#I’m sure no one is calling for captive animals to be tossed into the ocean

[orcinus-veterinarius]

The beluga rescue made it into the mainstream media. I’m sure everyone is being normal in the comments.

[sundaynightlive]

august of '85 (Steddie, Part 2)

A week.

Steve has had weeks of his life pass by like seconds—hell, the first ten years of his life seem to have left even faster than that.

But now, he itches.

It’s morning, and Eddie’s in a t-shirt and boxers chugging coffee like it’s wine, wandering aimlessly around the living room with a background of natural light and ocean, and all Steve can think is that he wants to pick him up and drag him to bed—his bed. 

Last night, they had slept in separate rooms, but slept is a complete overstatement. Steve tossed and turned and struggled over many things, most of them falling back to Eddie in some way, shape, or form—the condensed version is this—

He’s gay? He’s gay. Well, half-gay. He should ask Eddie about that. Eddie? Yeah. Eddie. He should’ve known—if Robin and Nancy could physically make a baby, it’d be Eddie. Nancy and Robin making a baby—ew, okay, gross. Enough of that. Eddie—he’s really beautiful. And they kissed. Didn’t they meet less than two weeks ago? But Steve also invited him on a month-long vacation, so is kissing him really that far-fetched? Can something that happened even be far-fetched? Now he has to wait a week. Why? Why couldn’t it have just been, like, a day? And what had Eddie meant about ruining his life? What could ruin his life—being gay? Kind of too late to change that, isn’t it? But he is only half-gay. So he technically could just… go on. Normally. That seems like living sort of a lie, though, right?

Steve spent hours mulling over his situation in his brain, and only realized this morning the part he hadn’t really addressed—how the fuck is he supposed to last a week when Eddie will be walking around in his pajamas, breaking bread with him, swimming with him, walking along the beach with him, having tons of vacation firsts—

Fuck, and he’s just supposed to sit around here, genuinely crushing on somebody for the first time in months, and not act on it? When he knows it’s reciprocated? 

He’s screwed.

“Eds—”

“That’s a new one.” 

Eddie doesn’t miss a beat, mug hardly removed from his lips, curls down around his face like an actual lion’s mane. He’s beautiful, literally like some sort of model with that nose and those lips—Steve can picture this exact image of him, backed by those huge windows and all that water, shoved in some home-decoration magazine, and the lady looking through it would jump at his tattoos and his Metallica t-shirt but be so genuinely captivated by those eyes that— 

“Hello? Earth to Steve?” 

Steve snaps out of it, feeling heat rise up into his cheeks. it's embarassing to be caught staring so adamantly, but he hasn’t allowed himself to feel all of this yet. And he wants to.

Desperately.

“I—sorry. Do we really have to—” 

Eddie puts up a hand, a terrible way to try and focus him because all Steve can think about then is that black fingernail polish and those rings and how those might feel on his skin or in his hair or even in his mouth, how they taste, or what it would be like to have them inside him or—

Woah. Woah.

Christ. When he gets it, he gets it bad, huh?

 “The week is non-negotiable,” Eddie says firmly, and Steve is still staring at his hands, so he can’t find it in himself to be totally devastated, “I need you to be 100% sure this is what you want. I’m not ruining my first and only vacation by sleeping with my handler—”

“Woah, pause. Do not call me your handler.” 

Eddie grins, and Steve thinks he can call him whatever he wants for the rest of his life if he keeps smiling just like that.

“Why not?” Eddie waggles his eyebrows, something Steve was not aware a man could actually do, and spins around like a true showman, “I’m an animal, baby. You just try and keep me out of trouble.” 

Steve rolls his eyes. He wants, no, needs to reach out and pull Eddie in by the waist, push their noses together and tease him up close and personal, but--

He settles for sitting down on the couch, falling back into the cushions, supremely careful of the coffee in his cup. He took the plastic off these couches years ago. His parents never noticed. Has he spilled a couple times? Yes. Does it matter?

Not in his house.

“I know exactly how to keep your dumb ass in line.”

“Oh really?” 

A challenge. Steve tries not to look too smug as he takes a sip of his coffee.

“Distract and occupy,” he says, “Ask you about D&D and then hand you something shiny and you’re set for hours.” 

If Steve thought that last smile was something, this one is a spiritual experience. Not only does Eddie beam, he tips his head back and laughs, exposing throat and releasing genuine joy and if that’s not everything Steve has ever wanted, he’s not sure what could be.

Is he whipped? He’s whipped. How is he even asking himself that question, of course he’s whipped. God—he’s gotta call Robin. He’s not even sure how he’s holding this conversation his mind is so fuzzy.

“Distract and occupy,” Eddie repeats, eyes shining, “I can think of a few different ways to do that.”

Oh. Oh.

Eddie is so not helping his situation.

They finish their coffees with easy conversation—how they slept, what the plan is for today, when they should go for groceries. They decide to shower and get dressed on their own timelines and when they’re ready they’ll be ready, which is nothing like it used to be with his parents. Minute by minute itineraries—his mom, when she was younger, was eager to do as much as they could in the time they were allotted. You’d think she would’ve been less concerned considering they had a whole month to waste out here, but she somehow always managed to fill every single moment with some tourist attraction or event. It never felt like too much, either. She was a planning master—completely balanced.

As she got older, and after the affair, all she wanted to do was lie around and drink wine on a beach somewhere else. Part of him suspects she just can’t handle being here anymore.

The memories that cradle him haunt her.

Steve uses his shower to get it the fuck together. He does not think about Eddie or smooth pale skin or what his tan lines are gonna be like in a week or wonder if he’s thinking about Steve and if he is, what he’s doing about it. No, Steve doesn’t think about any of those things at all.

He presses his forehead and nose to the shower wall and takes a breath. He lets the water fall over his skin and tries to wash away all this achy want and desperation, tries to look at it from the other angle—not forward, but backwards.

Eddie isn’t going to be a forever thing, that much is clear, so if Steve wants to keep himself from falling into actual pieces, the best thing to do is to stop all this unhinged fantasy. Eddie may be a crush, and a boy, and a beautiful boy at that, but he doesn’t belong to Steve anymore than Nancy ever did, or Robin ever did, or any of those random girls he shared sheets with. 

No, Eddie is an end-of-summer fling. Steve has to make peace with that. He’s not having a Nancy the Second where he obsesses long after his opportunity is over—he’s taking the opportunity and he’s making the most out of it, just like his mom had all those Augusts before.

His shower finishes swiftly after that, and he doesn’t even bother blow drying and styling his hair before he’s throwing on the nearest thing—shorts and a t-shirt—and hauling ass downstairs so he can get to a phone before Eddie’s done getting ready.

Of course, he knows Robin’s number by heart, but he suspects that’s not where she is.

“Hawkin’s Family Video, how can I—“

“Rob it’s me,” Steve says quickly, “I’ve gotta talk to you and I don’t have a lot of time so I need you to just shut up and listen.”

“Steven—“

“I kissed Eddie, er, Eddie kissed me—you know what it doesn’t matter, Eddie and I kissed and I really fucking liked it and I think him and I are going to have the most intense summer fling of my life and I’m kind of freaking out and I also need you to tell me if I can like girls and guys because I definitely like girls but I’m obsessed with Eddie—he’s like, genuinely gorgeous and I don’t even know what I want him to do to me because I’ve never even thought about how any of this works and I think I’m probably losing it but I have to take the opportunity where I can even though he said it could only be an August thing but I, like, genuinely like him too so that’s really confusing and, like, logistically when we get home what if being friends is too weird and—“

“Holy fuck.”

Steve stops short at her whispered profanity. He has never heard her sound like that, and then it gets louder—

“Holy fuck!”

“What?!”

“You’re into Eddie?! Steve—we’ve been trying to get you a date for months and you’re into fucking Eddie Munson who you whined about having to meet for weeks?!” Steve flinches.

“Don’t ever tell him that.”

“Incredible!” She is laughing almost uncontrollably. Steve really hopes there’s nobody in the store because if he were in family video and heard maniacal laughing like that he’d have the culprit committed pronto.

“Rob, seriously, I don’t have time for this—“

“I can’t believe I couldn’t tell you were bi! That’s just—oh my god, of course.”

“Bi? What do you mean of course?” Steve asks, starting to get slightly offended.

“Star Wars? Indiana Jones? Blade Runner?! You’ve got a fat ass celebrity crush on Harrison Ford.”

Steve’s heard the term “shell-shocked” before, but he’d never really understood until this very moment. He might as well have been sucker-punched in the dick.

Of course.

Robin is laughing hysterically over the line, but he just feels like crying. Of course he likes men—is he stupid? Dumb question, yes he’s stupid. And it churns in his guts to think of all those kids who probably struggled through Hawkins High, knowing they were different, never knowing who or how to be, and he was just like them and yet there he was, excusing Tommy’s behavior and laughing along.

What a piece of actual shit.

“I'm an idiot,” he says weakly. Robin’s laughter dies abruptly.

“Hey—no. You’re not an idiot, it’s not always easy to—“

“I'm an idiot and a hypocrite,” Steve says, choking a little bit on the tears that slide down his cheeks, “God—I’m evil, Rob.”

“Steven, we’ve talked about this,” she says softly, “You didn’t—“

“Steve?” 

Steve jumps and slams the phone into the receiver so hard a few wall decorations literally shake. He shouldn’t turn as fast as he does, should attempt to collect himself first, but he’s so surprised by Eddie’s sudden appearance he can’t even think to do that.

“I just—“

“Still need that week?”

Steve flinches. He puts the heel of his palm up against his forehead and takes a deep breath.

“No, but yes,” he says, trying not to sound as pathetic as he feels, “I’ll wait if it’s what you want, but my mind’s made up.”

“Oh… so… what’s all… this about?” 

Steve can’t help himself—he laughs a little. At least he’s got one thing up on Eddie, that being the ability to deal with people’s emotions arguably okay. Eddie certainly does not sound like he knows what to do in this situation. 

“I just sucked,” he manages, but barely. He’s glad to have covered some of his face, because the tears are not stopping, and he feels like an idiot crying over something that’s ultimately his own fault.

He chose to be ignorant. He chose to be cruel. He chose popularity over sincerity.

“I’m gonna need you to elaborate?”

Does he? Does he really?

“In highschool,” he groans, moving his hands to wipe tears away, sniffing hard. “I pushed around people—kids—who were just like me. I treated them like shit when I could have—”

Eddie’s arms close around him, fingers sliding into his wet hair, and Steve lets it happen—it feels like they’ve failed the “give it a week” stipulation already, but the embrace is good, and he needed it badly. 

He doesn’t hug Eddie back, just lets himself be held.

“I’m gonna tell you something now, and if you tell anyone I did, I’ll fucking deny it.” 

Steve takes a shaky breath.

“Okay.”

“Everybody sucks in high school,” Eddie says firmly. His fingers start to stroke across the back of Steve’s head and the feeling would have him absolutely catatonic if he wasn’t bent on hearing Eddie out— “Everyone. Kids like you, kids like me—we all had some chip on our shoulder, and some reason we were secretly better than everyone else. You were just… people just believed it about you.”

That doesn’t really make him feel better, because he knows that it wasn’t even anything about him they decided was better—it was his place on the basketball team (which had been mediocre at best) and his money and his hair and his last name and his friends and his charming manner and his pretty face—

Sports, money, hair—it’s all meaningless and stupid. It doesn’t matter, and this isn’t the first time Steve is realizing it, but it’s the first time he’s come to terms with the sheer ridiculousness of it all, and how he had abused that ridiculousness to its fullest extent. Not only had he abused it, he had enjoyed abusing it. And he routinely hurt people in the process, not to mention denying himself actual happiness and actual friends..

Fuck.

“I’m a bad person,” Steve whispers, and Eddie’s light petting turns into a firm grasp.

“A bad person wouldn’t feel shitty about this stuff,” Eddie argues, and then pulls back from the embrace, fixing Steve with those doe eyes and swallowing gaze, “And, I’ve got pretty high standards, like, Luke Skywalker standards.” 

Steve smiles a little as Eddie reaches to brush away a few of his tears.

“I wouldn’t kiss a bad person, or agree to have a summer fling with them,” Eddie says, “And I wouldn’t bend the rules and let a bad person kiss me one more time to tide them over.”

Steve takes the opportunity for all it’s worth.

It taste like salt and spit because he’s still crying, but Eddie’s mouth is so soft and captivating that the kiss, which had every intention of being chaste, grows insistent and long. Eddie’s face in his hands, Eddie’s thumbs in his belt loops, the smell of shampoo and clean clothes and—

They break. Eddie smiles, letting a thumb pass over Steve’s lips.

“The week starts now.”

And, oh, is it bittersweet.

Friday, August 2nd—they spend what’s left of the day getting groceries, Eddie seemingly mesmerized by the small beach-town and its cobblestone streets and endless array of tourist traps. Every other storefront is a gift shop of useless trinkets, themed cafes, arcades, bars—if it’s going to empty your pockets, it’s there. Amidst all of it, though, there is a record store that’s genuinely cool, and if they hadn’t already purchased a crap-load of things that begged for a refrigerator, Steve would’ve been content to spend hours watching Eddie tear through the stacks, and then surprise him by buying every single thing he marveled at.

An idea for another day.

After that, they hang around the house, chatting, arguing, making pancakes for dinner—they get to bed at reasonable times, and despite how badly Steve wants to walk down the hall and crawl into bed with his… friend, he manages to just sleep instead, pillow trapped securely in his arms.

Saturday, August 3rd—ice cream for breakfast, which has them both giggly and on embarrassing sugar highs, so they decide today is a beach day.

Eddie’s unearthly, as usual, and excited like a child at the vastness of the ocean.

Excited or not, he’s still timid about getting in the water.

“What about the sharks?” he asks.

“Sharks don’t kill near as many people as cars do,” Steve points out.

“Really?”

“Really. Get in the water, Eds.”

“It’s still really weird to hear me call you that.”

“Get in the water, baby.”

Steve continues looking out at the ocean (not his favorite sight, because man, is that all kind of scary) even though he’s certain Eddie’s head whips towards him fast enough to break his own neck. Steve may be whipped, but he isn’t totally shit at flirting. Sure, he’s used to girls, but could it really be all that different?

A beat.

“I won’t let anything happen to you, okay?” Steve continues casually, “Let’s go.”

Once Eddie’s in the water he doesn’t want to get out of it, and Steve’s alright with that until he realizes how burnt Eddie is, and then practically has to drag him out and back up to the house so he can absolutely smother him with aloe vera.

“It doesn’t even hurt!”

“It will,” Steve chides, “You idiot—did you even put sunscreen on?”

“I forgot,” Eddie mumbles sheepishly.

“Of course you did.”

Sunday, August 4th—Eddie is too embarrassed of his cherry-tomato appearance to agree to go anywhere, so they stay in and watch old movies. Steve desperately wants Eddie to cuddle up next to him on the couch, but at the moment, the older boy is radiating heat and visibly in pain, so he understands when Eddie leaves a generous amount of space between them.

Monday, August 5th—Eddie’s burn settles into a tan and Steve avoids eye-contact with him for about an hour straight, because he’s glowing, and Steve wants to shove him onto the nearest flat surface and… well, he’s not exactly sure what he wants to do, but he’d do it enthusiastically.

“Dude, are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Then look at me.”

Steve tentatively lifts his gaze.

“Was that so hard?”

Yes. It’s miserable. This is the bitter part of the week—not being able to act on all these steadily brewing feelings of want and need. He loves being here with Eddie, but he wants to be here with Eddie, too. He gets it—or at least, thinks he gets it. Eddie doesn’t want him to make a hasty decision, regret it, and ruin this vacation for both of them.

That makes sense. Too much sense, really.

But it doesn’t make waiting any easier.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” Steve breathes, and Eddie physically starts.

“I—what?”

“Drop-dead, breathtaking, whatever you want,” Steve admits.

Eddie’s the first boy Steve ever called beautiful out loud, and he can’t help but think this is exactly how things are supposed to be.

Tuesday, August 6th—Steve enacts his plan of taking Eddie to the record store, and it’s everything he could have hoped. Eddie is downright euphoric every second, so distracted he doesn’t notice Steve picking up all the records he puts down (after ogling them for extended amounts of time), and so distraught about Steve buying them he doesn’t even argue—just watches with wide eyes as Steve chats up the cashier who bats her eyelashes and twirls her hair and can’t get a sentence out without stumbling over her words.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s the reason we came.”

“You… are you serious?”

“Consider this a thank-you for agreeing to a month-long vacation with a stranger.”

“I… don’t think I can accept this.”

“Too late.”

Wednesday, August 7th—Steve is cranky. He hates to admit it, but he’s tired of this. He’s not sure he can handle the next two days of no Eddie. Well, not exactly no Eddie, but like… half Eddie. He doesn’t like having half Eddie.

But he pushes it all down, because he’s going to obey Eddie’s one and only request, even though he knows his mind isn’t changing. If this week gives Eddie piece of mind, he'll deal with it.

Begrudgingly.

They go to an arcade and waste what’s probably hundreds of dollars for a sad amount of tickets and dogshit prizes—a collection of plastic shot glasses and a toy gun that doesn’t even shoot anything, but makes some unsettling noises when you pull the trigger.

They take the shot glasses as a sign to get tipsy that night, and end up drunk, daring each other this and daring each other that until the topic of skinny-dipping gets brought up.

“No, no—we can’t. There’s sharks at night!”

“In the pool, then!”

And then they’re stumbling drunk out towards the pool, shoving each other and yelling and laughing maniacally, and if Steve were anyone else he would say they were in love, but Steve’s not anyone else and he knows the time limit on all this, so he swallows that thought and focuses on getting rid of his shirt and pants without falling over. Then his socks, and—

He stills. He realizes, even through the fog of intoxication, this is a very precarious situation.

Despite how annoyed he is with the week, and how much he wishes Eddie would just say “fuck it” and change his mind, he knows it’s important. For Eddie, at least.

But Eddie’s naked in front of him and Steve can’t seem to remember how to function.

It only lasts a matter of moments, because soon Eddie’s in the water and teasing him about being a chicken, but Steve’s still thinking about everything he’s just seen, every inch of Eddie’s skin, how real all of him is in that water—

Steve can’t go a day, here, without being some sort of shaken to his core, can he?

“Get in the water, baby,” Eddie purrs.

“I can’t.” It falls out of Steve involuntarily—he’s drunk.

“Yes, you can.”

“How?”

“Lose the boxers, jump in the pool,” Eddie says, “It’s that easy.”

Steve shakes his head. Then swallows.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I can’t.”

“Steve—“

“I’m hard.”

He doesn’t realize it until he’s saying it, and then after it leaves him, understands that yeah. He’s fucking hard, and all that happened was Eddie getting naked in front of him. No contact, no sexual insinuation, just skin. 

Eddie must be magic.

“I can see that.”

Steve is utterly mortified. He doesn’t know what to do except move his shirt (from where it had been clutched against his chest) to hide his growing erection. Now would’ve been a fantastic time to have whiskey dick.

“I… wanna finish the week,” Steve says softly. Eddie’s smirk dies on his face.

“Really?”

“I want you to trust me. I want… I want to do this for you.”

The look on Eddie’s face is foreign, and Steve doesn’t have the brain power available to figure out what it means, but it doesn’t matter anyway. Now that his intentions are clear, Steve drops the shirt and his boxers. A curious glance catches Eddie’s pupils dilating comically, but maybe that’s just from the alcohol.

Eddie backs away from the edge when Steve gets in the water, and they manage to keep their distance.

Barely.

Thursday, August 8th—Steve is itchy, and that’s all he has to report.

They lie around, swim in the pool, and walk on the beach. Nothing eventful, except he’s itchy with anticipation. He’s so close, so fucking close he can practically taste the sweat and salt on Eddie’s skin.

It’s not enough.

Friday, August 9th—midnight tonight and Steve is finally free.

They go for coffee, they hang around—and by hang around, he means Eddie hangs around his periphery as he scours every available source for something they can do tonight, because he has to take his mind off midnight

A bar with an indie band will do.

He tells Eddie about it, who’s got his nose in a book—

“That’s a good one,” Steve tells him.

“Really?”

“I thought it was gonna be, like, a textbook when I picked it up,” Eddie says, flipping a page.

“So did I,” Steve admits, moving around the couch. Eddie scoots for him so they can lie side by side. This is without any real words or indications—Eddie just knows, and he knows when Steve lies down next to him that they’re reading together, now, and asks him quietly if he can turn the page.

The summer home, tucked away in its own little corner of beach-front paradise, has a history far more interesting than the tale at hand, so I will tell it in hopes it makes my story a little fuller, a little brighter—Bill was the heir to the Standard Oil name—

Steve likes this one a lot. He likes Augustine and Betty and James and the drama of it all, and the house on the beach, and all the twisting metaphors, and the way T.S. writes like she’s got a feather in her palm rather than a keyboard at her fingertips. Most of all, he likes that she begins and ends each chapter with a poem, and that his parents had lifted “Holiday House” from this book and plastered it across their own property. He likes that the novel lives here on the shelves of a place named after it. He likes that Eddie’s reading it, now, too. 

They read together through chapters four, five, six, seven, and eight. Eddie seems invested, but the time it’s taken them to get here is enough to have practically starved them both.

“I’ll make us something to eat,” Steve says as Eddie turns to chapter nine, “Keep reading.”

“Without you?”

“I’ve already read it.”

Steve gets up off the couch, missing the warmth Eddie’s body had been exuding, but his hunger supersedes his desire to crawl back onto the couch and fall asleep on Eddie’s chest. 

Tonight.

“Hey, Steve?”

“Mmm?”

“Do you have a pen?”

“Should be one in the desk in the sunroom,” Steve replies without a second thought, “What’re you hungry for?”

That night they go to the aformentioned bar, Eddie get’s a little tipsy, and they have a fantastic time (at first). The band is beyond good, the crowd is loud, and by 10 P.M. these two girls have joined them, and Steve and Eddie are having a hell of a time chatting them up.

Ally and Aubree—neither of which are Steve’s type, but are arguably gorgeous. Blond, sunkissed, wreaking of tequila and sunscreen and cheap perfume. He’s finding it very funny to chat with Aubree (he’s pretty sure it’s Aubree) knowing full well he’ll be pedal-to-the-metal gunning it home at midnight. Maybe he and Eddie won’t even make it out of the car. Maybe they’ll go out to the parking lot and it’ll already be too late for them, falling all over each other into the back-seat while Ally and Aubree disappointedly hunt for different prey.

It dawns on Steve, then, he’s sort of being an ass, but so far, nothing in he and Aubree’s conversation has explicitly alluded to going home together. For all he knows, she’s gonna go home and jump Ally’s bones--same deal as him.

The same, however, cannot be said for Eddie, who is clearly too good at flirting for his own good, and has Ally completely hooked. Steve can’t help glancing over now and again, watching them closely, not feeling jealousy, but more… awe? He’s incredibly impressed with Eddie’s performance.

“You think she’s hotter?” 

Steve starts.

“What?!”

“You think Ally’s hotter than me,” Aubree states again, voice loud over the music and the crowd, but not loud enough for it to catch Ally or Eddie’s attention. 

“No—I—”

Eddie and Ally get up from the table. Something inside Steve’s guts sinks, and sinks low. He watches them disappear into the crowd. He swallows. He turns back to Aubree.

“I think you’re gorgeous,” he says, honestly, “I’m just not looking for a hookup tonight.” 

Aubree grins at the compliment. Steve tries to keep his cool, but he’s feeling the exact opposite of cool. He is, in fact, spiraling. He realizes, in this moment, Eddie may not be attracted to that girl, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s not going to oblige her.

Steve had thought this was all fun and games, but now he just wants to throw up.

Not that it’s any of his business what Eddie does. Not that Eddie’s obligated to stick to only him this summer. It’s a fling, afterall.

A fling.

“You wanna dance?” Aubree asks.

"What?"

She points, "Dance!"

The indie-folk vibe is not incredibly conducive to dancing, but Steve’s up for anything if it takes his mind off Eddie and that girl. That girl. Eddie had said verbatim he was gay, right? 

He allows himself to be led to the dance floor.

He tries to forget.

He feels sick.

In the car on the drive back, Steve knows he’s being eerily quiet. He knows Eddie is uncomfortable with his silence. He knows he should turn on the radio, or say something, but all he wants to do is ask if Eddie kissed that girl, if maybe he did something worse than that, and if he had, Steve desperately wants to know how and why and what the logistics of hooking up with some random girl in Maine were when Eddie had said he was gay, and if all gay men could just hook up with women, and if all Eddie had to do was think of Mark Hamil or some other nice guy and that was good enough for him, because a hole is a hole and—

“Are you pissed, or something?”

Eddie’s tone is already accusatory, and it just makes Steve feel worse.

“No.”

“Yes, you are.” 

“Don’t tell me how I feel.”

Eddie scoffs.

“Then don’t act like a kicked puppy because I made out with some random chick at a bar.”

Made out.

Steve goes so quiet it’s like he’s not even breathing, at this point. He feels the urge to cry burning at the back of his skull and he fights it, hard. He knows it’s not his place to be upset—they never said anything about them being exclusive this summer. Steve was flirting with Aubree somewhat, too, and danced with her, even. 

Not really because he’d wanted to, but still.

Steve swallows.

“Are you pissed at me?”

Steve’s eyes don’t leave the road, but his hands grip the wheel so tightly his knuckles are an unnatural shade of white compared to the rest of his skin. He can feel Eddie’s eyes on him—all the more reason not to cry. He’s fighting tooth and nail for it. He doesn’t get why this all feels so bad. He doesn’t get why he’s so upset.

Maybe he had just expected tonight to be their night.

But that’s stupid, isn’t it? “Why the fuck would I be mad at you?”

Steve’s turn to scoff—he has no idea why Eddie would be mad, but it’s hard to believe he isn’t when he sounds so goddamn angry.

“I don’t know.”

“You’re ridiculous, you know?”

“At least I’m not mad.”

“I’m not mad—” Eddie’s getting madder every second.

They pull into the driveway and Steve stops abruptly, pretty much wrenching the key out of the ignition and kicking the driver door open the way Eddie had done to the passenger.

It’s a little satisfying, he will admit. 

He stalks up the driveway, because now he is mad, and hurt, and feeling like he’s been betrayed even though he hasn’t been. He wants to sleep it off. He has to sleep it off. “Now who’s the mad one?!” Eddie calls after him, and Steve's resolve snaps like a twig. He spins around, tears flowing, anger spilling.

“You don’t even like girls!” he yells. Eddie’s so taken aback he literally takes a step back, even though there’s a whole driveway of space between them. “What the fuck kind of asshole makes a guy wait an entire week to be with him, and then two-hours before the week is up, runs off to make out with some random bitch?!"

He hadn't meant that, the bitch part, but it feels so good to say it now, even though he'll feel guilty about it later.

“Why do you care so much?!” Eddie yells back, so furious now he’s literally red in the face— “You’re gonna do the exact same shit a month from now!”

“Says who?!” Steve shouts, “Who the fuck said September 1st is gonna roll around and I’m suddenly not gonna be fucking obsessed with you, Eddie?! Because I have been fucking dying for this week to be over, and it’s gonna fucking kill me to go home, but I’m gonna do it for you, okay?!” 

His chest is heaving. He can feel the red in his cheeks and the salt on his tongue. He is, for maybe the hundredth time, utterly pathetic. But he can’t stop himself.

“Steve—”

“If we’re doing this,” he says, “We’re doing this. You’re mine for twenty-two fucking days. I. Like. You."

Steve turns on his heel and storms inside, leaving the door to Holiday House hanging wide open. As angry as he is, he doesn’t want to risk slamming it shut and having Eddie turn and go. This way, Steve at least knows he’ll follow him inside to shut and lock the door.

He trudges up the stairs and into his room, leaving that door open, too. He peels out of his shirt and unbuckles his belt, pulling it from the loops and tossing it angrily to the floor. He runs his hands through his hair, trying to put himself back in order, halting the flow of tears and taking deep breaths to soothe his anger.

“I’m sorry,” comes quietly from the doorway, “I just—I didn’t know it was serious for you.”

That seems ridiculous, all things considered.

“It’s not for you?”

There’s a long quiet. Steve doesn’t have it in himself to turn around. He should’ve known what he was feeling wasn’t reciprocated—Steve’s not the kind of guy Eddie wants or needs, and for some reason he hadn’t prepared himself for that, even though he knew it all along. He should be grateful, take what he can get, but all he feels is—

“I was trying to… I thought you would feel better about all this if you thought I didn’t care,” Eddie admits. “I thought if you knew how much I fucking liked you, you wouldn’t let me have you at all.”

Steve spins around, hands on his hips, chest still heaving.

“What time is it?”

Eddie blinks. He looks thoroughly disheveled, still red, and sheepish, like somehow he’s humiliated himself. In a few ways, he has acted like a fucking fool, but Steve is no less attracted to the idiot now than he was before. He did a stupid fucking thing, but Steve has done a hundred stupid fucking things in his life, and he’ll do a hundred fucking more. Eddie's logic is sort-of sound, he just wishes he would've said something to Steve instead of taking it out on some random girl.

“What?”

“What. Time. Is. It?” Steve demands again. Eddie stammers, eyes darting around the room until they land on the alarm clock on Steve’s bedside table.

“Twelve-thirty? Are we—”

Steve doesn’t let him finish.

He surges forward and seizes Eddie by the face, bringing their mouths together insistently, all tongue and teeth and spit and bitter remnants of tears. Eddie get’s hands on his ass and he moans about it, which spurs the older boy forward, and they go tumbling back into Steve’s bed.

I love you, he thinks.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie mumbles against his throat before he's sucking and biting and soothing with his tongue and Steve is reduced to sensation--Eddie's body on top of his, knee between his thighs, bedsheets against his back--

“Prove it,” Steve breathes.

And he does—over and over and over again.

End Part 2

(Previous Part)

[violetlunette]

Father of the Bride_Part 3

A Princess Bride AU

Part 1 / Part 2

Ao3 Version

Silver was kidnapped. That much was obvious. Less obvious was the reason why, at least at first. During his captivity, Silver was able to piece together that the two were hired to kidnap and frame the Sunset Savanna, far across the oceans, hoping that Malleus would start a war to save him. Silver was taken on a boat and sailed out to sea. Most of his time was spent locked up in the cargo hold. He was tossed down there after his first escape attempt, then bound after his fourth attempt, which nearly resulted in him being eaten by giant shrieking eels. When they docked on land, Silver was dragged and carried by animated puppet dolls, who had been his wardens the whole trip. Silver learned they were on loan from a powerful caster whom Fellow and Gidel—the fox and cat, respectively—worked for. “Well, I must say, I’m sad that I won’t be able to look at your pretty face anymore,” Honest Fellow hummed, tapping Silver’s cheek as the latter was dragged across the beach. “However, I am glad I won’t have to deal with your trouble making anymore.” “Mmff!” Silver’s response was muffled by the wad shoved in his mouth and the cloth over his lips. With a huff, Silver pulled his head away and glared at the conman, who grinned before walking away. “Now, where is Strom? He better not be late!” he called, spinning his black cane like a baton. As the other left, Silver turned his attention

to his bindings. He tugged at his arms, tightly secured behind his back, hoping his struggles had loosened them. “Nghmph…” Nope. Still tight and hindering his circulation. His legs? Silver attempted to pull them apart, then groaned. “Grmph.” ‘No luck. Darn it. I shouldn’t have given up on my physical training.’ Had he known self-defense, at the very least, Silver wouldn’t be in this mess. The teen glanced around and saw Gidel standing close to him, bouncing his hammer against a palm. He had a smirk on his lips that warned Silver not to try anything unless he wanted another bump to his head—which he had three of. Silver glowered at him. Little brat. “There you are!” At the bellow, Silver turned his head as much as he could. The lights of the lanterns the puppets held didn’t carry far, so at first, it was hard to see anything, though Silver heard the crunch of beach sand beneath the heavy thomps of footsteps. After a moment, a man stepped into the ring of light. “Ah, my dear Strom!” Fellow greeted. “It’s wonderful to see you.” Strom was a large man in every sense. It would be fair to say he resembled a boulder in the way he eclipsed the others. He was obviously a traveler who was in the sun quite often if his coarse, ruddy skin was any indication. That being said, he seemed to possess a comb, at least as his thick mane of hair was stylishly combed back and his beard was well-kept. “I’m sure it is,” the other said offhandedly. Strom's brown gaze immediately fell on Silver, looking him over like he was an object. The look made Silver tense. “So, this is the pretty bride?” Strom reached and gripped Silver’s face in a large hand, squishing his cheeks as the hand turned him to get a better look. His eyes were half-closed in approval. “Well, ain’t he a pretty doll?” he added with a grin that revealed all his teeth. Silver pulled away with a thick “Hmph!” through his nose, but this just seemed to amuse the other, who let out a burst of laughter. “My! That’s a fierce look on such a pretty face,” he said with a wink. "Shame, we have to--” His words stopped mid-sentence. His jolly face shifted into a deep scowl, his gaze sharp. He reached over and grabbed a surprised Fellow by the collar. “You weren’t supposed to be followed!” he growled, shaking the others. Fellow—with Gidel’s help—pulled away. “Please, that’s inconceivable!” he exclaimed, trying to straighten himself out. “No one can track our ship! We have thousands of spells to prevent that!” The large man sneered, curling his thick pink lips. “Oh? Then what’s that?” He pointed into the distance out to sea. Everyone turned.

--

Part 4

[irwintry]

the air before a storm

Warnings: just a bunch of good old fluff, swearing, alcohol

Author’s Note: yes this takes place in the outer banks no u are not allowed to mention the show—they are nothing alike. anyway i’m back :) hi

Summary: Y/N and Luke are neighbors in a beachside town where tourists are annoying and tropical storms aren’t rare. And they just can’t stop flirting. 

Word Count: 5.6k 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pelican Perch was a dead-end street.

It was well-wooded, wax myrtles and river birch kissing sandy chunks of pavement while homes too small for the average nuclear family were nestled behind thick, invasive vines. Quaint homes designed to keep the rain and the bugs out. Local homes. Each had their own shimmering windsock hung out front that was already tattered from storms, gifted to them by the neighborhood community last spring. Personalized homes. Beach homes that shared every aspect without even trying. Almost every shingle had been defaced by weather damage throughout the years. And the air always smelled of hot gravel and honeysuckle on breezy days. Homes on this road were loved.

You loved yours most of all.

With a front porch stuffed full of plants—ferns, strawberries, tomatoes, the lot—and knick-knacks you had collected throughout the past year, it was easy to love and call home to something that had once been temporary. The baby blue bike perched against a yaupon bush was proudly your preferred mode of transportation. Snuck far up the driveway sat a rusting 2005 Toyota Corolla with sand painted across its rear, and it was not well-loved, though it had been well-lived. The windsock hung off of your porch matched the color of your bike.

The last house on the street never put their windsock up. That house was right beside yours.

He had been there longer than you—you weren’t entirely sure how long, but your arrival prior to last season was greeted with his kind smile. A kind smile, gentle words, and eyes that melted into the ocean, far beyond the whitecaps where the sky touched the sea. All of that beauty, and you never caught his name.

For months on end, you watched him when he wasn’t looking. He left for work during your kitchen stumble for cold brew, nothing but a plain white tee and mesh shorts as he climbed into his jeep, sunkissed and sleepy. Minutes later, you would bike to work and find his Jeep along the way. He worked at the Island Rescue Squad, a small building that held more responsibility than being a simple motel receptionist. He paid his bills by saving lives; you paid yours by telling guests that they couldn’t swim naked in the swimming pool.

You didn’t know him beyond the sights through your kitchen window. But the evenings you crossed paths were treasured.

“Hey, how’s it going?” he’d ask, a nonchalant smile gracing his cheeks before darting his gaze the other way.

After some time, you found enough confidence to reply, “Not bad—you?” as you knocked out the kickstand on your bike.

He was always in the middle of hoisting a backpack over his shoulder. And then he would shrug, smile never fading, and say, “Not bad,” right back. That would be it.

You knew that his blond curls were your favorite thing before you even knew his name. But you also knew, in good faith, that the latter half was going to change.

That was why you should at his door late in the evening in July, a saran-wrapped plateful of coconut macaroons in your hands while your eyes scanned the details of his front porch. A white surfboard beside the front door had experienced its fair share of weather discoloration on the tail. At the end of the deck, withered plants were lined up along a wooden shoe bench. The doormat beneath your feet had nylon paw prints stitched in beside the welcome lettering. When you knocked on the door, a heart-stopping voice called out, “Just a minute!”

You tucked your ankles inward as his face appeared behind the screen. His smile was bold and bright, and from up close, you could hardly breathe.

“Hey, how’s it going?” he asked in his normal fashion, opening up the screen door so he could step outside with you. His gaze fell to the plate of macaroons while he leaned up against the door. “You’re kidding—did you make those for me?”

Six more words than the usual conversation; you were off to a successful start.

“Yes,” you said, fingers brushing his beneath the ceramic plate when you passed it over to him. “I had to figure out a good way to come over here and formally introduce myself. A whole year later. Better late than never, I guess.”

He smiled along to your words and nodded. “These look so good. Thank you.” He held out one of his hands for you to shake.

His name was Luke. He was only a few years out of school. Taller than any man you knew and flirtatious with his grin, and he kept his eyes locked on you as you spoke. He shared information through little words yet maintained a steady conversation. Talking to old friends was harder than this.

It was difficult to stomach—the way his quiet chuckles and wide smiles were decidedly the best things in the world and how your heart was a concrete block in your chest. It occurred to you, after waving goodnight on your way down the porch steps, that his smile never died. But you pinned it all on his kind heart over anything else.

Life between the two of you felt cyclical. Until one morning he caught you on your way to work.

“I’m gonna be up in Manteo,” he began, tossing a duffle into the backseat of his Jeep with a quiet grunt. “Just a few days. Some ridiculously boring conference that could probably be summed up in a Skype or whatever. Better than leading rope rescue trainings again though.”

Your lips pulled down into a playful frown. “You’re leaving me?”

Luke’s responsive laughter was a good start to your morning. “I’m sorry. Promise I’ll be back. They’ve got us all in some four-star inn. Free wifi and breakfast.”

“Oh, look at you. Living like a king.”

“Right? I’m tired of paying for my own Cheerios.”

It was nice to have someone to talk to, you thought, but you knew you were searching for more than a friend in him. Your heart was warm under his company. You didn’t know how, but it felt easy with him.

“Would you be able to do me a favor?” he asked as he leaned against his car. He kept his distance, his driveway to yours while the patch of dry grass between you watched with intrigue.

“Anything but mowing the lawn, yes.”

Luke cracked a grin. “I’m not that mean. No. Could you—uh, could you water a few plants for me out front? Just once or twice. I’d pay you back in macaroons, but I’m a shit baker.”

“No worries,” you said and situated your bike against your thigh. “I’ll water your plants. But that just means you’ll have to make up for the macaroons somehow. I’ll let you think on it.” You started off down the driveway before he could answer.

“Hold me to that!” he called after you. You sent him a smile in response and sped off toward the main road.

Later that evening, you found that Luke had left a note beside each potted plant on the shoe bench. Betty – allow to dry between waterings next to the Begonia, Calum – keep moist for the Caladium, Tom – water twice a day for the newly planted tomato plant, and Babe – water sparingly for Basil. Each note was signed with a smile and a heart.

—

The next time you heard from Luke, he wasn’t alone. Four days plus a hankering for human interaction—aside from tourists that asked for restaurant suggestions every hour—had left you craving a different kind of intimacy. An intimacy that didn’t require physical touch but was only fulfilled through his presence. Just knowing that he was next door comforted you in ways you couldn’t explain. You didn’t know him, but you knew that he was someone you could rely on.

You heard his car door slam before anything else. Through the window of your kitchen sink, you peeked out into the darkening night, searching for his lanky figure only to find a small animal instead. A dog. You forgot that you had been staring when Luke came into view. His wave tore you from your gaze.

You cracked the window open before you could hesitate. The overwhelming buzzes and clicks of cicadas were immediate to greet you.

“Are you gonna introduce me?” you called out to him, grinning wide as you pressed your elbows down onto the window sill. With the edge of the sink digging into your abdomen, the position was less than comfortable, but you didn’t think about it.

Through the waxing darkness, Luke’s smile was bright. “Only if you come give her a head scratch—then she’ll fall right in love with you,” he said.

You were outside within a few seconds. The side screen door slammed behind you as you hurried over, knees meeting the rough grass so the lovely lady could easily bound over to you. She nestled her nose into your palm and let out a snort. Above you, Luke chuckled at the sound.

“Name’s Petunia,” he said, bending down beside you to pet Petunia’s bum. “A friend of mine is moving ‘cross country—couldn’t keep her. I love the damn girl, so I immediately wanted to take her in. How’re the plants doing?”

“She’s the sweetest,” you mumbled. To him, to yourself—it didn’t matter. You were captivated. “And Betty, Calum, Tom, and Babe are great. The names, by the way? Genius. You have a talent. I’ll have to get you to name my plants. So far, I just have Candace and Big Mama.”

“Big Mama?” Luke’s short giggles filled the air. “I think you’ve got the talent, too.”

Petunia leaned into your scratches before turning back to Luke. So, you stood, brushing sandy dirt from your knees, and Luke soon followed.

“If you ever need someone to take care of her,” you said, “I’m always around. And I won’t make you bake anything. I’m a big dog person, so that’s already enough. I mean, I’m not opposed to a few cupcakes every now and then.”

A lopsided smile grew on Luke’s cheeks. “Red velvet?”

“It’s like you already know me,” you gasped out. “How was Manteo? That’s where you were, right?”

“Well, nothing beats free Cheerios in the mornings, so it wasn’t too bad,” he told you as he wrapped Petunia’s leash around his wrist. She nudged herself between his legs. “Manteo actually has a real downtown, so that was kinda nice.”

“You better not be thinking about leaving me.”

“Leave you? Never.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest.

“Besides, tourists down here are the reason any of us even have a job.” He scratched the corner of his eye as he spoke. “I’d rather not be saving drunk middle-aged men from rip currents, but I’d never leave Hatteras.”

The corners of your lips twitched upward. “Good, cos’ if you leave,” you said, pointing to your other neighbor’s house, “then I’m stuck with Judy and Ted. You can’t do that to me.”

“Oh, God, no.” His eyes widened as he shook his head. “I’d never do that to you. Or I’d just make you come with me.”

Now, your heart was on fire. You raised a brow in reaction to his statement, and his eyes widened again. The words had slipped out—that was easy to understand, but he couldn’t take them back. You wouldn’t want him to.

“Um, yeah—” Luke placed a hand on the back of his neck and backed away toward his home, Petunia following in tow. “Thanks for watering my plants. Expect cupcakes soon.”

“Don’t you dare.”

His grin reached his eyes. “Goodnight,” he said.

You were certain that you were a fool.

—

NC-12 was worse on Saturdays. The highway was congested with incoming and outgoing travelers, some careless and some too careful. On the way to work, you were among its passengers. Your baby blue bike was swallowed up whole by the minivans and SUVs that occupied the road. Somehow, you made it out alive every time. All it took was a spontaneous sharp turn from a truck to send you rolling onto the pavement.

It was a miracle you ended up with a dozen scrapes and a sprained wrist. The medical bill wasn’t worth missing a few days off of your paycheck, no matter how horrible the weekends could be. A few members of the rescue squad had shown up at the scene of the minor accident—you were glad that Luke hadn’t been with them. But you also wished that he had.

When you powered through the pain as you pedaled home, you weren’t sure if you wanted to see him. You weren’t sure if you wanted to see his reaction—mild injuries and all, and you weren’t sure if you wanted him to buy out all of the cupcakes on the island to make you feel better. Nevertheless, you didn’t have a choice. He was already getting out of his car once you pulled up.

He waved and smiled, and then his eyes grew wide. The scrape on your left cheek told all.

“Shit, love, you okay?” he said, walking towards you slowly. He kept his movements careful and calculated—he had seen the tears fill your eyes before you realized they were there.

“I’m dandy,” you replied breathily, waving your hand to shake off the emotions. The faux smile you put on only faltered, and the skin beneath your eyes stung.

Luke looked horrified. You could see the twitch in his hands, the way he almost reached out for you as he approached, but he held back. And you could see it in his eyes—all he wanted to do was make you feel better.

“You don’t happen to have any cupcakes, do you?” you asked with a sniff. Your smile wavered, and a small tear slipped down your cheek.

When he chose not to hold back—when he chose to pull you in close, then you decided not to hold back either. With his arms circled around your waist, you didn’t care about soaking through his t-shirt with your tears. You didn’t care that your breathing had picked up to near hyperventilation. You felt safe and warm, so you couldn’t care.

The hug lasted until your quiet sobs calmed. Luke’s chin pulled away from the top of your head as you wiped your cheeks with the back of your wrists.

“What happened?” he said, voice soft.

“Dumb vacationers—” Sniff. “—can’t use a fuckin’ turn signal.”

Luke let out a quiet sigh.

“I’m fine, I just… hurt.”

He glanced at his home over his shoulder and then back at you. “Would you wanna come over? I don’t have any cupcakes, but I have frozen pizza. And Petunia misses you.”

You could hear the unspoken words in his voice. I miss you.

This was what happened when you finally learned someone’s name.

You didn’t know how to explain it, but his living room looked like him. Light blue, wooden walls with collected posters unevenly nailed onto the panels. An old couch was the centerpiece, tan and woven with Petunia snuggled onto it with a blanket beneath her. Bookshelves full of CDs and vinyl records stood on either side of the room, but they had been untouched for some time. The home smelled like him, as strange as it sounded. Warm, woodsy, and comfortable.

From the couch, you sat up straight once the oven door shut. You counted each smell beep as the timer was set. Luke walked into the living room a moment later.

“You sure you don’t want some Advil or something?” he asked. “Or—I dunno—a beer? Maybe? I don’t have a lot, but—”

“A beer actually sounds good,” you said to him, folding your hands over your lap. “It’s been a bit of a shit day.”

He continued talking to you as he headed back into the kitchen. The home was small enough for any voice to carry, and you were glad he could maintain a conversation. That alone told you how much he cared. Despite how long you had lived on the island—a year and four months—and despite how long it took you to know him, it mattered greatly to you that he cared. You cared about him, too. It would be hard to see such a friendly face every day and think otherwise.

“Where’d they take you to get checked out?” he called to you from the next room over.

“Urgent care in Nags Head.”

“You’re kidding.” The sound of bottles clinking on the counter followed.

“Wish I was.”

Pop tops landed into a quiet clatter as he said, “how long were you there?” He joined you in the living room a few seconds later and handed you a bottle of Corona.

“Six hours.”

“Six hours?”

You nodded, sharing your best laugh before taking a sip of the fizzing liquid. “You better believe it. All for some cuts and a sprained-frickin’-wrist. And I’ll bet you my bill is gonna be chewing me up for the next year.”

Luke furrowed his brows and kept his gaze low. He appeared to be thinking about something else. “Did they call my squad?”

“A few guys showed up, yeah.”

He bit his bottom lip. “Dunno why they didn’t call me. I would’ve just took ya home.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. He didn’t know that everything he said made your heart race pick up. If your day hadn’t been so long, then your nerves would’ve eaten you alive by now. You were lucky, for the katydid calls outside masked any hint of tension between you.

“Thanks for the drink,” you said, words heavy in your throat. Thinking about your nerves only made them worse. And being around him only made you want him more.

He had called you love earlier; it had to mean something.

Luke’s smile was small, but it said enough. “Anytime.”

Although the pizza was cold in the middle and the taste of your drink had gotten old, what mattered to you was the company. Not the sprained wrist that ached with each movement. Not the tight bandages that tugged at your skin because you shifted a certain way. Nothing about the day mattered because it brought you to this.

His laughter was hypnotic—intoxicating almost—and it took away your breath every time. Making him laugh was addicting. Getting to see those few moments when his eyes light up with joy put shame to the ocean only a mile or two away. You wondered how on earth it had taken so long to know him.

And still, you didn’t know him. Just a name, a face, and a dog named Petunia.

“So, the rescue squad, huh?” you teased at one point as you situated yourself closer to Petunia. You learned that her nickname was Piggy and that, while she was cute, she also had the stinkiest farts—according to Luke. Nevertheless, you pressed your face close to hers and smacked a kiss to her forehead. She rolled over to give you access to her tummy. “What’s it like?”

Luke’s soft smile was etched into his skin. “Fuckin’ stressful,” he answered. “But great. It’s like a family.”

“I can imagine it’s not the prettiest job.”

“No.” He shook his head, and his smile fell. As he spoke, he twirled his bottle on the edge of the coffee table. “It’s not. A lot of tourists just don’t pay attention to the ocean, y’know? We put a million signs out there, and they just think that it will never happen to them. Suddenly you get waves going different directions, and you’re floating out with the current. You never know what’s gonna happen.”

You furrowed your eyebrows as you listened. He took his job seriously; some people didn’t.

“It’s just—uh, s’just terrible to see it,” he continued, keeping his head down low. “When you save someone from the surf, but they’re not breathing… and then their families are there—their fuckin’ families are screaming and crying. They just wanted a fun day on the beach. And you gotta make sure that no one dies. I’m just lucky to not have seen it much.”

“It’s horrifying.”

He hummed. “Yeah. And I don’t like it when people call us heroes. Cos’ we’re not. I’m not. We’re doing our job. We wanna keep people safe. We wanna make sure no one has to go through that. B-but when it comes down to you, and you have someone’s life in your hands—” Tears pricked at his eyes, and he swallowed thickly before continuing. “—how the hell are you not gonna try to save them? People over-glorify hero moments. We’re all just trying to take care of each other so we’re not mentally scarred along the way.”

“I’ve seen it.”

“You have?”

“I used to vacation here as a teen with my family,” you said, “before I officially decided that tourists are the fucking worst. I just wanted to live here and be on my own. And you’re right—about the screaming and crying. The families stand there to break your heart. I bit my tongue until it bled when I saw that jet ski go out on the water. It doesn’t happen every day, so I just never assumed it would happen around me. Didn’t think forty minutes would pass with nonstop chest compressions. Didn’t think anyone would give up either. Maybe ‘hero’ isn’t the word, just ‘good people’.”

Luke’s eyes were glassy, but he smiled through it. His fingers twitched in your direction on the neck of his bottle. “So—” He cleared his throat. “—what do you do?”

“Oh, it’s my turn now?” you said, biting back a smile. “Just you wait until you hear about all of the trauma I get from being a motel receptionist. I’ll have you beat.”

Once again, his laughter filled the room. All you felt was warmth.

The house rocked after then, lights flickering with the gust, but the wind quickly died. You and Luke shared uncertain glances.

“I’m guessing it doesn’t usually do that.”

Luke shook his head. “Not usually.”

An empty bottle of Corona sat between your palms, moisture growing on the surface from how he made you feel. You asked yourself it was normal to feel this way, if it was something more than the sudden admiration of a mysterious neighbor. You liked him, but how much?

You wanted to spend every moment with him to figure it out. But the last thing you wanted was to overstay your welcome.

“Thanks for this, by the way,” you said, ducking your chin. “For the pizza and stuff. Maybe you’re not a bad neighbor after all.”

Luke smirked. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

Your knees creaked as you stood, bones still aching from the impact of the pavement. You wondered how many bruises would appear on your body by morning. Luke stood along with you, towering high but keeping his presence small. He had to know how much he affected you.

“Love you, Piggy,” you mumbled to Petunia with a quick scratch behind her ear.

She huffed in response.

Luke laughed. “She said I love you, too.”

“I’m gonna have to learn how to bake doggie treats for her.”

“But then she’s gonna love you more than she loves me.”

You smiled over your shoulder on your way toward the front door. His eyes had already been burning the back of your head. “That’s the goal,” you told him with one hand on the doorknob. “See you tomorrow?”

He bit the inside of his cheek and nodded. You swore you could see a hint of pink tint his cheeks. “See you tomorrow.”

—

A tropical storm was set to hit two days later. It became a hurricane overnight. Category 1. Category 2. It finally settled on 3, its path set for the Outer Banks before it was meant to swing up the East Coast. A mandatory evacuation was set in place by the next morning.

The air was thick, trees restless and wind loud as it picked up. The sky was a permanent dark gray, and the clouds looked like something one would see in a disaster movie. It wasn’t your first time dealing with tropical storms and hurricanes, but they never failed to make your heart race. The unpredictability—the fate of your home, your belongings, and so on—always scared you.

You loaded as much as you could into your Corolla. The wind didn’t care about your disheveled hair or how high it blew your shorts. It didn’t care that it was tossing sticks off of trees, down onto the roof of your home. You said a quick goodbye to the shingles while you were at it; a few were bound to end up in Pamlico Sound by the end of the week.

As you shut the car door, another door opened behind you. Luke rushed out of his home with Petunia toddling behind.

“You okay?” he called to you. He had two bags over his shoulders, another in his hands before he tossed them into the back of his Jeep. “Know where you’re headin’?”

“Think so,” you said over the wind. “Can’t wait to pee my pants in traffic. Any of the guard staying?”

Luke nodded as his curls danced around his chin. “They’re gonna be spotted up and down the coast. You stay safe out there, all right?”

“Yeah, you too.”

It wasn’t the preferred way of saying goodbye, but the hot, stale air trapped itself in your lungs. You were ready to greet the clicking air conditioner of your broken car like an old friend, and then one turn of the ignition turned into two, three, four, and many more. The headlights flickered off and on, yet the light never stayed long. You hit the steering wheel with the base of your palms in frustration.

A sudden knock at your passenger side window took all of the frustration away.

Luke opened up the door and said, “come with me.”

That was how you ended up beside him, stuck in two-hour traffic while you thought about the way his lips molded around words. Soft rock played quietly on the radio as you sat without making a sound. But it was comfortable silence. Thankful silence. The air before the storm disguised the thick tension.

Petunia wandered around the back seat, on occasion whining before flopping back down onto her blanket. Every so often, you would lean back and scratch her head, and Luke would smile at you. Unspoken words were better than no words at all.

“Tell me about yourself,” you said after a while. With the Bodie Lighthouse to your left, the ocean to your right, the wasn’t much else to keep you occupied. “Not like, childhood trauma stuff, but basic stuff. Favorite color, favorite food—that stuff.”

Luke had one hand on the wheel, the other pressed against his chin while he leaned on the car door. He faced the road yet had his eyes trained on you. “Well, what if I really wanna open up about my childhood traumas?” he asked playfully.

“Hey, I’m all ears. We’re gonna be stuck in traffic until the mainland.”

He chuckled and rubbed beneath his lips. You didn’t know that such a small action could make your cheeks flush. “Favorite color? Hm. Blue, I guess. Favorite food has gotta be those damn macaroons you made me. They were absolutely delicious, babe.”

Your smile lit up the car.

“If you wanna know everything about me, all you gotta do is check out my mum’s Facebook,” he said. “Liz Hemmings. She posts every photo I send her and talks about my love life when she’s bored.”

“Love life, huh?”

He huffs quietly. “Her profile has been a little dry lately then, I guess.” When his eyes found yours, a small smile grew on his lips. “She’d love you. I’ll have t’let you know when she comes to visit next.”

“Oh man,” you said. “I’m already meeting my neighbor’s mom.”

Luke chuckled. “Uh oh. I didn’t push it too far, did I?”

“Didn’t know we were there yet, s’all. But I’d be happy to meet her.”

He set his hand down on the gear shift. Inches away from yours. “She’d just wonder what the hell you’re doin’ around me. Tell you that you’re too good for me. Stuff like that. I mean, it’s true.”

“Just tell her that I can’t afford to move, so I’m stuck with you.”

“Aw, you don’t mean that.”

“Unfortunately, no. I don’t mean that.”

“Good,” he mumbled, glancing out the window. “Cos’ I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

—

The hurricane made landfall at two in the morning. The hotel walls of the Quality Inn shook and rain pattered hard against the window. The alarm clock beside the bed turned black. From across the room, you could barely hear Luke stir in his own bed. And despite the storm, your heart still tugged at the thought of him there with you.

The wind was the worst thing of all. You thought about your home, the plants you dragged inside, and the windsock you forgot to take down. Maybe Luke would let you borrow his. But all that mattered, in the moment, was the voice calling your name through the pitch-black night. Somehow, it carried over the storm, over the howling wind and the rain coming down in sheets. It pulled your heart right out of your chest.

Your eyes were heavy with sleep as you said, “Luke?

You could hear him turn over in bed, but through the dark, you could only make out the edges of his figure. You hoped he had turned to face you.

“Hey. You okay?” His voice was soft, and you felt the storm slowly slip away.

“Can’t sleep” you answered. “Not a big fan of storms.”

He was barely awake, quiet words of “wanna come over here?” floating in the air-conditioned air. Your own words were stuck in your throat. So you didn’t answer. You rose from your bed instead, feet padding to the opposite side of his bed before crawling under the sheets beside him. His warmth radiated off of him.

Luke’s hand was right beside your hand. You swore you could hear his breaths over the wind. If you were able to see his features so close to yours, you would cease to exist. Your heart had found a comfortable home in your throat.

Fingers wove in between yours, gentle and warm like they were barely there, but they were all you could feel. Rough in the right places. Luke’s hand rested on yours, his pulse beating low and steady.

You knew that words would steal the moment away.

As his fingers traced your skin, the heat in your chest grew. It was normal. It was beautiful. And it was yours. So you held his hand right back.

When his forehead met yours, you knew you were done for. The storm completely faded from your mind. Noses touched and breaths fell into sync, but your heartbeat was loud in your ears. All you could think about was the feeling of his lips brushing yours. You couldn’t remember when your eyes closed. The last thing you felt was Petunia nudging your foot at the end of the bed, and then you fell asleep in Luke’s arms.

The kiss was nothing but a dream.

You were allowed back on the island three days later. Unsaid things invaded your mind on the ride down the coast, but you couldn’t bring it upon yourself to say a word. Luke was busy humming along to every song that came on the radio. That was all you needed to hear.

Pelican Perch road was covered with leaves and natural debris, but the homes were well intact. As the car neared the end of the street, you caught a glimpse of your windsock swaying in the breeze. It was a miracle it hadn’t blown away.

Luke helped you with your bags in silence, a small exchange of smiles and brushing hands to fill in the empty space instead. This wasn’t how you wanted it to be. Yet, you never said anything.

Once the night crept in, you could no longer distract yourself with streaming movies through overused cellular data. The power was still out on the island. Everything in your fridge had gone bad, and your phone was near death by ten o’clock. And the winds, despite the long-gone storm, carried on.

You slipped on a pair of flip-flops—never mind the wet, sandy dirt caked around the edges—and walked over to Luke’s. The bugs were especially loud that night. There were no lights to guide you, no way of knowing where you were stepping, and then something hit you. Someone.

“Jesus,” he muttered, gripping your elbow to balance you.

“Luke?”

“It’s me.”

You set your hand on his arm just to feel him. His hold on you never left. “What’re you doing out here?”

“Well—” His hand slipped down to your wrist as he chuckled. Beautiful. “Comin’ to find you, I guess. You okay?”

“I’ve got a hankering for ice cream, but it’s all melted,” you said. “But I don’t suppose your freezer is working anyway. I just didn’t wanna be alone.”

“Me either, darling.”

“Darling. That’s nice.”

“Yeah?”

“I like it.”

He stepped closer to you, slow hands finding yours.

“Coming to find me, huh?” you asked.

Luke hummed and set his forehead on yours. Now, you didn’t know what to say. You figured it was best to not say anything at all. You leaned into the kiss and allowed his lips to mold against yours. Every moment you were apart was replaced with another kiss, excelling in desperation and satisfying any need through its touch. It was heavenly and full of heat and desire.

He cupped your cheek, pressing himself closer to you as he deepened the kiss one last time. You were breathless and cold without him near.

“I still owe you cupcakes, don’t I?” he asked quietly. You could see his smile through the night.

“At least two dozen by now.”

His chuckle filled your heart with warmth. “Anything for you, love. Would you like to come inside?”

You tightened your grip in his hand. “Gladly.”

—

hey! thanks for reading! since i haven’t been in the game for a while, i’m gonna tag a few ppl, if that’s ok! @goth5sos @irwinkitten @sublimehood​ @softforcal​ @cxddlyash​ @wildflowergrae​ hi y’all <3 

[carryonmywaywardwriters]

One Day At A Time - Jensen x Reader

A/N: Part Four! If you’d like to be tagged, please sent an ask or message. As always, feedback is incredible. And, I hope you all enjoy <3

PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Widower!Jensen. Unrequited feelings. Online personality problems. Guilt. Nothing too wild, yet!

Word Count: Roughly 3,500

“Y/N,” Arrow's pinched up little face made you turn her way as you blinked awake. It took you a moment to understand what was happening. Her almost too dark to be blonde hair was mused from her night of unrest. “I got you a present.”

“Arrow, it's....” A look towards the clock made you groan, “It's four am.”

“I couldn't wait.” Five years old and afraid of almost nothing, she'd braved the dark night to make it across the patio in the back that led to your space. You sat up, yawning. Rubbing over your cramped neck. Sleep hadn't come easily to you, either.

In the end, you'd found yourself scrolling through Tumblr. Something every member of the cast had advised you not to do. But, the curiosity ate at you until you'd given into the urge. Only to end up feeling worse about where you stood.

There'd been so many posts calling out what you were afraid of. Hours had been wasted searching over every response and like. Seeing just how many people believed the worst in you. The impulse stalking of the fandom left you exhausted.

“What is it?” Your lips smacked as you pulled the blanket away to sit up. Moving back to the moment you were stuck in. The pajamas you were wearing had been a Christmas gift 'from' J.J the year before. Mint green elephant covered shorts and a cami.  It was perfect for combating the warm air that would hit as soon as you stepped outside.

“I made it at school,” She stated gleefully, lifting the little clay figure the art program she had asked to be involved with over the summer had allowed her to make. A tiny, uneven flower stared back at you. Haphazardly painted a deep purple. Making your heart flutter from such a simple action. God, I love this kid. “Do you like it?” The nerves were clear in her voice as she watched you look over it.

“Are you kidding? It's great,” The grin that tugged at your lips made her smile brightly. “Totally worth the wake up call.” You moved to give it a place of honor along the shelf that held little mementos all of the kids passed your way. As you walked back to the bed, she pulled your blanket over her. Snuggling in with a yawn. Your bed being invaded happened more than most would have expected. There was no point in resisting it. When you were fully wrapped in your blanket, she curled into your side. Listening to the sound of your heartbeat. “Thank you, sweetheart.” The small kiss to her forehead left her glowing so happily as her eyes closed that you wanted to cry. What you wouldn't give to have a child like her of your own.

That's how Jensen found you two later that morning. His lips pressed up at the soft snore that left his daughter's throat as you breathed gently below her. Your hand rested over her back as she held onto you. Preventing her from rolling in her sleep. A habit that typically led to kicking if you weren't careful.

He hadn't entered the side home you had taken up since you'd moved in. It had been an unspoken rule, allowing you to have some sort of privacy. Even if his kids broke it on a regular basis, he'd resisted. Until that morning, anyway.

It only carried three small rooms. A kitchen that extended to a living room, a bathroom, and the bedroom. He told himself to just check on you. But, instead, he'd found himself taking in the small pieces that told of the person residing inside of the home.

You'd added your own little touch to the place. Pictures of your life from before he'd known you and others with the kids, the Padaleckis, and other members of the cast you'd come to care for dotted around the walls and tables. Drawings covered your fridge from the littles. A bookshelf carried an array of topics. Everything from romance to biology. Letting him peak a little more closely into the woman who was so entwined with his life. You were smarter than even he'd given you credit for looking over the array. There was a tank resting in the corner. A large frog  had stared back at him when he'd peered in before thrashing away. The last thing he'd expected to see. Somehow, he imagined his kids to have been involved in that one.

His lips curled up further as he snapped a picture on his phone of the scene in the bedroom. Telling himself that it would be for you. A sweet little memory you wouldn't want to forget. As he tucked the device back into his pocket and prepared to walk away, Arrow spotted him. “Daddy?”

Her sitting up made your eyes blink open. Slowly, you came into focus. The sight of Jensen standing sheepishly at the foot of your bed had you jerking up and looking at the clock. With a muttered expletive, you threw yourself off the mattress. Reaching for the short silk robe that had been tossed over a cushioned bench the night before.

“I'm sorry,” You bleated out, tying the knot around your waist sloppily. Fully preparing to bolt and fix breakfast.

“It's fine,” He waved it off. Not bothered in the slightest. Relaxing some once he realized no one was shrieking at his intrusion. “Food's already done if ya want some.” His thick hands slid into his jean short pockets. The stretch of the green muscle top across his chest made you suck in a deep breath before forcing your eyes upwards. Only to zero in on that deep, pine gaze. “Just wanted to make sure you two were alright.” You wet your lips before jolting back to reality. Sending Arrow on her way to get some food. She went easily. But, her dad lingered behind, “Slumber party?”

“She had a present,” You answered, reaching towards your dresser to grab your clothes for the day. As if that explained it all. At his waiting look, you sighed. Continuing the story. “She couldn't sleep. Too excited to give it to me, I guess. So, she broke in at four am.” He winced, opening his mouth to apologize, you were sure. You didn't give him the chance. “It was sweet, Jay. No biggie. I gave it its own little spot to shine.” A point towards the shelf you'd left it on had him moving forward.

It was different, somehow. Being alone with him in his home was safe. Familiar. In your room? It made the air squish out of your lungs. The closer he got, the harder it was to breathe.

When he finally stopped, he was near enough that you could practically feel the heat emitting off of him. The nerves you carried grew stronger as he took in each item that had been gifted to you. Taking the time to explore every one you'd held onto over the two years you'd been receiving them.

“They really love you,” He murmured without looking up. His lips curling at what was supposed to be a version of Garfield. Zeppelin had offered that one to you the year before after you'd read the comic to him that had been in the paper.

“I...I guess so.” You swallowed tightly, needing to escape the intimacy of the moment. Getting back to business was the right course of action. Would give you the chance to escape. “I'm just gonna hit the shower and then I'll get started-”

“Take the day off,” The order took you aback. He didn't give you time to recoup.“Grab some food and get out for a bit. I'm gonna take the kids over to the zoo in Dallas. Let them blow some stink off.”

“That's a three hour drive...one way.” Your brow quirked as you thought about all the horrors that could come from that one. Recouping faster than he'd expected. “You're a brave man, Jensen.” But, you didn't fight him. He had that hard look in his eye. As if daring you to argue. You liked your position to much to chance it. Instead, you moved a step back. “You guys coming straight home?” Telling yourself that you were only thinking about dinner got you nowhere. Instead, the lingering doubts danced in your mind.

“I, uh...I dunno, yet. I was plannin' on staying out. Depends on what they want to do, really,” He rubbed at the back of his neck; looking at the lost expression you held. Feeling his own guilt creeping in. “Probably should pack up some bags, huh?” He told himself you'd appreciate it in the end. Contrary to what you'd said? Everyone needed some alone time. And the scene he'd stumbled on told him that you weren't even getting nights to yourself.

“Just in case,” You agreed, holding the clothes you carried to your chest. Clutching them as if they'd carry you to safety. “Give me ten, and I'll help round them up.” He opened his mouth to protest, but you continued. “It's nothing major, Jay...It'll get you on the road faster. So they have time to goof off at the zoo.” Not because you needed to be needed. That's what you told yourself, anyway. “Is Cliff going?” The nod made you relax some. No harm could befall them with their guardian angel at their side. “Alright. Good. That settles it, then.” With that, you turned away. Padding barefoot towards the shower.

Not even halfway to the animal park, Jensen found himself regretful. Whether it was because he'd left you behind or because he hadn't left you behind sooner, he wasn't quite sure. Maybe it's a bit of both. As your name left Justice Jay's lips for the fifth time in under a minute, he definitely settled in at the that last option. It was definitely the first one.

The kids were excited, of course. That alone made it worth it. Rescued exotic animals filled the small trail zoo that Austin carried. It had captivated them for the longest time. The Dallas one was bigger, though. Had more attractions.

Most importantly? It was something different. New. Jensen wasn't a huge fan of change, himself. But, it was something he needed to get used to. A zoo trip was nothing more than dipping his toes into the ocean. Yet, it was a start.

The only problem? It just didn't seem to be quite the same without your presence. And that was the heart of the matter. Even Jensen had to acknowledge that point. He'd called it right when he'd said you were part of the family.

“Why didn't Y/N come? Is she sick?”

“Can we facetime Y/N? I want to show her the elephant! It matches her pajamas!”

“Dad! We gotta get Y/N this necklace! Or.... Oh! This! She'll love this scorpion!”

Cliff was amused by the antics. Watching the way his friend tried to change the subject a bit so that they could enjoy the moment without the lack of you leaving a shadow. It worked for a short time, and then the name would come forth again.

Eventually, they accepted you weren't there. The questions were dropped. Instead, it appeared in an after thought. Such as your favorite animal. The smell of a food you loved. How much you'd love to play with them in the misting fans.

Jensen allowed it. Knowing that you were too big of a part in their lives to brush off. Instead, he found himself joining in. Noting that you would have been enthusiastically pointing the camera around, ensuring that the memories hadn't been forgotten. It was enough for the kids to agree; wrapping their arms around him and each other for images that you'd see later. They'd ensure it.

It didn't take long for him to realize that he was going back home that night. An overnight trip like he'd begun to plan wasn't fair to the kids. They wanted their home. Wanted you.

After dinner, he was back on the road. The fun had worn them out. All three of the young ones were out once their stomachs were full and the car was on the move.

“So...” Cliff started once the silence commenced, turning towards the man he called a friend.

His presence had kept what bit of attention Jensen had garnered down. Had helped ensure that the kids were all collected. Just as planned. Hell, he'd actually enjoyed the time out. The household was part of his family. Which is why he had no problem getting nosy.

“She needed a day off.” Ackles knew exactly where that one was going. After all, everyone else had asked him repeatedly. “What?” The knowing expression lining his bodyguard's face made his brow rise.

“Today is the first day I haven't seen her around one of your kids in the last two years.” He began tentatively. Treading with care. “Was she sick?”

“No.” The answer was hesitant. “No, I just...I thought she could use some time to herself.” The hum said that the response wasn't quite believed. Silence stretched between the men as headlights danced over them on the expressway. “Okay, fine... truth? I wanted some space with the kids.” He felt the familiar eyes gazing over him curiously as he steered the car. “She's...I dunno. Just there. Always. And...” How did someone put the feelings into words?

When you were there, it was just...different. He needed time with the kids to focus on what was coming. Where he would go in the future. On all those little things he'd finally be able to do. Even just taking the kids to the zoo, and giving you some much needed self care time was a step in the right direction. It was something he hadn't been able to do in ages. Gave you a chance to figure out what you'd do with your life as his family's changed majorly.

“Jay...” Cliff began slowly, unsure of just how well what he was going to ask was going to go over. “Are.. are you starting to...to look at other women, again?”

A heavy swallow filled the air, “It's only been two years. Don't be ridiculous. Dee...she was my heart. That wasn't what this is about.”

But, he couldn't deny it to himself. Not really. There'd been too many dreams of soft skin, small moans, and the old push and pull that he'd been lacking in his life for far too long. Jensen simply promised himself that he'd live without it. Danneel deserved that much from him. That never ending loyalty he'd promised her had to hold out.

“So, what is it?” There was no judgment. Simply curiosity. It made all the difference. With a huff, he slowly started to explain it all. Hoping maybe Cliff could offer some kind of advice that'd make everything start to make sense again.

–

“The world's not perfect, but it's not that bad.” The song by Alec Benjamin played throughout the bathroom you'd taken over. You sang along softly. Mindlessly letting the hot water and bubbles keep you relaxed. “If we got each other, and that's all we have? I will be your lover, and I'll hold your hand. You should know, I'll be there for you. When the world's not perfect. When the world's not kind. If we have each other, then we'll both be fine.”

Your mind moved to what the direction Jensen had sent it as you stared out at the lake. Watching the lights from a boat trail over the smooth water without really seeing it. You weren't hung up on your ex. No, it was the set of emerald eyes that had stolen your breath just that morning. A sigh left you as you sank down further into the bath. The sweet song twisted inside your chest.

Guilt swarmed you as you faced the feelings you were harboring. Danneel had been your friend. She'd given you a place in her home. And how did you repay her? By making googly eyes at her husband when he wasn't looking.

Every negative comment ran through your mind, again. Each one you felt to be deserved. That was the hardest part. It was all things you'd already thought yourself at some point or another. Only made more real by the strangers who typed it.

Maybe he's right...maybe I need more time away. The thought tangled your gut painfully, that time. Suddenly feeling more real at the day alone. But what choice did you have in the end?

Jensen had said he didn't want you to go, yet you couldn't quite buy into that. Not completely. He was going to have more time once the show ended. You weren't going to be nearly as needed. That's what the day had been about, in your eyes. It only made sense to start moving in that direction. If only it was as easy for you as it sounded.

When the car pulled into the driveway, Oscar's bark pulled you from the hole you were in. A peek to the security system that linked to your phone let you know who it was just before the suddenly too awake J.J shouted your name. The Ackles brood had returned home.

You barely had enough time to drain the tub and don your pajamas in the master bathroom before tiny fists knocked at the door. The noise and lights had alerted them to your presence. Telling you to meet them downstairs.

Oscar was bouncing on his front paws as you stepped into the sunken living room where the sudden chaos was ensuing. Shaking the grown out top knot on his forehead as he pounced the air. Icarus simply raised his gaze off of one of his many beds; taking in the scene around him before he huffed. Curling back into the plushness he was wrapped up in.

“Y/N! There was an elephant!”

“Dad ate so much and gassed up everything in the car!”

“Cliff took lots of pictures, so you could see!”

“I got you a scorpion!”

“Arrow is super tired, but she got you a hat!”

Zep and Justice ran over each other to get in every detail of the day as Jensen walked in the front door, carrying the still sleeping Arrow against his chest. Your nod his way told him to go ahead, you had the other two. Carefully, you got them to start speaking one by one.

You had to look through the pictures on the camera the father of the the kids had taken with him. It was necessary 'ooh' and 'ahh' everything thrust your way before they gave in to the urge to go back to sleep. Jensen had to chase them away to get them in bed while you piled up the spoilings for the day so it could be better managed in the morning.

“I thought you guys were staying overnight,” Your hip leaned against the door frame that would lead you out to the yard. Stopping only because you'd heard the tired sigh.

“Kids wanted to come home.” He didn't say why. Didn't have to. The way they'd flocked you had said it all. “What'd you do today?”

“I...I just...I went out.” His head tilted as if expecting more. Curious to see what happened when you were given a life. The truth of it? You'd simply gone to the Barton Creek Greenbelt and hunted down your favorite waterfall. But, that wouldn't have been what he'd wanted to hear. “There's, uh, some gas-x in that cupboard over there if you need it.”

Jensen's cheeks flushed as he realized his kids had spared nothing, “Uh...yeah...they were...they were exaggerating.” At the way your lips pulled tight to hold back the smile, he dipped his head. Rubbing the back of his neck. “Do you want a drink? I suddenly need one.”

“No,” The answer came quick enough that his eyes held obvious confusion. “No...no, thank you.” You cleared your throat, carrying the dirty clothes you'd worn earlier to your chest. “I'm just...I'm gonna go. Get some rest, Mr. Ackles. You look tired.” And with that, you were out the back door. Running to safety.

“Mr...Ackles?” Jensen watched as you disappeared into the darkness. Frowning as he lost sight of you near the house. “What the hell?”

Part Five

ODAAT: @winchester-ofthe-lord​​​ @smoothdogsgirl​​ @ima-be-a-mongoose​​ @briagallen​​ @agusdoti​ @my-proof-is-you​

Dean/Jensen: @akshi8278​​​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​​​

Forever: @dean-winchesters-bacon​ @supernaturalginger​ @lilulo-12​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ @michaelneedssomemilk​ @lemondropirwin​​ @fanfictionismydeath​​

[onlykyloscenes]

Don’t Look for Me: Chapter 3

Ao3 : Prelude/Chapter 1 : Chapter 2 

Summary:  “Where are we, your playroom? Where are your playmates?” 

Ushar laughed, that laugh that you knew preceded something truly terrible, “well, they’re with our friend.”  

Warning: Blood, violence, generally grief for reader

“Wake up,” the voice was hushed in your head, “I’m tired of waiting,  wake up .”

The surface beneath you felt hard and cold. Metal. There was a tenderness in the back of your head, and a sharp pain radiating from the center of your forehead. After being paralyzed and unconscious for however long, the expectation is that it takes you a while to recall where you are and why. That isn’t the case for you; every maddening detail came right to you as soon as you slipped back in. Your body still unable to move, eyes unable to stay open long enough to make out your surroundings.  

But your mind buzzed.

Anger flooded you, drowning you for however many hours you’d been under. This had to be a trick of Ushar’s; a sedative that won’t let you stop thinking about how you’d probably be dead in less than a day.

A pair of hands yanked you back into the world, slamming you onto the hard ground. Your eyes finally opened, searching for Ushar.

He stood above you, “that did it. Come on padawan, you’re going to miss the show.”

It was then you realized you were in a cell; a cell that was clearly on a different ship than the small shuttle Ushar dragged you in. There were no restraints to your hands and ankles. You could see into the hallway; no door. Taking the chance, you sprung from the ground and bounded for the hall, ignoring the snicker coming from Ushar’s modulator.

As quickly as you made it to the threshold, you stopped dead in your tracks, nose an inch from the red ray shield that appeared. It made no sound, only a vibration that teased you with a glimpse of freedom. A blast door would have been much easier to break out of.

“Never gets old,” Ushar was quick to force you face-first against the wall to your left, “sorry kid, you know I like to play.”

He locked both wrists behind your back, securing them with restraints. He lingered behind you for longer than you liked.

“Where are we, your playroom? Where are your playmates?”

Ushar laughed, that laugh that you knew preceded something truly terrible, “well, they’re with our friend.”

Your heart sank to the pit of your stomach, already knowing what that meant. If you were here, then Jissani was too. And it was all because of you.

Ushar deactivated the ray shield and pushed you forward, his hand never losing its grip on your shackles. You recognized the ship as soon as you left the cell. You’d never been on the Night Buzzard before, but Ushar had explained it to you in detail once. He led you to the front of the ship. Light flooded from the dropped ramp, and you could see an endless ocean in the distance.

Your heart rate accelerated when you find Jissani. She was on her knees, hands shackled behind her back, like yours. A piece of cloth tied around her mouth, muffling any attempt at calling out to you.

She was nearly unidentifiable to you. The Knights were known for treating their captives less than poorly, but still. Sometimes it was to get information, sometimes it was just because they’re sadistic animals. Jissani’s hair was tattered, the color dulled by what you assumed was blood from a head wound. The left side of her face was bruised and split at the eyebrow and lip, her head barely able to hold itself up.

Two Knights stood on either side of her, though you weren’t sure of their names. One held a Mandalorian ax, the other appeared weaponless, his hand gripping one of Jissani’s shoulders.

Ushar shoved you down to your knees in front of Jissani.

“How long’s it been since you’ve seen each other? Don't answer that, little Jissani already told me”

You tried meeting Jissani’s eyes, but they remained focused on the ground. She didn’t look angry, it was worse. She looked guilty, guilty because you both know they got your location out of her. The fact didn’t make you resent her. Before deciding to switch lives, you had hundreds of conversations about the possible dangers each other would face. It didn’t matter. You were both desperate for an out.

“Hey,” you craned your neck, searching for eye contact, “Jissani look at me.”

The Knight to her left kicked at her, and you could see her wince.

“That’s enough,” you snapped at him, glaring into the void of the mask.

You could hear Ushar chuckle to your left. Jissani pulled your attention back, and this time she was looking at you. Tears swelled in her eyes, and you knew what she wanted to say.

“Don’t. I’m sorry. I let this happen, I wasn’t careful. We should’ve stuck together as you suggested.” She shook her head.

“Let her go, Ushar,” you kept your eyes on her, “you got me, you got what  he  wanted. Now just let her go.”

He scoffed, “why would I do that. She’s a loose end.”

“Because the very existence of her role in this proves your incompetence. You didn’t find  me.  You fell for a trick,” you spat the words at him.

The two other Knights shuffled before one spoke, “she’s right. Ren wouldn’t like it.”

“That’s exactly why we’re here, Ap’lek,” Ushar moved between the two to hoist Jissani up.

You tried shuffling one of your feet under you, only to be shoved back down by Ap’lek, who shifted to stand next to you.

Ushar looked to you and then back to Jissani. He gripped her chin and held her face to his. It made you squirm in the Knight’s grasp, desperate to yank her away. The hand on your shoulder tightened, and it took everything in you not to let out a pained groan.

“You did so well for me, so I’m going to let you go. I hope you remember our time together. Like how I like the ocean, do you remember that? That’s why I chose this planet. I want you to remember me  forever .”

You could see the fear in Jissani’s eyes. Every time she tried stepping away or turning her face, Ushar pulled her back. He leaned closer, the mouth of his mask brushing against her ear.

“You should also remember… that I hate loose ends.”

You weren't sure what caused it at first, you just saw the grimace on Jissani’s face as she looked down at Ushar’s hand. You heard the squelching of something being twisted. You felt the floor shake as her body collapsed. Then you saw the dagger.

You tried to form words as the scream left you, only it came out as nonsense. The nameless Knight moved to restrain you, keeping you from hurling yourself forward towards Jissani’s fallen body. The knife that stuck out of her was long, the deep wound seeping blood onto the grated metal floor. Finally, your face hit the ground and by some miracle, you shuffled towards her. The tears stung in your eyes. The pool of blood instantly soaked through the sleeve of your shirt and coated your hair as you continued to scoot closer, the slick liquid allowing you more movement. You sat up next to her, nudging her body for any sign of consciousness.

There was more you wanted to say to her. You wanted to thank her, to tell her over and over so that she would know how much you meant it. She had saved you, and not just by handing over every detail of her identity, but by being there when you had no one. It was never just a business partnership for you, it was friendship. Friendship like you hadn’t known your whole life, one not bound by the constraints of codes or oaths.

There was too much you wanted to say, and now she would never hear it. Her eyes were blank and open, staring out into what could have been a new world for her.

Ushar grabbed you by the arm before you had the chance to recoil and shoved you back. He retrieved the knife from her abdomen, sending more blood to the floor. With his boot he shoved her body down the ramp, letting it fall into the ocean below.

“You bastard! You fucking- Fuck!” You continued to scream at Ushar as he closed the ramp.

He wiped the knife off on his robe, “put her back. Set course for Dasheen.”

“I’ll fucking kill you Ushar, you  can’t  take me to him!”

Ap’lek and the nameless Knight drug you from your failed attempt at tripping Ushar to get him on your level. They drug you away, kicking and screaming, feet trying to find a place to stand or a wall to kick off of.

“I’m a cruel man, kid, what did you expect.”

You would’ve responded, had you not been carelessly tossed back into your cell. Honestly, it’s exactly what you should’ve expected from Ushar. It was the person you always knew he was, even if you’d never seen it. Even if you’d seen someone different once. But this, he, was someone you never wanted to see again.

The blood on your skin dried first. There was no running water in the cell, just a metal bed bolted to the wall. You wiped as much as you could off on the fabric of your tunic shirt that wasn’t already soaked. It was no use; you laid there for hours soaked in Jissani’s blood. The tears came and went. They came from grief, from anger. When they finally stopped, you started to think about what you could do.

They can’t kill me.  

You went over the plan in your head when you felt the ship come out of hyperspace, and again when it was clear you had entered the atmosphere of whatever desolate planet they brought you to.

It starts with a D. Not Dathomir. Not Dantooine. It didn’t matter. The plan.

Ushar wouldn’t be bold enough to escort you closely, it would be the other two: Ap’lek, the one with the ax, and another who carried a blaster. You needed to wait to get to the ramp, let it open. They’re large men, you just need to get them to the ground and get a head start to the cockpit. It will have a blast door, you just needed a few minutes. Act defeated, take them by surprise, move quickly.

Your body was weak, but this was your last option.

You heard the boots thunder down the hall before you saw them through the red ray shield. Ushar and Ap’lek, which meant the other must be flying the ship. It had slowed considerably; you were about to land.

The shield vanished, and you sat up on the metal frame. Your legs hung over the edge, feet planted on the ground.

“Don’t try it,” Ap’lek stepped in and swung the ax so that it hovered by your neck.

You hadn’t planned on it, and let Ushar cuff your wrists in front of you. He tugged at them, ensuring they were secure. Once he was satisfied he stood for a moment, looking down at you. Not like he wanted, you raised your head to mirror him.

Ap’lek retracted the ax and pulled you up, his free hand around your upper arm. Ushar walked ahead of you, while Ap’lek escorted you behind him. The ship landed, but the hand on your arm kept you from losing balance. The hum of the engine cut and a fourth pair of footsteps fell in line behind you.

You heard the ramp begin to lower, and made your move.

Yanking your arm free, you connected your foot with the outside of Ap’lek’s knee. It sent him to one knee, and the ax came swinging horizontally. He overshot you barely bent far enough to dodge it. When you straightened, the momentum caused the ax to lodge in the wall of the ship. Not waiting for him to pull it free, you ran for the pilot. His blaster was already aimed, but he knew there wasn’t a clear shot.

You closed the distance easily and grabbed the barrel of the blaster with your shackled hands. It went off as you turned it from you, the beam tearing through the center of the shackle and burning up your palms. A boot connected with his abdomen, shoving him to the wall so you could run.

The blast door to the cockpit opened, and you ducked in as soon as you could fit. A sharp pain radiated across your hand as you slammed the control panel to close it again. With all of the force you could muster, you send your elbow into the panel. The sound of shot electric currents signaled it was dysfunctional.

Your name was being shouted through the blast door, followed by the clash of metal against metal.

Auxiliary, ignition, compressor, thrusters

Your palms stung again as you lift the controls.

Only the ship was unresponsive. Alarms blared and the engine sputtered.

“No, no, no, come  on,”  you double-checked what you could’ve missed and found nothing.

The blast door shuddered open, and multiple pairs of hands yanked you from the chair. Struggling was pointless, but you thrashed anyways. When your head stilled, you noticed new black-clad Knights were restraining you.

Two held you to the wall of the cockpit, while another restrained your legs. They cuffed your wrists together once more, and then urged you forward. Two were latched to your arms while two flanking behind you.

One Knight, the pilot, leaned close to your ear and whispered, “I think eventually you’ll agree that it pays to modify your ship.”

The movement you had left allowed you to turn your head and spit on the mouth of his mask, earning you a slap to your face that left your vision dotted.

“Enough,” your head snapped up at a new voice.

The two Knights pushed you towards the three additional Knights in the hanger. Seven Knights, you thought, that couldn’t be right. With Corpis that would make eight. Four guarding you, three in front of you. The Knights of Ren weren’t a group that recruited often.

That’s when your eyes surveyed the Knight in the center and saw the lightsaber.

You hoped he could see the disgust in your face. The Jedi hadn’t been your home for nearly a year before he desecrated it, but it hurt no less. To feel the anguish, the void through the Force and not be able to do anything left you shaken for months. You should have been there.

There wasn’t an inch of skin not concealed by black armor. He looked different, he was taller, broader. And the mask. The mask was as ghostly as people said.

They also called him Jedi Killer, and he looked the part.

A focused humming filled your head, spreading uncomfortably, consuming the thoughts and images in your head. In the center of them all a raven-haired man, broken eyes staring up at you.

Ben Solo.  

His hands clenched at his sides and the humming subsided.  

“I hear you made things quite...  difficult  for my Knights. Though you always have been,” he thought about his next word carefully, “challenging.”

The modulator muffled his voice, drawing it out in a rasp.

“Perhaps you should have sent someone who could meet the challenge,” Ushar made no movements in response to your jest, but you knew he wanted to.

They can’t kill me. He wouldn’t let them.

Ben-  Kylo, hummed, seeming slightly amused, “they caught what they were looking for in the end.”

He turned his head to Ushar, “take her to an isolated cell. Begin the interrogation without me.”

Kylo looked back to you and surveyed your figure. It had to be quite the sight compared to when you saw him last. Old comrades, now completely unrecognizable to each other.  

“It was nice to meet you,” you said plainly as he passed behind you to the Knight’s shuttle. He did not react.

The rest followed, save for one.

Ushar stepped forward, drawing your gaze to him.

He cocked his head and brought his hands to cup the sides of your face, “we’re going to have some fun, kid. I just  love  knowing what my prisoner’s limits are.”

The hands dropped from your face to the small of your back, pressing you to walk as he moved behind you

No, they couldn’t kill you, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t come close.

[haveanotherkpopblog]

Painted Stories

Mermaid in the Mist

Pairing: Son Chaeyoung x You

Genre: Angst, Horror, Mermaid!AU

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Murder, suggested smut

Masterlist

Near a cluster of rocks, a young mermaid sat on the rocks, listening as the waves crashed into the rocks. The sky was a beautiful shade of blue with the sun bathing the mermaid in its warm glow. She leaned back against one of the rocks, swaying as she began to sing.

Her voice was beautiful, putting even the most skilled singer to shame. Her voice traveled over the waves, bringing forth all the animals of the sea. They listened to her beautiful voice, captivated by her talent and beauty. Her voice carried far and wide filling everyone with joy.

“Chaeyoung! Son Chaeyoung!” She stopped singing, turning to where her mother was calling her. Her mother swam to the surface, placing herself on a nearby rock. Her mother smiled, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Chaeyoung, my darling, what are you doing?” her mother asked. Chaeyoung smiled.

“Singing Mother. Today is a beautiful day for singing,” she said. Her mother hummed, moving over to her daughter’s rock. She began to braid her hair.

“Your voice is amazing my darling, but I have to warn you, your voice won’t only attract the animals. Pirates have been spotted not too far from here. I would hate for something to happen to you my darling,” her mother said. Chaeyoung turned to her mother, taking her hands in hers.

“I promise Mother, I will be careful,” Chaeyoung assured her mother. Her mother nodded, patting her daughter’s cheek.

A couple weeks later, there was another beautiful day. It had stormed for days prior, but now the sea was once again calm. Chaeyoung sat on her rock, staring over the ocean. She slowly began humming to herself. Then she let her voice ring out over the expansive water. Again the animals surrounded her, listening to her melodic voice. She sang to her heart’s content, her voice strong and powerful.

“Hello!” Immediately Chaeyoung stopped singing. The voice didn’t sound familiar. Panic settling in, Chaeyoung dove back into the water. She hid behind her rock, peeking out over the surface to see who had called out to her.

From the rocks, a human girl appeared. Chaeyoung knew immediately she was a pirate. She had on the weird non-tail clothes and the floppy hat all pirate’s wore. The pirate looked around desperate. Chaeyoung felt bad. The pirate didn’t look bad, she looked lost and afraid.

“Hello!” the pirate called. “Please! I mean no harm. I was thrown off my ship during the storm. Please! I just need fresh food and water. I mean no harm!” Despite her head screaming at her to swim away, Chaeyoung came out from her hiding spot. The pirate looked to her, a sigh of relief escaping her lips. “Yes. Hi. I’m Captain Y/N L/N. I mean no harm. What’s your name?”

“Chaeyoung,” she replied. Y/N smiled, moving to sit down on the rocks.

“Was that you who was singing?” Y/N asked. Chaeyoung nodded. “You have an incredible voice.” Chaeyoung blushed, accepting the compliment. “So do you live around here? I didn’t see any place around.”

“You could say that,” Chaeyoung said, avoiding Y/N’s gaze. Taking a deep breath, Chaeyoung hoisted herself up onto the rock, where Y/N could see her tail. Y/N eyes went wide when she caught sight of Chaeyoung’s tail.

“You’re--you’re--you’re--”

“A mermaid? Yeah. I am. Is that a problem?” Chaeyoung inquired. Y/N shook her head. Chaeyoung smiled. “Good, because I don’t mind that you’re a pirate.” Y/N chuckled, shaking her head.

“So, um, what do you eat?” Y/N asked. Chaeyoung held up her finger, diving into the water to grab some fresh kelp and sea anemone. She burst through the surface, laying the fresh food out for Y/N. She stared down at the sea plants. “Don’t you eat fish?” Chaeyoung shook her head.

“Mermaids don’t eat animals of the seas. It’s unethical, only other animals and fairytale monsters eat other fish,” Chaeyoung explained.

“Fairytale monsters? Like the Kraken?” Chaeyoung giggled, shaking her head.

“More like sirens.”

“Those aren’t real?”

“Not really. It’s more of a ghost story to scare guppies. A siren is a mermaid born from a violent death or a horrible act of violence, but sirens aren’t real.” Y/N nodded.

“Do you think you could sing again?” Chaeyoung turned to Y/N. “I wasn’t lying when I said your voice is beautiful. I’d be honored if you’d sing for me.” Chaeyoung nodded, clearing her throat.

She thought back to the song she’d been singing before and picked up right where she’d left off. The song brought back the animals, who gathered to listen to her voice. Y/N stared in awe at the crowd and Chaeyoung. Chaeyoung seemed at complete ease, unaware that there was even a crowd admiring her beauty.

Overcome with so many emotions, Y/N moved to press her mouth to Chaeyoung’s. At first, Chaeyoung was highly confused and startled, but as Y/N kept moving her mouth, her hands coming to tangle themselves in her hand, Chaeyoung found herself melting for Y/N. The animals dispersed, leaving Chaeyoung and Y/N to spend their time how they saw fit.

Night had fallen when Chaeyoung had to leave. She promised Y/N to return in the morning, giving her one final kiss before she swam to where she knew her mother would be waiting.

Her mother sat in their home, arms folded over her chest. Her eyebrow was quirked as she stared at her daughter. Chaeyoung smiled sheepishly, clasping her hands behind her back.

“And what, may I ask, time do you call this?” her mother asked. Chaeyoung rubbed the back of her neck. “Where were you exactly?”

“On the rocks mother,” Chaeyoung replied. “I was singing and lost track of time. I didn’t mean to come home so late, but the animals like hearing me sing.” Her mother sighed, her anger disappearing.

“Next time, please keep track of time. I don’t like to worry. It gives me wrinkles.” Chaeyoung giggled, nodding her head.

She kept her promise of returning. She did so for multiple days. Spending time with Y/N made Chaeyoung happy. Each day was something different. Some days, Y/N told stories of far off places and daring sword fights. Other days, Chaeyoung told Y/N about life twenty-thousand leagues under the sea and about her culture. A few days, they spent it wrapped in each other’s arms as lovers. Those were Chaeyoung’s favorite days.

Each day, Chaeyoung fell deeper and deeper in love with Y/N. Even her mother had noticed her sudden change in behavior. She was happier and giddier and always lost in a daydream. She’d leave their home in the early morning and wouldn’t come back until almost dark. While she was happy for her daughter, she was also curious albeit a bit worried.

“Chaeyoung, my darling,” her mother said one night after another day without seeing her daughter. Chaeyoung hummed, turning to her mother. Her eyes were glazed over with a far off look in them. “Were you at the rocks yesterday?” Chaeyoung nodded. “What were you doing?” Her mother watched as a faint blush crept up her neck.

“I was singing,” Chaeyoung said. Her mother hummed.

“Were you with someone?” Chaeyoung paused, contemplating.

“As a matter of fact, I was,” Chaeyoung said. Her mother nodded.

“Do I know them?” Chaeyoung shook her head. “Are they from around here?” She shook her head again. “So they’re visiting. Okay. Why don’t you bring them over, I’d love to meet them.” Chaeyoung bit her lip.

“That might pose a problem,” Chaeyoung said.

“Oh?” Her mother raised her eyebrows. “How so?” she asked.

“Well, they’re not exactly, um, mer.” Her mother stopped moving altogether, turning to stare her daughter in the eye. Chaeyoung kept her gaze down. “They’re, um, they’re human.”

“Humans don’t inhabit that island.”

“Well, she was, um, thrown overboard her ship.”

“‘Her ship’?”

“She’s a, um, pirate captain.”

There was absolute silence in the mermaids’ home. Nothing move and no one spoke. Even the current was still, too afraid to break the deafening silence. Her mother stared at her with wide, unblinking eyes. Chaeyoung felt uncomfortable under her mother’s gaze.

“You’re--you--how--what? You’re having a relationship with a pirate--a pirate captain? The same people who enslave us, and use us as entertainment, and slaughter us? What are you thinking?” her mother inquired. Chaeyoung stared at her in disbelief.

“She’s not like that! She’s sweet, and kind, and caring, and would never hurt me!” Chaeyoung said. “She tells me stories and listens to me sing.” It was her mother’s turn to stare at her in disbelief.

“Oh my… you’re in love with her.” Her mother looked on in disgust and worry. “Chaeyoung, I’m warning you. Humans are selfish, selfish creatures. They take and they take, and they take. They’ll destroy an entire species without batting an eye.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying, you’re just mad because you were wrong and not all pirates are bad!” Chaeyoung yelled. She swam to her room, tossing herself onto her bed. Why was her mother so cruel? She didn’t even know Y/N. If she gave Y/N a chance, she would see that all pirates aren’t bad. Maybe if she introduced her mother to Y/N, she would see that there’s nothing bad.

The next morning as Chaeyoung was swimming towards the surface, a thought hit her. There was one person who could help her. Sure, she wasn’t someone you could trust, but her results never lied. If Chaeyoung truly wanted to be with Y/N, there was only one person who could make that happen: the sea witch.

Instead of going to the surface to see Y/N, she packed a bag and sought out the sea witch. The next time she would see Y/N, she would have human legs. While she was happy to have a way to be with her lover, she also had this gnawing pain in her heart. She would be leaving behind everything she knew, but you have to make sacrifices for love.

Up ahead, in the side of a volcanic mountain, there was a cave opening. Swallowing thickly, Chaeyoung swam to the cave’s entrance, calling out to the sea witch. An older mermaid swam out, white hair floating around her like a halo. Her tail was a vivid blue, much like Chaeyoung’s. The sea witch swam to Chaeyoung, taking her in.

“How can I service you, my dear?” the witch asked. Chaeyoung swallowed, finding her voice.

“I--I wish to be human,” she answered. The sea witch hummed, taking Chaeyoung’s hand and leading her deep into the cave.

“You wish to join your lover on land,” the witch said. Chaeyoung didn’t say anything, letting the witch drag her to a cauldron that sat on top of bright orange lava.

“Can you make me human?” Chaeyoung asked. The witch nodded.

“But I don’t give my services for free, my dear. I do require a price be paid.”

“I’ll give you anything.” The witch paused, stroking her chin. “Please.”

“I require some of your blood.” Chaeyoung stopped, blinking.

“My--my blood?”

“Don’t panic, my dear. It won’t hurt but for a second.” Chaeyoung thought about it before agreeing to the witch’s price. The witch grabbed a small needle holding out her hand. Reluctantly, Chaeyoung gave the witch her hand. The sea witch grabbed it, pricking her finger. Chaeyoung winced as her blood floated through the water. The sea witch grabbed a tiny bottle, putting the blood into it and closing the lid.

The witch went over to her cauldron, throwing in different ingredients and muttering old phrases. Chaeyoung watched entranced. She didn’t see what was so bad about the sea witch. Sure, the blood thing was a bit weird, but better that than her taking away your voice or something.

The witch grabbed another bottle, dipping it into the cauldron and pulling it out. The bottle was full of a yellow liquid. She held the bottle out for Chaeyoung to take. As Chaeyoung reached for the bottle, she pulled back, startling Chaeyoung.

“I will tell you this, should you ever wish to return to the sea, there is one thing you must do. You must drink the blood of your lover. Her blood will give you back your tail, and you may return to the sea,” the sea witch said. Chaeyoung nodded, taking the bottle.

Hurrying as fast as she could, she swam to the surface to be with Y/N once and for all. As she approached the surface, her excitement grew. She didn’t know a lot about being human, but she could learn. Y/N could teach her. When she broke the surface, she took the bottle and tipped it back. The pain of transforming was horrendous, but she endured it for Y/N.

With some struggle, she swam towards the show. Y/N sat on the beach, staring out over the sea, lost in thought. Her face brightened when she saw Chaeyoung. Chaeyoung waved, swimming close to the shore. When she felt the sand under her feet, she shakenly stood up. She hadn’t realized she wasn’t wearing anything, but that didn’t bother her. Y/N stared with a dropped at Chaeyoung in human form.

“Chaeyoung?” Y/N said. “What? How? Why?” Chaeyoung grinned, stumbling into Y/N’s arms. Y/N sat them on the rocks.

“I went to the sea witch and asked her to make me human. Now we can be together!” Chaeyoung said. Y/N stared at her, her face void of expression. Chaeyoung’s happy mood was slowly leaving her the longer Y/N went without saying anything. “Isn’t that great? We can be together!”

“This is awkward,” Y/N muttered. She turned to look at Chaeyoung, guilt in her eyes. “Chaeyoung, I have really enjoyed the fun we’ve had, but that’s what it was: fun. This wasn’t supposed to be serious. I have a family back home. My crew is on their way to get me. You can’t come with me.” Tears pooled in Chaeyoung’s eyes at Y/N’s words. She shook her head.

“You don’t mean that,” Chaeyoung sniffled. Y/N ran a hand through her head, letting out a sigh.

“Damnit Chaeyoung. Why? Why would you become human?”

“Because I love you!” Y/N groaned, burying her head in her hands.

“Chaeyoung, we barely know each other. We fooled around a bit, but that doesn’t translate to love. Love is doing everything to make each other happy.” Chaeyoung sniffled, anger bubbling in her heart.

“I gave up my tail for you! I gave my blood for you! I left my home and my mom for you! I gave up everything for you!” Chaeyoung yelled. Y/N sighed, rubbing her forehead.

“I’m sorry you did that, but we can’t be together.” Anger flared inside of Chaeyoung. After everything she’d done, Y/N was tossing her aside, just as her mother had said. Looking down, she saw Y/N’s knife. The sea witch’s words echoed through her head. “Is there anyway to get your tail back?”

“There is, but I need your knife,” Chaeyoung said, her voice emotionless. Hesitantly, Y/N handed over her knife. “You aren’t going to want to watch this.” Y/N nodded, turning her back to Chaeyoung. Taking a deep breath, Chaeyoung plunged the knife into Y/N’s back, straight into her heart. Y/N let out a painful scream, falling forward. Bending down, Chaeyoung slurped the warm, thick, red liquid, ignoring the pain of transforming back.

Only, she didn’t change back into a mermaid. Instead of her beautiful blue tail, her tail was a sickly green and grey. Her hair turned from brown tresses to black slime, her eyes went red, and her teeth sharpened into points. She let out a hiss, devouring what was left of her ex-lover. Off in the distance, she could hear the sound of a ship, and with a blackened heart, she sang to them.

[ruleandruinrpg]

CONGRATULATIONS, HARANA!

You have been accepted for the role of DRUVIK JADEJA with a faceclaim change to Toni Mahfud. Admin Rosey: My sweet, beloved, incredibly flawed Druvik. I am absolutely thrilled to be entrusting him into your hands -- how could I not, after reading this beautiful application? From your promises to bring him to his knees, to your para sample that captured moments of his life more accurately than I could have imagined. Those moments, for me, were one of my favorite things about him. His moments with his family, under the blessing of the stars. Those, and the little headcanons that gave me a peek into what more there was to Druvik, are what sealed the deal. Thank you so much for beautiful application and welcome to Rule&Ruin! You have 24 HOURS to send in your account. Also, remember to look at the CHECKLIST. Welcome to Ravka!

OUT OF CHARACTER

ALIAS: Harana / K

PREFERRED PRONOUNS: she/her

AGE: 22

TIMEZONE & ACTIVITY LEVEL: CST ! And I’m on summer break so i can get on pretty much every other day. Sometimes daily if the muse is strong enough. Weekends have a habit of being iffy for me (especially when the husband is home from deployment). But tbh I’ve never had issue with keeping up activity. If something RL comes up I always keep open communication with admins if I need to take a hiatus.

TRIGGERS: OMITTED

CURRENT/PAST ACCOUNTS:

http://orionmassetti.tumblr.com/ (active)

http://havenromulus.tumblr.com/ (defunct)

https://militansdeo.tumblr.com/ (active)

IN CHARACTER

DESIRED CHARACTER: Druvik Jadeja

D R U V I K : Musical, friendly, dynamic–named after his grandfather. And it was ill-suited for the man. Druvik’s grandfather was prone to drawn out bouts of silence, often sitting apart from the family with a pipe hanging crooked from the corner of his mouth, letting the smoke spill in lazy waves from cracked and parted lips. He preferred to leave Druvik’s grandmother to fill in the spaces of conversation.

But unlike his grandfather, the name suited Druvik. As a baby he’d toddle to the knees of strangers, charming patrons with his deep-set dimples and a wide toothless smile. And as he grew older, the meaning of his name dazzled in the crowds he captivated (dynamic), in the friends he caught, tangled, kept close (friendly). Even his most simple and innocuous movements seemed to follow the beat of some quiet song only he could hear (musical).

J A D E J A : The stories of the Jadeja clan extended as far back to the first stones set in Os Alta. The earliest have them in Caryeva, where the tales claim a golden goat blessed their family with their first herd, five animals for five sons and their families. From there, the stories traveled to Keramzin where the stars taught them to dance. In Os Kervo, the moon shared it’s music, the solid, slow slap of their feet keeping time in the dirt to the sweep of their arms and the swaying of their hips. Then Novo-Kribirsk, where the ocean waves gifted them with sea glass to sell and shells to weave in fabric and fine jewelry. The stories of their family flowed from Vlensk, Tsibeya, Os Alta, Poliznaya, then back to Caryeva again. While some of the nomadic families eventually settled in cities and small towns, the Jadejas made the entirety of Ravka their home, and would have continued to follow the path the stories of their forebears had set for them if it wasn’t for the Fold.

WHAT DREW YOU TO THIS CHARACTER?

Okay. I have a type. I enjoy them spoiled, over dramatic, clever, prone to exaggerated displays and using five words when one would have been enough. Granted, Druvik doesn’t fit all of those traits. But really–when I read his bio, I immediately added it to my bookmarks and said, “Yes. This one. Good.” Because I usually know after a first read if a character will fit my writing style. And Druvik will only bring me joy and pleasure to write.

And it helps that he has flaws I relate to. His impossible attempts to please and win everyone over. His difficulty saying no and his attempts to do the right thing, despite it not being exactly what is needed or even wanted in the moment. Druvik’s pursuit of personal pleasure has made him ignorant to the repercussions of his selfishness. And this leaves me with so much to work with.

WHAT FUTURE PLOT IDEAS DID YOU HAVE IN MIND?

I.  DRUG TW: The drug was called Magha. It came in small, clear and corked bottles, the liquid inside it a deep shade of violet, nearly blue while held up to the light. When shaken–glittering particles bubbled up from the bottom and swirled silver through the drink. Magha had a sweet flavor hitting the tongue. Not too cloying, more fluid than syrup but thicker than water. And once it settled in the stomach and seeped into the nervous system, saturating veins and weaving in with blood–oh, the impossible dreams it dragged out.

It was a clever little concoction. It’s makeup was based on a traditional Suli herbal remedy. But Druvik corrupted it’s natural makeup with the small science. It was disrespectful–tainting a medicine meant for healing, all to make a pretty coin. He was spitting on the history of his people. But Druvik didn’t see it that way. He’d convinced himself he was doing the people of Ketterdam a service. Magha dragged out pure joy from the most bitter of hearts. Any outside touch was pleasure. Any flavor to the tongue bursting and ripe. And for this small favor, wasn’t it his due that his pockets were made heavy with coin? The fingers that worked to bring them pleasure, surely they could be forgiven for bearing their weight in silver rings and milky and iridescent opals? And so Druvik lounged guiltless on his small fortune, a lazy and rapacious dragon. And his admirers slammed their fists on his doors, begging for more, always more, just one last taste of Magha.

And he abandoned them.

I want this sin to follow him to Os Alta. I want him to be forced to face the repercussions of his naive selfishness (he never intends to hurt). Druvik has strolled through life without a care of those caught in the wake of his self-centered world view, and I want it shaken by his past. He can only willfully blind himself for so long. There is a price for vanity, and perhaps it’s time for Druvik to pay it.

II.  All Druvik wants is comfort. After half his life spent suffering as a nomad, ill-suited for the sparsity of Suli life, he finally found it in Ketterdam. But he’s been forced to abandon it, slipping back to Ravka at the threat of discovery–both for being Grisha, and for manufacturing a drug so potent and addicting that once taken? Reality forever paled without it. And just the name of his new home–Little Palace–charmed him. Surely he would live like a prince? Instead, Druvik found himself slaving and sweating over poisons, his nails blackened by gunpowder and forced to serve in the Second Army as if he were something expendable and his face was meant to be scarred. It was too much like his past–the traveling, the grit, even if the Grisha were afforded a shabbier glamour.

So Druvik is terribly unmotivated. Careless and haphazard with his work. However if properly pushed, he is capable of creating weapons of extreme potency. Poisons that steal away the senses, and gunpowder that seeps into human skin, turning them into living bombs. But those moments are scarce. And he cannot always have someone at his side to push him to do his work.

So this can lead to dangerous consequences. Either his weapons backfiring and causing danger to those he works with, or his poisons proving unreliable, abandoning his fellow Grisha to precarious situations. He is a soldier now, and I want his eyes opened to the part he really plays as an Alkemi of the Second Army.

III. There is conflict between the First and Second armies. A rift between Grisha and those that see them as aberrations. But Druvik can’t be bothered. He thinks the rivalry is petty. He considers it something easily risen above, not even bothering to dissect the deeply rooted and historical reasons behind the division.

Druvik simply believes he is being the better man. That by befriending and loving both humans and Grisha indiscriminately, he is an example to be followed. But ultimately, he is Grisha. His usage of the small science will not endear him to everyone. I want him to trust someone who isn’t Grisha. To adore them, only to be used and discarded. For a man who abandons indiscriminately, I would like him to taste how bitter it is to be left behind, tossed aside, and seemingly forgotten by someone he considered a friend.

WOULD YOU BE WILLING TO HAVE YOUR CHARACTER DIE?: If it furthers the plot, of course! Murder away.

IN DEPTH

IN CHARACTER PARA SAMPLE(S):

The day Druvik turned six there was a full moon.

Auspicious, his grandmother claimed. And the weather was mild, the winds cool but the sun hot, caught between spring and summer. Their caravan stopped for the day to celebrate, finding a small spring by a crag of rocks, shielding them from the wind. Auspicious, his grandmother repeated, and she pinched his cheeks.

Druvik’s mother took a handful of sugar and sprinkled it into a wooden bowl, the confection glittering like silver in the light (just as rare, just as precious) as she kneaded it into the flour and butter with hands that were calloused, cracked, worn. A Suli’s hands, ravaged by summer winds, the open sun, the constant tearing down of caravans and the chafe from the leather reins of mules. Druvik knew the sweet cakes would take all day to bake. And he hovered, breaking off little pieces with his fingers when his mother’s back was turned, crumbs catching on the corners of his mouth, the sweet bread melting on his tongue. He tasted nuts and dried berries, sugar and sticky honey.

For dinner his father cut generous slices of dried beef, frying them over the campfire. They sizzled and spit, sliding in their own fat like snakes. There was enough for their bellies to feel full. A change from the usual meager portions their family rationed out of necessity while traveling to the next populated place to perform.

They feasted. They sang. They danced. Not the gaudy and garish movements they performed for customers with the intent of earning coin. But dances passed down the line of Jadejas, each slow glide of arms, every shift of feet in the grass telling a story. Of life, of death, of love, of loss–and they moved in unison under the full moon and bright scatter of stars.

Later, when Druvik’s face was flushed from sipping his grandfather’s wine, he laid back on the grass with his head on his grandmother’s soft belly as she pointed to the stars. “That one. There, to the left. My gift to you, little Vik.” Bony fingers tracing back six stars, one for each of his years, the beginnings of the constellation the Suli called Magha–the bountiful one.

Druvik drifted off to sleep. He was half-awake when his father gathered him up to lay him next to his sister on the blankets. On his birthday, he felt important. Loved. Worshiped.

In the morning, the dream would melt in the beating hot sun and the unforgiving Ravkan plains.

—

Druvik was eleven when he first felt the stirrings of that desperate want, that growing appetite for more than the meager portions Suli life served him.

They’d crossed paths with a sizable merchant convoy, the cream colored tents somber and severe next to the mottled red, blue, green, and purple fabric his family tied down over their caravans to hold the attention of patrons. His grandmother knotted glass bells to their ankles. When they moved, there was music.

His mother told fortunes, face hidden by a worn jackal mask, practiced voice low and haunting as she sifted through the coffee dregs at the bottom of elephant shaped china. Her fingers held the teacups up by their trunks. Love, long life, wealth, prosperity–what their patrons paid with their copper coins to hear. And the merchants–Druvik tried not to stare as they stuffed their mouths full of fresh meat,  and filled their cups to the brim with wine. He turned his face when they carelessly spilled water while washing their hands, and observed with longing as they gorged themselves on cakes with white icing and biscuits topped with a generous scatter of brown sugar. More in one evening than his family divided among themselves in a week.

After dinner his sister danced, colored veils whipping like iridescent butterfly wings, her limbs gliding through the air like water. His father’s scimitars rolled off his muscled arms, spiraled through the air, landing on the tips of spread fingers.

Druvik’s performance was both danger and dance. And he picked up two small lamps by their chains, stepping up to a sizable group of merchants. A bow, then he whirled the fire through the air with the grace of falling stars, quick and bright and a bit too savage to be called beautiful. The flames smeared light in shapes of animals, flowers, harsh in the early evening shadows. Faster, faster, faster–until a thin sheen of sweat gathered on his neck, his chest, and he glowed like a young god in the slashes of light, the lamps spinning over his head, under his legs as he leaped over the merchants, their heads craning to follow as he landed lightly on his feet.

Druvik bowed low to the applause, little chest heaving as he snatched at breath. By the strength of their voice and the clapping of their hands, he knew he would earn well.

Later, as his family collected their coins, a man approached Druvik, kneeling in front of him with both fists extended.

“Pick one.”

Druvik tapped the man’s left hand, and it opened to reveal a silver dragonfly, its eyes green stones and its wings studded with blood red crystals. The man fastened it to Druvik’s hair.

“Boys as beautiful as you are wasted here.” The brush of stubble on Druvik’s cheek startled him as the man pressed a kiss there, before moving to join his companions.

Heart skipping, Druvik snatched the dragonfly from his hair and pocketed it. But his mother had seen. And as soon as they left to dress down into their usual cloaks she’d snatched it from him.

“But–that was given to me.”

“Everything in our family? We share.” She dropped it into their sack of coins. “What will you do with such a thing? Strut among the sand dragons and vultures?”

How terrible. How cruel. And Druvik swiped the back of his hand over his thick lashes, smearing the tears.

But it would haunt him–the man’s words.

Boys as beautiful as you are wasted here.

His chin stopped quivering. His mouth set, and his eyes grew resolute.

He deserved better.  

—

Falling in love was easy for a man like Druvik–who grew soft and pliable under attention. Whose devotion could be bought by trinkets and treats, metallic jewelry that reflected his pretty face and candies placed on his tongue, melting thick and saccharine down the back of his throat.

Druvik loved generously. But his attention was often spread thin, and he was fickle. Easily diverted. To have the undivided passion of his heart–there was a price. And fortunately for Druvik, many were willing to cater to the whims of a beautiful, young Suli boy, whose body moved like a large cat’s as he danced. Lithe, nimble, but with an undeniable force as his illusions scattered around him and the tent grew dark and dim, with only the fire in his hands to light the small space.

Many had claimed to love him, but only Darius had offered to take him away.

Ketterdam, Darius explained, was a city surrounded by the sea. Where buildings knocked against each other for space, and their doors gaped open to spit thick clusters of people out into the streets. Darius’ father was a merchant there, and at eighteen, Darius would soon follow suit. And Druvik listened as the man described the silks they would import from Shu Han, firebirds and dragons embroidered on the sleeves of robes, and the white jade bracelets that brought wisdom. Of Fjerdan metalworks, swords sharp enough to cut stone, rings with drops of blood stone, and marble rocks carved into wolves. And Druvik was charmed, eyes wide and dark in the flickering shadows of Darius’ tent.

“Someday–I want to see it.” Druvik lowered his voice, intimate and sweet. “For now, at least I have this.” He toyed with the white jade on his wrist.

“What if–” Druvik heard Darius shift, and he sighed as the merchant combed his fingers through his hair. Darius’ voice wavered in the dark. “Come with me.”

Druvik startled. How wicked. “Don’t tease.” Letting out a huff of air and drawing away.

Darius’ hand found his wrist, fingers tight, demanding, refusing to relent. “I’m not teasing.” The words came faster, as if he could stave Druvik’s doubt with a flood of promises. “I’ll provide your room. Your board. Anything you need. Just–please. Dance for me. That’s all I ask for.”

Druvik laughed, the sound low and teasing, but not cruelly so. And he pressed his open mouth to Darius’ collarbone.

“Dance with me then.”

The next morning, Darius went ahead. And as he promised, he secured Druvik passage across the True Sea several days later.

Druvik boarded the boat, fiddling with the white jade bracelet on his wrist. And he thought of firebird silks and of a city filled to bursting. Of how he could use his gift of the small science to draw the people of Ketterdam to him, devoted to the green glass bottles in his satchel, filled with his little magics, liquid illusions for them to suck into their lungs so everything brought bliss.

He did not think of his mother, father, or sister. Nor of his grandmother, weak and ailing

Stepping to the bow of the ship, Druvik simply saw the ocean. And it was beautiful, blue, and full of promise.

CHARACTER HEADCANONS:

-  Druvik is frightened of water. He never learned to swim, and stubbornly refuses to do so even with the lake so close to the Little Palace. He’ll dip his feet in, and gingerly descend until his waist. But if anyone attempts to draw him deeper he’ll quickly retreat. Surprisingly, this fear doesn’t extend to the ocean. He finds it too beautiful, and the prospect of new places waiting across the broad expanse of water diverts him.

- His grandmother was also a Grisha. As a young girl, another Suli had taken her in and trained her, their methods more in-tune with nature and the seasons. She tested all her children for the gift. Then her grandchildren. Only Druvik shared her skill of manipulating the elements. They made medicines to share and sell, crafted trinkets to catch the eye, and wove impossible details into fabric. Unlike the Grisha of the Little Palace, he and his grandmother never divided their skills into Durasts and Alkemi. They embraced their power as a whole. And their methods were unconventional, deeply rooted in history and tradition. Even now, as Druvik does his work in the Small Palace, his approach to Alkemi is seen as odd among his peers. He’s known to leave dangerous combustibles to steep for five evenings under the moon. For poisons to sit in the snow to freeze, taking them in to melt, then out to freeze again. Either there is meaning to Druvik’s methods, or it’s a testament to his skill as an Alkemi–but his poisons and powders have an undeniable potency.

- Druvik has always been the envious sort. He’s always pined for what he doesn’t have, and vies for things that others own. Clothes and jewelry, money and rare trinkets from around Ravka. This behavior extends not only to objects but to people. Druvik tends to gravitate towards the ones that shine brightest, stand tallest, those that take control and make decisions so all he has to do is shift along to accommodate. So it’s in his nature to sidle next to the more powerful Grisha. His adoration for the Sun Summoner and the Darkling is open and obvious. While he is Alkemi, he will often spend time he should be working in Durasts’ work stations, making small brooches of glowing, gold suns and white pearls for Gemma to pin in her hair or keftas, and heavy black rings with shadows swimming in the silver for Aleksander. Other Grisha might accuse him of currying favor. And he is, in a way. But he’d always loved the image Gemma and Aleksander present as leaders of the Grisha, and he’d never been very good at taming his affections.

- His work ethic is questionable at best. He has no love for creating weapons. He finds it barbaric. Tasteless. Druvik believes his small science was meant for pleasure not pain, to deliver bliss and not misery. So when tasked with Alkemi duties for the war, he often puts forth the bare minimum of effort. If given the right attention and motivation, he can be caught up in spurts of impulsive tinkering, afternoon hours bleeding into late nights until his work table spills over with pretty poisons and deadly, glittering powders. But he’s more likely to be found creating sweet addictions during work time than the projects he’s actually tasked with.

- He is notorious for currying favor among the nobles. They have power, prestige, but more importantly–wealth. And Druvik was always a man who enjoyed a good spoiling. So he is often found with small groups of nobles, earning an intimate spot in their circles with his pretty face and words dripping sweet and thick. He demurs when they offer gifts, but always takes them. He’s been known to find himself patrons among the nobility to fund the luxury he enjoys.

- He loves people. Adores them. Is devoted to many and lavishes each with positive attention. But ultimately, Druvik seems to only consider them additions to his own narrative. He’s never been tethered to anyone. Not even Darius, to whom he owes his escape from the Suli lifestyle, abandoned in Ketterdam with the rest. Ever fickle, ever advancing in that constant need satiate his appetite for life and lavishness, he is blindsided by his passions. He doesn’t purposefully ignore the repercussions he wrecks among those he leaves behind. Perhaps, despite abandoning his Suli way of life, it continues to reflect in the way he moves forward, never wasting time looking back.

EXTRAS: I have a pintrest board here.

ANYTHING ELSE? OMITTED.

[mylittledragonhoard]

Fic: A Sign of Trust

WinterFRE2017 Prompt 94: Mer!Fili

Digital prizes please.

AO3 Link

It's a rather humbling experience when you gain the trust of a previously wounded animal, and Kili will do anything to make sure that trust is never broken.

The sun hadn't been up long when Kili parked his car in front of the large cement structure where he spent most of his time. The moment he opened the door and stepped out he could smell the salty water from the ocean not too far away and hear the seagulls as they fought over food on the beach.

Kili had been working for the Erebor Aquarium in the city it took its name from for a couple of years and he lived for his job and what he did. They housed all different kinds of marine life from the really small to fairly large, though thankfully they hadn't been needed to tend to an orca as long so Kili had been employed there.

The aquarium didn't keep animals to make profit from, but instead tried rehabilitate those that were injured and needed to heal before being released back into the ocean. Visitors could come inside the aquarium for a small donation to its cause and learn more about the species inhabiting the oceans, but it was never a big show and the animals didn't perform on demand.

Some people left unsatisfied, but Kili was never unhappy to see them go. Some people just didn't see animals the way the team there did and the sooner they left the better in Kili's opinion. The wildlife belonged in the wild, and it was part of Kili's job to ensure that as many of their residents as possible would be returned back to the wild. Sadly the aquarium did have a few permanent residents that would never be fit to be released, like a manatee that had been hit by a boat and would only swim counter clockwise because half her body had been paralyzed. On her own she'd either starve to death because she couldn't reach her food or she'd be hit by another boat. There was also a sea turtle that’d been injured by garbage, and a whitetip reef shark whose dorsal fin had been almost completely cut off.

But that was okay, Kili and the rest of the staff working there made sure that they lived happily and remained healthy.

At least they did their best. Some of the more difficult residents were impossible to please. Kili had been assigned to one such resident a couple of months ago, and he'd spent every day and a many nights since then trying to gain the creature's trust.

The resident in question was a mermaid and a rather rare sight nowadays thanks to overfishing, polluted waters, and human greed. Kili had never actually seen one in person before he'd met this one, and he hadn't known what to expect.

The species was known to be secretive and rather shy, keeping far away from land where humans dwelled. There were of course those myths about them being able to lure sailors to their deaths with their beauty and their song, but Kili had yet to observe any kind of singing so far.  Most were known to be unpredictably moody, though the younger ones seemed to have a curious streak as they were the ones more often spotted or caught. Kili had read too many articles about the high price a tail fin could go for if sold to the right buyer, or how another mer had died in captivity after someone had taken it home and had been unable to provide it the proper care it had needed. Unable to, or didn’t care.

It was enough to make him sick.

It was with that thought in mind that Kili stepped onto the observation deck and made his way to the familiar tank. The mer in question had been brought to them after being found on a beach barely alive. Nobody could say what had truly happened to him, but Oin, the establishment's veterinarian, had discovered that among many other lacerations and injuries, certain fins along the tail had been sliced off, and he could only guess that the mermaid had somehow managed to escape before whoever had caught him could finish the job. This mer’s tail had a colouring blend of gold and black that would shine when the sun hit it. It seemed to be a sought after colour as it was unique and eye catching.

He had been lucky to survive, and even after having been brought to the aquarium it had been touch and go for many days since the forlorn creature had refused to eat or even move away from a corner of the tank. Dead fish weren't appetizing and he couldn't move fast enough to catch live ones. Oin had tried force feeding him once out of desperation, but that had only traumatised him further and ingrained a deep mistrust for the vet and most of the other staff members. Once freed back into his tank, the mermaid had retreated to the bottom where his body grew thinner and thinner as the days passed and the colour of his tail dulled to brown and grey.

Everyone had given up on him surviving except Kili, and it was only by accident that Kili had dropped some of the grapes he'd had in his lunch into the water. Suffice it to say, apparently mermaids really liked grapes. At least this one did.

From there Kili had tried all kinds of fruit and found that the creature would eat practically anything. The only exception seemed to be apples. Those would only be thrown back at Kili along with an annoyed splash. Yes, mermaids were very moody, but a deep bond formed between them regardless of how many apples Kili tossed into the tank. And because of Kili's dedication, the skeletal like mer had filled out more and grew stronger with each passing day.

But no matter how strong he grew, he could never gain back the speed his fins had provided him with, and because he wasn't fast enough to catch food on his own or flee from danger, he'd been deemed a permanent resident. But Kili had hope that he'd be able to adapt so that one day he'd be strong enough to leave. It was a high hope, but the creature was intelligent and deserved to be back with his family even if that meant Kili never seeing him again.

Knowing that that wouldn't happen for years if it happened at all, Kili was just enjoying the time he got to spend with the amazing creature. They were both teaching each other and it was an experience Kili wouldn’t trade for anything.

Humming to a song he'd heard on the radio on his drive over, he shouldered the backpack he always carried a little higher as he spotted a redheaded woman already standing by the railing of his tank, leaning over it and peering into the water.

"Hey T!" He called out but barely got a twitch in response. He frowned in confusion before the sudden thought that something was wrong entered his brain.

Before he could panic and race toward the tank, his friend turned back to look at him with a grin on her face. "Come slowly." She whispered and motioned him forward.

Still confused but less panicked, Kili did as he was told, approaching the railing slowly and coming to stand beside her before peering into the water. He let out a sigh of relief and immediately relaxed when he realized nothing was wrong, though the scene wasn't something he expected to see. "How did that happen?" He wondered as he crossed his arms on the metal railing, smiling fondly at the mer in the tank.

"Ori forgot to lock the penguin enclosure after feeding them last night. I'm pretty sure they've been here most of the night." Tauriel tried to sound annoyed, but it was clear that she was enjoying the sight by the smile on her face.

Kili certainly enjoyed watching as the two small Humboldt penguins that had come to them after getting caught in an oil slick zipped and darted around the mermaid floating in the middle of the tank. He had no hope of catching them, but that wasn't the goal of their play apparently. The goal was to climb up onto the mermaid's tail that was floating along the surface and jump off into the water only to zip around the tank once before climbing up and doing it all over again.

It thrilled Kili to see that tail on full display as it was usually hidden beneath the water.

The mer seemed to be enjoying himself too as he kept himself afloat so that his new friends could play while he made a clicking noise every few moments that Kili recognised meant that the mer was pleased. They didn’t normally mix species in the same tank, though it wasn’t like they had another mer to socialize with. The only interaction the mer truly got and actually enjoyed was with Kili. All the interactions with Oin and the medical staff were forced and stressful.

Kili hadn't been noticed yet since he was behind the mer, so he took that moment to observe the relaxed and almost carefree behaviour. Now that the mer was healthier, it wasn't hard to see why mermaids were said to be able to cast spells on human sailors and lead them to their doom. Kili had long accepted the fact that he was utterly enchanted by this creature.

Long blond hair spread out in the water around his head like the tentacles of an octopus and the gold and even black scales of his tail caught the sun and shined in places now that it was healthy again. The mermaid was a beautiful sight to behold despite the scars that littered his torso and his tail, and Kili couldn't help but stare in awe of him. He could only imagine what that tail would look like if it had all its fins.

By the scarring Oin had been able to tell that the mer had originally had pectoral fins that had been located just under the hips on both sides and a long dorsal fin that had spanned almost all the way down the back of his tail. There were also markings to indicate that he'd once had pelvic fins on either side closer to the bottom of the tail. The fin on the fluke itself had once been almost feather like, but it too had gotten damaged somehow. Whether it was from the humans who cut the fins or from the struggle to shore, nobody could say for sure.

There were other scars, but on sea creatures they were a common sight. It was an eat or be eaten world and everything had to struggle to survive, so Kili didn’t think twice about the few marks of lighter skin along the creature’s shoulders or his chest. The one that was highly noticeable, and usually kept hidden from sight, was the long jagged mark that ran from the bottom of his ribs on his right side to the joint in the tail that allowed it to bend, about where the human knee would be. That had been still freshly bleeding when their rescue van had finally brought him in. It had later gotten infected, which had thrown Oin into action.

A sudden squeal that was followed by a loud clicking sound brought Kili out of his musings and he realized he'd been spotted. Kili had easily become the mermaid's favourite human and he was always greeted enthusiastically on the good days, which were becoming more and more frequent.

"Hi Fili." Kili waved to him before kneeling down and opening his backpack. He hadn't been the one to name the mer, but the staff had insisted on it because he was Kili’s mer and the name had stuck. The mermaid seemed to like it if only because it was so similar to Kili's name.

Tauriel chuckled, "I'll grab Ori and we'll round up the penguins." She said as she pushed away from the railing. "I wish my boyfriend would greet me like that." She teased.

Kili rolled his eyes as he set his bag down, "He's a mermaid, not my boyfriend." It was a familiar argument that Kili had resigned himself to.

"He's a boy mermaid." Tauriel pointed out, "Which still applies. He's your merboy."

Kili scowled at her as he drew a smaller waterproof pouch from his backpack that he clipped to the side of his waist. "He's not even human and wouldn't understand things like that."

"Bullshit. Everybody else thinks it; I'm just saying it. Even Oin mentioned his mating behaviour when you're around. He gave you his frog, Kili." She was talking about one of the bath toys they'd dumped into the tank to give Fili something to do. For whatever reason, Fili had decided that a neon green rubber frog that spit water when squeezed was his favourite. He'd carried it around since that day and had refused to be parted with it. Admittedly it had been easier to get him to cooperate for Oin if he could cling to the toy, and they'd only had one incident where he'd sunk his sharp teeth into another staff member when the man tried to take the toy away so they could get x-rays.

Everyone in the facility knew that that toy had become Fili's, and they risked life and limb by attempted to take it away.

And yet he'd given it to Kili about two weeks and had become distraught when Kili had tried to give it back. Now it sat in the bottom of Kili's bag and he found himself carrying it around with him.

Mermaids were said to give a gift to a potential mate. Normally it would be a rock or a shell that they could weave into their hair, though sometimes it was a fish or some other type of favourite food, but Fili's tank was devoid of any rocks or fish, so he'd given what he could. And out of all the toys in the collection, he’d made sure to give Kili his favourite.

"Yeah he did." Kili sighed and looked up at her. Everyone also knew that Kili had grown attached to the mer. He'd been afraid it would be considered wrong or unhealthy and that he'd be fired, but he honestly couldn't help it. Forming an attachment to any of the animals was a given, but mermaids were on a whole other level. He was relieved to know that he wasn't the first of his kind to form such an attachment either.

"Mermaids are different from the other creatures we bring in." Thorin, the man running this whole operation had told him when Kili had first brought it up, "I don't even feel right calling them animals. They're people, just different from us. It doesn't happen as often now since they're rarely spotted, but do a quick Internet search and you'll see that you're not the first." Kili had been under the impression that Fili wasn't the first mermaid that Thorin had ever encountered before, but he hadn't been brave enough to ask.

"Everybody knows that mermaids choose one mate in their lives, and this one has chosen you. You know he'd be displaying his fins for you if he could." Tauriel was smirking, "And from what we've pieced together, they'd be pretty magnificent."

Kili hated thinking about the fins Fili had lost. They weren’t only to help a mermaid swim and manoeuver in the water, but the fins were a way to attract a mate. Even if Fili were able to be released one day, he was pretty much condemned to a life of solitude. "Could you just go get Ori and get those penguins out? It's hard to teach Fili when he's distracted." Kili muttered as he got up and moved to a ladder that would take him to a large smooth ledge a few inches under the water. The water of the tank itself was a few feet down from the observation deck where Tauriel was still standing for safety precautions so that any animal inside it couldn't climb out and hurt themselves.

"Oh please." Tauriel rolled her eyes, "As if he ever pays attention to anything else when you're around. Stop denying it Kili." She huffed but did as she said she would and left to go find Ori.

“I’m not denying anything.” Kili mumbled as he turned back to the three figures staring at him. The two penguins had already climbed out of the water and were standing near the edge of the ledge. Fili was between them, leaning on his arms so that he was half way out of the water and his tail was still beneath the surface. He was rather protective of it and rarely let even Kili touch it. Kili couldn't blame him and didn't take it personally.

"Hey you." Kili smiled at his friend before kneeling down in front of the three of them. The two penguins got greetings of their own as they crowded either side of him looking for fish. "You two know I don't carry fish, and I'm not giving you the grapes I have." He told them as if they understood.

The penguins might not have understood, but Fili understood the word 'grapes' very well and his blue eyes lit up in excitement. He reached across the short distance and tugged on Kili’s shorts, giving the man a pleading look.

"You know the deal. You'll get your treats when we learn something today." Kili laughed as he pried that hand from his clothing. He didn't let go of it though, and Fili clung onto him too. His hand was cool from being in the water, but it warmed quickly within Kili's grasp.

During one of his many talks with Thorin regarding the mermaid and mermaids in general, Kili had learned that there were records of older mermaids learning to speak the human language. While Fili was considered young for a mer, Kili had decided that he was going to try to teach Fili to speak. If the mer was going to be a permanent resident, then Kili didn't see the harm in trying to better communication with him for both their sakes. Besides, Fili grew bored easily and this gave him something to do, and of course it meant more time with Kili and getting his favourite treat every time he learned a new word.

So far he'd learned to say 'hi', 'food', 'yes', 'no', and they'd been working on Kili's name, though the L sound was giving him a little trouble. They'd only just started, so Kili thought it was great progress.

The hand disappeared quite suddenly as Fili slipped back under the water and the penguins suddenly started chittering loudly as Tauriel returned with Ori. Ori was their favourite because he always gave them fish, but Ori had also been one of those that had helped in Fili's forced feeding so he wasn't trusted, and every time he was near Fili would hide under the surface.

"I hope they didn't cause too many problems." Ori smiled sheepishly as he knelt down to receive one of the penguins that Kili picked up and handed over.

"Nah." Kili shook his head, grinning widely as he remembered the fun his mer had been having. “I don’t think anybody would complain if they happened to get out again." He said cryptically.

Ori understood his meaning and winked down at the brunet. "Oh, knowing these two I'm sure it'll happen again." He promised as Kili handed the second penguin to Tauriel. "We'll leave you and your merboy alone now." Ori laughed.

"Damn it Tauriel." Kili groaned as he watched them walk away laughing. By noon the rest of the facility would be using that term and Kili knew he'd be in for a lot of teasing. Oh well, it was all in good fun, and he supposed it was kind of true.

He glanced back and was greeted with nothing but the calm surface of the water. "Are you planning on hiding the entire time?" He asked but there was no response. He sighed dramatically even as he walked to the edge and sat down with his legs dangling over the cement ledge. The water quickly soaked the shorts he was wearing and made him shiver, but he seemed to spent more of his time in the water than out of it and was used to the cold temperature. He patted the surface of the water to get Fili's attention.

"Alright, looks like I'll have to eat these grapes all by myself then." He dug into the bag he carried and pulled out a couple of green grapes. Those were the favourite choice. Red just didn't cut it.

Before he could even pretend to pop one into his mouth, a wave hit him from the front as Fili surfaced right between his legs and he suddenly had his arms full of chirping mermaid. He laughed happily as arms circled around his neck and a wet nose nuzzled against his chin. "I was only gone for eight hours and you act like you haven’t seen me in forever!" He snickered once the chirping had died down.

Fili didn't care how long Kili had been gone for and he always hated having to watch the human leave. Kili was told that he'd usually sulk in the bottom of his tank most of the night afterward, and while Kili felt guilty for causing the distress, he couldn't very well live at the aquarium, even if he wished he could.

"Hihihi." Fili greeted him, looking pleased with himself as the words were clear though slurred together. His voice was a little rough sounding as he wasn't used to speaking yet, but Kili enjoyed hearing it all the same.

A hand reached down to grab at the pouch on Kili's waist.

"Hey, hey! You know the rules." Kili wiggled a little to get away from the grabby hand. "New word first." He insisted, grinning when the mer pouted at him. "I'm glad to see that that isn't just a human trait." He snickered before holding up the grape he held in his hand. "Say my name and you get this and a special treat."

Curious as to what this special treat entailed, blue eyes regarded him for a moment before he opened his mouth. "Keeeee." He began.

"Now try the last part." Kili encouraged before showing Fili how to make the L sound by pressing the tip of his tongue against the back of his front teeth. "Leeee." He prolonged the vowel a little.

Fili had no sense of personal space and got right up close to Kili's face so he could watch the movements of the human's tongue as it preformed the action. He smelled a little stronger than the sea, but it was a scent Kili was well acquainted with and actually enjoyed.

"Lllll..." He opened his mouth, showing Kili his sharpened teeth as he pressed the tip of his rough tongue against the backs of them just as Kili had shown him.

"Now it just sounds like you're growling." Kili teased, leaning back on his hands so Fili didn't just drag him into the water by the weight of his tail. The mer was happy enough to rest against him.

"No." Fili pouted again, eyes narrowing at the teasing. Kili recognised that he should lay off the teasing a little as a real growl escaped his friend's throat. Some days Fili was receptive to it, others he wasn't. Moody creatures indeed.

"Okay, okay. I won't tease you today." Kili promised before bringing one hand forward and poking Fili's nose.

Those blue eyes crossed to watch the finger and the mer shook his head when his vision went funny. Apparently he wasn't having that behaviour today either because he opened his mouth and had Kili's finger between his teeth faster than Kili could register the movement.

He frowned when he felt the sharp pinch of teeth close around his skin. It wasn't enough to really hurt or do any damage, but the warning was clear. "Hey now. We've talked about this. You bite me and I take the grapes and go eat them myself, and I will make sure you can see it." Kili threatened and since he'd done it before, Fili knew it wasn't an empty one.

The teeth tightened but Kili wasn't worried. He knew Fili just had to take a moment to make his decision. He'd been bitten before, mostly at the beginning when they were still building trust between them, but there had been a couple of times like today when the mer was extra moody or having a bad day.

Deciding that grapes were better than being a brat, Kili's finger was released and most of the upper body weight of the mer was pressed down on the man. There were soft chirps and clicks of apology as Fili cuddled into Kili's chest.

"I know you didn't mean it." Kili promised, using his now free hand to run through Fili's hair. It was tangled and wet, but Kili was careful not to pull on any snags. "Were you up all night playing with the penguins?" He suddenly wondered. That would explain the grumpiness.

"...yes." Fili sounded reluctant to admit it, like a child being chided by his mother for staying up too late on a school night.

"You're such a silly thing." Kili laughing softly. "If we can make it through a quick lesson without any blood shed or loss of fingers, we'll go easy the rest of the day. How does that sound?" He moved his head back enough so that he could peer into Fili's face.

The mer looked tired now that Kili was looking, and he couldn't help but smile softly at the cute sight a sleepy Fili made as he nuzzled against Kili's shirt. He made a rather displeased sound, but relented and sat up so they could continue.

"Lee." Kili prompted and they spent the next little while struggling with the L until finally, Fili grew frustrated and took a deep breath.

"Lee!" He shouted to release some of that frustration, but instead startled himself into silence. He stared at Kili with wide eyes before sinking back into the water with a squeak.

Kili laughed, the comical behaviour once more reminding him of a child who'd just done something wrong. It was quite the opposite though, and Kili clapped in pride, "You did it!" He cheered. "Don't hide, you did it!" He held his arms out, knowing Fili knew it meant Kili wanted a hug.

A wave soaked his shirt completely as Fili surged forward, wrapping his arms around Kili's waist, squeaking and clicking happily even as his swishing tail churned the water around them.

"Okay, now say it together." Kili pulled back a little, hands going up to gently cup Fili's cheeks. "We'll go slowly, okay? Kee."

Fili was grinning widely, his whole body wiggling in excitement. "Kee." He repeated.

"Lee." Kili was excited for him.

"Lllleeee." The mer forced out again. "Keelee." He wrinkled his nose and frowned because it wasn’t quite right.

"You almost got it." Kili would have been happy with that, but Fili didn't seem satisfied. "Just say it a little faster. Kili."

"Kili." Fili breathed out.

"That's it!" Kili gasped, utterly bursting with pride at Fili's accomplishment. He’d make sure to leave a big message on the whiteboard in the staffroom about this.

"Kili!" This time the name was followed by a series of clicks and squeals that Kili had learned was an equivalent to laughter. "Kili. Kili. Kili."

"I wish you knew what a nerd was, because you're being one." Kili shook his head in amusement as he pulled three more grapes out of his pouch. "Alright, that was amazing Fili. Here's your treat." He held the grapes out where they were snatched up quickly as though he might change his mind any second.

Fili lounged against him as he consumed his well-earned reward as though he were a large dog who still believed itself to be a lapdog, but Kili didn't mind the extra weight and waited patiently for Fili to finish.

When he had, those blue eyes focused on Kili again. "Kili." This was clearly going to be Fili's new favourite word. Maybe they'd work on Fili's name next.

"What?" The brunet asked with a grin on his face, a surprised yelp escaping him as questing hands were shoved into his shirt. "Hey!" He giggled, "What are you doing?" He tried to shift away from sharp nails but Fili was basically pinning him to his spot.

The mer whined, unable to communicate what it was he was looking for. He reached for the pouch again and wiggled it, though surprised Kili by not just pulling it and retreated to the bottom of the tank. That had happened before.

"I already gave you your treats." Kili said brows furrowed for only a few seconds before it dawned on him. "Oh! You want your special treat?"

"Yes!" Fili attempted to crawl into Kili's shirt again, hunting for whatever else the human might have brought with him.

Kili couldn't help the giggles falling from his mouth, "It's not food, so you might be disappointed."

That caused Fili to pause and look at Kili in confusion. "Food? No?" He tilted his head adorably as he stared at the human.

"No food." Kili shook his head before smiling down at his mer. "I don't even know if mers do this." He admitted before he took a breath, leaned forward, and then planted a kiss right on the tip of Fili's nose.

The mer stilled completely as he stared at Kili like a deer caught in headlights once the man had pulled back to see his face, even his tail had stopped shifting.

Kili grew a little worried. Did mers have offensive gestures? Had Kili just crossed a line?

But then his worry melted away as the shocked expression on Fili's face turned into one of pure delight, and before Kili knew what was happening, hands gripped his wrists and he was being pulled into the tank.

"Hey!" He managed to cry out before he went completely under. He didn't panic as he was an expert swimmer, and he really should have been used to being yanked into the water by the mer.

He surfaced in the middle of the tank and brushed his hair out of his face so that he could spot the dark shape swimming in celebratory circles around him. He chuckled at the dramatic display and certainly wasn't going to put a damper on the mer's happiness. Besides, Fili's excitement over something small was ridiculously cute. "Are you done yet?" He laughed, treading water as he watched the dark colour of Fili's tail move by him again. Instead of going around for another lap, the mer changed course under the water and came right up beside Kili and floated along on his back.

"Are you done with your little dance now?" Kili teased, sensing that it was okay to do so this time. His respond was to get a tail shoved against his side. "Wait, what-" He knew touching Fili's tail would usually end in one way: with a harsh slap and the mer hiding along the bottom of his tank for a few hours, but this seemed to be like an offering of some sort.

He watched the mer, careful to keep his hands away from the shimmering scales. Fili didn't seem disturbed by having Kili so close at all and made an encouraging little purring sound as they both bobbed in the waves he'd created.

"I can touch?"

"Kili. Yes." Fili promised as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, seemingly not having a care in the world.

Apparently Kili was getting a special treat of his own today. It was the ultimate sign of trust as far as Kili was concerned, especially considering the harsh abuse Fili had already endured at the hands of other humans. He was not taking this offer lightly.

Carefully, and with more than a little caution in case Fili changed his mind as mermaids were known to do, Kili placed the tips of his fingers along the large scar along Fili’s ribs. The mer didn’t even twitch as he soaked up the sun that was beaming down into this part of the tank. Deciding it was safe, Kili trailed his fingers down marvelling at the change in texture as skin almost like his own turned rougher and darkened with scales. They were mostly smooth as long as he kept his hand going in the direction toward the fluke, but very rough if he moved back toward Fili’s head.

He paused when he reached one of the smooth scars where a pectoral fin used to be and ran his thumb gently over it. It saddened him, but he tried not to think about it. As much as he wanted Fili to be able to return to the wild and to his home, the chances of that were slim. He’d never survive, and now that he’d chosen a mate, the likelihood of him leaving was almost nonexistent. But like the other creatures at the aquarium, he’d be given the proper care and attention so that he would live a good and happy life.

Kili would personally make sure of it.

Just a note: Fili’s tail originally looked like #7, though different colours.