” Crosshair said firmly, respecting Mora’s perception of him being a sniper.

Mora and Crosshair nodded at each other as though there were an ancient understanding between them, and Clair was touched at Crosshair’s words. She couldn’t help the tiny smile that appeared on her lips, and Crosshair removed his gaze from Mora to look at the beautiful gleam in Clair’s eyes. She walked up to him, still acknowledging him with that cute smile before turning back to Mora.

“We should probably get going,” Clair said. “But thanks again. It was really kind of you to let me bake here.”

Mora gave a light bow. “If you ever wish to return, you will always be welcome here.”

That sentence gave Clair a gleam of hope that allowed her to finally walk out of the shop in peace after saying another goodbye to Mora. She’d known the lady for a day and a half and yet she’d grown on her to the point where Clair could think of her as a grandmother. They met the rest of the squad outside and, with nothing left to do, they began to make their way back to the Maraduer.

*

It was time for the Batch to call it a night. Tech and Hunter went over to their bunks while Wrecker took out Lula as well as his blankets to camp outside as a result of his jealousy for not having used the boat yet. It shocked Clair at first, but it appeared he’d do that often. With that plan in mind, everybody set to have a good night’s sleep.

Clair and Crosshair were the only two left. Crosshair knew she’d want to pick up where they left off, but something about kissing in the hallway with two of his brothers asleep in their bunks while the third one settled for a night under stars didn’t seem like the perfect moment for a first kiss. If it were any other girl, he wouldn’t mind. But this was Clair, and he wanted everything to be worthy of her.

He walked her over to his own room as it was his turn to lend it to her for the night. She stood under the door frame and looked up at him with a gleam in her eyes despite the darkness. Neither of them really knew what to say, and somehow a simple “goodnight” wouldn’t do the trick either.

“Crosshair?” She spoke up ever so softly.

“Yeah?”

“What does ram’ser mean?”

Crosshair chuckled at the unexpected question. “It’s Mando’a for sniper.”

“Oh,” Clair said, her eyes trailing down as though she’d hoped for something else. He let out another soft laugh, not being quite able to figure her out at the moment.

“Goodnight, Dumpling,” he said softly with a mischievous grin.

Clair smiled gently as her eyes drifted to the ground only to look back up at Crosshair with the loveliest smile she’d given him yet. “Goodnight, Berry Pie.”

He felt himself swelling with the sweetness of the name she’d settled on for him. He figured she’d come up with a nickname for him eventually, but for it to be something so unexpected, so ridiculously cheesy, and yet something so intimate between them… He instantly thought back to the kiss she gave him at the bakery and it took every ounce of his willpower not to take her in his arms and shove her inside his bunk room to finally be done with it. All in due time, he figured. He wouldn’t break that promise.

He smirked at her and lightly tapped her chin with his thumb and index finger, and at that moment, Clair wanted to throw herself at him as well. She figured he’d already have made a move if he wanted to, and so she stuck to keeping her composure as well. She then realized she was still wearing Crosshair’s jacket and was about to take it off, but he stopped her.

“Keep it.”

She smiled at him in response and he then began to make his way down the hallway while Clair disappeared into his room.

His room. That whole day had been so wonderful and she’d seen a new face of Crosshair that had her trembling, feeling soft and needy for his touch, his embrace. She could at least settle for his scent on his jacket, which she’d definitely sleep in that night, as she tried to still her heartbeat enough to fall asleep, hopefully to dream of Crosshair.

Mando'a transaltions: Vod- brother(s) Cyare- beloved Me'suum'ika- moon Ram'ser- sniper

Taglist: @zoeykallus @sageislostinspring @misogirl828 @dangerousstrawberrypie @salaminus @ladykatakuri @whore4rex @morganlefaye13 @seriowan @kimageddon @rain-on-kamino @prozacspice

[howtobangyourmonster]

TomTom the Minotaur, Pt. 1

Minotaur man with human woman, vaginal fingering

When attempting to traverse an eldritch forest hell bent on leading you astray, it's vital to hire a guide with an excellent sense of direction. It's less vital that he be charming and sexy, but it sure helps pass the time.

“Worth every penny.” That's what his reviews say.

Seeing him in person, I feel less anxious about the journey ahead. Tall and broad, his skin a gorgeous dark brown speckled over in white freckles like stars, horns gleaming and wickedly curved and broad as his shoulders. He'd be intimidating if it wasn't for the kindness of his face. He's damn handsome, but that's not why I hired him. Well, not the only reason.

His mouth curves in an easy smile as I approach. He looks down at me as he finishes rolling the sleeves of his plaid button-down up, revealing the sculpted muscles of his massive forearms. “You must be Stella.”

I shake his hand, my own completely swallowed in his, though his grip is gentle and warm. “Yes, and you're Tom?”

“Yes, ma'am. Your email said this is your first time crossing the Briarwood?” he asks, friendly brown eyes crinkled at the corners in polite curiosity.

“It is, and I'm pretty nervous about it actually.” I admit.

“Understandable, it's a very disorienting place, especially for humans. I'll get you through it, don't you worry. My family has been guiding people through for generations, I practically grew up in there. I've never lost a traveler.”

His confidence is earned; he's legendary even among guides and has the rating to prove it on NaviGate. His services have the price tag to match. Too many people try to cross on their own, or turn to disreputable-but-cheap “guides” who most likely ditch their charges and pocket the money. Disappearances are commonplace. I don't want that to be me.

“I'm counting on your reputation's accuracy, TomTom.” I smirk.

“Are they still calling me that?” he grimaces, one hand rubbing the back of his neck(and putting his glorious biceps on display). “Embarrassing nicknames aside, I don't want you to worry. I'm taking you the safest way though the woods. It's the slowest route, but we won't run into trouble. Should be very boring.”

“Boring is good! I've got all my gear,” I gesture with my head to the large camping backpack I'm sporting. “I'm trying to just think of it as a long camping trip.”

“That's good, that's basically what it is. We're not getting anywhere near any settlements or dens in there, we shouldn't see anyone else the whole time. I hope you brought something to keep you entertained.”

“I've got a bunch of digital books and podcasts downloaded, and a solar battery. And a couple print books.”

“Good call, sometimes the sun doesn't break through the canopy for a few days.” Tom hefts his own massive pack onto his back, hooking his thumbs into the straps. “Shall we?”

I follow him as we take our first steps onto the trailhead that, with his help, should deliver me safely through the Briarwoods, one month from now.

“I kinda expected it to be more...creepy in here.” I say.

Tom chuckles. “Yeah, I hear that a lot. I think it would actually be less sinister if it did look more creepy and dark and gloomy. It's not just that the path shifts and changes, it's that the forest tries to distract you as well as disorient. Like...look up ahead there.”

He points off to the left, up along the trail, to a meadow of golden grass waving in a gentle breeze. The edges of the meadow disappear into a grove of quaking aspen trees, leaves shimmering like golden coins as they catch the light. Suddenly, the whisper of wings reaches me as hundreds of iridescent green butterflies rise from the meadow in a dazzling display of color.

“...Wow.” I breathe.

“Yeah. It's pretty. And absolutely a trap. You set one foot in there, you'll be asleep in seconds.”

I peek into the grass as we pass the meadow, making sure to keep my feet well within the trail. I see bones poking out of the dark earth, and a sunbleached skull staring eyeless at the sky. With a shudder, I turn back to Tom.

The first week of our journey is pretty straightforward. He points out the forest's traps and lures to me. After one incident where I nearly wandered off, following some windswept notes of birdsong(“That wasn't a bird...” he warns), Tom takes to holding my hand as we walk through particularly dangerous stretches of the trail. I certainly don't mind. At night he sleeps in front of the entrance to our shared tent, to keep me from wandering off without waking him. When it happens, he turns me back to my sleeping bag and gently hushes me until I lay back down and sleep. And then teases me mercilessly in the morning.

“If you're so keen on a night stroll, just wake me up, I'd be happy to keep you company.” he winks.

“It's not my fault! It's the damn sirens!” I laugh.

“They're not really sirens.” Tom says. “It's just the forest trying to trick you.”

We're sharing a meal during a lunch rest in a rather lovely spot next to a river. The sun has actually made an appearance today, so I have my solar charger out.

“What's the scariest thing you've ever encountered in the forest?” I ask.

Tom is very still for a while, brow furrowed as he considers his answer. “I think...the scariest times are when the forest has gotten to know you, and it knows what you're afraid of, and it uses that against you.”

He says this very quietly, with the manner of someone who speaks from experience. I don't pry further.

The river is safe, he says, and clear. We take the opportunity to wash clothes and refill canteens.

“Do we have to get back on the trail, or can I wash? I feel pretty grimy...”

“You set the pace, Stella, I'm just here to keep you out of trouble.” he grins. “I wouldn't mind getting clean either. You go ahead first, I'll keep my back to the water, and you just keep talking to me so I know you're alright.”

“Such a gentleman, respecting my modesty.” I tease. I peel off my trail clothes from that morning and give them a quick wash, hanging them up to dry on the line with the other clothes, while I chat with Tom's back. The water is cold and bracing, but invigorating.

“It'll be a few days before we come across another safe water source.” Tom says. “There's a spring we should run into tomorrow but you can absolutely not touch it.”

I drag my nails through my hair, raking the dirt and debris out of it before rinsing it in the river. “Is it cursed? Haunted?”

“It's a mouth.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

I dry off with the superabsorbent camping towel I bought for this trip, slip on my pajama shorts and a tshirt, and join Tom where he sits on a log. “Your turn!”

Tom stands and steps back over the log toward the river. I keep my back to him as he strips off his shirt, but my curiosity gets the better of me and I glance back over my shoulder. He bends down to take off his boots, and I take in the sight of his impressive backside straining the seams of his jeans. I'm lost in daydreams when he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of the jeans and pushes them down around his hips, taking his briefs with them. The lines of muscle in his back, the play of light and shadow over the planes and curves of his body are stunning. He bends down to remove the clothes and catches me staring, doing a double-take at my expression.

“Hey, what about my modesty?” he asks with a cheeky grin, one eyebrow lifted in challenge.

I whip my head back around, cheeks burning. “I'm sorry, that was...so inappropriate of me!”

He laughs, voice like warm caramel. “Minotaurs bathe communally, I'm not shy.”

I keep my eyes focused on my shoes. “I went to a minotaur-owned bathhouse in Alberta with my mom once.”

I cringe. Why did I feel the need to say that?

“Yeah? What did you think?” he asks.

“It was nice, I really loved the olive oil soaps.”

“I have some in my pack, can you fish one out for me?”

My mind short-circuits for a second. I dig through the pockets of Tom's pack until I find one of the small bars. When I turn to face Tom, my mouth goes dry.

He's standing hip-deep in the river, sunlight reflecting off the water and making his rich sable coat glisten. His head is tipped back, arms up as he arches his back, and it's obvious he's putting on a show for me. So I indulge myself, and let my eyes trail over his biceps, his horns, the thick corded muscles of his neck, rivulets of water dripping down his body. The firm planes of his abs ripple under the smooth skin that replaces the coat of his shoulders and back. Those white starry freckles splash here, too, and I follow their trail down to a thicker nest of hair where his hips meet the water.

When I manage to drag my eyes back up to his face, he's watching me with amusement.

“I love the way your skin pinks like that when you're embarrassed.” his voice is a deep rumble. He tips his head down to look at me, the gold rings in his ears and nose sparkling at me. “Or...maybe you're turned on, not embarrassed at all.”

Feeling bold, I wade into the river, not caring that my shorts and tee are now soaked and clinging to my skin. From the way Tom is staring, he doesn't care either. I hold out the soap.

“Did you need this?”

“Thanks.” he plucks the soap from my hand, lathers it up, and begins working the suds over his chest, never breaking eye contact. “Your clothes are all wet, Stella. You should hang them up to dry.”

I consider the implications for a moment, before deliberately turning away and wading back to the shore, acutely aware of my clothes clinging to the curves of my ass, my breasts. I peel them off, bending at the waist with my ass directed Tom's way, and I'm rewarded with his deep rumble of approval. Straightening, I wring the clothes out and hang them on the line, glancing over my shoulder at Tom. He's washing his arms, flexing them more than is strictly necessary.

In for a penny, in for a pound...

I wade back out to him and hold my hand out for the soap. “Looks like you could use a hand?”

The smile he graces me with is wickedness incarnate. “Obliged, ma'am.”

I lather up the soap in my hands and move around him to his back, running my hands up along his spine and fanning them out over his shoulders, as high as I can reach. He makes a pleased sound, deep in his chest, as I massage the soap into his shoulders, where his coat is thicker. I use my nails to rake the soap through, gratified as his head tips back and he moans. Moving on, I scrub down his back, appreciating how hard his muscles feel under my hands. I palm his firm ass and he laughs over his shoulder at me.

“Enjoying the view?”

“Extremely so. Are you typically so hands-on with your clients?” I ask.

“Are you this hands-on with all your guides?” he counters.

“Only when they're as gorgeous as you.”

“So not frequently then.” he says. I laugh at his brazen confidence, deserved though it is. “Here, let me.”

He gently turns me around and massages the soap into my back, his large hands feel heavenly as they work out the knots and soreness in my muscles from a week of sleeping on a camp cot. I moan and lean into his touch.

“I like that sound. I'd like to make you make it again.” he says, digging his thumb into a stubborn muscle. I moan louder, my knees nearly buckling. I can feel his cock hardening against my back. His voice is low and heavy with promise in my ear. “I'd like to do a lot of things, if you're interested...”

I reach up and take hold of his hands, pulling them around to my breasts. He kneads them, slippery with soap, thumbs brushing over my nipples until they peak.

He reaches one hand down below the water and brushes his fingers between my legs, a tentative questioning touch. I nod eagerly and spread my legs more to allow him access. Tom uses his other hand to guide my arms up around his neck, my back arched and pressed to his chest.

“Hold onto me.” he whispers as his fingers slip between my folds and find my clit. I whimper as he starts rubbing small, slow circles. His cock is hard and hot against my back as I buck my hips into his hand. His other hand reaches under my thigh to lift up my leg, spreading me further. “I've got you, I won't let you slip.”

I let go of his shoulders and grab onto his horns as he bends his head over me to kiss the top of my head. The finger on my clit pauses to push back the hood, then resumes its assault. The increased sensation has me crying out, emboldened by our solitude.

“Fuck, I'm so close, Tom...”

He slips a finger inside me, slowly working me open on his hand, then adds another. The stretch combined with the pressure on my clit is deliciously agonizing. I'm only dimly aware that I'm begging him to fuck me.

“Oh, you're not ready for that, Stella. Not yet.” he says, pumping his fingers in and out of me with deft turns of his wrist. “Need to work up to taking my cock, don't wanna hurt you.”

I whimper. “Please, I need more...”

Tom works his fingers deeper and faster, dragging them against the sweet spot inside me that has me seeing stars, and I come gasping. He slowly works me through it, whispering how good I feel spasming around his fingers, how he wishes it was his cock, how he wants to watch me ride him.

I'm limp as he lifts me out of the water and carries me back to the shore, the soap long forgotten and lost downriver. He balances me on one of his massive thighs as he digs in his pack for a towel to lay out, then lays me down on it.

“Wait, you didn't come.” I protest, reaching out for him.

“You can make it up to me later.” he winks. I watch him take down our dry clothes and the clothesline, pulling on his fresh clothes and boots. He brings me a change of clothes and helps me pull them on. “How're your muscles feeling?”

“They feel great.” I admit with a lazy smile. “You have some magic hands.”

“I look forward to showing you what else I can do.” Tom helps me shoulder my pack and we continue down the trail, away from the river's edge and into the deeper woods.

[xlonelysoulxx]

Being a Mermaid and Jacob’s Imprint Would Include... {2}

{gif isn’t mine}

xxxxx

You had disappeared for a whole month. You had only sent Leah a few messages after the incident, to give a sign of life and reassure the pack... which hadn’t helped matters when Jacob found out. "WHY didn't you tell me?!” “You acted like a f*cking jerk, why should I have?" The tension was so overwhelming, to the point where the other wolves must have come between them that day. Leah wanted to protect her friend, and Jacob wanted to get his imprint back. But he couldn't.

xxxxx

You hadn’t planned to come back, not so soon... this is what you had entrusted to the pretty wolf. You wanted to get some distance... away from Forks, from La Push... and from Jacob. You couldn't take it anymore. It was already hard that he treated you so coldly ‘cause he loved one another, but seeing him tear himself apart with his brothers... because of you? It was too much. It had gone way too far.

xxxxx

Grudge and worry kept growing among the wolves even when Jacob were gone, wandering god knows where near the Canadian border. Guilt and pain had kept twisting him from the inside ever since, and hearing the thoughts of his pack... especially when it came to you, had become torture. Even Jared, who had felt at fault at first, only felt annoyance now. Jacob was a ball of nerves ready to explode at any moment, while he was the one who had behaved badly in the first place. Fuck... he could have hurt you?! All because he had let himself be overcome by his emotions, emotions that he wasn’t yet ready to assume out loud.

xxxxx

The feeling of lack linked to the imprint was so strong that it sometimes prevented you from breathing, but that wasn't the worst. It was at that moment... that you realized how much you were in love with Jacob Black.

xxxxx

Even the pull of the bond wasn't as strong as the crack forged in your heart. A gash already wide open over the past few weeks (consciously or not) by the constant presence of Isabella Swan - hunted by Victoria - and now gaping as you left the Quileute... and Jacob, behind you. It was clear, the difference between these feelings - as if your heart and your guts were going in two distinct directions. How stupid you were... as if fate wasn't cruel enough like that.

xxxxx

You were quite surprised to see Alice and Jasper appear at your workplace one morning, a small neighborhood library near Port Angeles. It was brand new, no one knew about it. No one except Alice. Obviously... What were they doing there? You weren't particularly close to the Cullens, but you liked the lil’ brunette quite a bit. Did something happen? Did he... no, Leah would have warned you. Right..?

xxxxx

“He's stupidly stubborn, and guilty. But he's fine... for now.” You no longer understood anything, since when did Alice appreciate Jacob? She didn’t. But she couldn't control her visions. Time was running out. An army was approaching, Bella was once again the center of attention... and the future had darkened. The two clans who called themselves enemies had decided to unite reluctantly, to protect her - but what was your role in this story?

xxxxx

“Don't get me wrong, Alice... I don't wish Bella any harm.” You were boiling from the inside, but Bella wasn't the reason of your pain... Jacob was. You had no animosity towards the young girl, the shapeshifter was mature enough to make his own choices. It was between you and him, and yet. “But you came here for nothing.” You didn't look her in the eye anymore, busy sorting through the same books over and over in your hands. You couldn't believe she had come here just for this. She wanted you to come back to him, so he could come back to her... come back to Bella. To protect her.

xxxxx

Jasper hadn't moved from his place since their arrival, standing proudly straight behind his beloved. He could easily sense your anger, mixed with pain and incomprehension... and just like that, your eyes met his for a long second. “You should listen to her, Y/N.” You could feel a wave of appeasement sweep over you, immediately glaring at the vampire. "And you shouldn’t try to manipulate my emotions, Jasper."

xxxxx

“He won't survive it, Y/N... I saw it.” You could feel your blood running cold through your veins. What was she talking about?? Jacob was actually back in Forks, for more than a week now. But he was a freaking mess. He made sure to stay away from the pack, irritable... unpredictable, and more closed than ever. Quite the opposite of who he really was. You could feel your heart skipping a beat... Alice had glimpsed the impending confrontation, and the outcome had been fatal for the brown wolf.

xxxxx

No, no, no... it couldn't happen. It. Couldn't. The information was too much to handle as you began to hyperventilate like an idiot in the store, Jasper immediately moving to your side. You couldn't let him get killed all this because he was distracted by the whole "imprint thing”, no... you could never forgive yourself for it. You would leave your pride aside without any hesitation for him, everything for him... no matter the welcome you would receive in return.

xxxxx

The car ride was terribly quiet. The battle would take place in three days, so there was no time to waste. Your boss had been accommodating enough to give you your afternoon (he seemed to be pleased by your work, good for you) and this is where you were now... on the road back to Forks, sitting in the back of Alice's car. She had insisted on taking you there given your emotional state, and you were silently grateful for that. You could feel the anguish mounting as you approached the Quileute reserve, unconsciously wriggling in your seat.

xxxxx

“Stop the car.” The air was too thick to breathe, and you felt like you were drowning... there was only one way to fix it. You were close enough now, you could join the reserve on your own... but not right away. You quickly thanked the couple before slamming the door, taking the path to the forest under the worried gaze of the petite brunette. You ran, unable to stop before reaching the impressive cliff... not thinking twice before jumping.

xxxxx

You felt like you could finally breathe again as the icy water came in contact with your hot skin. You haven't been back to the ocean since the incident, and you had missed it - terribly. You could feel a pinch in your stomach as you rose to the surface, quickly looking up as your eyes instantly fell on the huge brown wolf that stood high on the rocks. Jacob. He was there... how?

xxxxx

You dived again after an endless exchange of glances, taking longer than necessary to reach the shore. A part of you feared your reunion, while the other was just relieved and excited to see him again. Jacob had reached the beach at an impressive speed, the shapeshifter dressed warmer than usual while a large jacket and boots complemented the usual shorts specific to all Quileutes. His heart was pounding as he observed the surface, impatiently waiting to see you reappear. Were you even going to do it..? He couldn't believe you were really there.

xxxxx

And you did. Your feet sank into the wet sand as you left the sweet comfort offered by the waves, your long hair sticking to your skin like a second skin. You were completely exposed as the cold wind whipped through your entire body, Jacob's eyes never leaving yours as he took off his jacket… wasting no time wrapping it around you. The distance between you was ridiculously thin now, the silence heavy and comfortable at the same time. There was no room for shyness here, it was Jacob. And despite everything that had happened you had full confidence in him.

xxxxx

None of you dared to speak first... almost like it's going to shatter the present moment, and bring bad memories to the surface. “I was afraid I had hurt you.” He finally confessed, almost shamefully. Start at the beginning, yeah... it was good. “I'm sorry I disappeared... I just panicked.” You answered briefly, but he cut you off almost immediately.“You don't have to feel sorry for anything, Y/N. I should. For everything.”  He really was. He wanted to tell you how sorry he was, how much he had missed you... and how much he loved you. But he didn't have the right. Not now, and maybe never. But repeating it to you, showing you how sorry he was and how much he regretted the way he had treated you... seemed like a good start. He wanted to be the best imprint for you... a friend, a protector. If you wanted him to be. He didn't want to be separated from you like that anymore. Never again.

xxxxx

You could hear the sincerity in his voice, the erratic changes in his breathing… and the heat radiating from his body which was enveloping you like a soft blanket. He meant every word. You were sure of it. And it was, indeed, a good start... yes. It was like a silent acceptance, like a secret language between the two of you... your throat tightening a bit before you wrapped your arms around him.

xxxxx

Jacob automatically tightens his embrace around you, selfishly accepting the gesture of affection you both needed so badly. He trapped your body against his, resting his chin against the top of your head as you stood on your tiptoes... inhaling his scent. There he was, alive and safe in your arms... and that was all that mattered right now. And you were going to make sure that it stays that way, no matter what.

xxxxx

But fate wasn't so lenient, you should have known that... it didn't rest only in your hands. Cruel reality exploded in your face that day, Jacob's scream echoing through the entire clearing at the same time as the sound of his ribs being broken by the newborn vampire. It all happened so fast. Leah had found herself trapped in the deadly embrace of one of them, Jacob had intervened... and now he was writhing in pain on the ground.

xxxxx

You had joined him in a few strides, stumbling alongside him as your heartbeat echoed through your ears. Carlisle stood by your side, examining the extent of the damage before the other members of the pack arrived in turn. His voice was twisted in pain as he tried to pronounce your name, squeezing your hand in his before the other wolves surrounded him to pick him up - Paul reluctantly pulling you away from your imprint. Tears filled your eyes, so much so that you hadn't even seen Bella arrive… the obvious horror on her face. How could this have happened? You thought you could change Alice's vision, you really believed you could... but you obviously failed. Literally.