#and the fact that she can't turn any further made her gaze go off to the side

[robo-dino-puppy]

dappled light

[gustavsbrainneuron]

Sigh. I ran as fast as I can into your inbox. ugh! syopppp I’ve been imagining Tom like eating readers pussy like mostly everydayyy, but she has to like literally tug oh his dreads/braids since he’s so freaking attached to her pussy :3 like maybe hes stressed and literally needs to eat it to the point where she’s so sensitive but he doesn’t care at all!! and yea after care too !!

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Can't get enough.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎2008 Tom Kaulitz × female reader.

Warnings: smut and (kinda of) angst, dacryphilia, slightly degradation, Tom taking out his anger on the reader's pussy, all CONSENSUAL ofc.

Author's note: anon i actually love your mind sm like come here let me kiss that brain you freakster 🤤🤤🤤......... sorry for taking so long to make your fic and sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language. HOPW YALL ENJOY THIS MWAH MWAH MWAH!!

I was at home, specifically in the kitchen, cutting some potatoes on a wooden board that was on top of the sink. A low volume song was playing on a radio that was on the table and I was humming the song while cutting the potatoes, everything was peaceful. It was too peaceful, as suddenly this tranquility was interrupted by the sound of the front door being opened and then closed with force. The sound caught my attention, making me drop the knife and leave it on top of the cutting board, turning on the tap to pour water on my hands, shaking off the excess water and walking quickly to the hallway that led to the front door, looking to Tom who had just arrived from the studio. I smiled gently and as soon as Tom's eyes landed on me, I could see the stress and exhaustion in his expression.

We both walked until we got closer to each other; the radio music still playing, but much quieter and further away. I looked at him with a worried face and before I could say anything, he just hugged me, his tall figure pressing against my body. "I just have a headache." He replied, hoping my worried expression would go away. I stroked his back, my fingertips going up towards the back of his neck, stroking the soft skin there. "Are you okay? Do you want some painkillers?" I asked gently, feeling his slow breathing against me, I loved the fact that he was so relaxed with me, it made me feel so loved.

He shook his head negatively, breaking the hug, the familiar smell of his sweet cologne leaving my nostrils. I moved closer to him, my right hand going up to his face and resting on his cheek, closely observing his tired face. There seemed to be something more, as if he wasn't just having a headache and I wanted to know what that "something" was. "Did something happen in the studio?" Saying this drew a sigh from Tom, who relaxed against my hand, letting me touch his tired face more while one of his hands made its way to my waist, keeping me close to him. He looked down into my eyes with those brown eyes, it made my heart melt - as cheesy as that was. His gaze showed hesitation and vulnerability, caught between telling me what happened or not. "I got into a fight with one of the studio employees. It wasn't anything serious but it seemed like he wanted to do whatever he could to ruin my day." He finally said, lightly squeezing my waist as I caressed his cheek with my thumb, paying attention to what he was saying. "I swear, he kept messing with the volume of my guitar and Bill's microphone, it seemed like he wanted to make everything loud and horrible for our next show." He finished, sighing and removing his hand from my waist, waiting for some response from me. "It really seems like a bad day, huh? How about we play something on the video game and relax?" I suggested, smiling gently and bringing our lips closer, giving him a quick kiss before pulling away briefly - this gesture brought a smile from Tom's lips, this smile seemed to have lit up the house more, since even that small metal in the corner of his lip shone on the slightly orange light that hit both of us. "Sure. I'm just going to take a shower first." Tom replied and got closer to my face only to kiss my forehead and walk past me, heading towards our room.

I headed towards the kitchen, going back to making our dinner. I finished cutting the potatoes, placing them in a pan with water, turning on the oven and closing with a lid. My hands went to a drawer, opening it and taking out a timer, where I set 35 minutes and let the timer start.

While Tom was taking his shower, I went into our room and saw his guitar in the corner. I didn't know much about the guitar, just a few chords that Tom had taught me a long time ago, but as I had nothing to do, I decided to pick up the guitar and play. I placed the instrument on my lap, placing it on my upper thigh and picking up the pick that was "stuck" between the strings. I gently brought my left hand fingers closer to the strings, pressing three fingers on an E chord. I used the pick in my right hand to pick the three strings that my left hand was pressing, producing a very low sound; since the guitar wasn't connected to a speaker - no rock for me today, I thought and chuckled at the thought, just getting up and placing the guitar on its stand, leaving the pick on the dresser from Tom. I was so distracted that I didn't even notice that Tom came out of the shower and was watching me, he was already dressed but in simpler clothes and a towel around his wet dreadlocks. When I was about to turn my back, I only saw a tall shadow approaching me and I was startled, letting out a loud gasp and closing my eyes, as I didn't expect him there now.

Tom was startled by my fright, looking at me with a raised eyebrow, confused. "What was that? You scared me." He said, laughing at my still scared expression. My heart was beating fast, and I moved closer to him, only to give him a subtle slap on the arm. "I scared you?? You scared me!" I snapped, dramatically placing a hand on my chest, smiling at the sound of his laughter. "You're the one who gets scared very easily." Tom approached, his hands instinctively going to my waist. My eyes went up to his face, looking at his expression that seemed less tired now. "What were you doing with my guitar? What can I say?.. you don't even know how to play guitar." He teased, smiling confidently and foolishly, making me roll my eyes in response to his statement. "I just don't start learning it because if I learn your band will want me to join too." I stuck my tongue out at him, making us both laugh, our laughter echoing around the room.

We both went to the living room and as I had suggested; we were playing the videogame. It was a simple game, a racing game. I honestly wasn't good at it, sometimes I confused one button or another but today I was doing very well. I beat Tom once, twice, three times!! Tom's expression seemed to darken with each of my victories, he celebrated, of course, but something seemed off. When I won for the fourth time, I heard a 'beep beep beep!' coming from the kitchen - I played so much that I had forgotten about the timer, I didn't know that thirty five minutes could went by so quickly. "Ooh wait, we'll play later okay?" "Mhm." Tom replied back, his voice showing irritation, it was very light but I could feel it.

I went to the kitchen in quick steps, deactivating the timer and turning off the pan. I squatted down to open a cupboard under the sink and get a colander, I put the pot inside the sink and picked up the pan with the potatoes, throwing the potatoes into the pot carefully, the hot water coming out through the small holes in the colander. When all the water was out, I took a larger pot and took the colander, putting all the potatoes into the larger pot. I heard footsteps leaving the room, it was probably Tom. He walked, his footsteps eating up the distance between us, he walked over and stood next to me, just looking at me.

I picked up a fork, turning to look at him, noticing his eyes that were now kinder than they were in the living room just now. "You want help?" He questioned, looking at me curiously. "Of course, the more help the better." I spoke in an excited voice, smiling gently, picking up another fork and handing it to him.

I don't know how much time Tom and I spent mashing potatoes together, I just know that we were both tired from mashing potatoes with forks. When we finally finished, the mashed potatoes went back to the pan and I added a little margarine, salt and a well-pressed garlic clove. I mixed the food gently while Tom added milk little by little into the pan. When the consistency became thick, I stopped stirring and turned off the stove.

"Well, while we wait for our food to cool, we can go back to playing, what do you think?" I said, looking at him and delicately taking the milk carton that was in his large hands, going towards the refrigerator and putting the milk carton there. "Sure. This time I'll beat you in every round!" He stated, taking my hand as soon as I finished closing the refrigerator door, gently pulling me towards the living room.

Ok, I had already won for the eighth time from Tom. His expression seemed to get more serious with each of my victories, I even suggested that we change the game but he insisted on staying in that racing game and who was I to disagree? I was having fun. When I won for the tenth time, he became extremely serious. Maybe he was competitive?..a little?..I should let him win at least once and that's what I did. I let him win but he noticed. "What the fuck? Y/n, I don't want you to let me win. I want you to play normally so I can beat you fairly!" He said, his voice rising slightly as he looked at me. I didn't want any arguments, especially over a stupid game. "Tom. I think that's enough for today, let's change the game." I insisted, looking at him who immediately shook his head negatively, insisting on continuing. I sighed at his insistence, getting up and placing the controller on the sofa, I couldn't play if we were going to fight. My steps were quick towards the exit of the room, but Tom was faster than me, he came behind me and pulled me by the wrist and before I could think, he pushed me in a slightly aggressive way towards the sofa, pinning me against the fluffy pillows, holding both of my wrists and positioning himself between my legs.

"Tom, what the-" My body writhed against the cushions, my protests being interrupted and stopped by Tom's lips; which collided against mine aggressively, the metal of his lip piercing giving an icy sensation to my warm lips. I didn't delay in returning the kiss, kissing him with the same intensity, it was love and a little anger mixing together and god, it made a perfect combination.

"P-Please.." I whined on top of Tom's lap, while one of his hands held my legs open and the other hand used the middle and ring fingers to tease my wet folds, making me elicit low whimpers along with desperate gasps. "I already told you to stay quiet." He firmly rebuked, giving my swollen clit a gentle slap, eliciting a brief, sharp whine from me. I was a mess on his lap, my chest rising and falling in response to my rapid breathing, while my head fell back with each movement of Tom's fingers, wet sounds echoed through the living room - these sounds fueled the desire to Tom. With my head tilted back, Tom took the opportunity to kiss my neck, feeling my pulse quicken. He was nibbling on my hot skin, his piercing making it feel like it would burn my skin and even then, I would remain there, completely at his mercy.

Tom began to put a pace on the movements of his fingers, removing his fingers and inserting them into my cunt quickly, making my legs shake due to the acceleration of stimulation so suddenly. I started to squirm against Tom's lap, trying to escape those intense stimulations, but Tom obviously wouldn't let me, bringing his lips to my ear to whisper firmly. "You're not going anywhere." He said, both fingers moving skillfully, making me clench around his fingers; whining louder, only indirectly encouraging him to increase the pace of his fingers once more. My eyelids were tightly shut, my expression contorting in pleasure as Tom moved his fingers faster - if that was possible, giving one last thrust with his two long, slender fingers, curling them to hit my sweet spot, this action sending spasms of pleasure through my body, my legs shaking uncontrollably as he continued moving his fingers, prolonging the pleasure for as long as possible as he placed wet, sloppy kisses over my jawline, watching my expression of pure bliss as he grunted with each whimper that leaves my lips, his pants becoming tighter than usual.

My breathing slowed as the waves of pleasure gradually disappeared, my body completely relaxed against Tom's. Gently, Tom removed his fingers from my gummy walls, taking the fingers with my fluids to his lips, sucking both fingers with one satisfied and long hum. "You taste so sweet. I can't get enough of you." He commented, taking his fingers out of his mouth after licking them clean. Tom gently held me by the waist, lifting me up and removing me from his lap, getting between my legs and lowering his body to catch my lips in an aggressive kiss; my own taste making me shiver in strangeness. I responded to the kiss, trying to reflect the same desire as him, my hands moving down his slender body, trailing to the edge of his sweatpants, pulling the fabric down in a messy way. But Tom didn't let me, one of his hands coming to grab both of my wrists, making me groan against his lips, taking his fleshy lower lip skin between my teeth and eliciting a low grunt from Tom, who broke the kiss - leaving only a strand of saliva connecting our lips. "Be patient, Y/n." He scolded me, firmly but not unkindly, starting to pepper kisses down my neck, his big left hand making its way to my blouse, having difficulty removing it, which made him just tear my blouse in half, a small dissatisfied sound leaving my lips and before I could complain, he spoke first. "Shhh, I'll buy you another one." He shushed me, just throwing the blouse that was now just a "rag" on the living room floor, his eyes immediately looking at the exposed skin as he continued nibbling and kissing the sensitive skin on my neck.

The kisses continued, making their way to my collarbone, my breasts, my stomach, my belly and finally reaching the inside of my thighs, his strong arms curling around my small thighs, keeping them open the way he preferred and wanted them to be. The anticipation seemed to be on purpose, almost as if he wanted to torture me. With each kiss he moved closer to my folds only to pull away again, making me gasp so that my abdomen sank inward and quickly returned to normal. He kissed the soft skin of my thighs, sucking on it gently, giving hickeys over the warm skin as I squirmed, feeling the hot discomfort between my legs.

"Tom, be faster!" I raised my voice slightly, irritated and impatient, whining with each mark he left on the skin of my thighs, making him stop out of nowhere. He stopped to admire the view of my pussy, completely wet and throbbing to feel something that would give me relief. Suddenly, he brought his face closer to my folds and felt my sweet scent dominate his nostrils, grunting in approval as his erection throbbed in need as well. Impatient, I lifted my waist towards his face, wanting contact, which made him force my waist down and lift his head to look into my eyes - with a look full of desire and also..anger? why? I don't know. "If you continue to be an impatient slut, I'll stop now and you'll have to use your useless little fingers to satisfy yourself." He responded with greater irritation, his calloused fingers climbing around my waist, holding me in place and bringing me closer to his face, lifting me a little. I swallowed hard at Tom's response, just nodding my head, I didn't want to have to satisfy myself alone and a small part in the back of my mind liked hearing Tom talking to me like that. I liked the fact that he was angry.

Suddenly, he lowered his face and dragged his tongue along my wet slit in a long, slow lick, making me whimper in a high-pitched way, my waist shaking in response to the stimulation; that even though it was small, it made me squirm. When his tongue reached my clit, he slowly circled it with the tip of his tongue before sucking it hard, my hands flying to his dreadlocks, pulling them lightly, just discounting his aggression and intensity against himself. "Mmm..I love your taste, Y/n." He murmured against my sensitive nub, continuing to lap at my juices and pleasure me with his pierced, skillful mouth, exaggerating with the licks around my clit, wanting to make me as sensitive as possible - and he was making me more sensitive, my thighs closing around his head. My eyebrows were furrowed, my eyes were tightly closed and my mouth was half-open, letting out little cries with each lap of his tongue. I was a mess. Not just me, but Tom too. He ate my pussy like a starving man, letting out short grunts as he worked his mouth on my bundles of nerves.

How many times had I cum? maybe 5 times or 7? I had already lost my way, I had already squirted against his face and he didn't stop. My body shook from all his stimulation, my eyes hitting the back of my skull as my hands pulled at the couch fabric, twisting the fabric and squeezing it. In a desperate act, I tried to move my waist to escape Tom, getting into a fight that Tom obviously won. Holding my waist tightly, his long fingers crushing the skin of my waist with marks that would probably remain for a long time. "Oh no, you don't get to move away from my mouth that easily. I'm not gonna stop until I've had my fill of this sweet little cunt."

With renewed vigor, Tom buried his face between my thighs, alternating between long, deep licks and quick flicks of his tongue over my clit. "I can't-mmh...hah..c-can't.." I mumbled, tears gathering in my eyes as the sound of Tom's labors between my legs made loud, obscene sounds. "Pathetic. You can beat me in a stupid racing game but look who's beating you now, me, me and me." His words vibrated through my pussy, punctuating each word with a firm suck on my clit, sending jolts of ecstasy through my small body, my eyes closing so that small tears came out of my eyes, desperate cries leaving my lips. With the sound of my desperate cries, Tom redoubled his efforts, his tongue sinking into me, feeling my hot walls flutter around the muscle that worked tirelessly and insistently, doing everything to make me cum once again. "Let go, Y/n. Give in to me." He demanded, his voice vibrating against my swollen clit before he sank deeper into my warmth. Tom felt my body responding to his every lick and this only fueled more of the desire he felt for me, ignoring anything and just focusing on giving me as much pleasure as possible and also taking out some of his anger on me. Tom's eyes would open sometimes, looking at my flushed face, loving my reaction - how quickly I melted against his mouth. I let go one last time, the knot unraveling in my stomach, the climax taking over my exhausted body, spasms running through my body as Tom prolonged that sensation, my brain unable to think about anything but him. My legs shook with each wave of pleasure that passed through my petite figure. When it was over, Tom finally let go of my pair of thighs, letting them fall limply onto the couch, removing his wet face from between my legs, looking at me and the way my breathing was still quick, his lips curling into a proud smile. With the back of his right hand, he removed the remains of my fluids from his cheeks and chin, lowering his face to get closer to me, distributing gentle kisses over my body, moving up to my face and giving me a quick peck.

"Are you okay? Was I too rough?"

"Uuughh.. (⁠╯⁠︵⁠╰⁠,⁠)"

Tom gave me a low snort for my exhausted response, straightening my completely messy hair and brushing away some of the tears that still fell, rubbing his thumb gently over my face. "Can you get up?" He questioned worriedly, helping me get up, trying not to laugh when he saw my legs tremble as I stood. I gently slapped his arm, my cheeks burning slightly. "Don't laugh, idiot."

"Are you embarrassed? I was literally between your legs a few seconds ago."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

We both went to the bathroom, but I asked Tom to carry me and he carried me, of course, it was the minimum after I couldn't walk properly because of him. In the bathroom, he removed his clothes and placed them on a space in the marble sink, helping me get into the shower and adjusting the water to a warm, pleasant temperature for both of us.

"Can I clean you up?" He questioned, looking at me, waiting for an answer and I just nodded, taking the soap and handing it to him. Without hesitation, he rubbed the soap over my body, being careful not to hurt me in any way, making me laugh softly. "What's so funny, hm?" "It's just funny to see you taking so much care of me now." "What?" He paused dramatically, his hands going to his waist, as he playfully scolded me for looking, pretending to be offended by what I said. "Wasn't I being very careful with you?" "A little." "A little? What if you fell off the couch? I would be there, holding you so you wouldn't fall off the couch. :)" I rolled my eyes, my hands going to his hand, to grab the soap and go back to taking my shower but Tom didn't let me taking the soap back, insisting that he had to clean me. "But you know, we could try something new, Y/n." His voice suggested something more and I noticed it, raising an eyebrow as I looked in his direction, confused. He sighed, rolling his eyes in sassyness, smirking. "I helped you a lot, you could help me a little too."

"Not here. Not now. We just-"

"Pleaseeeee? :("

"No."

"Pretty please? It's really quick, I promise."

I sighed, looking into his brown eyes that were begging for relief, filled with lust again. "Fine, fine. But you better be quick. >:("

"I promise i'll be quick! ^_^"

[undiscovered-horizon]

Return to sender - Kaz Brekker x Reader

[graphic descriptions of violence/injury]

SUMMARY: Someone from your past keeps sending you unambiguously romantic letters. While you think of them as nothing beyond an inconvenience, Kaz has a different opinion.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 2.9k

A/N: I'm going through the first editorial correction for my novel and as it turns out, I can't speak my own mother tongue lmao

Kaz has an eye for details. Whether it’s a pattern or an overlooked design, he always notices. That set of skills, either he learned them or was born with them, made it painfully obvious to him that your foul mood coincided with correspondence he never saw you actually read. The letter usually ends up in the nearest fireplace, its secrets never uncovered and you maunder around the club looking for a fight or a strong drink. A much bigger problem, however, was the fact that if you were in a sour mood, Kaz would become exceptionally chippy without an apparent cause. ‘Care for my investment’ he calls it, which makes a rather amusing euphemism.

In any event, he knows that the letter should arrive today. Exactly seven weeks had passed since the last time some mysterious correspondence pissed you off and the sender, as far as Kaz has noticed, is like clockwork. Strangely enough, he can’t recall a day when the letter should arrive that you’d come to the club already annoyed as though he has become privy to a rather obvious pattern that you remain oblivious to. If so, he has even more advantage - he can solve this inconvenience behind your back, in case you’d try to dismiss him. He wouldn’t listen anyway, of course. Not when it comes to you.

Knowing very well that you have a habit of arriving shortly after Inej, he’s quick to find the thief before you even get a chance of catching wind of his scheme. She’s fixing her clothes when she spots him hastily limping towards her with his face turned nearly into a snarl. A hand brushes through his hair. He’s agitated. But Inej knows better than to make the first move against the unmovable mountain. Kaz sought her out, after all, and if he means business, he won’t waste time.

And he does just as she thought. Speaking in a low tone, Kaz makes her part of his conspiracy: “Inej, I need you to do something but no one else can know. Someone will deliver a letter today. Follow them and find out as much as you can,” his voice is stern, not accepting refusal. The matter appears urgent, of utter importance.

Her keen gaze studies his face for a moment, looking for any way even the slightest tick of muscles could reveal a further piece of the mystery she isn’t yet privy to. “Is this about the new job we’re doing?” She elegantly manoeuvres around the subject.

Kaz knows what she’s trying to do. He clenches his jaw and gives her a blank, although somewhat impatient, look before slowly answering: “It’s rather loosely related.”

This is enough to put her curiosity on hold - for now, at least. The unmovable mountain remains, well, unmovable. Inej nods. “I’m on it.”

The moment she ends her sentence, the door to the club opens with a creek echoing through the otherwise empty venue, immediately earning the undivided attention of Kaz and Inej. The sound of heels against the wooden floor is unmistakable as is the fitting, rather short, coat. Inej smiles, stifling laughter as she notices Kaz immediately straightening his back when he sees you.

There’s a certain spring to your step, one that Kaz has learned to associate with complacency. Although this joyous aura is making his mind turn into quicksand swallowing anything coherent, he’s got enough grip on his thoughts to render his theory proved - you really do not have any idea that the letters come regularly. 

With a triumphant grin, you wave a scroll in his face. “I had a hunch and did some browsing at the city archives. You’re going to love it.”

Inej is gone and the only thing Kaz can do at the moment is wait along with trying his best not to think about this mail fiasco. But considering you’ll spend the entire day a mere inch or two away from him, he’s hardly going to do much thinking anyway. 

“Let’s see it then,” Kaz interposes before turning around and walking back to his office. 

Making his way to Brekker’s office, Jesper examined the expensive stationery from every side and angle. No matter the perspective, the cursive letters on the front still spell out your name. Truthfully, he does that every time you receive mail, mainly because of how little you talk about the possible sender. There’s always a huff, an eye-roll and the envelope ends up turned into ashes, without any further explanation. You become short-tempered for the rest of the day and go ballistic on anyone trying to inquire about the mysterious correspondence. As much entertainment as it usually brings Jesper, he’s smart enough to know when to stop poking the bear.

Jesper knocks on the door but opens them right after - announcing his arrival rather than asking for permission to enter. 

“...smuggling through the sewers.” He hears you finishing your sentence.

Both you and Kaz simultaneously tear away your gaze from the maps scattered on the table and bore your eyes into Jesper with anticipation. He lifts the letter, wriggling his wrist slightly, and immediately your expression falls. You clench your fist. A contemptuous grimace creeps onto your face.

“Letter for you,” he announces.

“By the Saints, not this again,” you whisper and roll your eyes.

“What do you mean again?” Jesper asks casually, half expecting you to break his hand and half hoping for an answer. Today, as it turns out, is his lucky day.

“A friend once convinced me to go to some socialite high tea with her. I met someone there, we wrote to each other a few times and then he started to be obnoxious, the whole ‘woe is me’ lark.” The memory must still be vivid to you as you let out an annoyed sigh. “He claimed he can’t live without me while never spelling my name correctly. But since I value myself a little too much to waste my time on pity parties, I simply stopped replying. The last letter I sent him, I don’t know, three years ago? And he just keeps coming back.” You clench your jaw, clearly stopping yourself from a string of profanities considered obscene even in this company.

Jesper puts on a playful grin. “You know, you never struck me as someone who’d have a secret admirer.”

Your irritated gaze makes him equally amused and nervous. “He’s not exactly secret, is he? More of a returning cockroach infestation. Worry not, boys, I’ll just burn this one like the rest and we can all forget about this little perplexity.”

“Come on, you’re not even a little bit curious about what’s inside?” Jesper coaxes as he hands you the letter.

“Believe me when I tell you that I don’t give a rat’s bald ass about this man and his pathetic wax poetic.” You snatch the envelope, all the while looking at your friend with squinted, piercing eyes. Considering who you are, a complete lack of curiosity whatsoever might as well be a symptom of a lethal disease.

In that short moment, when the stationery goes from Jesper’s hand into yours, Kaz watches the letter as closely as he can. Smooth paper, probably expensive. Careful lettering, written with patience and thoughtfulness. An aroma of mint and tobacco lingers on the parchment. The stamp has the current date on it and the postal code is only a few numbers away from the club’s - whoever sent it is in Ketterdam and quite close by.

Kaz makes those little observations just in time because you throw the letter into the fireplace behind him, without even glancing at the paper. The flames grow for a few seconds, devouring the dry stationery. Soon, there’s no evidence that any mail has been delivered to you on this day.

“Now, where were we?” You clap your hands. “Ah, sewers.” Jesper takes the change of subject as his cue to leave but you stop him right when he pushes down the door handle. “Oh, and Jesper? If you tell Inej, I’m ripping your arm off and beating you to death with it.”

He looks at you over his shoulder, a newfound sense of anxiety turning his vivid amusement into somewhat tame courtesy, leaving his smile unfaltering but tearing away the genuine joy behind it. “I will keep this enlightening piece of advice in mind, thank you.”

The door clicks as Jesper closes it behind himself. Returning to your previous engagement, you stumble upon Brekker’s stern gaze of disapproval. 

“Do not maim my investments.” Although it’s supposed to be a scolding or a threat, it comes out with a certain note of disinterest.

“Don’t try playing all nice, Kaz. You and I both know you’d watch for like ten minutes before stepping in.”

His gloved finger taps the map. “Sewers.” 

You mumble something along the lines of ‘yes, sir’ and pick up the single-handed divider again. Kaz examines your face out of the corner of his eye. Judging by your casual demeanour, the palm’s length between your heads is of no bother to you. Maybe you’re just too busy counting the segments with the divider. When you’re done, you reach for the other side of the desk, for a moment leaving broody Kaz to the, surprisingly cold, lukewarm air filling the room.

This day just can’t seem to end for Burr Lowther. First, he had to take his regular trip into the filth of the Barrel, he shudders at the memory, only to then spend another ten hours at the sewing workshop. Being a foreman pays exceptionally well and perhaps this is the only reason he’s still putting up with those lazy needlewomen. 

Putting his well-kept coat on the hanger by the front door, Burr lets out a sigh of relief - compared to the factory, his house is a quiet oasis. He remembers to take out a pouch and a box of expensive cigars from his coat. Without much thinking, he opens the small bag and puts another leaf of mint between his teeth. What started first as an addition to his personal hygiene, has quickly become a habit impossible to kill. Now used to the strong, chilly sensation on his tongue, he’s grown to like it. 

The house is drowning in darkness. Dim, yellow light from the streetlamps crawling in through the windows is barely enough to let him make his way around the furniture. Foreman Lowther is yet to start the fire in his living room but he needs to be quick - if he stalls too long his joints will begin to hurt. Even with laudanum, the ache is bound to keep him up for hours and that’s something he can’t afford. But first, he needs some light to be able to get the necessary things.

Chewing on the herb, Burr walks to the table across the room from the fireplace. He puts the new box of cigars down and begins looking for something to light the oil lamp. Once he blindly finds a box of matches, his muscle memory does most of the job - he’s lit up the lamp far too many times to think about the actions. In swift, mechanical motions, Burr takes off the chimney, lights the wick and puts the glass part back on. The fire brightens the rest of the table, reminding the foreman that he forgot to put away the made-to-order McKinnon & Co. stationery. He pushes the paper farther away from the lamp, just in case.

Burr’s knees make a cracking noise when he crouches in front of the fireplace. Carefully, he lights a match and puts it between logs and old newspapers. The fire smoulders for a moment, balancing between starting and being put out, before a bigger flame begins gnawing at the dry wood and paper. 

Foreman Lowther is about to stand up when something hits the side of his head, making his face clash with the seat of a nearby armchair. Scurrying and turning around, he sees an outline of a man, looking more like a feverish mare of the night than a real human. He’s thin and tall, dressed rather elegantly. The model crow on his cane glistens in the newly started fire.

“Who are you?” Burr’s voice cracks, giving away his panic.

“A scorned businessman, Burr Lowther,” Kaz explains slowly.

The foreman climbs backwards into the armchair. It’s difficult to look imposing while sitting beside a fireplace but his fear is far too severe to let the man stand on his own two feet.

“I’ve no business with you!” he yells. A few droplets of spit fly out of his mouth. “Get out!” Burr’s shaky hand points vaguely in the direction of the front door but Kaz, as it seems, is not going anywhere just yet.

In slow steps, Kaz gets closer to Burr, the difference in height painting him even more menacing. Lowther’s hand falls limp on a small table meant for trays with food.

“Perhaps you don’t. But I have plenty with you.”

Before foreman Lowther can ask another question, Brekker drives a sharp blade through the man’s palm, pinning it to the wooden counter. A howl of pain cuts through the night, scaring away the birds sitting outside the windows. Thick, crimson blood spills from the wound, falling to the floor in long drops. The fireplace’s flame glistens in the growing puddle, the reflection dances in morbid anticipation.

Kaz walks over to the table with the oil lamp. The first thing that catches his eye is the ivory paper. Somehow, he stifles the visceral reaction it elicits from him. Grabbing the wad of stationery, he folds it a few times and puts it in the inner pocket of his coat. Then his gaze trails towards the wooden box of cigars. The name of the company, Starling, is burned in cursive lettering on the front. In a swift movement, Kaz slides the package open, knowing exactly what he’s going to find inside - a cigar cutter. For people who can afford Starling tobacco products, it definitely doesn’t befit to chew off the end.

Firelight cascades off the metal cutter when Kaz turns back towards Burr. The man’s eyes widen in panic, recognizing the sharp device put against him.

“No, sir,” Burr begs with a frantic shake of his head. “Oh, Saints, please, no! Don’t! I’m begging you, sir! Please, please! No, please!”

Brekker’s face doesn’t change its indifferent expression. The pleading is not putting him off, never faltering his already-made decision. Perhaps, if it isn’t too morbid to consider, he’s enjoying having someone at his mercy. The cigar cutter clicks quietly as Kaz closes it a few times to check the state of the mechanism.

Kaz makes his way back to the foreman. Casually, he puts his cane against the table but away from the nailed palm, careful not to get it dirty. Then, he snatches Burr’s other hand, the swiftness diminishing all doubts that he’s inexperienced in bringing suffering.

“You have laid your hands on something that isn’t yours, Lowther,” Brekker explains as he forces one of the man’s fingers through the cutter’s opening. “Now you must pay for it.”

A muscle in his face ticks as he presses the cigar cutter. Burr howls in agony, tears streaming down his face. The finger falls to the floor with a wet slap as blood begins to pour. The white tip of the bone sticks out from the pulsating flesh, glistening in the warm, dim light of the burning fireplace.

In a feverish delirium, Lowther mumbles something under his nose, the string of incomprehensible words sometimes interrupted by sobs. Kaz can understand only two things from the ramblings of a madman: ‘wench’ and ‘reply’. Scarce information but he hardly needs more.

“Wench?” he repeats in a low voice.

With a snap of his wrist, Kaz twists the knife still residing in the man’s hand. A bone cracks. But there’s no scream this time - not an ounce of strength left in the victim. Lonely tears stream down his grey face, mixing with cold sweat as he blankly stares ahead. A gloved hand yanks his head back by the hair, forcing delirious Burr to look into Brekker’s eyes. They look darker than they should, clouded with something far too horrible to be considered human.

“Not only did you lay your filthy hands on something of mine,” Kaz’s voice is low enough to resemble a growl as though something carnal inside him has finally woken from its slumber, “but you also dare insult her.”

Burr makes a strange guttural noise, something between a gag reflex and a murmur, as another one of his fingers is cut off. Considering his vacant expression, it’s hard to say whether his consciousness even registered the loss.

Kaz tosses away the cigar cutter. It clutters and clicks falling in the largely unknown corner of the room. Reaching inside his coat, he pulls out the folded stationery. Pressing tightly on Burr’s cheeks, he forces the man’s mouth open.

“I don’t think you will be needing this anymore.”

Even if foreman Lowther was in his right mind at the moment, there wouldn’t be much he could do to prevent Kaz from shoving the dry paper down his throat. A match, a spark, a smoulder - the ivory stationery is burning inside Burr’s mouth.

Leaving Burr Lowther to his own devices, Kaz Brekker leaves the house, joining the otherwise grey and indifferent citizens of Ketterdam. The sunrise is just a few hours away. He’s making his way back to the club, uninterrupted and unbothered, to enjoy another day of your hardly divided attention.

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

I like my strong woman with a little fluff

So any headcannons for Beidou,Dehya,Rosaria and Sara taking a bath with their S/O you can go with slight NSFW but i highly wanna know how they would relax and enjoy their time together.

(Genshin Impact) Beidou, Dehya, Rosaria, and Sara taking a bath with their S/O

Strong women who go soft around that one person >>>>> anything else

Beidou sighs in relaxation as she sits next to S/O, gender difference or lack of clothes be damned.

She was wanting to soak in this warm bath with S/O, and by Gods she was going to have it.

Beidou isn't too fazed honestly by sharing a bath, teasingly peeking at S/O to watch their face scrunch up in embarassment if they were the type to get flustered.

(Beidou) "Got nothing to be ashamed of at least.~"

Laughing at their reaction, she instead just relaxes further as she leans against her S/O, making some small talk as the warm waters soothed her aching muscles.

Beidou also makes no comment if she catches S/O peeking, only giving them a smirk.

(Beidou) "No need to be shy. There's nothing you haven't seen before, y'know."

Dehya especially doesn't care about sharing a bath.

You had to save both money and water in the desert after all.

If S/O is flustered about it, she can't help but laugh a little.

(Dehya) "I can turn around if you want me to."

Dehya has zero shame about washing with S/O, in fact she's glad S/O is the one with her since she doesn't have to worry about anyone creeping on her.

She also can't help but steal a couple glances at S/O, committing the sight to memory.

(Dehya) "...Nice."

Rosaria makes no comment or action to indicate that she'd be flustered about sharing a bath with S/O.

She simply hums in content as an exhausted sigh leaves her body, soaking in the waters, sitting next to S/O.

(Rosaria) "...Hey. Can you wash my hair for me?"

Rosaria's voice is quite soft as her head lays against S/O's chest, letting their hands run through her hair, massaging her scalp.

Normally if anyone tried to reach for her head like this, Rosaria would probably cut their hands off.

Even though it made her feel weird about it, she lets S/O do so.

Rosaria trusted S/O this much to be this close and vulnerable with them.

Or at least, she hoped that this would get the message across that she did.

Sara is a bit awkward with S/O in the bath with her.

She's not entirely sure what the etiqutte is for this situation, and her body remains stiff as she struggles to relax.

Sara flinches when S/O's hand brushes across hers, but she eventually allows herself to relax and sinks into the warm waters, scooting ever so closer to S/O.

(Sara) "You don't mind, right?"

Sara has her gaze averted from S/O the entire time, but she wants to be next to them.

She leans against S/O, blushing all the while.

[ohmyeyesmyeyes]

IT'S NEVER OVER - PROLOGUE (sept. 2005)

summary: if anyone asked sid, he wouldn't say that he liked pittsburgh more after meeting nat. no, that would be absurd.

warnings: short and sweet! (none)

a/n: hi, hello! am i posting this without having finished it? yes. i don't know how long it's going to be but i'm slowly chipping away at it and i'm pretty excited about it. it might even be my favourite series thing i've done so far, and weirdly my first one? i've had the entire thing outlined for months but i've been too busy to even think about posting it, so...here you go! i can't promise posts for this will be regular because the chapters are so long, but i'll try my best to keep you posted! hope you enjoy (a series mastrlist will be out soon too so you can get the gist of where i'm at in the entire process) xo

sneak peak | pinterest board

(It started with music, but Nat didn’t know that.) 

It was a total accident, a random encounter that Sidney couldn’t possibly have predicted – one that, without exaggerating, changed his life to an extent. On a whim, he’d decided to go into that coffee shop he’d walked past everyday for the past three weeks, and it was also on a whim he actually made it to the counter to order an uncharacteristic coffee – he was newly eighteen, being pulled in all sorts of sports-diet directions, the confinement of which kind of irked him, so to him, buying that coffee was a subtle rebellion.

It was also a complete accident that he’d wandered off to the right after taking his coffee from the counter, instead of left, or forwards, or even backwards.

Sidney wasn’t one to believe in fate or destiny: he believed those terms were too magical – they alluded to some other worldly forces coming into play, and he liked to stick to facts. Coincidences. Accidents. Nevertheless, he did find it almost inexplicable, the way that his life hurtled into a completely different route after a mere forty minutes inside a coffee shop that he’d just spontaneously decided to make a trip of. He couldn’t quite get his head around it all.

To him, it was a coincidence that he’d walked past her table. A coincidence that she happened to be blaring the only song he’d been able to listen to for the last four days. He’d barely made it three steps past her before he froze. 

She was wearing those over-the-ear headphones, the ones with orange sponges from the 80s, plugged into the iPod that had come out a few years back. He recognised it because everyone that had one in his high school before he left never shut up about it. Sidney admittedly did own one at the time, but he never really felt the need to show it off  – it was much easier than lugging around a cassette or CD player with songs burnt in.

The song still had him halting in his tracks and turning around, his body much further ahead than his brain because he had to steady his mug of coffee; his sharp actions had the liquid almost sloshing over the edge, but he managed to catch it just in time.

He wouldn’t have done either of those things: stop and turn, if it had been any other song he’d heard. He was just so taken aback by it – the exact, precise song. 

The girl at the table didn’t pay him a single dime of attention when he froze, despite the fact that his hip was practically nudging her table. She wasn’t even looking in his direction, her eyes gazing out of the window on her right, skipping over empty faces as people walked past. It was clear she was supposed to be doing work of some sorts: there were textbooks, novels, and flashcards scattered across the entire table, a pencil case half emptied with pens strewn all over. She had a pen clutched in the fist she was resting her chin on, not caring for the study cards at all – entirely enamoured by the view. 

Sidney followed her eyes. There wasn’t much to look at, just a street, and her chair was directly facing the side of a retail store, clothes and mannequins displayed in the window. 

In hindsight, Sidney didn’t really know what compelled him to do what he did next.

He couldn’t tell if she was bored and just looking out, not paying attention to the music flowing into her ears, or if she was just so absorbed in what she was hearing that she couldn’t physically bring herself to think about her work – that she’d tuned out the outside world entirely.

What caught his attention the most was the crease between her brows. It drew him to look straight at her; an alluring combination of chestnut hair and pale eyes – though not too pale that they made him uneasy. She was also probably the only person in the establishment that was around his age.

She had impeccable music taste, if he did say so himself.

Yet, he couldn’t shake the inkling that this girl was wholly feeling the brilliance and soul-crushing heartache of Jeff Buckley’s genius – and he found himself hoping she was.

That was why he cleared his throat and took a small step to the other side of the table. He threw a quick glance over his shoulder, noting that the cafe was pretty busy, so he knew he could at least try to get away with what he was about to do.

He made sure to tilt his head up, because the hat covering his face would be nothing short of slightly suspicious in a public setting, and it wasn’t until he purposefully knocked into the chair that she flicked her eyes to look at him.

He held his breath, a moment when all they did was look at each other, until the crease in her brows disappeared and she reached to pause her music on her iPod, slowly sliding her earphones off so they rested around her neck. 

“Hi.” 

His assumptions had been correct. She was around his age – her voice was deeper than he’d originally anticipated – and when he found himself slightly closer than before, he was able to make out that she was studying for her SATs. 

It was September.

“Hi.” He replied, forcing a smile that he hoped would convey the apology he felt for intruding on her personal time and in her personal space. Her clutter was all over the table, and he knew that if she was hopefully as kind to strangers as he hoped she’d to be, that it would be somewhat of a hassle to shove some of it away, “I’m really sorry, but there aren’t any other tables free. Would I be able to–”

“Oh, sure.” She interrupted, immediately going to reach to sweep a space clear for him over the other side of the table. Sidney watched with a mildly amused gaze; she didn’t seem to care for the way her flashcards seemed to mix themselves up, or the way her textbooks snapped shut and she lost her page.

She flashed him a welcoming, slightly embarrassed smile as she piled the books on top of each other, and before Sidney knew it, he was sitting in the chair opposite, accidentally knocking their knees together in the process, and sipping from his coffee mug. He fought to maintain the thankful smile on his face, despite the utterly bitter taste of the coffee that seemed to fester on his tongue.

No wonder he’d never tried coffee before, it tasted like dirt.

The girl broke a small chunk of a muffin off, a smile breaking out on her face as she fought a small laugh.

Sidney blushed, “I’m not a big coffee-fan.” He reasoned, shrugging.

“I can tell.” She pressed her lips together momentarily, looking down at the plate before turning her attention back to him. Sidney felt stunned at the colour of her eyes. He’d never seen grey eyes before, but hers seemed to balance more on the green side – only when the sun struck the side of her face, they turned a watery, clear blue. There was also a tinge of brown thrown in there.

What was that called? Heterochromia?

He felt his mouth dry, and before he could stop himself, he was taking another sip of his coffee, this time managing to control the urge to wince, “Thanks for letting me sit here.”

She shrugged, gathering the flashcards and lining them up, “It’s no problem. Sorry for the mess.”

He let his eyes wander over the books once more, the green ‘SATs’ letters jumping out at him, “You got an important date?”

The girl swallowed, not entirely understanding what he meant. That crease formed between her brows again, and she opened her mouth to question him, but Sidney beat her to it, a finger pointing at her stack of books. 

She sighed, “Not entirely, they’re at the end of the school year, but one of my teachers gave us an assignment to get some study material done early.” 

Sidney couldn’t say he understood her stress – it was something displayed across the planes of her face; evident when she looked rather tiredly at the stack of books, and hesitated at the flashcards, before throwing them to the side. She folded her arms across the table, then switched so that her hands were interlocked in front of her.

She looked as though she didn’t quite know what to do with herself, and Sidney couldn’t tell if it was because of the presence of a stranger, or if she was already feeling some sort of academic guilt for throwing her attention away from her studies for a couple of minutes.

He saw her jaw clench, and at that observation, the thought that maybe he was paying a little bit too much attention to her crossed his mind, so he turned his focus to the cup of coffee. He was beginning to feel its effects; his knee was shaking softly under the table and he could feel an influx of energy spark at his fingertips. Or maybe it wasn’t the coffee at all.

He hadn’t thought about hockey for five minutes.

He saw her turn her face towards him out of the corner of his eye, and he looked up, “What about you? Are you in school, or…?” She trailed off, her eyes skimming over the logo that had flashed itself from the safe and unzipped confines of his hoodie. 

He felt his heart quicken at having been caught, worried that perhaps she’d shout out who he was – if she knew – across the entire cafe. He remained optimistic; she didn’t seem the type.

He cleared his throat, “Not anymore.” For some reason he hesitated. He could play off the logo as merchandise – he could be someone other than Sidney Crosby, the New Rookie of the Pens – or he could be honest. When he looked back at her, there was a challenge in her eyes, and Sidney knew then that she already knew who he was. “I just got drafted to the Pens for my first NHL season.”

She sighed, “Can I tell you something?” 

Sidney furrowed his brows, his mouth tilting down in a smile. He was new to the whole ‘local celebrity’ deal, but this by far, is probably one of the least impressed reactions he’d ever had. She clearly knew he wasn’t in school, but had still taken the kind courtesy to ask him the question, despite the futility of it.

He nodded. 

“I only know one Pens player.” Then she pointed to something out of the window, “That banner has been staring at me every week for the past three months.”

Sidney huffed a laugh, thinking she was joking, but followed her finger anyway. He was immediately faced with a street corner, tens of people walking past each other – he could even make out their voices if he concentrated hard enough, and it took a while to figure out what exactly she was pointing at, until his eyes settled on a billboard at least a block down.

He’d been told that for press reasons, the Pens had come up with the idea of a way of promoting him as a player, and a ‘person of Pittsburgh’, by plastering some action shots of him – still staged – around the city. He’d neglected to look up lately, fearing that if he did, he’d be faced with some images of himself, but he hadn’t escaped that entirely.

The billboard was small, and he wasn’t the only player on there, either, but he saw it nonetheless. 

When he spun back around to look at her once more, the only thing that came out of his mouth was, “There’s two other players, not just me.”

She shrugged, “I was talking about Sergei Gonchar.”

Sidney felt the blush colour from his chest to his cheeks as he slowly put his hands over his face, consumed by humiliation. He felt himself smile into his hands when he heard the girl huff a snicker. He’d had quite a few people as of late kissing up to his ego, and apart from his teammates, she was the first one to really deliver a considerable blow – and he was thankful for that; that at least someone still had the ability to look past who he was and tease him like he was a normal person. He was aware of the irony that lay there.

He gathered himself, unabashedly removing his hands and displaying the creeping blush for her to see, and sticking his hand between them, “Sidney Crosby, rookie center for the Pittsburgh Penguins.”

She rolled her eyes, not commenting on the state of his cheeks, her smile fading slightly but still remaining, “I was joking, I know who you are.” She took his hand in hers, gripping it tightly, “Nat Brooks. Student.”

Sidney swallowed, his blush remaining for other reasons, and pulled his hand away, flexing it under the table, “Is Nat short for anything?”

“Natalia.”

“‘S very pretty.” He mumbled, and she smiled sweetly.

“Sidney’s very pretty, too. It suits you.”

Something clenched in his chest.

[hazzyking]

I made a Sephiroth x reader! It's gonna be in two parts tho cause I am BUSY this one is fluffy but the second one might be smutty just a warning

You are Angeals Lil sister and Sephiroth is interested in you ;)

When no one is Watching

Sephiroth didn't grapple with most of his thoughts. There wasn't any issue that ever really kept him up at night. Tossing and turning. And groaning ferociously at the fact that his mind is keeping him awake. But then he met you... Angeal's sister... younger sister to make matters worse. The honor hungry soldier would never let anyone like Sephiroth near his little sister... never...

"To protect her," Angeal answered softly, looking over the VR sunset.

"That's it? Just her?" Genesis scoffed at his weak minded thinking.

"She is everything I've ever lived for," Angeal answered. Crossing his arms over his chest.

"How noble..." Sephiroth trailed off. He sat at the end of the cannon, looking down at the steep drop... if they were all auctually standing there, he woulve dived down into the abyss. Knowing he can never fully be with you... and that's what keeps Sephiroth up at night.

"Well, I've had enough fun today I'm gonna turn in," Angeal muttered as he turned off the reality and took his headset off. As the virtual reality crumbled around Sephiroth he lazily took his head set off and looked over at Genesis and Angeal "gotta check in on (Y/N)" Angeal spoke as the team passed their headsets into the sanitizer.

"Head on in. I can do it," Sephiroth shrugged. "You two have been working harder than me anyway." He spoke softly.

"I don't want to be a bother-"

"No bother, we're all like family anyway. I've been meaning to see how (Y/N) is settling in," Sephiroth said with a slight smile pulling at his lips.

"Thanks," Angeal said, and the group walked their separate ways. Sephiroth made his way down the hallway. The linoleum floors and white walls were a green glow with the lights that shot up from the floor. Sephiroth missed the presence of his friends as he walked further into the barracks of the lower level SOLDIERS. His breath hitched in his throat as his foot steps stepped up to your door. His hand hovered over the door before he knocked, and then his hand met the wood. Lightly rapping on the door.

"Commin!" You yelled and gracefully opened the door."Oh! Sephiroth, I wasn't expecting -"

"I know, I came to check on you... how are you settling in?" Sephiroth spoke softly like normal... but his heart was thumping out of his chest as soon as he caught a glimpse of your eyes.

"I'm fine, come on in," you smiled, opening the door wider, letting him step in. Your room looked like a dorm room. Pretty average, bed, dresser, closet, all the normal things. The walls were barren, and the only thing that was unique were the bed sheets and stuffed animals that sat on your bed. Seph's eye was caught by one in particular.

"That Moogle-" Seph motioned towards the plush.

"I-i kept it... after you won it for me at the Midgar fair, " you spoke, blushing a dark red.

"I'm glad you appreciate it," Sephiroth simply said.

"It's more the memory than the toy," you chuckled softly and sat down on your bed. "Angeal sent you, didn't he?" You sighed softly.

"Guilty," Sephiroth shrugged.

"I knew it - he just can't let me be myself." You shook your head. "It's like every time I do anything by myself, he has to be there watching me. Like if I fail, I'll break, " you scoffed, looking down at your hands. Sephiroth's expression softened at your plight, and he rested his hand on your back, which surprised you.

"I was worried how you were settling in also -" Seph hummed, studying your expression. "Not many female soldiers, so, I was hoping you'd settle in okay," he spoke gently, brushing some strands of hair away from your face. "I offered to go cause I know how he gets," he let out a half chuckle.

"Controling? You mean he gets controling?" You replied, laughing softly.

"Yeah... controlling, " Sephiroth says as his gaze lingers on yours, you look up into his eyes, still blushing under his intense gaze "(Y/N). " Sephiroth began to say... before he shook off this intense feeling and looked down at the ground. "Glad to see you settling in." He said, standing up from the bed and walking to the door "goodnight"

[obsessedwithhotmen]

✿⁎⋆ BRANDON ⇢ *- SCARED -* ⇠ CARVER ⋆⁎✿

⇾ (The Walking Dead) Brandon Carver x gn!reader

⇾ Summary: Brandon doesn’t return at his usual time.

⇾ Warnings: slight angst.

Not being rostered on for trips to gather supplies meant staying back and doing anything that was need back at camp, for you, you were stuck preparing meals for the night, probably one of the most boring jobs out of them all, safest, but boring.

Unfortunately, your boyfriend Carver was outside the walls and gathering more food as the camp was running low on stock. You knew it was getting harder and harder to find it as all the nearby areas were raided a long time ago. This meant that the group that was hunting would be out longer than usual in order to go further.

Whenever Carver was gone, you were always left terrified that he wouldn't make it back, you were well aware of how eager Pope was to sacrifice his people and claim it on the 'Gods' decisions. Any day now, Carver could leave and never return and you would be left alone in a group you didn't feel connected with, nor could you trust.

You tensed up as the door opened behind, assuming that Pope was checking in to see your progress. "Just me." Leah's voice sounded from behind you. Your shoulders relaxed and you let out a breath of relief, turning to the girl behind you. "What are you making?" She asked, walking up to you and sending you a friendly smile.

"I don't know you. Can't really think about making meals at the moment." You admitted, avoiding her gaze.

"Is it Carver?" She questioned, head tilted to the side as she attempted to read your expression. Once you nodded her head, she let out a light chuckle. "Carver's strong, one of the strongest as a matter of fact. He's a tough one to kill. I wouldn't worry too much about him." She tried to reassure you, but it was difficult to ease your mind when all you could imagine was your lover not returning home.

"I know he is, but that doesn't stop me from worrying. We don't know what kind of people could be out there. All it takes is one person that knows what they're doing, or even one rotter that he didn't notice and he wouldn't be returning back home." Your paranoid mind had left you to ramble, panicking even more as time went on.

Leah stood in front of you, grabbing a hold of your arms and making you face her. "Relax. Carver is fine. If he wasn't then he would've signaled. You underestimate him and the others." She replied. "Now, let's get these meals made. We don't need a whiny Pope on our case now, do we?" She exclaimed.

~

Now you were really beginning to worry. The bonfire had been lit almost an hour ago, food being passed around in the progress and Carver and his group were yet to return. Pope had already given his stupid speech about how 'God more than likely chose them to be the next sacrifice,' and if it weren't for the comforting hand on your back from the girl sat beside you, you were certain you would've slapped the glasses off the man.

Your food was left untouched as your appetite was long gone, you couldn't eat knowing that Carver could be out there dead.

You were so lost in thought that you hadn't even noticed as some of the group got up and ran to the gate, rushing to open the doors. It took for Leah to aggressively shake your shoulders for your attention to be redirected from the fire to the gate, where you saw a familiar head of black long hair. The sigh that you let out was one of relief, your head falling forward and resting in your hands. "Told you he'd be fine." Leah whispered in your ear, patting you on the back and departing from you to go speak with the group.

"Hey, gotcha somethin'." You didn't even let him show you what he got as you ran over and jumped into his arms, almost knocking him down due to the force. "Woah." He mumbled, arms wrapping around you and holding you close. "You okay?" He questioned, concern in his voice. 

"Am I okay?" You pulled back to look him in the eyes. "No, I'm not okay, Brandon. I thought you were dead." You exclaimed.

He held some jewelry up as his response, a simple necklace with a heart pendant, on the back saying 'forever and always'. Had this been any other scenario, you would've been beyond happy at the gift, but your mind was so clouded with anger and fear that you couldn't even think properly. "Got a bit caught up gettin' you this." He explained, a smile forming on his face.

"Seriously? You had me thinking you were dead for a necklace?" Your reaction wasn't the one he was expecting, causing his smile to drop. Once you noticed his reaction, you immediately calmed down, trying to think rationally. "It's very pretty, thank you. But the only think I want from you, is you coming back when your supposed to, not hours later. You had me freaking out the entire time, even Pope was believing you were dead." You spoke more softly, eyes never leaving his own.

"I'm sorry. Couldn't help myself when I saw it. It reminded me of you so I knew I had to get it. I split away from the guys and when I came back they were surrounded by rotters, that's why it took so long for us to come back. But no one got hurt, okay?" He explained, hand reaching up to your face, resting the palm of his against your cheek.

You tilted your head into his hand, finding comfort in the way his thumb caressed your cheek. "I'm sorry too, I shouldn't have snapped at you. You just worry me some times." You mumbled.

"I know I do." He responded. He pulled his hand away from your face and moved to unclip the necklace, gesturing for you to turn around so he could clip it around your neck.

Your own smile grew as you stared down at the heart pendant, reaching up to grasp it in the palm of your hand. "See, now I'll always be with you." He stated playfully.

"That doesn't reassure me, Brandon."

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

[ann-writes-universes]

Momento Mori (AzrielxReader)

A/N: Weather has me down, Here’s some Az angst :,)

Warnings: Angst.

W/C: 1.8k

He had been so distant since the end of the war. Different since life had slowed down a bit and there wasn't the ever present feeling of impending doom. At first, you had given him space - he had asked for it after all - chalked it up to shell shock, a deep rooted fear that it wasn't really over. Being alone had been hard, waiting for your mate to finally crawl into your ever cold bed and just hold you like he had for the past ten years. 

You waited on that night where he would come to you for comfort, and not Elain or Gwyn or a glass of whiskey that never really seemed to empty. The night where he would crawl into your shared bed and find solace in your arms, in your presence, even if just for a moment. 

That night didnt come, and after six months you began to feel as though it would never come. 

“Does- does Rhys talk to you about things?” You had asked Feyre one day in the kitchen. You were drying the dishes as she washed them. A task that magic could have easily finished but one the two of you had found some semblance of normalcy in since the war. She had stopped scrubbing the plate she held and turned her gaze to you with a cocked brow. 

“Well yes we talk about things (Y/N), but what do you mean?”

“I mean awful, terrible things.” 

“Has- has Azriel said something to you?” She questioned, turning the water up to ward off any unwanted listeners lurking about the house. You frantically shook your head ‘no’ and kept drying the same bowl you had been for the past five minutes. 

“Not in that way I just…he won’t tell me what's going on in his head. He hasn't since.”

“Since Hybern?”

“Yeah. Yeah, since Hybern.” You muttered, finally setting the bowl down. Feyre sighed and dried her own hands before grasping your forearms. Turning your body to face her she searched your features with a soft smile.

“The war was tough on us all. He watched you nearly die, I am sure it's not on purpose.” 

“Feyre. He shut off the bond. I can't feel him.” You whispered, beginning to feel misty eyed and soft. She frowned and pulled you into her body, letting your tears soak her shoulder and hair. You were mumbling nonsense into her shoulder, anger, hurt, and confusion echoed from the senseless words and she just nodded in understanding. 

“Whats going on?” His voice cut like a knife through the kitchen, slicing through the sound of your sobs and the water that was still running. Feyre stilled as she made eye contact with him, not allowing your head to leave her shoulder. You hadn't even felt that familiar tug on the bond that signified he had even come home. That fact alone had your gut wrenching and your heart dropping further into your chest. 

“Nothing.” You mumbled, gently pushing Feyre away so you could turn to face the stone cold face of your mate. He took in the tear stained cheeks, the red rim of your eyes, and he cocked his head. There was nothing there, no warmth, no concern, just an empty plane. 

Granted, Azriel was a hard male to read. But never for you. No- never once had he been hard to read for you. 

Glancing between the two of you Feyre waited until you nodded to make her quiet exit, turning the sink off as she left. Azriel leaned against the wall, watching you as you put dishes away, your back turned away from him. 

“Nice to see you home.” You muttered, closing a cabernet. He huffed and shifted in his place, running a hand through his hair. 

“What is that supposed to even mean?” You turned to face him, leaning backwards on your arms against the counter. “Exactly what I said. Nothing else.” 

His mouth formed a hard line and he nodded curtly. Turning towards the door he made to leave.

“Thats all I get?” You urged, possibly louder than you had intended. He froze in the doorway, a hand resting on its frame. His shoulders squared and he turned his head to look at you. “Seven words is all I get? I havent seen you in weeks Azriel.” You whispered, searching his eyes for any semblance of a reaction to your words.

And yet there was nothing. 

No hurt, no pain, no remorse- nothing. 

“I have been busy (y/n).” 

“No shit.” You scoffed, crossing your arms across your chest. He turned to face you fully then, his brows set in a crease so deep you were sure it was giving him a headache. 

“What do you want from me? I still have to work. I still have to go out and do my job. Not all of us get to stay home all day and play housewife with the High Lady.” He spit, and his words were laced with so much venom that you flinched. You couldn't even form a rebuttal; you were so astounded by his tone. 

You two had had spats over the years but never had he raised his voice at you, never had he tried to hurt you with his words. What did you want from him? 

What did you want from him?

Him.

You wanted him back. 

“I want to know why it feels like I am sitting by your grave BEGGING for the gods to give you back - and yet… And yet here you are in front of me Azriel.” Your voice was a harsh whisper, those damned tears itching to spill again. It shook and wavered, not at all as strong as you intended for it to be.

“I dont know.” Was all he offered in reply. His arms were crossed and his shoulders were squared, wings pulled in tight. 

“You dont know?”

“No. I dont.”

You nodded, a sharp frown overtaking your features. You pushed off of the counter, and moved towards the door. Your approach had him skidding backwards, a reaction that made you visibly take a step back. 

Sucking in a breath you glanced at him wide eyed. Azriel looked away, a muscle in his jaw ticking. 

“Well when you figure it out, feel free to find me I guess.” 

And with a final glance at the love of your life you pushed past him and left the kitchen.  

⥈

He had never wanted to hurt you. Had never wanted to see you that visibly upset with him. The utter defeat in the words you spoke as you left him there carved out a hole in his demeanor. Knocked him right off the rung he had been perched on so precariously for the past six months. 

The shadowsinger had been walking a fine line of losing his mind and keeping it together and that little discussion had pushed him utterly over the edge. 

He had tried stroking the bond hours after you left, only to find a cold and empty plane on the other side. A feeling he now knew you had been getting used to for the last half of the year.  

Perched on the roof of the house of wind he watched as the sun sank below the mountain range and the stars you so dearly loved began to paint the sky. 

For the first time in twenty years of knowing you he wondered what you were doing. 

Wondered because he was not privy to the information for the first time in two decades. This knowledge left him feeling cold somehow, emptier than he had ever been. 

It was a Sunday and usually on Sunday nights you were curled up in front of the hearth with a book in hand, smiling gently at him as he urged you to pay attention to him for ‘just two seconds please’. You would always let him have his way, would set the book down and play with his hair or read whatever tale it was aloud to him. 

Sundays had always been his favorites. 

And yet he hadn't spent a sunday at home with you in damn near 183 days. The war with Hybern had left him torn between two lives. The utterly broken and destroyed part of him that existed long before you had, when he was just a kid fighting a battle they were never really supposed to win. And the other half of him was a man who had fought tirelessly to protect the people he loved. This war had left him changed, cold. His nights were fitful and restless, often ending in nightmares and dreams so foul that he would watch the sun rise and set a few times before he thought of sleeping again. 

He hadn't wanted you to see that. 

Azriel had wanted to be strong for you when the war ended. Had wanted to be able to be your pillar of comfort and solace on the nights when you couldn't sleep, and yet he couldn't even console himself. 

He had failed you by doing what he thought was best for you. Had shut you out in an attempt to keep you blind to the horrors he had been facing, when all you wanted was for him to let you in. 

He tugged on the bond again.

No reply. Not even a whisper of a reply. 

The shadow singer laid down on the hard clay and stared at the sky. Wondering what you were doing on a Sunday night, utterly alone as he had made you. 

⥈

Pacing. 

Back and forth, back and forth. 

Pacing.

Thats what you were doing on a Sunday night, utterly alone as he had made you. 

You had felt the bond grow taut, not once, but twice and had not deigned a reply. You were angry, confused at best. Groveling had never been a habit of yours, and the spymaster knew as much. 

This was his mess to fix, his wrong to right because you had tried. You had been trying for months. Tried to seduce, to speak, to hold, to console. And nothing had been returned. Not a hint of emotion nor reaction other than an impassive gaze here or there. 

Glancing at the clock you sighed, two AM. The river house had gone to sleep several hours before, and not a peep was heard throughout her halls. One glance and the warm blaze of the fireplace was extinguished and you were padding upstairs to your room. 

You crawled into the familiar chill of your sheets and rolled to face the open window. Distantly the lights in the house of wind glowed with ever bright liveliness. You watched them until your eyes grew too heavy to stay open. 

And you waited.

Waited for the bed to dip and him to wrap his arms around you and beg you to listen to him for just two seconds.

But the dip never came, and no arms circled around you as you drifted into sleep. 

There was nothing but the twinkling of lights and the gentle sounds of the sidra humming you a lullaby. The only comfort you had known in 133 days. 

Nothing but twinkling lights and a gentle hum.

TAGS:

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[obaex]

you, the ocean, and me (pt. 1) - jj maybank

summary: jj is determined to put a smile on your face during your two-week trip to the obx, but what happens when fun turns into something more?

word count: 13.7K

warnings: cheating + terrible parents

a/n: this is set a few years in the future, assuming everyone is in their 20s. it's a slow burn, so it gets off to a slow start, but picks up quickly, i promise! i linked a couple of songs in here that are mentioned, only listen if you want to cry your eyes out with me.

You gazed wearily out the window as the pilot announced that the plane had begun its descent into the Outer Banks. Despite your warring emotions, you had to admit that the bum little beach town looked beautiful from above, the sky casting the shoreline in an orange glow.

Your mom squeezed your hand from the seat beside you, "This is going to be just what you need, sweetie" she said, "I promise."

You highly doubted that.

You had reluctantly agreed to spend two weeks with her here. A last-ditch effort to stop your life from rolling right off its tracks, in her eyes at least. You didn't know how a sleepy beach town on the coast of North Carolina was supposed to make you forget the three-carat diamond that weighed heavily on your ring finger, the text messages you had found on your fiancé's phone nor the fact that your family insisted you move forward with the marriage anyway. No, you were pretty damn sure there weren't enough Mai Tais in the world to make you forget all of that. As the plane dropped further in the sky your heart dropped into your stomach and a wave of nausea passed over you. When did everything become so fucked up?

You had met Carson Peters when you were fourteen. He was the quarterback, you were the captain of the cheerleading team. It was so damn cliché. Looking back at it now, it felt like your whole life was completely predetermined for you. Of course you would date him. Of course you would attend every homecoming, semi-formal and prom with him. Of course you would lose your virginity to him the night before you both left for college, making promises you had intended to keep. Of course he would study business, rapidly making inroads with your father's company. Now, it was only a matter of time until your father retired and passed ownership over to him. So, of course, when Carson Peters asked you to marry him you had said yes. He was all you had ever known, so ingrained in every aspect of your life and your family that the proposal felt like an inevitability you couldn't run from. Every decision was already made for you: You would get married in the same church as your parents, you would have 2-3 children that played soccer or did ballet, you would have a golden retriever, you would spend Friday nights at the country club, Saturdays playing tennis and Sundays volunteering at church. It wasn't a bad life. It was a damned privileged one, one you should feel grateful for. But you didn't. Because it didn't feel like yours. Looking back, you couldn't remember making one choice for yourself. You didn't really have a say in any of this. You were simply the perfect daughter, the glowing bride, a pawn in everyone else's game.

All of that came to a screeching halt two weeks ago.

It was a Friday night. Carson was in the shower and you were touching up your makeup, getting ready for your usual appearance at the country club when his phone chimed on its charger next to the bed. You glanced at it quickly, the noise catching your attention and you saw an incoming text from your best friend Lauren. You were going to meet her and her husband Nick at the club, so thinking she was texting about the plans for the evening, you opened the text. You and Carson didn't have any secrets between you, why would you? You had known each other for almost ten years. You typed in his passcode (your birthday + his old jersey number).

Lauren: Can't wait to see you tonight 😉

Hm. You felt like that was a little out of place, but maybe she was just trying to be nice? Looking back, you can't believe how naïve you were. You realized they had an existing text exchange so you began to scroll up and up and up and finally came across mutually exchanged pictures that caused you to drop the phone, your heart hammering in your chest, mind racing a mile a minute. You were desperately trying to concoct a plausible explanation for what you had just seen, to apply some logic to the situation, to come up with an excuse, any excuse. There wasn't one.

You could hear the shower stop running and you realized you had a decision to make. Do you confront him? Do you act like you didn't see it? There was no way you could sit through dinner tonight knowing what you knew now. You picked up the phone, set Lauren's most recent text to 'unread' and placed the phone back on the charger before telling Carson you weren't feeling well and wouldn't be up for dinner after all. He was visibly annoyed, whether because of the last-minute change of plans or the fact that he wouldn't get to see Lauren, you weren't sure. You undressed and crawled into bed as he went downstairs to watch TV. You cried yourself softly to sleep, sick to your stomach over what you were going to do.

The next morning Carson was thankfully up and out of the house early for a tee time with your father. He left with a quick kiss on your cheek as you lay in bed, grateful that he wouldn't see your splotchy face and bloodshot eyes. You didn't have the energy for a confrontation. You got up and got dressed. Normally this is something you would call Lauren to talk about. Since that was squarely out of the question, you called your mom, asking if you could come over to talk. You always had a good relationship with her despite the fact that she encouraged you (pushed you?) to look a certain way, act a certain way and dress a certain way to maintain the family image and ensure you were set up for a life just like hers.

You didn't take two steps inside her door before she knew something was wrong and you crumbled in her arms, sobs wracking your body as she held you close and rubbed your back. After you were settled at the kitchen counter with a warm cup of tea, you told her everything. Everything everything. She listened patiently and quietly, your hand in hers. Her eyes widened upon hearing the gory details, but she waited to speak until you were through. You could tell she was taking her time to collect her thoughts, to make sure she was saying the right thing, a skill she had taught you well.

"Honey, this doesn't change anything" she said simply. "People make mistakes. Some men have a wandering eye, but you're the one with the ring on your finger! Best not to ruffle any feathers before the wedding. you have a bright future ahead of you, and so does Carson - you two are meant to be! Plus, you know how important this is to your father and to me. You are our only child, we want you to be set for life and with Carson taking over the company, your future will be absolutely secure."

"What part of my fiancé fucking my best friend has me set up for life with a secure future!?" you said harshly, your voice rising.

"Watch your language!" she chided, like you were a child again. "You are getting worked up and blowing this completely out of proportion."

"Oh my god, have you lost your mind? Can you really not see how toxic this is? Can you not see how this impacts me? How this makes me feel?" you said, nearly shouting now.

"Sweetheart, this isn't just about you--"

"THIS IS ABOUT ME! THIS IS MY LIFE!" you shouted finally, rising to your feet. "Forget it. I'm not doing this with you. You can tell dad I'm sorry I ruined your perfect plans, but I'm done. I can't do this, I'm breaking it off."

"Honey, stop! Please. Listen to me. You're not thinking straight. You're emotional, you're upset. I understand that. You need some time to think before you make any rash decisions. Let's get away, just you and me. A couple of weeks, that's all I'm asking, and if you still feel the same way when we get back, then I'll support you."

"Fine" you agreed, knowing there wasn't a damn thing that could change your mind.

The ride from the Kildare airport to your rental property wound through a small but charming town with a surf shop, some small stores and a few restaurants before you crossed onto the wealthier side of the island, coastal mansions lining the shore with expensive cars parked outside. As much as you were harboring resentment at your mother for dragging you here, you had to admit it was beautiful. In any other circumstance you probably would have enjoyed it, eagerly looking forward to two weeks of uninterrupted relaxation, sun and top-shelf liquor. Now, all you wanted to do was drown yourself in tequila and tears.

Your rental home was obscenely large for just the two of you, but your family didn't do anything in half measures so you weren't surprised. Nor were you surprised when your mother announced that you had reservations in an hour at the local country club. You didn't even question it, simply going through the motions of showering, doing your hair and adorning a floor-length dress and heels. Beautiful on the outside, screaming on the inside.

The Island Club was a copy-paste of any number of similar clubs you had been to over the years, replete with overindulgent pompous assholes sporting golf attire and Lily Pulitzer. You supposed you were being hypocritical knowing you were one of those assholes back home, but you let yourself be bitter surrounded by so many people you didn't know. You managed to make it all the way through dinner before your mom excused herself to mix and mingle and "make connections" for the duration of your stay. You couldn't think of anything you wanted to do less, so you grabbed your glass of wine and headed outside to a quiet part of the back patio, leaning out over the balcony to take in the thick, salty ocean air.

It was near the end of his shift and he was itching to get out of there, fidgeting and tugging at the collar of his shirt when he saw you. He had been making his way down a narrow hallway near the patio doors, arms laden with a tub of dishes. You were leaning against the balcony, staring out at the ocean. He could only see your side profile, but he could trace your long lashes and thick lips and the way your hair danced in the summer breeze. You were dressed to the nines in a stunning open-back dress that showed off your sunkissed skin. But it was the look on your face that pulled him in, eyes narrowed, face scrunched like you were trying to solve all the world's problems. Even with a scowl, he thought you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He realized after a few moments that he wasn't breathing, quickly clearing his throat and looking around to make sure no one had seen him gawking at you like that. He placed the bin of dishes unceremoniously on the floor and wiped his hands on his pants. 'Come on' he thought, trying to pump himself up. 'Stupid things have good outcomes all the time' as he pushed the patio doors open.

You were able to enjoy a few moments of solitude before you heard the woosh of the patio doors open and close behind you and another person came into your peripheral vision. They leaned against the balcony, a respectable distance away. You didn't turn your head, you didn't acknowledge them, you didn't feel like talking to anyone. You bit your lower lip, holding back several snarky remarks, trying to come up with the most socially acceptable way to say "fuck off". You closed your eyes, mustering your energy as you turned - and every word died on your lips.

He was definitely not what you had expected. In fact, he was gorgeous, painfully so, boyishly handsome with tousled blonde hair, nearly white at the tips from the sun, that complimented his tan skin. A laidback smile rested on his lips and his blue eyes twinkled with mischievousness and fun. He was looking at you with a mix of intrigue and something else you couldn't quite put a finger on but that made your heart beat a little faster and brought a blush to your cheeks. He laughed softly, breaking your trance as he said "Drinking wine alone in the dark isn't a great way to meet people."

"Kinda what I was going for" you admitted.

"Oof" he said, covering his heart with his hands like you had delivered a physical blow to him. "Sorry to intrude, it just looked like you could use some company..." he trailed off, hoping for a response, and continuing anyway when he didn't get one. "So, you're here with your mom visiting for a couple of weeks?"

"How'd you know that?" you asked, the surprise evident on your face.

"It's a small club, word travels fast," he said, glancing back inside "And your mom plus a couple of martinis has gotten just about everyone up to speed."

You groaned, leaning back over the balcony, rubbing your temple. "I'm on sabbatical from my trainwreck of a life back home."

"That good, huh?" he replied lightly.

"You have no idea" you sighed.

He laughed, a hint of bitterness evident in his voice, "I could teach a masterclass on fucked up lives, trust me."

And for some reason, you did. It was like your own pain was a radar, able to pick up on other people's agony and despite his pretty face, you could tell this boy had been through his own.

"JJ" he said finally, extending his hand. You took it hesitantly.

"Y/N" you said in reply.

"Y/N" he said, smiling deeply, letting the sound of it linger and melt on his tongue like the first taste of ice cream on a hot day. "Do you want to get out of here?" he said suddenly.

That stopped you in your tracks. You hadn't been propositioned like that in, well, almost ten years. Everyone at home knew who you were and whose you were and that any attempt at something like that was going to be fruitless.

You held up your left hand in response, letting the ring on your finger speak for itself, a sarcastic look on your face telling JJ this was the end of the line.

He felt his heart skip a beat at that, his mind racing with questions and thoughts. Of course she's engaged. Obviously. But why would someone who's about to get married look so miserable? Where is this guy anyway? I wouldn't let her out of my sight. What do I do. What do I do. What do I do.

"Whoa" he said, not missing a beat despite the cacophony in his head. "I'm not asking you to move in with me, princess. You look miserable and I know a place that's a hell of a lot more fun that this."

The thought of running off with this boy sparked something deep inside you, like someone trying to flick on a lighter- flick flick flick - before your rational mind took over.

"My fiancé--" you started.

JJ looked around mockingly to the left and the right, gesturing to the empty patio "Isn't here" he said simply.

"My mom--" you tried.

"Is enjoying her third martini" he replied, "You can text her and tell her you'll be home by midnight."

"But--" you tried a third time.

"Look, I didn't ask you what your fiancé or your mom or your best friend or anyone else wants you to do. I'm asking what you want to do" he said, extending his hand, "Come with me?" he asked, much more confidently than he felt.

It was the first time in as long as you can remember that you had the freedom and the opportunity to make a decision by yourself for yourself. You reveled in it, letting go of every obligation you had to say no.

You placed your hand in his, meeting his strong gaze, "Let's go."

He led you by the hand down a small set of stairs to a walkway that led directly to the parking lot. You were overwhelmingly grateful for his discretion, both of you knowing better than to parade this situation in front of the onlookers inside. You let go of his hand to type out a quick text to your mom and continued to follow him, so engrossed in trying to word your message that you nearly walked into him as he yanked off his bowtie and vest and loosened several buttons on his shirt. You hit send just as he was handing you something. You registered the helmet in your hands, then the bike in front of you.

"No way" you scoffed "Absolutely not."

"Come on" he said, waving you over, ignoring your comments. You took a hesitant step forward and before you knew what was happening, he was kneeling in front of you, grabbing the hem of your dress and rolling it delicately up your leg, revealing your three-inch heels, your calves, his fingers barely touching you, the featherlight passes sending goosebumps up your legs. As his hands nearly reached your knees, you managed to find your words, "H-Hey what are y-you doing?" you asked, your mind completely disconnected from your mouth at the sensation of his fingers on you. He bunched the dress to one side and tied it in a tight knot.

"Can't have it getting tangled in the wheel" he said cheekily as he straightened up, taking the helmet out of your hands and stepping towards you, both of you nearly chest to chest. He smiled devilishly at the blush on your cheeks before sliding the helmet over your head and reaching to gently snap the straps in place.

He pulled his own helmet on and straddled the bike effortlessly, scootching forward to give you room behind him. You settled in, the sloped curve of the seat sliding you right into him, your thighs resting against his hips, your front flush to his back. You looked around for something anything to hold onto as he revved the engine.

"Please hang on to me" he turned to say, picking up on your defiance of the situation. "I don't want you to be uncomfortable, but I also don't want you to die, so it's really the lesser of two evils at this point."

Resigned, you pressed into him, wrapping your hands around his strong core.

"Good?" he asked.

"I think so" you replied hesitantly.

And you were off.

The bike skidded slightly in the gravel, picking up speed as he shot down the driveway at the club.

Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. You thought to yourself, realizing too late how enormously stupid it was to get on a dirt bike in a dress and three-inch heels with a complete stranger. It sounded like the start to a 48-hour mystery.

And yet.

As JJ navigated the narrow streets confidently, crossing the bridge to the beach, you loosened your death grip just enough to look around and take in the twinkling lights of the homes in the distance, the blink of the lighthouse, the sound of the crashing waves and the warm wind whipping your hair back under the helmet. You closed your eyes, took a deep breath of the salty air and realized you felt surprisingly okay. For the first time since you read those texts the simmering rage and frustration that had been building up inside of you felt more like a warm pot of soup simmering on the stove than a kettle hissing with boiling water. It was contained, manageable.

JJ pulled over amongst a line of other cars and bikes at the beach. As he cut off the engine you could hear the distinct sound of a party, chattering voices, bumping music and you could make out the flickering light of several bonfires as you slid off the bike and pulled your helmet off, frantically trying to untangle your wind-whipped hair. JJ took in your mussed hair, wrinkled dress and rosy cheeks, pink from the adrenaline of the ride and smiled. "You're not going to need those here" he said, pointing to your heels. You slid them off, letting your toes rest in the cool sand as he led the way.

He navigated expertly around the crowd, dodging drunk people, waving to others as they called out to him. He was clearly well-loved and even your brief interaction told you why, his easygoing, laid-back, friendly nature and quick smile were welcoming and inviting, magnetic. It made your fears and anxieties slip away, like as long as you were in his orbit, nothing could go wrong, everything was always good times and sunshine and nothing else mattered. Despite the distractions, wherever he walked, he continued to look back at you to make sure you were still behind him, smiling at you as he waved you forward. You finally found your way to a small bonfire surrounded by a few people that eagerly cheered upon seeing him and tossed him a beer.

He quickly introduced you to his friends and you tried your best to remember their names and nicknames, Kie? Pope? John B (the middle initial seemed very important), Sarah and Cleo. They welcomed you with open arms, literally hugging you, the girls tugging on your dress, overwhelming you with compliments. You weren't sure if it was the booze or if they were always this nice, but you felt immediately at ease. You could tell they were a tight-knit group the way they interacted with each other, a familial casualty in the way they leaned on one another around the bonfire, finished each other's sentences and traded inside jokes. And for the first time in a long time, you just let yourself be. You didn't care that your hair was a tangled mess, that your dress was wrinkled and now covered in sand or that you were drinking Corona. You let the beer and the conversation flow, soaking in the genuine presence of the people around you.

JJ settled on the opposite side of the fire, content to watch you through the flames that lit your face in an orange glow. You already looked like a completely different version of yourself than he had seen on the balcony, like a physical weight had been lifted from your shoulders as you laughed unabashedly. His heart swelled with the thought that he was the reason for the smile on your face. He couldn't tear his gaze away as he looked at you, fidgeting with the label on his beer, barely bringing it to his lips which sat in a permanent smile.

John B looked from his best friend to the new girl and back again. He knew that look on JJ’s face, though he’d never seen it directed at a girl before. It was the same look he’d had the last time they surfed the surge: determination, admiration, desire. It was undeniable. As was the giant ring on her finger. That look and that ring were at odds with one another and he knew he needed to quash this, now.

He nudged JJ and tilted his head away from the group. JJ sighed, hanging his head. He knew this was coming. He stood up, smiling at you quickly before walking away. When he caught up with John B out of earshot, they didn’t dance around the topic at hand.

“What are you doing, man?” John B asked.

“Chillin’, drinkin’ some beers with my friends” JJ replied smartly, taking a long sip of his beer to avoid eye contact.

“You know what I mean, JJ, what are you doing with Y/N?” John B insisted, tone serious.

“I’m just trying to show her a good time” JJ said nonchalantly, shrugging.

“Don’t bullshit me, man” John B said, the frustration in his voice evident, “I see the way you’re looking at her and I also see that rock on her hand. It’s a no-go amigo. Not cool.”

The smirk on JJ’s face disappeared as he grew uncharacteristically serious. He dropped his eyes to the sand, kicking it around with his feet, trying to find a way to put into words what he knew to be true in his heart. She’s not happy. I can make her happy. I know I can make her happy.

“You didn’t see her earlier” he started, eyes downcast, feet continuing to kick the sand around. “She’s miserable, she’s caught up in typical kook bullshit, like she’s never had a day of fun in her life… the look on her face…” he stopped himself, heart clenching at the thought. “I know this is crazy, man, but I don’t think she wants to marry this guy.”

“She said that?” John B said, surprised.

“…Not exactly” JJ replied.

John B huffed, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation. “So, what? You’re psychic now? C'mon man” he said, urging his friend to see reason.

JJ cast his eyes down again.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt” John B continued. “This isn’t going to end like you think this is going to end. She’s going to have her two weeks of fun and then she’s going to go right back to her kook life and you’ll be left to pick up the pieces.”

JJ shook his head. John B’s words warring with the images in his head that played like a movie, the sorrow on your face as you looked out at the ocean, the way your eyes sparkled in the twinkling lights on the balcony, the blush of your cheeks as he pulled your helmet on, the tug of your arms around his chest and the feeling of you pressed tightly to him. You were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. You knew he was just a bus boy and you agreed to leave with him, you slipped your hand into his, you got on his bike, you’d met his friends. No. There was something there. And he was going to chase it, even if it destroyed him in the process. He clenched his jaw and looked up at John B, determination in his eyes. “I’m doing this. You’re either with me or you’re not, but I’m doing this” he said resolutely.

John B’s heart sank as he sighed deeply. JJ was nothing if not stubborn. It made him loyal at the best of times and rockheaded at the worst of times. It was both his best and his worst quality. “I’m always with you, man” he said, regret already evident in his voice.

JJ’s signature smirk returned to his lips as he tipped his beer forward for a cheers. “To terrible ideas?”

“To terrible ideas.”

The next morning, you rested a cool bottle of water against your forehead as you leaned back in your poolside recliner at the club, hoping to ease the pang of your pounding headache and hangover. Your mom was polite enough not to comment, happy to be in her element after a morning of tennis and a tee time booked later this afternoon as she lay beside you chattering away. You nodded along, inserting comments when necessary as you closed your eyes and let yourself drift back to the night before. It had been so different from your life back home, but so right at the same time. You thought about JJ, his smirk, the goofy stories he told and you found yourself smiling. A pang of guilt resonated deep in your chest. You pushed it down, telling yourself that JJ could be a good friend, nothing more.

"Your drink, m'am" the poolside attendant said, setting down a Corona and pulling you out of your reverie. This caught your mother's attention.

"A beer? Really, Y/N, have some decorum, it's 10:30 in the morning" she said with disdain.

"Thank you" you said kindly to the attendant, trying to defuse the situation, "But I didn't order this." He looked around uncomfortably as he smiled, "It's on the house" he said, before waving politely and making a quick exit.

Your mother tsked and turned her attention back to her magazine when you noticed a slip of paper under the beer.

Marina, 1:00 - JJ

Your heart skipped a beat and a smile crept across your face as you happily took a deep sip of your beer, leaning back in your chair, eyes closed in the sun.

You got to the marina on time. Not really sure what outfit the occasion called for, you settled for your bikini, a flowy top and pair of shorts. You ambled along the aisles of boats, trying nonchalantly to look for the familiar mess of blonde hair as your pulse quickened.

"Y/N!" you heard finally, and turned to see JJ and his friends pulling up in a small boat, waving you toward them. You broke into a big smile as you quickly caught up to them and JJ extended a hand to help you inside. There weren't many places to sit, and JJ beckoned you next to him on a large cooler, barely wide enough for the two of you, your bodies pressed next to each other and backs pressed to the side of the boat as John B hit the throttle and the boat took off. He tore through the channel and marsh grass passed by you on either side in streaks of bright greens and yellows as the hot sun licked your skin. The boat jostled as it made its way into choppier ocean water and as it smacked into a wave, JJ's arm rested protectively behind you, not quite touching you, but near enough that you felt pulled into his presence. You smiled shyly to yourself and avoided eye contact with him.

You ended up anchoring just off a sandbar and as soon as the boat was situated, Pope, Kie and Cleo stripped to their bathing suits and eagerly jumped into the water. Much to your surprise, John B and Sarah were right behind them.

"You coming, princess?" JJ said, standing up and tugging his shirt over his head. You swallowed as you took in his athletic body, muscular arms and chiseled chest. Quickly averting your gaze, you peered into the dark, choppy water, well aware of what could be found in those depths: sharks, jellyfish, stingrays the list went on and on. You opened your mouth to protest but when you turned around JJ was doing a backflip off the other side of the boat. You stood up and walked to the other side as he surfaced, shaking the wet hair out of his eyes with a practiced shake of his head. The others were nearby, swimming and splashing and goofing around but JJ was waiting for you, squinting up at you.

"Come on!" he said encouragingly.

"I don't know" you said hesitantly, eyeing the rough water, fear evident in your voice.

"I won't let anything bad happen to you. I promise. It's totally safe" he said, extending a hand.

It wasn't like you had a choice. Get over yourself. You thought, trying to muster up your courage as you unbuttoned your shorts and pulled your shirt over your head.

JJ could just see you over the top of the boat from his vantage point in the water and as you pulled your shirt over your head revealing your bikini-clad body a rush of water flowed into his open mouth and he choked on the salt water, coughing loudly. Geeezus he thought.

"You ok?" you asked, leaning over the boat, your hair tumbling over your shoulders, the angle providing him with another vantage point of your cleavage as you watched him cough loudly.

He mustered a thumbs up before wiping a hand over his face. You were going to be the death of him.

"Come on, princess, before I drown" he shouted teasingly.

You stepped up to the side of the boat, toes nearing the edge. Your heart was pounding with the adrenaline in your veins, fear causing your limbs to shake. You looked down and saw JJ's smile, his hand extended and your heartrate slowed. He was right, if he was there, it was going to be okay. So, you jumped.

The cool water shivered over you, causing your limbs to tingle as you surfaced. You wiped the salt water from your eyes and landed on JJ's gaze, basking in it as he smiled widely at you "Atta girl!" he said proudly, before waving you over to his friends.

A day spent swimming and drinking in the sun had you nearly wiped out on the boat ride home. You laid with JJ alone on the bow, you on your back and he on his stomach, turned to face you, about an arm's length away. Your conversation flowed effortlessly. He asked you about your favorite music, favorite movies, arguing with you good naturedly any time he disagreed with your answer, though you found you actually had a lot in common with each other. You both loved the outdoors, the beach, dogs, Bob Marley and tequila. They were little things, but even little bonds formed fast friendships.

"Favorite ice cream?" he asked.

"Cookie dough, hands down" you said without pausing.

"Mmm yes" he agreed, his voice sleepy and his eyes closed. "I could crush some of that right now." A pause. "What about favorite flowers?"

You turned your head to look at him curiously. That seemed like a sneaky question. His lips curled into a smile but he didn't open his eyes and didn't say anything further.

You smiled, closing your own eyes again as you faced the sun. "Peonies" you said simply.

He laughed. "I literally have no idea what those are."

You laughed back, "They're fluffy, the look like clouds. They come in a few different colors but light pink is my favorite. They're really pretty."

"I'll take your word for it" he said.

"Do I get to ask a question now?" you asked.

"Shoot"

"Okay, favorite way to spend the day?"

"Surfing" he said without pause.

"You surf?" you asked enthusiastically before thinking further. "Well, I guess I should have figured..."

"Hmm?" He said, confused, popping an eye open to meet your gaze as you looked at him.

You gestured up and down his body. "It fits. You know, the whole blonde surfer boy thing?"

He smirked. This was too easy. "You got a thing for blonde surfer boys?"

You laughed dismissively, turning your head away, fighting simultaneous feelings of butterflies in your stomach and the guilt lurking somewhere deeper. "Nice try, JJ. No, I just think it's cool. I always wanted to learn how to surf, but my parents were more interested in me taking up golf and ballet."

A brief pause.

"I could teach you?" he offered, hoping that the excitement and eagerness in his voice weren't too obvious.

You looked back at him. "Yeah?" you said, trying to gauge if he was serious.

"Hell yeah" he said, eyes closing again as he grinned from ear to ear.

You agreed to meet JJ at the beach the next morning for your first lesson, slipping out of your house before your mom was awake. The sand tickled your toes as you made your way to the water, the whole landscape awash with the pink and peach hues of the morning sun, the surrounding quiet but for the crash of the waves and the occasional call of the seagulls and pelicans overhead, not yet tainted by people, like you were in a beach-themed snow globe.

You saw him seated in the sand, boards propped up behind him, waiting for you as he looked out on the ocean. It was becoming harder and harder to ignore the physical reaction your body had to being in his presence. Your pulse quickened with excitement, you felt light on your feet, like you could float right over to him, you were craving his smile, the sound of his laughter, his signature smirk and the way his eyes twinkled when they looked at you. You were chasing that high, that relief of being with him so hard that you didn't want to acknowledge that at the same time you were running from reality. Just let me be here in this moment you thought. Just let me enjoy this you told your guilty conscience. You twirled the ring on your finger. Didn't you deserve a break? Wasn't that the reason you were here?

You quashed your warring emotions as you plopped into the sand beside him, turning to smile at him, greeted with the smile you had been missing that seemed to wash all your fear and anxiety away.

You were eager to learn the basics, more eager to impress your instructor. He was patient and extremely knowledgeable as he walked you through each step. Learning to maintain your balance was hard. Focusing on his words, while he occasionally placed his hands on your hips or on your arms to guide you was even harder. He was always respectful, but he'd have to be an idiot not to realize the way you responded to his warm, calloused fingers, the way your body shifted towards him, magnetized.

You ended the morning seated on your boards, bobbing in the ocean together, watching the sun crest fully over the horizon.

"Thank you" you said quietly, not wanting to disturb the peaceful moment as you smiled at him.

"'Course" he said, smirking, "You're not bad, princess."

You blushed at his compliment and the now familiar nickname that neither of your acknowledged, but that you couldn't get enough of. "Do you think we could do this again tomorrow?" you asked.

I would do literally anything to spend more time with you. The fact that you're asking me to surf proves to me that you're the girl of my dreams he thought, biting his tongue.

"Absolutely" he said.

So, you woke up for surf lessons with JJ the next morning, and the next morning and the next morning, falling into a routine that became so automatic neither of you had to ask anymore. You jumped out of bed despite the early mornings, eager to start your days in the warm water with JJ and today was no different. You had graduated to trying to stand on your board in the water and were doing a decent job, teetering slightly as he coached you from the water, leaning one arm on his board until an unexpected wave knocked you off and you surfaced next to him, wiping the salt water from your eyes, balancing one arm on your board as you laughed. You realized suddenly how close you were to him and your breath caught at the way he was looking at you. You were close enough to see his blue eyes tracing your face with the same look from the night you first met, intrigue and something else much much deeper, somewhere between pain and longing that had your heart thundering in your chest. You were nearly chest-to-chest now, as you let the waves carry you closer to each other. Your fingers itched to push his damp hair off his forehead. Neither of you spoke, just taking each other in at this close distance, bobbing in the waves, closer than you'd let yourself get on purpose. He opened his mouth to say something when you felt something slither against your foot.

She was on top of him before he knew what the fuck was going on. Screeching and lunging into his grasp about something that touched her foot, her arms thrown around his shoulders, his one arm naturally coming to catch her, to wrap around her and hold her against him as his other rested on his board to keep them afloat. He would have laughed at her reaction if he could remember how to breath. All he could feel was the sensation of her wet, bare body pressed against his, her warm breath on his neck. He could smell her shampoo, could feel her heart beating next to his. It was like his body took over on instinct, pulling her into him, like it was the most natural thing in the world, gently tugging them away.

"Hey, you're alright, it's alright, probably just a fish or some seaweed or something."

He guided you back to shallower waters, immediately regretting it when your feet brushed the sand and you unwound from him, suddenly embarrassed and aware of what you had done.

"Sorry, I don't know why I did that, that just totally freaked me out" you said.

"No worries" he said, casting one last look at you before grabbing your boards and stepping out of the water.

"Want to grab a coffee? My treat?" you asked, scrambling for some way to make up for what just happened.

"Sure" he said, walking with you to a small coffee shop a few blocks from the beach.

"Hot caramel latte with coconut milk, please" you ordered before turning to him. "Uh, iced black coffee's fine for me" he said, nodding at the barista as you paid.

"Why are you drinking hot coffee when it's nearly 90 degrees outside?" he asked, scrunching up his face like he was going to puke, trying to lighten the heaviness of the morning that sat on you like a damp beach towel and feeling much better when he succeeded in making you laugh.

"I don't like when iced coffee melts and it gets all watered down" you shrugged "I've always been that way." You smiled at him before you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. You pulled it out to read the caller ID: Carson Peters. Your heart sank so fast in your stomach it was like you had the wind knocked out of you. JJ was watching you closely and could see the way your shoulders slumped, your brow furrowed and your lips turned down. It was like watching a flower wilt, something so beautiful that stood so tall and radiant, deflating, coming apart. His heart hurt to watch it and he wanted to sucker punch whoever was on the other side of that phone.

You looked up at him with doe eyes, "Sorry, I have to take this" you said, and without waiting for a response you stepped outside.

You had been gone for nearly a week without hearing from Carson apart from a few text messages. You didn't know what you hoped to hear on the other end. What if he found out that you knew? What if he was calling to apologize? To beg you to come home? You glanced back at the coffee shop, mind flickering between the boy inside and the boy on the phone. You slid your finger across the screen to pick it up.

"Hi Car" you said, managing to keep your voice calm, eager to hear what he would say. You could hear some muffled noises, like he was rustling around.

"Car?" you asked again.

"Hey! Hey Y/N" he said, out of breath, his voice rushed. "Do you know where my blue sneakers are? I looked in the garage and in the back of the closet..." He rambled on but you had stopped listening. He was calling to ask where his sneakers were? You hadn't talked in almost six days and he was asking about his sneakers? His ignorance and the audacity he had to carry on his mundane, stupid life while you were battling your own future reignited the rage deep within you. You could have screamed as angry, frustrated tears welled up in your eyes.

"They're by the back door, in the basket" you said, interrupting him, your voice quivering with anger. You could hear him padding down the stairs.

"Shit, you're right, there they are, thanks, babe!" he said "You having fun with your mom? You'll be home next weekend, right?"

"Yup" you said cooly. "Look, I've got to go, I'll talk to you later."

"Ok!" He said, missing your tone completely. "Love you!"

Liar. You thought, and hung up.

JJ lay flat on his bed, staring up at the ceiling as he twiddled with the rings on his fingers. He leaned over to glance at his phone: 3:30 AM. He couldn't sleep. His mind was whirling as he thought about how in one short week you had eclipsed his every waking thought, and now his sleep too. He had been drawn to your beauty, which was undeniable. You were perfect in every sense of the word, his body ached at the memory of you pressed against him in the ocean. Honestly, a shark could have bitten his leg off and he would have died a happy man spending his last moment on earth surfing in the sunrise, you latched to him, you wanting his arms around you, to hold you close, to protect you. God how he wanted that with you. More than he'd ever wanted anything, he was sure of that. But what he was feeling was more than physical desire. He loved getting to know you. He loved your personality. He loved how you were willing to try new things and put yourself out there, even though he knew it scared you. Riding dirt bikes and jumping in shark infested waters, you were braver than you gave yourself credit for. Perhaps more than anyone had ever given you credit for. Which is why he couldn't understand the last piece of your puzzle. He was pretty sure that phone call was from your fiancé, but why did you look so miserable? Why couldn't you just break things off if he didn't make you happy? Why can't she just be with me instead? he thought. If that was what you really wanted, he knew you were brave enough to do it, but did you? He flopped over and pulled his pillow over his head.

That Sunday night found you back at the Island Club for dinner with your mom. This time, she had eagerly invited several couples to join you and they spent the whole night discussing politics and humble bragging to each other. You smiled, nodded and laughed at all the right times like the circus animal you were tamed to be, each comment grating on you more and more until your eyes caught something over the shoulder of the woman across from you: a mop of blonde hair peeking out from the hallway, a hand waving wildly to get your attention and pointing to the back door while also trying to be subtle and failing miserably. You blushed deeply and laughed, trying too late to cover it up, which caught your mom's attention and halted conversation at the table. "I'm so sorry, will you please excuse me?" you said, standing up and walking to the back door without waiting for a response.

You pushed outside and looked around for JJ. There were people everywhere with some sort of event going on, a DJ mixed a sweet soundtrack that drifted out over the ocean in the background. You spotted him in the back corner of the balcony, near where you had first met.

"Oh my god, thank you" you said, exhaling loudly. "If I had to listen to Mr. Wheeler's play-by-play of his round of golf today any longer, I was going to pass out."

JJ laughed and nodded towards the beach, "My shift isn't over for another hour, but wanna go for a walk?"

You nodded eagerly, following him down the stairs and making your way to the beach, tugging off your heels and letting your toes sink into the cool sand.

You walked in comfortable silence for a while, listening to the DJ and the ocean as you quietly began humming the song that had just come on, one of your favorites, a summer classic, dancing in the moonlight.

You caught JJ shimmying to the beat next to you, which made you laugh. He caught your eye, smiling wide at your reaction and started dancing in earnest, moving his hips and arms in time with the beat. What you thought would be goofy ended up being impressive and undeniably attractive, he had moves and your eyes twinkled as you took him in, laughing and clapping, cheering him on when he reached out to grab your hand and pull you along with him, the two of you dancing, jumping and singing as he twirled you around to the beat. It was effortlessly fun. You didn't care about looking silly next to him and the way he was looking at you boosted your confidence tenfold. You both laughed harder as he spun you around once more, dramatically, as the song came to an end. You were both breathless, smiling at each other, your hand still wrapped in his as the next song faded in.

It was a slow song and it was like the minutes slowed in time with the beat as he squeezed your hand gently and pulled you into him, raising your hand in his while his other rested respectfully at your midback in a slow dance position. Neither of you said anything. It felt natural, easy, unforced, like everything did with him. You didn't have to think as you slipped your arm around his shoulder and let your head rest on his chest as he swayed you back and forth. You let your eyes flutter closed as you listened to the lyrics.

When the time is up and the sun it dies

'Til the rivers flood and the ocean dries

Hand in hand under the falling sky

I will love you...

The song was ethereal and beautiful and the lyrics tugged at your heart. You could feel tears pinprick your eyes without warning.

So many say it and it's all a lie

But I will love you...

The lyrics sounded like wedding vows and you nuzzled deeper into JJ's chest, drinking in the comforting smell that was distinctly him, the feeling of his arm around you, holding you to his chest and you let yourself imagine what it would be like to say these things to someone and mean them. To say them to someone you felt them for. To say them to someone you picked, instead of someone that was simply predestined for you.

You hadn't let out a sound, but as with so many other things between you, JJ could sense your feelings. He let your hand go, bringing both arms around, pulling you deeper in to him, resting his head on top of yours, whispering your name, a plea, a prayer, a question that you weren't ready to answer. As you continued to sway he let himself imagine what it would be like to say these things to you. To say everything he wanted to say to you, freely, without guilt or shame or fear of what you might say or not say back to him.

Before the song could fade out, the ocean crashed beside you, rushing up to soak your feet unexpectedly and you pulled away as the cool water brought you back to reality. You grabbed the hem of your dress, wiping discretely at the tears on your face as you looked up at JJ, his eyes on you, mouth parted like he wanted to say something, a look on his face you hadn't seen before. He was normally so happy, so carefree, but he was stone serious as he reached out a hand to tuck a piece of your hair behind your ears.

"JJ" you whispered, your eyes closing as his fingers brushed your cheek.

He pulled his hand back.

"Let's get you back, princess" he said quietly, "Don't want them to send a search party." You didn't miss the somber look on his face as he slung his arm over your shoulder like nothing had happened.

You lay flat on your bed, staring up at the ceiling as you twirled the ring on your finger. You leaned over to glance at your phone: 2:30 AM. You couldn't sleep. Usually, you crashed into bed after you spent your day surfing and soaking up more sun and Corona than you could remember, but the knowledge that you were heading home to face reality in just a few days had you tossing and turning. What you knew in your mind and what you wanted in your heart raging an endless battle that was tearing you apart. You knew that your parents had painstakingly planned every aspect of your life to be set up for success. A life with Carson meant wanting for nothing. You would have everything at your fingertips: a house, a car, designer clothes and five-star vacations, seven-bedroom rental homes and country clubs. You would want for nothing, except love and affection. Your heart told you that you had thought you had loved Carson, thought you knew what love was before you had come here, before you met JJ. Love wasn't houses and cars and a carefully planned future. Love was stolen glances over a bonfire, safe arms when you were scared, hugs when you were sad, barefoot dances on the beach, your name on his lips. Love was being scared of something and doing it anyway. And you had never been more scared in your life. You flipped over, pulling your pillow over your head.

The next morning it was like nothing had happened the night before, you and JJ falling into your casual but flirty familiarity during your morning surf session. You were both seated on your boards bobbing with the waves next to each other when JJ nudged you and pointed a little further down the shoreline in the water. You covered your eyes, squinting when you saw a burst of water and a dolphin crested the waves. You squealed with delight as you realized it was a whole school of dolphins, maybe 6 or 8, headed your way. You both watched in reverence as they swam closer, circling around you, maybe 10 feet away. You had never experienced anything like that in your life, your head turning every which way to take them in before looking at JJ and laughing.

Your joy was contagious and he laughed with a knowing smile. "They're good luck, you know" he said. You turned to him, curious. "They symbolize guidance, fun and freedom" he continued "And typically mean that good fortune is on its way." He looked around smugly before saying under his breath "...I'll take all the good luck I can get..." as he began to paddle in. The weight of his words not lost on you as you followed him.

That night you eagerly recounted the story to your mom, gushing over the amazing experience of being so close to such beautiful animals. She smiled and squeezed your hand, "I'm so glad you've had a chance to relax. I told you this is just what you needed" before changing the subject tactfully. "The wedding planner called to confirm the last security deposit has been settled for the venue and the band."

Your head snapped up at her, surprised.

"Mom" you started, your voice heavy with tension and trepidation.

"Y/N, this has been a great vacation. You've had your fun and that's what's important, but it's time to start thinking about reality."

The realization hit you and you could feel the dread and anxiety seeping over your body like someone had cracked an egg on your head. It oozed over you, sticky, thick and suffocating. Your family had no intention of letting you break off your engagement. This was a distraction as they continued to weave their web of deceit around you. Your mom had continued planning the wedding this whole time.

You stood up, shaking with the sudden urge to run, the need to be physically anywhere but here. "I'm going out" you said suddenly, grabbing a sweatshirt and your phone as you started walking toward the front door, ignoring your mother's pleas as you slammed it behind you and ran down the steps into the street, letting your feet create the distance you needed.

Hot, angry tears burned in your eyes and ran down your face as your fingers scrambled to your phone, dialing JJ's number before you could think more about it.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and stood to his feet when he saw your name on the caller ID. It was late, later than you'd ever called him before. He danced on the balls of his feet, trying to think of the best way to answer before swiping to pick up the call.

"Hey, princess!" he said, kicking himself for how desperate and eager he sounded.

"Jayj?" you said, your voice a strained cry and his smile immediately dropped, his feet moving on autopilot towards the front door. You weren't okay. "Can you come get me?" you asked.

"I'm on my way" he said, sprinting to a run as he hopped on his bike.

He found you walking on the side of the road a few blocks from the beach, killing the engine on his bike and tipping it into the dirt, not bothering with the kickstand as he ran up to you. You reached your arms up and he pulled you into a deep hug, nearly lifting you off your feet as his arms wrapped tightly around you, his head buried next to yours as you began to cry anew. His heart clenched, a physical pain in his chest as he felt the pain rolling off of you, squeezing you tighter like he could pull it out of you and take it on himself. He didn't try to quiet you down or ask questions, he just let you cry, rocking you side to side, rubbing your back. The sweetness of his touch making you cry even harder.

"I can't do it, JJ" you whispered, muffled in his shirt. His heart hammered in his chest. Did he hear you right? Can't do what? What is she talking about?

"I don't want to marry him, I can't marry him" you said, speaking the words you had felt in your heart but hadn't dared let yourself think or say out loud until now. His heart was beating so hard he was sure you could feel it. If it wasn't for the current circumstances he would have leapt into the air, fist pumped and thrown it in John B's face. He pulled away to look at you and you quickly covered your face with your hands in shame and embarrassment as you tried to wipe the away your tears.

"Come on" he said, putting his arm around you and walking you towards the beach. He needed a damn minute to think.

Your tears turned into sniffles which had turned into ragged breaths by the time you reached the beach, making your way towards the ocean, leaning heavily on JJ as he held onto you.

You walked along the water in silence as you tried to catch your breath and think of what to say. You only had one day left and it felt like if you started talking now even that wouldn't be enough time to say everything you needed to say. You stopped abruptly and turned to him. It was now or never.

"I come from a lot of money, JJ. My family, my dad, our company, it's sort of a big deal where I come from" you squirmed with embarrassment, but knew he needed to hear the whole truth. "My fiancé - Carson-" you squirmed again. Saying his name here, with JJ, in this sacred place felt so wrong, sour on your tongue, but you pushed through, "-He's taking over the company. It's all arranged as part of our engagement, our wedding, so that it stays in the family. If I don't marry him, then we don't have a plan for the business when my dad retires. Carson has been working there for years now, they've already developed a succession plan, put out the press releases..." you continued to spiral, babbling on about the business, the consequences, like you were trying to convince yourself, maybe even convince JJ why this wasn't such an easy decision. You looked up at him and your heart sank at the complete confusion on his face. "You don't get it" you said, disappointed.

"Oh, I'm following you" he reassured you "but I haven't heard you say one thing about what you want. I hear loud and clear what your dad wants, what-" he grimaced, head cocked in anger "he wants" refusing to say your fiancé's name, "But, what about you?"

Your mind echoed back to the first conversation you had with your mother.

"Sweetheart, this isn't just about you."

"THIS IS ABOUT ME! THIS IS MY LIFE!" you had shouted.

And you realized JJ was the first person to acknowledge that you were squarely in the middle of this situation, that this was in fact about you. You hung your head.

JJ mustered his courage to ask the one question he didn't want to ask but desperately needed the answer to. The one with the power to save his life or crush his heart.

"Do you love him?" he murmured.

You were shaking your head before you could register your own movement. Like your body needed JJ to know the words you couldn't say out loud. You looked up at him, biting your lower lip, tears in your eyes again, shaking your head in earnest now as he looked at you like his heart was breaking and mending and breaking again in front of you.

"He's cheating on me" you said finally, the last piece of the puzzle sliding into place as you hung your head again.

"He what?" JJ said incredulously, his voice rising.

"He's cheating on me, sleeping with my best friend" you repeated, like he didn't hear you. You registered him walking away and looked up to see him pacing angrily away from you, hands on his head.

"JJ?" you said and he stopped walking, back still to you as he leaned over and cradled his head in his hands like he physically couldn't take the information you had just shared with him. After a moment, he stood up and walked back over to you.

"Princess" he said, his voice pleading with you as he took your face in his hands gently, emotion thick in his voice, squashing the anger simmering just under the surface. "I can't tell you what to do, I won't tell you what to do, you have enough people in your life doing that for you. All I can do is tell you how I feel because I've been trying to do it for the past week but didn't want to misread the situation. The first night I saw you I thought, no, I knew you were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen in my entire life. I told myself that if you even deigned to speak to me that I would do anything I could to make sure I put a smile on your face every day. That's what I've tried to do, to make you smile, to make you happy, to show you some fun, but along the way it became a whole lot more than that."

"JJ" you whispered, your bottom lip quivering.

He continued without pausing, "It wasn't enough just to go swimming together or go surfing or be out on the boat. I was craving you every moment we were apart, craving the chance to make you laugh, to be the reason there's a smile on those goddamn perfect lips, to see that twinkle in your eye, to grab your attention, even if it's to laugh at me or something stupid I said, I literally didn't care. I only have eyes for you... You know what I thought that day we were surfing and you thought there was something in the water?"

You shook your head.

"I thought that a shark could have bitten my leg off and I would have been the happiest guy in the world to spend my last damn moments on earth surfing with you, knowing that you were in my arms, that you felt safe in my arms, that you wanted to be in my arms" he choked up a bit at that. "That's not normal Y/N. Nothing I feel about you is normal. What we have isn't normal. It's fucking extraordinary. I'm falling in love with you, Y/N. Hard."

Tears slid down your cheeks as your lips continued to wobble. JJ pulled your face closer to his, now just inches away as he held your face in his palms, gently but firmly. He was biting his lower lip, eyes glancing at your lips.

You closed your eyes, pursing your lips. You felt him move forward when you whispered, "JJ, I can't, we can't. I'm engaged, and I won't do to him what he's done to me."

He sighed heavily as he rested his forehead against yours before pulling you back into his arms in a warm hug. He admired your morals and hated them at the same time.

"What are you going to do, princess?" he asked quietly after a few minutes.

"I don't know" you said, your voice barely a whisper as you hugged him closer. Willing the world to stop turning, so you didn't have to face tomorrow.

You wouldn't have wanted to spend your last morning anywhere else as you and JJ paddled out to surf. There was a thick tension in the air and an uncharacteristic seriousness about him that ebbed away but never fully disappeared as you fell into your normal rhythms, though this time it was you trying to make him laugh rather than the other way around. You could feel him looking at you closely as you bobbed in the waves, like he was trying to memorize you, afraid you would slip away.

You spent the rest of the day packing and going through the motions, in denial at the idea of leaving the place and the person that had become so special to you.

Your friends wanted to throw you a goodbye party at the chateau, which you managed to enjoy despite the circumstances. Your heart squeezed at the idea of leaving more than just the rolling beach, the morning surf and the blonde boy behind, but also a group of genuine friends, so drastically different than your so-called friends back at home.

JJ gave you a ride home that night. It felt fitting to spend your last night on the back of his bike, your bodies molded together comfortably as you leaned into him, resting your head on his back, hugging his abs with practiced ease. You had traded your dress and high heels for a damp bikini, shorts and one of his sweatshirts and you no longer worried about getting your hair tangled. A lot had changed in two weeks.

He rolled slowly up to your driveway, cutting off the engine but refusing to move, like if he didn't get off the bike, then he didn't have to say goodbye. You slid off the back, pulled off your helmet and shook out your hair like you'd been doing it the whole summer. JJ took off his own and let his eyes roam over you, the relaxed way your body moved, the sunburn on your nose from your days in the sun, the way you looked in his sweatshirt. He had told himself he was going to show you a good time and he had. If nothing else, he was happy to give you that, even if you didn't share his feelings. He got off the bike and looked down at you, smiling sweetly but sadly as he brushed his thumb over your cheek.

"I don't want to say goodbye" he said sadly.

You stomach churned with a guilt different from the one you had felt all week. You weren't guilty for the way you felt about JJ anymore. You were guilty for the look he had on his face right now, like you had taken this happy and carefree boy and run his heart over with his own bike.

"Please don't be sad" you said pleadingly.

"How can I not be sad?" he said with a bitter laugh, "You're leaving me."

"I'm not leaving you" you said pointedly. "I have to go home, I have to figure things out."

"And then what?" he pressed boldly, kicking himself at the fear and anger evident in his voice as he dropped his hand from your face.

"And then, I don't know!" you said, exasperated. "I'm doing the best I can, JJ. It's just a lot to figure out."

"Seems pretty simple to me" he said tartly.

You sighed in frustration.

"I'm sorry" he said quickly, "I don't want to fight with you. I'm just sad my surfing buddy is leaving" he joked, trying to lighten the mood as he leaned over to hug you. You curled into his arms, pressing your body firmly against his in a hug much more intimate than one shared with a friend as he nuzzled into your neck and the warmth of his breath tickled your skin. You swayed back and forth like that for a moment before you finally let go. You met his midnight blue eyes one last time as they drank you in. A sweet smile rested on his lips as he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead. "Come back to me, princess" he said, stepping back and taking one last look at you before he hopped on his bike and rode down the street.

You managed to make it all the way to your room and into your bed before you cried loudly into your pillow, tugging his sweatshirt around you.

You were up early the next morning for your flight. When your alarm blared it felt like you hadn't slept more than an hour. You blearily showered and got dressed, stuffing JJ's sweatshirt deep into your suitcase before dragging it downstairs. You and your mom sipped your coffees in silence, trading glares over your mugs before you stepped outside to load up the car. You had wrangled your suitcase to the bottom of the stairs before you looked up and dropped your suitcase at your feet, your eyes transfixed on the single pink peony resting on the hood of your car. You ran over to, looking for a note and smiling when you didn't find one. You didn't need a note, you knew who it was from. You held it close to your chest like you could reach him through it. You finished packing the car and your mother pointedly ignored the flower as you tucked it into your purse.

The flight back home was uneventful but for the blanket of silence that rested over the two of you. The veil of the fun girls' getaway torn away to reveal the farce that it was.

So much had changed for you in the two weeks you were gone that you were surprised when you pulled into your driveway to see everything exactly as you'd left it. Your life had been flipped on its head, but this reality continued, unchanging. It felt like your house should have burned to the ground or that everyone around you should know what happened in the Outer Banks, but they didn't, they carried on and tugged you along with them in a whirlwind of dinner parties and wedding planning. You followed in dazed confusion, like a toddler aimlessly follows a parent. You touched the clothes in your closet, ran your hand over your kitchen counter like you were a stranger in your own home, like they belonged to someone else. This didn't feel like a part of you anymore.

JJ texted you relentlessly, and even tried calling, but you couldn't bring yourself to pick up and deleted the texts before reading them. You didn't want to torture yourself with something you could never have, as you felt everything you had with him slipping through your fingers.

Before you knew it, three weeks had passed. You felt like a zombie. Carson could tell something was off, even he wasn't that stupid. When he went to kiss you, you turned away and gave him your cheek instead, and when he reached for you in bed you rolled away and he also turned away, aggressive in his rejection. His touch made your skin crawl.

On the morning of the fourth week since you were back you were surprised to find a note on your bedside table when you woke up.

Come downstairs, I have a surprise for you ❤️

That shouldn't have made you gag. You wanted to roll over and go back to sleep, but you weren't sleeping well anyway. You pulled yourself up, groaning, tugging on your robe and slippers and padding downstairs to the kitchen. Your breath caught in your throat. Every surface had a bursting bouquet of pink roses. As Carson saw you enter the room, he handed you an iced latte from Starbucks. "Iced caramel latte and pink roses!" he said, clearly thrilled with himself. "Your favorites!" You looked down at the iced beverage, ice already half melted and looked around at the pink flowers, all the wrong type. You looked at your large kitchen with marble countertops and the open floorplan that poured into a designer-decorated living room as you thought about the single pink peony on your car. You sighed, tears rising up. You set the coffee down on the counter and turned to face Carson. You were scared. Terrified. You were making a cataclysmic life decision that you weren't sure you had the courage to make. You thought about the feeling of a dirt bike skidding out beneath your three-inch heels, you thought about dark choppy waves filled with sharks and jellyfish and slimy things that tickled your toes and then you thought about warm arms and a blonde-haired boy that promised you that if you had a little courage, everything was going to be okay. You reached for your ring and tugged it off your finger, placing it in Carson's hand.

It had been four weeks and John B didn't have it in him to tell JJ he had been right all along as he watched his best friend trudge through the days like he was sleepwalking. He was doing all of the JJ things with none of the JJ energy. He paddled out to surf with them but let wave after wave go by as he stared blankly out at the ocean, like he was hoping you would appear out of thin air. He went to parties and didn't touch a drop of alcohol. He smiled and laughed but none of it reached his eyes and when he thought no one was looking, he sunk quietly into himself, brows furrowed, hands running over his face, eyes fixed on his phone, willing it to ring.

Now JJ was kicked back at the chateau, laying in the hammock by himself in silence, staring out over the marsh.

"This is so depressing" Pope said as he looked over at him and the group nodded in agreement.

Sarah's phone chimed and she pulled it out of her pocket, her eyes quickly scanning the text as a grin spread on her face and she beckoned the group around her quietly.

As the night came to a close and everyone was getting ready to leave, Sarah shot John B a knowing look.

"Hey JJ - we surfin' our spot tomorrow?" he asked.

"I don't know, man" JJ said lazily as he rolled out of the hammock and trudged over to the group. "I might just stay in, get some sleep... you know..." he trailed off.

Sarah shot John B another look, urging him on.

"Come on, man, the waves are supposed to be tight with that storm rolling off Florida. Boys day!" he said, pointing at Pope.

"Y-yeah!" Pope said, picking up late on the hint, "Boys day, come on!"

"Fine, fine" JJ said, waving them off as he wandered over to his bike. "I'll see y'all in the morning." As the bike kicked up dust, John B and Pope pounded fists.

JJ barely managed to pull himself out of bed. He felt nauseous. Sick. He couldn't remember the last time he ate. That probably had something to do with it. The ache in his heart probably had more to do with it. He lazily pulled on a bathing suit off the floor, grabbed his board and hopped on his bike. He didn't want to be grilled for missing 'boys day', whatever that meant.

He was pissed to see he was the first one there as he trudged down to the water, sticking his board in the sand and flopping down onto his back, bringing an arm to cover his eyes from the early morning sun. He was so deep in his own head, he didn't hear the sound of the sand kicking up beside him.

"Laying alone in the sand at 6:00 in the morning, isn't a great way to meet people" a voice said.

He thought he was hallucinating as he shot up, eyes searching for the source of the voice and coming to land on you. You were in his favorite bikini, one hand covering your eyes from the sun as you smiled at him, one hand on your hip. He stood up so quickly he nearly lost his balance in the sand.

"Y/N?" he said, confusion and awe clear in his voice along with a thousand unspoken questions. What are you doing here? What does this mean? He was frozen to the spot, mouth opening and closing, clearly trying to string together a sentence when you flashed your left hand at him like you had the first night you met, letting the lack of a ring speak for itself. His eyes grew wide at the sight, his heart wanting so desperately to believe what his eyes could see.

Please don't let this be a dream. Please don't let this be a dream he thought as he walked towards you. When he finally placed his hands on either side of your face, when his fingers made contact with your warm skin, confirming you weren't a figment of his imagination, his smile was back as he grinned from ear to ear, eyes twinkling as he threw his head back and let out a loud "WOOOOO!" before scooping you into his arms and spinning you around. Your heart soared. He was like a little kid on a candy high as he spun you around and then took off for the water, sprinting into the ocean as you both laughed and tumbled into the waves together, momentarily losing your grasp on one another before you resurfaced and his arms reached out for you underwater, tugging you towards him again, your arms wrapping around his neck, your legs wrapping around his waist, your bodies perfectly molded to one another.

Something about being back in the water together where you had spent so much time stealing glances, brushing limbs and dancing around each other heightened the tension as your wet bodies pressed tightly together. All of him was pressed against all of you. You were hypersensitive to each other's touch; no longer forbidden, no longer secret. He ran his hand up your back and his thick arms encircled you, the simple touch mind-numbingly sexy after so much time apart. You brushed his damp hair off his forehead, letting your fingers tangle in his blonde locks, your faces inches from each other. He smiled at the feeling of your fingers in his hair. He couldn't wait any longer, he pulled you into him. He tasted like saltwater and sunscreen and summer. He kissed you deeply and passionately, a hand behind your head as he flicked his tongue against your lower lip and you let it curl into your mouth, reciprocating with your own. He pulled you impossibly closer to him as you bobbed in the waves together. You paused, trying to pull back. There was a lot you needed to say. "MmMm" he said, shaking his head against yours, refusing to break the kiss and instead kissing your deeper as he let his hands roam over your body. Your head was swimming, dizzy with his touch.

"JJ!" you managed to sneak out finally, taking his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. "There's a lot I need to say."

"I think you're speaking loud and clear" he said, squeezing you and running a hand down to squeeze your ass, making you laugh as you slapped his shoulder playfully.

"I mean it!" you said, giggling, and he took the opportunity to kiss you again quickly. You took his face in your hands, tone serious. "I'm sorry I didn't see what was right in front of me. I-I was scared. Scared to walk away from what I knew even if it wasn't what I wanted. I know that might not make sense, but you gave me the courage to do it. To go after what I wanted for me, for my life."

He smiled, meeting your strong gaze with his, "Nah, princess, you did that all on your own."

"Well, if it wasn't abundantly obvious" you said, "I'm falling in love with you too, JJ Maybank. Hard." You could barely get the words out before he crashed his lips to yours again, capturing your smile with his own.

part two!

taglist: @ietss, @gillybear17, @palmwinemami, @sweetestdesire, @m-indkiller, @ashlaylayxd

[jillsandwhichs]

Golden

cleon fic , chap 1 , talking it out

masterlist

pairing: Claire Redfield and Leon Kennedy

summary: Claire and Leon talk out how they feel about him not giving her the chip, they agree to eventually go to dinner

wc: 2.4k

type: Sfw

description of this series: What if Claire accepted that dinner invite from Leon after Infinite Darkness? How would it have went? Would their relationship have blossomed? All of your questions will be answered in this fanfiction. When Claire accepts Leon's invite, they go to dinner together. They have a lovely time together and open up to one another. They've never been this close before... Throughout their time of speaking, getting closer & their relationship maturing, the two of them find their feelings for one another... But don't fool yourself, this doesn't go on without any bumps in the road...

a/n: Hi! Hope you all enjoy. Please check out my masterlist, there's a lot of stuff there. You can get to know me, you can see the rules of my blog and then you can see all of my fanfictions. You'll be able to find the previous chapters to this fic and upcoming ones. You'll also be able to find my Wattpad & AO3. Comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated. Thank you

"I thought you called because you wanted to grab dinner." Leon sighed out, seeming a bit irritated with we Claire's words. When would she let up? Doesn't she get it? This is for her own good. Looking down at his side, Leon simply contemplated whether or not to grab it out. He truly does understand where she's coming from, but in his eyes, she can't have the chip. It's sacred. Even if she wants to make a copy.

Pulling it out, Leon let the chip rest in his hand as he gazed down at it, still thinking long and hard whilst Claire spoke. Not even listening to what she had to say, he interrupted her, "I can't." He stated, his tone cold and serious. He has to get this through her head. Claire gave him a nasty look, not quite knowing what to think of what he's just said. Leon's never been this way towards her, all stoic. This isn't the man she knows.

"So that's how it's going to be? You do things your way and I do things mine?" Claire denoted, her anger low yet present, the fact he wouldn't help is infuriating. Doesn't he want to help the public? How come he's so selfish? Leon just gave her a monotone stare, nodding slowly as he made eye contact with her. Claire felt her heart tighten slightly when he did that. How could he be this way towards her? This isn't Leon. "Okay... Fine..." Claire added on harshly, still appalled by his actions.

Claire turned around, trying to get away from him as soon as she could. She was so frustrated with him. He's changed, and most definitely not for the better. That outfit, that demeanor, his personality, none of it suits him. The man she met back in Raccoon City has flooded away with the past years, can she blame him though? Why would he hold onto his past self. But then again, why would he change into this? Both make no sense to her. She misses the compassionate Leon who had a sense of justice similar to hers.

"Claire!" Leon shouted out to her, but she didn't stop. She's had enough of his words. Just hearing his voice any longer will piss her off further. "Claire, listen to me, it's for your own sake!" He yelled out again, this time even louder, half of the city could've heard. She really wanted to keep walking, oh she did, but it's as if she was drawn to him, to hear him out and what is possible reasoning could be. It's probably garbage though. Either way, it's like she couldn't stop herself. She was attracted.

"What is? What's for my own sake, huh?" Claire questioned, her voice rowdy. She began to slowly but surely walk back towards him and he did the same, the two of them closing distance between them. "Claire, I understand you, I know you, you know I know you." Leon started, his words seeming all over the place. "But you have to understand, I can't." He said, this time his voice was so meaningful. Claire couldn't help but feel entranced by how genuine he seemed.

"Why? How come?" Claire asked of him, demanding an honest and truthful answer. Leon stood there, just looking her in the eye. "I wish I could let you, let you do what you feel is right, but I have to be the one to put an end to this. Claire, if I let you-" He paused before talking much more hushly. "If I let you have the chip or even make copies of it, who knows what could happen to you..." Leon stated, he seemed sincere. And he was. Leon really cares for Claire. Ever since they met in R.C, he's had a soft spot for her.

"Leon-" Claire began but she was cut off by him once again. "I know you think I've changed and yeah, I have, but not for the worst." He muttered, his body tensing up. "I've just got to see the world for what it truly is and Claire, it is not pretty so no, I'm not giving you the chip and it is for your own safety and if you don't like that, I honestly don't know what to tell you." He splurged the words out like paint.

Looking down at the black pavement, Claire breathed in deeply, still processing all of what Leon has just said to her. It's all so confusing. He's being so vague. She doesn't know how to feel about it all. "I trust you Leon but I want this info to get out to the public so the city and everywhere else is aware." Claire gandered back up, trying to seem relatable. Leon heaved. He sees where she's coming from. It's so hard to explain.

"Claire..." Leon spoke in a gentle tone, taking a small step towards her, closing distance even more. Claire's breath slightly broke as he did that. Something inside her made her wanna step even closer but she refrained. "I'm already in danger as it is." He confirmed to her. "But with the amount of security I have and the fact I work under President Graham it helps." He wasn't being fully truthful, but truthful enough.

If he lets the public know of what's on that chip, it could seriously damage not only him, but the President himself. It has to keep what is on there a top secret. Leon will always remain loyal to the President, the White House and the Government. Not even because he wants to, but because he has to. If he had no recollection of what was on the chip, he'd wanna release it to the public too. But he can't. So he gets it. He does.

"What's so dangerous about it?" Leon needed to keep his reply logical but not revealing. Claire is such an inquisitive woman. Leon admires it, but sometimes it goes a bit to far. "Well, if higher ups, even lowers, figure out who released the data, it could lead to some serious damage on your part - possibly death. Do you want that for yourself, Claire?" He whispered out, wanting to remain sleuth. She raised an eyebrow at his claim. Death? For protecting the public.

"Elaborate." "On the chip, there is a lot of dangerous information stored on it and let's say someone who was a part of what's on the chip figures out it's you. They would murder you, Claire." Leon scoffed out, getting pretty tired of explaining this to her. "I'm trying to save you from that." "I get it Leon." Claire murmured, her voice low, trying to figure this all out.

Was he being serious? They would track her down and kill her? All she wants to do is protect the people. Make them aware of the wrong doings going on behind the scenes. She wants that chip so badly - but she knows that won't happen. No matter how much she pleads with Leon, he won't give in. This is the new and 'improved' him. He claims he hasn't changed for the worst but this isn't the best he could be. He's cold, distant, off. He's not his true self currently.

His sense of justice has changed. Old Leon would've wanted to let the public know and not leave them out in the dark and now he's heavily dedicated to his line of work and what they do that he'll do anything he's told, even if it ruins things for him. That's selfless of him but also selfish at the same time. If he's correct about what he's saying, Claire will drop it. But it's hard to believe, what if these people don't come for her? What if there's nobody even left?

"I just..." Claire sighed deeply. "I care so much for the people who have absolutely no clue of what's going on." She looked him in the eyes, not breaking the contact. "I feel pity for them." "I know you do but sometimes there's literally nothing we can do." Leon shut her pity party down with reality. Deep down, she knows he's right. "Y'know, I'd be willing to die for that chip, for the world." "Don't speak like that." Leon's stature changed to be more upfront. Claire won't, he has nothing to worry about.

"But I won't, if it's that important to you that you keep it all to yourself, then fine... But Leon, sooner or later, the people have to know something. There are families out there who've lost those close to them and they're beyond confused!" Claire set her hand on his forearm, her other hand in it's cast. Leon melted at her touch, it was like a humanity switch. Now he felt all warm inside.

Leon gazed at her, his brown eyes weary as they were on hers. He felt bad. She was too good of a person. "Deal." Leon whispered, a soft chuckle coming out from him. He felt better. Better that they spoke about this - Even if his 'truth' wasn't honest. Maybe he is too loyal for his own good. It's not as if he wants to keep the truth from Claire but rather he has too, who knows what would happen if President Graham or the Government found out.

Claire stood there, not really knowing what to say now. Deep down, she felt anger still. She just wants the people to be safe. She removed her hand from his arm and looked back up at him. "Promise me you'll eventually release some sort of information or you'll do something major to protect the public, at least do that for me." Claire began her plead. Leon gave her a caring look, his true compassion showing. "I promise Claire." Leon spoke from the heart.

"Thank you, Leon." Claire responded, her upper lip covering her lower lip as if she was quivering. She'll admit, melancholy was a feeling she felt when he refused to help her but that sadness has changed into the better type - Gratefulness. Grateful that he's willing to release something, even if it's not much. "I appreciate the compromise." "Good." Leon replied, his voice once again husk but mainly due to his exhaustion. He was spent.

"What time is it?" Claire questioned him, glancing down at his watch. Leon had a puzzled look but checked it, it was almost six. "5:50." "Ok..." Claire moped, letting her blue side show more. "Is everything alright?" "Now, yes." Claire let out a small titter, she was also tired. "What a draining week." She laughed, it wasn't a humorous topic though. It was a laugh of stress. "Couldn't agree more." Leon nodded. "Honestly, I just wanna go home, feel my cozy bed and cuddle with my cat." Claire admitted. Leon snickered.

"I can't blame you there, you should head off, you deserve it." Leon said gently, his care for her clear as day. "What do you plan to do?" Claire asked. "Probably order some take out and sleep, I'm starving. He crossed his arms. "Maybe I should've taken you to dinner then." Claire joked, her eyes on his. "If only." Leon whispered to her. "Well... The offer wasn't standing but now, the offer stands... Maybe we can discuss all of this over dinner soon."

Leon was shocked by her words. He didn't expect that, but he was glad. Dinner... With Claire? That would be different. It would be nice. He always eats alone or with other agents he couldn't give two shits about. He and Claire could go somewhere peaceful and serene, somewhere uncommon. "That'd be fine by me." "Great." Claire chuckled, adjusting her broken arm, it was still sore. "Make sure you take care of that arm of yours." "Will do."

The two stood there in silence. They were both content with one another but both of them still had something deep down they wanted to say aloud but wouldn't. It felt like the air was tensing them up. They felt at a loss for words.

Leon spoke out, he honestly just needed to rest. "I'll let you head home now." He calmly spoke, being soft with her now rather than cold. "Okay well, I will. Just... You drive safe and get that food, yeah?" Claire giggled, slowly backing away. "I will." Leon responded with a light snicker. Claire nodded and turned away. Leon just watched as she walked off. Her hips swayed side to side, causing her red jacket to move around as well.

As he treaded away, she stopped for a moment, turning around and speaking a bit louder than usual. "And Leon... Like I said earlier... That outfit doesn't suit you." She smirked, waving goodbye and going up to her car. Leon took a look at his suit, ultimately agreeing with her. Yeah, this wasn't him. It's who he's been forced to become. The fact that Claire can see right passed him is freaky. She knows him a little to well.

Leon gave her one final nod before walking back through the entry gate and to his vehicle. His car was all black, tinted windows too, it made him feel safer owning it. He got into the driver's seat with a grunt, just sitting there and thinking about everything. This past week has been an absolute wreck with little to no good moments. Any of the more finer times he can think of, Claire is prominent in them. She's like a light. An attraction. It's odd to the man.

He pulled his seat belt down, buckling himself in. "Safety first." Leon soughed, fixing himself to be more comfortable. He adjusted the mirror to be more at his level and he turned the car on, begining to pull out of the parking lot. He hopes Claire was being serious about the dinner thing, he doesn't wanna seem like a fool when he messages her about it. The main reason he even wants to do it is so that they can talk about this whole week and even vent, it would be relieving to do so.

Pulling out onto the road, Leon turned the radio up, two hosts speaking about random bullshit he didn't care about. He just needed the noise to distract him. He began to drive on the busy streets, everyone rambling to head home from work, especially the main road. He couldn't get his mind off of Claire. He continuously wonders if she's okay, despite it being less than five minutes since they've parted ways.

He cares about her. She means a lot to him. Claire isn't just some girl, she's a life saver, a warrior. She went through hell back in Raccoon City with him, he could never thank her enough for sticking by his side.

He'll forever be grateful.

[moneypowerglorymiddleofmiami]

>> pt.2 of canon-divergent coryo-stays-with-lucy-gray-in-12 au (a mouthful but i honestly have no title for it), albeit more lucy gray and more everlark

part 1

"There you are, sweet pea." Nana Lucy Gray greeted me as soon as I entered her workshop: a little cabin studio located behind the main house. There were materials strewn over the wooden floor boards, tucked into cabinets and on top of drawers. Remnants of unfinished projects lined the window sill and crowded the table— the ones she did finish were all inside the house, both displayed and used. She was seated in front of an unfinished canvas. She turned to me with a teasing smile. "I was startin' to wonder if you'd come back last night. Thought that baker boy might've whisked you off."

My expression soured. "Grandpa told you, didn't he?"

"Course he did. Coryo can't keep secrets from me." She returned to her canvas, splashing the surface with a mish mash of colors. The hues were too discordant for my liking, but of course I didn't tell her that. After a few moments, she spoke again. "He seems nice, y'know— the Peeta boy. Reminds me a bit of your grandfather when he was younger, very charming."

"Yeah," I shrugged my shoulders. "I guess he is."

"You like him enough, darlin'?"

"What does that even mean?" I picked at the splatters of dried paint on the table. Why was everyone suddenly pushing the Peeta Mellark agenda on me? Madge nudging me towards him, Delly calling us lovebirds, Jo suggesting we make out, Finnick giving us knowing looks. What if all their actions were actually making Peeta uncomfortable?

"Like him enough to date him?"

I looked up when I felt her eyes on me. She had a glint behind them, but also a hint of curiosity. I avoided her gaze almost immediately. "I don't know. I haven't thought about it."

Lies. All lies. I have thought about it, over and over in fact. I've thought about it enough to know that I'd yearn for it, for him. Peeta was the constant crux of every silly little daydream I've had since I met him.

"Well, no one's rushin' you anyway." Nan shrugged her shoulders. "You're barely sixteen."

I didn't respond. She asked me another question. "Does he like you?"

"I don't know, nan. I'm not sure. I think he does." Or maybe I'm just delusional. Again, I hindered myself from saying the last part out loud. Nan didn't need to know that. Still, I blushed. I wasn't prepared for how blunt the question was.

"Why d'you think he does?"

"He gives me bread." I responded. Now that I've said it out in the open, I realized how foolish it sounded. So what if he gave me bread? His family owns a literal bakery, of course he's gonna give me bread… platonically.

Nan looked back at me, and I could tell she was trying so hard to be open-minded about my lackluster response. "That's adorable."

I cleared my throat uncomfortably, feeling slightly embarrassed. I could see the image slowly forming on the canvas she was painting on. The colors made much more sense now. "That looks pretty."

"Does it?" She hummed. "I'm trying to paint some of the mountains I used to play in when I was a child."

Before I could speak any further, there was a knock on the door. The hinges creaked with age as they were pushed open. grandpa entered carrying a paper bag with the Mellark family bakery's signage printed up front.

"The baker boy is at the front door waiting for you." grandpa told me off-handedly. He opened the paper bag, pulling out two rolls. He handed one to Nan and ate the other.

I rushed to the porch immediately, running through the narrow strip of land between the wall and the fence instead of going inside for a quicker route.

Peeta turned to face me just as I reached the front steps. It's humiliating to admit how quickly I blushed when I saw him. His hair shined golden in the winter sun. He held up a hand to keep the glare away from his eyes, but enough light filtered through his fingers to make his eyelashes shine just as prettily.

"Katniss, hey." He grinned.

I walked closer. I tucked my hair behind my ear. "Hi. I wasn't expecting to see you."

He shrugged his shoulders. "Had to cover for my brother so I had to handle all the deliveries on this side of town."

"Ah," I nodded my head thoughtfully. "I'm glad my grandpa didn't scare you off."

"Not at all. Mr. Snow's nice." He shook his head. As if he just remembered something, he dug into his bag and pulled out a simple paper bag. It has a little note attached to it. "A thank you for hanging out with me last night."

When Peeta left, I rushed inside the house and up my bedroom. I opened the paper bag and inhaled the scent of cheese buns. Whilst I busied myself with eating, I unfolded the note attached. It was an illustration of a cluster of yellow dandelions held together by a green ribbon. On the corner of the page, in Peeta's messy scrawl, it said: "I hope this will last you until spring."

Uncharacteristically, I squealed so loudly that grandpa came knocking on my door a minute later. He peaked in from the door frame, his eyes closed after I once chastised him about a teenage girl needing her privacy inside a household.

"What's wong?" Always one for reigning in his composure, he asked calmly. His nostrils flared. "Is there a snake?"

Prim, who noticed the commotion from her room across the hall, stood behind grandpa. She noticed the paperbag on the desk and the note in my hand then smiled purposefully. I heard her mutter a "Finally." before pulling grandpa out of the doorway.

[divinemare]

Legend of a Mortal Love

┊ ➶ rhys x oc

┊ ➶ part four

part three

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

"I can't believe you're doing this," Tara grunted again, rubbing the dirt off her hands so hard they turned red.

"I already explained, I had no choice but to say yes," Ariadne sighed, tired of the fight they'd been in for ten minutes now.

"Yes, but you're getting too much into something dangerous, something very dangerous!" The redhead sent a splash of water flying towards Ariadne’s face as she hit the puddle of water with her hands.

"What do you want me to do, tell the princess no?" Ariadne was getting extremely tired of her friends' attitude, and considering they hadn't made enough work to eat today, she was in neither the mood nor the physical condition to argue anymore.

"Ari, I just want to take care of you. You know damn well for who this is going to end bad, and let me tell you, it's certainly not going to be for them. You'll end up hurt, or worse, dead."

Ariadne rose from the floor with a grunt and an exasperated roll of her eyes.

"When I need you to tell me what's good for me or not, I'll tell you. Don't think me so stupid, Tara," and with that she left to lie down in her sleeping space, rolling over so she wouldn't see Tara when she came to lie next to her.

The place on her wrists where her chains had been a few minutes ago felt sore from wounds accumulated over the years that had never had a chance to heal. Ariadne had grown so accustomed to them that the few moments when she did not have them on her felt weird. Of course, their absence was replaced by those on her ankles, which would make it impossible for her to run. Not that any human could outrun a High Fae, with or without chains.

Ariadne had trouble sleeping that night, with the whole conversation with Tara replaying in her mind. Yes, she was well aware of the mistakes she was making, and the fact that there was only one possible outcome to her situation, and it was certainly not a pretty one.

It was one that would end her when Rhysand and the other High Fae’s got tired of her, when she stopped being interesting and started to become a liability. They weren't bad people, maybe, but still, there was no possible way Ariadne was going to get out of this alive.

And, being honest, would that be so bad?

༺ ♡ ༻

"And remember, if you get dizzy or anything, let me know, okay?

Too late for that, Ariadne had begun to grow dizzy as she stepped out into the open night and into the Lady of Night's view.

She nodded to Rhiannon, not daring to look up and see the female’s hazel eyes digging into her soul.

Rhiannon's mother's voice had sounded so sweet when she greeted her children, but Ariadne only needed to glance up and see her great bat wings, the black diamond tiara on her head and the shimmering black dress, to be instantly intimidated and lower her head again.

Then Rhysand had arrived, and from being dizzy, Ariadne had stopped breathing altogether and felt as if she would sooner faint than reach Velaris. His piercing, relentless purple gaze on her did nothing to calm her nerves, but only increased them with each passing heartbeat.

So, yes, she didn't feel dizzy, but rather physically ill.

Rhiannon held out her hand and Ariadne was not quick enough to grasp the situation.

One second, she was outside the Moonstone Palace, and the next, the world began to change so rapidly around her that it became impossible to find her ground. The chains weighed so heavily on her wrists that it seemed as if she was going to sink into this endless spinning of the world around her.

Just when she was beginning to beg the Mother to end it, it finally did. Everything stopped, the moon light and the wind hit her face so hard she had to gasp for breath.

She fell backwards, stumbling against the chains and the sickness that hit her so hard she didn't have time to take in the city in front of her.

A pair of arms caught her before she fell to the floor and embarrassed herself any further. At first, because the world was still spinning around her, she thought it had been Rhiannon, but then, as the arms felt muscular and much bigger against her, she realised that they couldn't possibly belong to the female.

Ariadne opened her blurry eyes and was instantly greeted by the black sky and the thousands of bright stars, and then by a purple gaze unlike the one she was used to in the palace kitchens. No, those were like a living night sky, full of secrets, but more beautiful than anything else.

"Are you all right?" Rhysand smiled sideways as cheekily as he could.

"Perfectly...", but her lies were stopped instantly by the gagging sound that came from her mouth.

Ariadne put a hand to her mouth with embarrassment written all over her face, as Rhysand smiled so simply again and laughed so lightly that the sound vibrated through her body.

"Always lying to me, aren't you?" His deep, cheeky voice sent shivers down her spine.

"I'm not lying, I've been through a lot worst than nausea."

Ariadne released herself from his grip and swallowed her nausea. The confident expression on Rhysand's face changed to a strange frown. But Ariadne paid him no mind as she returned to Rhiannon's side.

"You can look up now. My mother has gone to see my father."

She took a moment to consider it, still not feeling entirely well from the whole winnowing thing, nauseous enough to threaten to make a gruesome scene for Rhysand to once again discover her façade.

So she waited a couple of seconds before slowly raising her head from the perfectly cut grass. The scene before her took her breath away, and the nausea.

Ariadne had always loved the stars, they were the only escape she had in the Court of Nightmares, and she had always thought them beautiful, but this, this made her lungs ache for breath. It was absolutely, breathtakingly beautiful. The mountains that seemed to touch the sky, the river that reflected the stunning night. The small town, full of light and life, and the stars, oh, the beautiful stars.

"Welcome to Velaris, Ariadne," Rhiannon murmured behind her, a pleasant smile on her lips at the look of astonishment and ease on the human's face.

Ariadne's heart was beating so fast in her chest that she had to put a hand on it to make sure it wasn't going to burst out. All the dreams she had ever had could not compare to what her eyes were seeing at that moment, none could come close to the beauty of it all, and for the first time in a long, long time, a genuine, carefree smile joined the glow above and below.

༺ ♡ ༻

Velaris was beautiful. Full of live and color and music. Rhiannon had taken her to a tour around the city, but her ultimate favorite place had been the Rainbow. The music and colors in that side of the city had been absolutely breathtaking. They had stayed there for hours, and when her feet became sore and painful, Rhiannon, noticing her tiredness, called it a night.

“We’re staying in the Town House with Rhys and his friends, and Mor as well of course. My parents are staying at the House of Wind. So you won’t have to worry, ok?”

Some mighty words said to someone who was always worrying. But Ariadne nodded nonetheless to appease Rhiannon.

“Great, so, considering we’re far away from it, and I can already tell you’re tired, we have two options. Number one, we winnow, but seeing as you didn’t took it pretty well last time, I don’t know if that’s a great idea.”

Yeah, definitely not a great idea. Just to think that they would have to winnow again to get back to the Court made her stomach twist.

“And number two?”

“Number two…we fly,” Rhiannon said in a cheerful tone, flexing her bat-like wings.

Ariadne sighed, none of those options seemed like a formidable one. Just to think about being several feet away from the ground with little support whatsoever…but on the other side, to feel again like she did winnowing…

“I guess I’ll have to take my chances with flying.”

While Rhiannon beamed happily, Ariadne frowned in an attempt of a smile, but the fear in her face was way too evident to try to hide it.

Rhiannon grabbed her by the waist, telling her to wrap her legs around her, and then shot to the sky with a powerful thud, Ariadne had to suppress a scream, and instead gasped when the air hit her hard in the face.

“Wow you’re strong,” she breathed at the ease with which Rhiannon held her.

“You’re really light,” the female laughed.

Ariadne tried not to grimace. Light was one of the only two weights among slaves: you were either light and skinny for malnutrition, or built like a tree for the hard-weight work some had to do.

The fear of flying started to lower little by little, and then it actually felt nice; the wind in her face, the city above. Then they landed, and that appreciation of the moment ended when Ariadne felt a horrible dizziness hit her and an insane amount of nausea on her throat.

Nor winnowing nor flying, she would rather stick to walking the next time.

Rhiannon guided them towards a beautiful wood and marble house. Inside, a hustle of noises rang as soon as the dark-haired female opened the door.

“Oh, there she is!” Ariadne kept her distance as a big, hulking male stepped from the antechamber and into the foyer with a smile and big, muscular arms opened.

He picked the Princess up off her feet and swirl her around. Rhiannon laughed harmoniously and much more carefree than Ariadne had ever heard her. This one must be Cassian, if Ariadne could remember for Rhiannon’s stories.

“Cass! Put me down!” Rhiannon laughed, and then, behind the male, came another one.

Less muscular and not so tall as the other one, his face was perfectly crafted, a very, very handsome male, Ariadne had to say. But there was something about him that made the hairs in her body stand to end, maybe the shadows that seemed to move whenever he did. Or the fact that that same perfection crafted in his perfect face seemed to be hiding death itself. Yeah, definitely the shadows, she had faced death too many times to be scared of it.

“Az!” Rhiannon beamed with happiness when she saw the male.

Oh, so this one was Azriel. Ariadne tried hard not to smile as she saw the male give Rhiannon such a sweet look and smile while he wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her tightly. The look in his face not reveling as much sentiment as his hazel eyes, but enough that Ariadne read the feelings of appreciation in them.

“You came!” She had been so focused on Azriel and Rhiannon she had not noticed the presence of someone else beside her.

Ariadne jumped in surprise at the sudden voice, and when she turned, she saw the impossibly beautiful face of Morrigan smiling at her.

“Oh, uhm-”

“Rhi, who’s our new guest?” The big male came closer when he finally noticed her, and Ariadne began to feel a little nervous with all the looks that were on her and the Fae surrounding her. “Hello, beautiful lady, my name is Cassian, and you are?”

“Ariadne. And stop, Cass, you’re scaring her,” a voice she knew all too well sounded from the stairs.

Her hair stood on end and her throat dried when Rhysand’s figure came closer to them, his hands on his pockets, as pristine as he ever was.

“I’m not scaring her you idiot, I’m just getting to know her,” Cassian turned around to face Rhys with an indignant stare, but then turned to look back at her. “I’m not scaring you, am I?” When Ariadne shook her head slightly, Cassian raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms at Rhysand as if to say ‘told you so’.

A hilarious scene, to see such a big male doing such a childish thing.

“How’s your leg?” Morrigan asked, making Ariadne look at her again.

“Uhm, better, thank you.”

“What happened to your leg?” Cassian asked, and Ariadne cringed.

“See? Now you’ve made her uncomfortable,” Rhys said, and Cassian and him started arguing about wether or not Cassian was making her uncomfortable.

“Oh, dear Mother,” Morrigan laughed, and unexpectedly grabbed Ariadne’s hand. “Come, I’ll show you-”

The blonde stoped her words when she felt the cold of the metal around her wrists. Ariadne immediately left Morrigan’s eyes.

“I couldn’t take them off, I didn’t know how to,” Rhiannon said next to Azriel.

Suddenly the whole room fell silent, not even Cassian’s and Rhysand’s fight could be heard. And again, Ariadne felt all those stares on her, and she just wanted to curl up and disappear, it was as if all her obvious weaknesses where being pinpointed in a room full of extraordinarily perfect beings.

“I’ll help you with that,” Morrigan smiled sweetly, and took her hand again.

Ariadne wasn’t really sure of what was going on, or if she should trust all this Fae, most probably not, really, but she accepted Morrigan’s help nonetheless, it wasn’t as if she had any option anyway. She would have to trust they still hadn’t got tired of her mortality, and just as she was going up the staircase following the blonde female, she turned her head discreetly, finding that Rhysand’s violet night-sky eyes were following her every move. He gave her one of his side smirks, and Ariadne instantly got an answer to her own question, one she wasn’t entirely sure if she was grateful for, or even more concerned.

[shallowseeker]

There is...one more Cas-adjacent car to discuss, but I don't quite have it all straight in my head.

LOOK! It's not the same tan sedan, but it IS interesting. (4x03 & 13x01) Isn't it? Let's ramble:

////

Look at this cute little tan sedan that Dean drives in 4x03 In the Beginning!

This is one of his very first interactions with Cas, and our first on-screen date car drive.

They've interacted very little at this point! Previous appearances with Cas n' Dean were 1) their first meeting in the barn and 2) the very tense middle-of-the-night meeting in the dream kitchen.

Anyway, this is the vehicle Dean drives throughout the episode. It's our first car ride with Earth and Heaven teaming up.

///

Dean is ghostly as he bears witness to the tragedy of Samuel Campbell's death (stabbed in the gut, just as Mary was before she burned), Deanna Campbell's death (broken neck), and John Winchester's death (broken neck).

Azazel is killing all of Mary's support system to better weaken her resolve and entrap her in a deal.

Young—afraid—alone—distressed. Mary would have taken any deal, surely.

(Mary's Fate is not unique, exactly, but it's definitely got its own signature. It's an off-rhyme parallel in Supernatural. She did not, in fact, barter her soul, or go to Hell, as John and Dean will eventually do. No, she unknowingly Rumpelstiltskin'd her second child.)

Mary looks sadly over her shoulder at Dean, who was unable to help her. Then, John breathes in air with a shuddering gasp—returns to life.

Dean gasps, too, and Cas returns to his side. They disappear together, leaving only mysterious tan sedan in their wake.

Mary turns to look one last time, and we now have the setup of the scene: John—Mary—tan Cas Car (lights on)—black Dean Car.

///

Mary’s voice was so small when she asked if Azazel would revive her parents, “M-my parents, too?”

(Of course Azazel said no. Mary has to take what she will get, and she may have made a terrible mistake, but she knew enough not to barter her soul.)

So, Mary gazes at her father—the protector—lost as he failed to protect her, just as she will fail to protect Sam. (Oh, and her mother? She's dead, too. Mary's world has shrunk. And the world is so, so much scarier after your father dies. He’s supposed to be invincible.)

This failing of his child will haunt Samuel Campbell beyond the grave and entangle him in a demonic deal of his own. (Just as Cas, too, will be drawn into an Empty deal for Jack, post-resurrection.)

///

"I'll tell you one person that you're not gonna save. Your Granpappy."

Deanna, very nearly victorious in her bid to go for the gun on the ground, gives herself away with a grief-stricken scream:

We've seen this ghost before. The demon comes through the door. It kills the protector. Then it seeks to kill the second line of defense, before moving onto the rest of the vulnerable family members.

///

Now, we come to 12x23 All Along the Watchtower and 13x01 Lost and Found. And well, it hurts.

Nothing is one-to-one in Supernatural. All parallels are based in the specter of missing bonds and of lost love—whether that's a child, a comrade, a sibling, a parent, or a lover. It's a symphony of harmonizing pain. :(

So, in 12x23/13x01, Cas dies. Dean and Sam are stunned speechless.

In 12x23, it's Mary who leaps into action, and Dean can only stand, a paralyzed witness to Jack's twin fate of The Lost Parents. (Jack's mom, Kelly? She dies. Dean can't save her. Jack's chosen father, Castiel? He dies, too. Dean can't save him either.)

(Both Deanna and Kelly die with their eyes open.)

But Mary is triumphant. She is a Doomed Child fighting back. She protects Jack from Lucifer, even though she could not protect Sam from Azazel. (Echoing this, Crowley serves as an inverse: he spurned his mother's protection from Lucifer and bit off more than he could chew to further the security of his career/position. His death, surprisingly, tears Rowena in two and unfreezes her heart.)

///

But thanks to Mary's heroic efforts here, her own kids are spared this time, and Jack, too. (From here, Mary will go into another world where she never made her deal, and she will make peace with her past.)

Of course, Dean bears witness to his own off-rhyme parallel fate to Mary, The Death of the Lover, at the hands of a Luciferian figure. Cas falls at his feet, and Dean falls to his knees.

Dean is also like John. He can only watch as his loved one's sacrificial debt comes due, with no hope in sight, like how Mary's sacrifice came due--those cosmic consequences.

(And later, Jack, in a painful echo of Azazel, will resurrect The Lover but become destined to kill Mary.)

Later, still in North Cove, Dean pleads with God on the landscape of his broken dreams—Washaway beach, (a cruel nod to the beach trip he will never take), a valley without people or friends in it, and a car.

Like Mary, he looks over his shoulder to find a mysterious tan sedan (but its lights are off & it's enshrouded in darkness).

And there's nothing for Dean here. No miraculous resurrection. No deals that can be made. Not for Dean. Dean's happiness, and the happiness of his loved ones isn’t important enough. The universe turns a blind eye. The father doesn't care if he lives or dies, and his happiness certainly never mattered to Him.

It isn't fair.

His voice shakes, and his lip trembles. "Please. Please, help us."

But God's not listening. "He doesn't give a damn."

///

And we're left with a similar setup to Mary's tragedy, another off-rhyme: we return to the lakehouse and we have...a black Dean car. A tan Cas truck, at cross positions to one another, as they were in 4x03.

But like John, Dean is now left with just Sam n' Jack, and he's ill-equipped for parentally supporting either of them.

///

But Dean just keeps looking and looking and looking. Hoping.

He looks like he's about to faint, actually.

(A kitchen. A dining table. An empty chair at its head.)

But this is how it goes with Cas. Dean tries to stop him from walking away, and in reality, he's powerless to stop him from going anywhere.

Having faith when miracles happen and when they don't? What good is it? It just hurts more.

[astridhoff03]

To Paradise and back - Chapter 2

“Astrid, wake up!” A loud knock tore Astrid out of her dreams. She rubbed her eyes sleepily, but was still too lazy to sit up. She yawned heartily and was about to snuggle back into the pillows when there was another banging on the door, this time stronger and louder, plus Heather's booming voice coming through the closed door. Astrid groaned, if only the ship's designers had deigned to install soundproof doors, then she could have slept a little longer. "I'm coming, Heather." Finally she deigned to stand up. Exhausted from her little nap, she leaned against the door. “What's up Heather?” “Eret, just told me that we're meeting his friends in the ship's cafe. Are you coming or do I have to come in?” Astrid smiles quietly. “No, it’s fine. I'm coming. Give me two minutes and I'll be ready." Still a little sleepy, Astrid opened her suitcase and grabbed her dark blue bikini with the matching ocean blue beach dress that she had finally been able to afford a few months ago. She quickly changed her clothes and went to her hairdresser, who had been completely disheveled. She tied some of her loose back strands into a braid. She then grabbed her keys and her ivory white bag. She walked out the door and was immediately greeted by Heather. Astrid locked the door and immediately slipped in with her friend so that they could finally get going. The two were about to set off when Astrid suddenly heard a quiet clinking sound behind her. Did she drop her keys? “Wait a second,” she said to her friend and bent down to pick up the key ring. She was just reaching for the bunch when she felt the warm touch of fingers on the back of her hand, also reaching for the keys. Astrid looked up and found herself in the forest green eyes of a young man who couldn't have been much older than herself. The young man smiled shyly and withdrew his hand from hers. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." Just as embarrassed, she smiled back and took her keys back. She felt her skin begin to tingle as he held her gaze as soon as the two of them sat up. "No, it's alright." The young man sheepishly scratched the back of his head, which was covered in shaggy auburn hair. She saw that he was blushing a little, which made her smile a little. They were both silent for a moment, not knowing what to say, but just looking at each other for the briefest of seconds they had. Embarrassed, Astrid brushed back a strand of her golden hair, she looked away a little as she still saw the young man's sweet, embarrassed smile, he didn't want him to notice that her cheeks had turned reddish from embarrassment. "Thank you," she said, "...for wanting to help me." The young man's green eyes brightened. “I liked doing it. I wish you a nice stay.” “Likewise,” Astrid smiled before she linked arms with Heather, who grinned mischievously at her. As they walked off, Astrid took a quick glance over her shoulder, only to see the man returning her gaze as he unlocked the door directly across from her room. “Well, that’s what I call love at first sight,” Heather teased as the two friends walked down the aisle to the ship’s cafe. Astrid looked at her best friend in shock; she couldn't really be serious. “You’re not serious, are you?” “Oh yes, Astrid, I’m serious. I can tell when the chemistry is right, just like back then with Sam." Astrid rolled her eyes, she didn't want to talk about Sam now, and the fact that her friend had mentioned him made her feel the shock and sadness of their breakup again. She quickly pushed away these emotions that she never wanted to feel again. “It was nothing, just harmless eye contact, nothing of significance. He was just trying to be nice.” Heather could only smile at that. “Believe what you want, dear friend. But feelings are something that you can't control, you can't choose who you fall in love with." Astrid didn't go into that any further, and she didn't even have to because at that moment the two women, Eret and Dagur, were waving towards them, surrounded by four other people sat around a table with an intoxicating view.

[perfectpaperbluebirds]

Sicktember #8

Prompt: Persistent Fever

Fandom/OCs: Cowboy ‘verse OCs (Aaron and Katy)

Words: 1900

Sicknario inspo: Checking for a fever post illness from this post, finding your love sick in bed from this post, patient reassuring caregiver from this post, and sick physically imposing character from this post.

Author’s comments/background: I just love these two so much, and it makes me sad to realize I haven't written them since last Sicktember (check out their first fic here). This would be a perfect fic for a "married people shenanigans" tag. They're crazy about each other, and I love writing about couples who are crazy about each other, if you haven't noticed. Would love to get more prompts for the two of them, hint hint.

Fun fact: I believe this is the only fic where I didn’t use the prompt somewhere in it verbatim. 

~~~***~~~

Aaron was kneeling in front of the stove, filling it with wood before bed, when he sensed Katy behind him. Guessing what was coming he paused, and sure enough, her small hand was suddenly pressed against his forehead. He frowned almost imperceptibly.

"I'm gonna feel hot, darlin'. I was jest choppin' wood. 'M all sweaty."

"I know, and I wish yeh wouldn't'a done that with how much ya been shakin'. I coulda done it."

He sat back on his heels and turned to look up at her, the frown deepening. "I'll never 'llow ya ta be choppin' wood while I'm home and able ta stand," he said firmly. "I ain't so sick anymore. Ya don't need ta worry 'bout me so much."

"I'm entitled ta worry if I please. I never saw ya sick like yeh were at first, sweatin' and shakin' and cryin' out. And then ya fall down outta nowhere like ya were dead the first day ya try ta get outta bed, burnin' up like ya were holdin' yer face in the fire. I've had my share of worry these last weeks, so I'm keepin' an eye on ya until further notice, buster."

"It was the second day I was outta bed," Aaron muttered.

"Even more reason, then. Yeh've caught yerself a damn stubborn fever, and I'm not takin' any chances until it's done and gone."

Aaron sighed. "Yer the boss, sugar, like I always say." He brushed his hand near his temple. "My head's still sore from fallin' anyway. I ain't keen ta have it happen again."

"I bet it is." Katy kissed the sore lump on his head tenderly. "Which is why ya need ta take it easy." She ran a hand over her braid distractedly. "I wish I wasn't leaving ya alone tomorrow. But Auntie Sarah's bound 'n determined to go into town tomorrow, and she won't go alone…."

Aaron carefully stood as she spoke, his sense of balance not yet fully returned since his illness, but when he was steady he tilted up her chin with a gentle touch, smoothing away the worry line between her brows with the pad of his thumb. "Quit yer worryin'," he murmured. "I'll be jest fine. Nothin's gonna happen, and yeh'll be back home before ya know it."

"I hope yer right," she sighed. "I don't like goin' ta town as is, an' this jest makes it worse. Tomorrow can't be done soon enough."

~~~

Aaron and Katy were up before the sun the next morning, neither in the mood for much talk. Aaron went out to do the morning chores (since that was the only thing Katy was allowing him to do currently) while his wife got ready for town. He finished the chores just as she finished dressing and primping. Katy watched through the bedroom window as her husband shuffled his way from the barn to the house, already (or still?) looking exhausted. She bit her lip in worry as she yet again noted how pale he still was, and how the deep circles under his eyes had yet to start fading. Despite what he said, he still wasn't himself, and she was at a loss of what to do. 

He made a point to put on a warm smile as soon as he came in the door, and she saw pride and admiration in his gaze as he took in her "dressing up" attire.

"Yeh look mighty fine, Miz Rivard," he murmured, pulling her into his arms and kissing her. 

She pulled away with a giggle. "Leave off, now. Yer gonna muss my dress, an' I jest pressed it," she said, though she flushed and smiled at his earnest praise. 

They both turned to the door just then as they heard Aunt Sarah's wagon roll up and come to a stop. Then they looked back at one another, worry puckering Katy's forehead yet again. 

"Ya be safe now, ya hear?" she murmured. "Don't do nothin' ta exert yerself too much. Ya cain't keel over while I'm not here, or I'll take a switch to ya."

"Don't be threatenin' me with a good time, now," he said, raising an eyebrow rakishly.  Then he laughed when she laughed. "I'll behave, I promise. Think I'll take a lil' lie-down this mornin', then I'll prob'ly dig up yer garden fer winter. I'll take it easy, though, don't ya worry none, my Katydid." 

"Okay," she sighed. 

They both jumped as Aunt Sarah began to holler for Katy, then shared a last smile.

"Behave yerself," Aaron murmured, pressing a handful of money into her palm. "And come home safe. I'll be waitin' up fer ya."

She reached up on tiptoes to press her lips to his forehead. "Take care o' yerself. I'll be back as soon as I can." With a wave, she flew out the door, hollering back to her aunt in greeting. 

Aaron watched wistfully, making sure they got off alright, then wasted no time in shuffling his way back to the bedroom, yawning wearily. 

~~~

It was just past dark when Aunt Sarah dropped Katy off after a successful day of errands. Katy nearly flew to the house once her aunt was out of sight, but she paused on the stoop, for the windows were dark and not a soul was in sight. She glanced at the garden and found it untouched from that morning. What else would Aaron have gotten up to that day if he couldn't get to the vegetables? She hurried to check the barn just in case, but it was quiet and dark, just like the house. 

She ran back to the house now, panic fluttering in her chest, expecting to find her man collapsed on the ground at any moment. 

"I jest knew shoulda had Andrew check on ‘im," she fretted to herself. "What a fool I am. I shoulda never left ‘im alone."

There was no sign of him in the main rooms, and everything looked exactly as it had when she left that morning. She flew to the bedroom, yanking open the door, then breathed a sigh of relief upon finding her husband safe in bed, wrapped in the coverlet and snoring, the moonlight casting the scene in sharp relief. 

She took several deep breaths to calm herself, knowing he would tease her mercilessly if he knew how worked up she'd been. Though she had a right to tease him right back after seeing all this. He'd promised to wait up for her and had fallen asleep before dark like a tired child instead. 

She moved around him quietly, changing into her night dress and brushing her hair for bed, but he didn't stir until she brought a candle to her nightstand so it shone directly in his face. She surveyed him at last as he stirred and mumbled and her heart plummeted again, because she didn't like what she saw at all. The hectic flush of an angry fever covered his cheeks, and the sweaty, tousled hair and blankets indicated that he hadn't left the bed for several hours. 

"Katy," he croaked, his eyes flickering open weakly. 

"Oh ya poor thing," she sighed, reaching out to brush the hair away from his forehead. 

" 'm not feelin' so good again all of a sudden," he mumbled, letting his eyes slip closed under her touch. 

"I cain see that. When'd it start?"

He thought for a minute. "S'pose it was right after ya left. Haven't had the gumption to get outta bed all day. Feelin' weak as water, jest bin sleepin' and sweatin' or shiverin'."

"It's a damn stubborn fever that yeh've caught, an' no mistake." She sighed again. "Alright, jest wait here while I fetch the basin, then."

"I ain't goin' nowhere. Don't think I'm much up to runnin' away jest now," came the weak, teasing response. 

Glancing over her shoulder, Katy saw the old, familiar twinkle in her husband's eyes, faint though it was under fever-shine, and the dimple in his cheek was flickering. Whenever he smiled like that, she couldn't help but smile back.

They passed the next stretch of time in silence as she bathed his face, underarms, neck and chest with cold water, trying to give him any relief from the heat raging beneath his skin. Katy was less worried this time than formerly, though, since he was fully lucid and even somewhat relaxed, just uncomfortable and sick where he had been delirious and restless before. He so rarely got to spend so much time at home, and when he was home he was rushing around to take care of things before he had to leave again, so this rare chance to simply rest and enjoy his company was a treat she was doing her best to savor.

 He had thrown off most of the blanket and she let herself get lost in momentary admiration. His long, lean legs, stretching nearly to the end of the bed, muscled and toned from a life spent on horseback; the various shades of tanning across his skin from years in the sun; the planes of his abdomen and chest and shoulders, smooth skin over rounded muscle, flexing and shifting each time he moved. Even feverish and miserable, he was beautiful, and his beauty distracted her from her worry. 

Eventually the water became too warm to do further good, but by then Aaron seemed marginally cooler and was resting more comfortably, so she set the basin aside. The sick man said he needed nothing further, so his wife at last slipped into bed beside him. He tugged her closer then, shifting to lie his head in her lap with a contented sigh. She began to trail her fingers up and down his back and neck and through his usually close-cropped hair. 

"We need ta give ya a haircut. Ya bin so sick that I ain't had the chance," she murmured, exploring the unfamiliar length around his ears.

"Mm," he hummed, too close to sleep for a true answer. In that same moment a chill wracked him, and he moaned softly as he shivered and shifted in discomfort.

Katy bit her tongue to keep from expressing her worry, but she couldn't keep a sigh from escaping as she pulled the coverlet over him once more. Out of nowhere his hand reached up, even despite the awkward angle, and he smoothed the worry line between her brows with the pad of his thumb.

"Quit yer worryin'," he murmured. "I'll be jest fine. Tried doin' too much the last few days. If I rest like ya bin tellin' me all along, I'll be good as new in a day or two."

She grabbed his hand and clasped it to her chest. "I jest need ya ta be well," she whispered. "I hate seein' ya so sick fer so long. My heart cain't take it."

His low chuckle was a soft rumble against her. "My soft-hearted woman. What would I do without ya. Ain't no way I cain stay under the weather for long with the good care ya bin givin' me."

"That better be a promise," Katy said, kissing his hand. 

"It's a promise, sugar," he murmured as he once again drifted toward sleep.

[eolewyn1010]

Charité, season 4 - Queerly Subverted

Turns out I can't shut up; what a surprise. So I've put my final thoughts into separate posts, in the hope that they're more readable if they aren't a half novel just smashing your dash.

Something I always liked about Charité is that, from the beginning, they had queer characters. Season 1's Therese got kicked around by the plot, but she was an important character whose story we followed alongside Ida's, and while she fell prey to Bury Your Gays, she ultimately remained the only love interest Ida kept in dear memory. I don't need to get started on season 2's Otto and Martin because that would have me gushing about their lovestory until next week. Season 3 had... well, Simone Weiser. Who was, in and of herself, a wonderful character; don't get me wrong. She just really wasn't given the space her story would've needed to unfold. I hoped that this season would do better.

...Somehow, I wound up feeling cheated.

A friend of mine said if there were no trans characters this season, they would riot. I think we can afford some rioting, because despite the setting promoting an all-inclusive, super-tolerant future, there was not a single trans person to be found. The gynecology had zero male patients, no one casually mentioned HRT, no one was addressed with gender-neutral pronouns. I really didn't want there to be a big plot around someone being *le gasp* trans, but someone around just casually existing would have been nice. But nada.

When Simone Weiser showed up last season and then just disappeared again at the end of the episode with no further discussion, it felt like they just wanted to scratch the "queer" point off their to-do list. I think when they came to this season, they had something comparable going on; they checked - "we already had lesbians, gay men, an intersex person; shit, we only have the troublesome trans people left! We can't handle this!" And someone in the scripting room raised their hand: "Hear me out: Poly marriage." You goddamn genius. This is how I feel cheated: They used poly relationships to actually write around queerness.

For one, we have the Baldwin spouses - Piet Baldwin, Evelyn Baldwin, and Rupert Baldwin. Piet Baldwin is patient 0 for Maral's plot, and I don't remember seeing him ever, at any point in the season, in an interaction with his spouses that would indicate they are in a romantic relationship. He's in a quarantine tube most of the time, but also, the spouses talk a hell of a lot more to the doctors than they do to each other. Both Piet's wife and his husband are visibly quite a bit older than him. If you'd told me they were his parents, I would've instantly believed it. Now, I'm not opposed to age gap romances, but my problem is: He might as well have been their son - it wouldn't have changed the script of their arguments or their behavior among each other one bit. We never saw them together as a polycule; the part that would have made for queer appearances was conveniently isolated from the others so they could play out what looked like a pretty standard troubled het marriage. Now, I know that a man and a woman being married doesn't equal straight; the fact that they're all married to each other is a pretty good indicator that both of the men in this relationship are in fact bisexual. It's just, we never see them even holding hands or share a gaze or anything. They are queer, but they are not allowed to look like it.

Which is, funnily enough, the opposite to Lou Melnik (aka Discount Daniel Sträßer), who is allowed to look like he's heading out to CSD, but only ever has serious chemistry with Marlene. He, Marlene Hirt, and Ferhat Williamson end the season holding hands - that is, Marlene in the middle holding hands with either of the guys. There's no indication that Lou and Ferhat are dating; in fact, when they're on-screen together, they are just remarkably awkward. Which, I don't wanna shit-talk Timur Işık because I have only ever seen him in this role and can't say if he's a very lukewarm actor of if the script fucked him over, but Ferhat's chemistry with Marlene is also pretty much non-existent. Marlene and Lou have such lively discussions, sparkling eyes and smiles, and then there's Ferhat. Eh. The other polycule, who only end up as one in the last few minutes of the last episode and as such conveniently don't have to be shown going on dates together or kissing or whatever, consists factually of two pairings m/f. Again, it feels like a cop-out. And there's - Lou and Marlene were two of the few characters I actually liked; I am sold both on them and their relationship. I am, however, not sold on their polycule.

And then there's Maral Safadi and Julia Kowalczyk. The main couple, two women whose relationship is a major arc of the season. And... they look so awkward when they kiss, so stiff when they cuddle. I don't know what's wrong; they are for the most part decent actresses, and I believe them the characters are a couple when they argue (which they do a lot). I do not believe them their affections in the slightest. Is that part of Maral's workaholic deal? But then she's so oblivious of her marriage being in crisis until Julia literally yells it at her. So, what gives? It's nice to have a lesbian couple in the center of the narrative, but I get completely thrown off every time they try to sell me on the romance part. Nevermind that their resolution isn't one. Maral never says, "I'm sorry for my behavior; I have realized it was not good; I will work on this". She says, "I need you". And with that, everything is just fine again. They never work out their issues. The plot point of their son going to war is never resolved at all; that goes nowhere. Julia never accepts his decision; Maral never sits down with him to talk about it again. Whatevs.

In the end, I'm sitting here wondering: If you do it so half-heartedly, why do it at all? Either the script writers or the actors obviously didn't feel like doing queer characters.