#and then drying up in the sun on the coast

[pixiefelixie]

𓆝..°°𓈒 ⋆ (필릭스) : REMEMBER THIS SUMMER "MONDAY"

𓆉 °°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ synopsis felix is living the summer every teenager dreams of, with a perfect beach house on the east coast of australia and an even more perfect girlfriend. by taking the best of both worlds, felix invites her to experience the world he grew up in to make this the best summer ever. amidst bonfires, romantic sunsets, and seagulls, felix has one goal this summer: to finally tell her he loves her. with just one week to do so, felix is met with a challenge to make his feelings known before time runs out. 

pairing: nonidol!felix x fem!reader, series warnings: felix + reader are intended to be 17-18, established relationship, fluff, underaged drinking at a bonfire/party, use of "chink" please read below, borderline violence due to influence under alcohol important notes: The content of this work is purely fictional and is not intended to endorse or encourage any behavior, especially among minors, that may be deemed inappropriate or unsafe. This story is created solely for entertainment purposes and should be understood as fiction. This work includes the use of a racial slur, which is solely included for the purpose of the story and to reflect certain character dynamics or societal issues. It does not represent my personal views or beliefs, nor does it come from the characters of Felix or the reader. As an Asian author, I approach this topic with sensitivity and awareness. The inclusion of such language is not intended to perpetuate harm but rather to portray the realities faced by marginalized communities. Reader discretion is advised.

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chapter under the cut! ~11k words

the next morning, you woke up in the guest room you were staying in, the sun beaming through the large windows. the room was bathed in a warm, golden light, making the white walls and light blue accents glow softly. you could hear the faint sound of the ocean waves crashing against the shore in the distance and the air was filled with the fresh scent of morning dew.

you sat up and looked at your phone for the time. it was still early, but the sun was making its presence known. you plopped back down, and after a few moments of basking in the morning light, you decided to get up. slipping on your fluffy slippers, you headed out of your room to freshen up.

a quick rinse of your face, a good teeth brushing, and a refreshing shower later, you felt fully awake. you brushed through your still-damp hair, deciding to leave it to dry naturally. the humid summer air always seemed to coax out the soft waves in your hair. besides, you loved the effortless look the season gave you—tanned skin from those first few weeks of summer, a natural glow that didn’t need much enhancement.

you curled your lashes, swiped on a bit of tinted lip balm, and stepped back to check the mirror. that was all you needed. summer was kind like that: minimal effort, maximum payoff. your skin had that sun-kissed warmth, and your hair had a life of its own, perfectly undone in a way you couldn’t replicate any other time of year. you smiled at yourself, satisfied, and headed out to see where the morning would take you.

once you got back to your room, you rummaged through your suitcase and picked out an outfit: a pair of frayed denim shorts and a flowy floral top with soft pink and yellow hues. the combo was light, breezy, and perfect for the warm day ahead. just as you were putting your necklace on, a knock sounded at the door.

"come in," you called.

the door creaked open to reveal felix, and you had to bite back a laugh. his hair was a complete disaster—wild tufts sticking up every which way, as if he'd had an argument with his pillow all night and lost. he stood there, bleary-eyed, wearing nothing but a pair of red plaid pajama pants slung low on his hips. his chest rose and fell with the kind of lazy rhythm that only came with someone who wasn’t fully awake yet. his squinting eyes barely adjusted to the golden morning light streaming in from your windows.

"look at you!" you teased, unable to resist pulling out your phone and snapping a quick picture of his morning look.

felix groaned dramatically, running a hand through his already messy hair in a failed attempt to tame it. "why are you like this?" he mumbled, shuffling across the room like a grumpy toddler before collapsing face-first onto your bed. "can i sleep here?" he muttered into your pillow, his voice muffled.

you perched on the edge of the bed, brushing a strand of damp hair behind your ear. "what's wrong?"

"a pigeon keeps pecking at my window," he grumbled, dragging your blanket over his bare shoulders like a makeshift cocoon.

"a pigeon?" you repeated, already laughing.

"seagull, same thing," he muttered sleepily, burrowing deeper into the covers like he was trying to merge with your bed. after a moment, he inhaled deeply and let out a content sigh. "and the bed smells like you," he said softly, his hand reaching out blindly until it found yours. he gave it a light squeeze before letting his arm fall limply back onto the mattress.

your chest tightened at the sweetness of it. smiling, you reached out to brush his hair, the strands soft between your fingers despite the chaos. "my mom wanted us to get bagels this morning," he said, his face still buried in your pillow. "they only have the good ones in the morning," he mumbled, the words barely decipherable but completely serious, like he was delivering some sacred bagel truth.

"then we better go," you said, laughing softly.

felix groaned again, this time flipping over onto his back, the blanket now tangled around his waist. he looked up at you through half-lidded eyes, a lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "not yet," he murmured, his voice low and rough with sleep. “come on, lay with me for a minute," he said, patting the empty spot beside him.

"felix," you said, rolling your eyes.

he waved a dismissive hand, his biceps flexing ever so slightly. "my mom will survive. it’s not like they’re gonna run out in the next five minutes." his smirk widened as his eyes flicked over to you. "seriously, come here. the bed’s big enough, and i’m a fantastic pillow. multi-purpose, really."

you crossed your arms, arching a brow. "you’re ridiculous."

"just for a minute,” he stretched his arms over his head, showing just enough of his abs to make it clear he wasn’t playing fair. "the bed’s warm. and you’re cold."

"i’m not cold," you said, shaking your head as you grabbed a pillow and lightly smacked it against his chest. "get moving, felix," you shot back, already heading toward the door before he could say anything else to make your face heat up.

as you neared the dock of his family’s beach, the sight of their boat came into view. it was a sleek, white vessel with blue trim, bobbing gently in the water. felix led the way, his hand still holding yours, guiding you with ease.

“i got you,” he said, stepping onto the boat first, the wood creaking slightly under his weight. he turned back, extending a hand to you. you took it, feeling the strength of his grip as you jumped in, the boat rocking slightly once again.

felix helped you steady yourself, and guided you to a seat beside him as he made his way to the helm. the boat’s interior was polished and tidy, with cushioned seats and a small table in the centre. you sat down, feeling the coolness of the white leather seat beneath you.

he started the engine, the low hum of the motor blending with the sounds of the sea. the boat began to glide smoothly across the water, the wind whipping through your hair. you watched as felix expertly maneuvered the boat, his hands steady on the wheel. the sun reflected off the water, casting shimmering patterns on the boat’s deck.

felix turned to you with a smile, his eyes sparkling with excitement. you couldn’t help but smile back, the wind tugging at your hair and filling your lungs with the salty scent of the sea. his goofy side always comes out when he was driving the boat. he leaned into the turns with exaggerated movements, pretending to be a race car driver.

“hold on tight!” felix shouted, his voice barely audible over the rush of wind and waves. he accelerated, the boat picking up speed and bouncing over the water. you grabbed the edge of your seat, as he sent sprays of water into the air, the droplets sparkling like diamonds in the sunlight.

“having fun?” he called out, but his words were lost in the wind. you furrowed your brow, unable to hear him clearly.

“what?” you shouted back, leaning in to try and catch his words. he repeated himself, but the wind still swallowed his voice. determined to understand, you moved closer, bringing your face just inches from his. felix laughed at your proximity, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

before you could ask again, he couldn't help but take that chance to kiss you, his lips warm and firm against yours. you pulled back with a grin, playfully swatting his arm. “focus!” you said, laughing.

felix chuckled, his eyes never leaving the water as he steadied the boat. “i asked if you're having fun,” he repeated, louder this time.

“yeah!” you replied, your voice just as loud to compete with the wind. felix gave a satisfied nod, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous glint.

without thinking twice, you jumped up from your seat and made your way to the open area in the bow of the boat. felix watched with amusement as you raised your hands in the air and let out a loud "whoo!" that echoed across the ocean.

the wind tousled your hair as you embraced the thrill of the moment, the salty breeze tingling against your skin. as you passed by another boat, its wake created a larger wave, causing you to squeal in surprise. you stumbled slightly as the boat rocked, testing your balance and felix's laughter bubbled up as he saw you teeter for a moment, but you managed to steady yourself, grinning widely despite the near slip.

you then reached into your pocket and pulled out your trusty digital camera. with a mischievous grin, you skipped back to felix and aimed the camera backwards towards both of you.

you pressed a kiss to felix's cheek for the photo and he posed with a big beaming smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners, captured in the frame. as you lowered the camera and looked back at the photo on the small screen, a gasp escaped your lips which felix could easily guess meant you were happy with it.

as you looked up from the camera, the harbour came into view like something out of a postcard. rows of boats rocked gently in the sparkling blue water, their masts swaying in time with the soft waves. the docks were lined with weathered wooden planks, and colourful flags fluttered in the breeze, adding splashes of vibrant reds, yellows, and blues to the scene. small pastel-painted shops and cozy waterfront cafés dotted the shoreline, their signs advertising fresh seafood, ice cream, and souvenirs. overhead, seagulls circled lazily, their sharp cries blending with the hum of conversation and the occasional bark of a distant dog.

felix eased the boat to a slower pace, the engine's hum softening as he steered with practiced precision. his hand rested on the wheel, his posture relaxed yet focused. he glanced over at you, the corners of his lips tugging into a small, confident smile. “alright,” he said, gesturing towards the front of the boat. “you see the anchor up at the bow?”

your eyes followed his motion, spotting the anchor coiled neatly near the edge. “mmhm,” you said with a nod.

“i want you to grab it and take it to the edge. when i say ‘drop it,’ you let it go slow. don’t just chuck it, alright? you want it to catch, not tangle.”

“yes sir,” you said, suppressing a grin at his serious tone.

with careful steps, you moved to the bow, the anchor feeling heavier than you expected as you lifted it. felix slowed the boat further, adjusting the wheel slightly as he glanced over his shoulder to make sure you were ready. “alright, now. lower it nice and steady.”

you crouched down and eased the anchor into the water, feeling its weight pull gently against your grip as the chain unraveled. the boat gave a soft tug as the anchor caught, settling it into place. “great job,” felix said from behind you, his tone warm. “now come back here.”

as you returned to your seat, felix hopped out of the boat with effortless ease, the dock creaking softly under his weight. he bent down and grabbed the rope, securing it to a nearby cleat with a twist and loop. straightening up, he looked back at you and extended a hand. “your turn,” he said, his voice teasing. “come on, before you fall in and i have to fish you out.”

“funny,” you muttered, rolling your eyes and taking his hand. his grip was strong but careful as he helped you step onto the dock, your feet finding the sturdy planks beneath you.

“nice, isn’t it?” he asked, glancing around with an easy grin. the sun caught on the streaks of gold in his hair, and his eyes reflected the deep blue of the water.

“it’s beautiful,” you replied softly, taking in the bustling harbour again. the air was alive with the sound of children laughing and the clinking of glasses from a nearby café patio. a pair of kids ran past you, their flip-flops slapping against the wood, and you couldn’t help but smile at the carefree energy of it all.

felix gave your hand a gentle squeeze, his touch grounding. “come on,” he said, leading you down the dock with a laid-back confidence, his fingers still loosely intertwined with yours. as the two of you walked, the scent of saltwater mingled with the tempting aroma of fresh bread and coffee, making you feel like you’d stepped into a perfect summer day.

as you continued walking along the dock, the bagel shop came into view, a quaint little place with a sea blue and white striped awning that fluttered gently in the breeze. the windows were adorned with hand-painted signs advertising fresh bagels, coffee, and house-made spreads. the aroma of freshly baked bread spilled into the street, mingling with the salty tang of the ocean air.

the inside of the shop was just as charming as the outside. rustic wooden tables were scattered around, their surfaces polished smooth from years of use. a chalkboard menu hung above the counter, listing the day’s offerings in looping white script. the display case beneath it was packed with three types of bagels—everything, blueberry, and cinnamon raisin—alongside trays of pastries glistening with sugar glazes and bowls of spreads.

the place wasn’t busy yet, so you and felix went straight up to the counter. behind it stood a girl about your age, her blonde hair pulled into a neat braid that highlighted her delicate features. when her eyes landed on your boyfriend, they lit up like fireworks, her entire face breaking into a radiant smile.

“oh my gosh, is that felix?” she exclaimed, her voice carrying a bubbly excitement that seemed to fill the shop.

felix offered her a polite smile as he replied, “good day.”

the girl leaned forward slightly, resting her hands on the counter as she beamed at him. “when did you get in?” she asked, her enthusiasm unmistakable.

“we drove down yesterday morning,” felix said, glancing at the menu.

“wow, it’s so good to have you back!” she gushed, her words tumbling out like she couldn’t get them fast enough. 

“how’s the store been this summer?” he asked.

“busy, busy, like every year,” she replied. “you know how it gets when the tourists roll in. but it’s been good. we’ve had a lot of regulars come in lately, which is nice.”

“nice,” felix nodded, his fingers tapping absentmindedly on the counter. 

she paused for a second, glancing toward the sea. “there’s a new pastry shop that just opened up a couple of streets over,” she said, her expression turning a little more serious. “they’re getting a lot of attention, to be honest. the line’s been out the door every morning, and i’m not sure what’s drawing people in, but they’re definitely pulling a crowd.”

felix raised an eyebrow. “sheesh,” he murmured, shaking his head slightly. “competition getting fierce, huh?”

“yeah,” she said with a half-smile, but there was a glimmer of pride in her eyes. “i mean, it’s good for the neighborhood, right? more foot traffic, more people coming through. but it does make things interesting, that’s for sure.”

felix laughed softly, leaning back a little. “i get that.” he shrugged.

“we try our best to keep the locals happy. you know, there’s gonna be a bonfire tonight a couple hundred metres from your house. i still remember how much you and chris loved them last year.” she smiled at the memory, her tone softening just a bit. “how is he, by the way?”

chris had been felix's family friend since they were toddlers, and you knew him as an incredibly nice guy. felix often told you stories about how he used to think chris and his friends were so much older and cooler. even when felix was still in elementary school and chris had already entered secondary school, he often invited felix to hang out with him. there was always a hint of admiration in felix’s voice when he talked about those days, like chris had been more of an older brother than just a friend.

“he’s doing great,” felix replied with an easy grin, leaning his elbow on the counter. “i don’t think he’s coming this year, though. he’s off to college this fall, so he’s had a lot going on.”

“that’s a shame,” she said, her expression faltering for just a second before brightening again. “but you could bring…” her gaze slid to you, the pause deliberate.

felix didn’t miss a beat. “of course,” he said smoothly, stating your name like it was the most natural thing in the world.

her smile stayed in place, but her eyes flicked over you quickly, assessing. there was something in her look—friendly, but maybe a touch too curious. “great. i hope you both can make it,” she said, her tone as cheerful as ever.

“we’ll see,” felix replied noncommittally, already turning his attention to the bagels. “can we get a dozen, please?”

“sure thing,” she said, tapping the order into the register. “anything else?”

“that’s all,” felix said, pulling out his wallet and handing over a crisp bill.

“coming right up,” she chirped, flashing another bright smile before moving to prepare the order.

as she turned away, felix rested his hand lightly on your back, the warmth of his palm steady and grounding. “let’s go over here,” he murmured, steering you toward a quiet spot by the window. 

felix leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a quieter tone, the teasing edge softening just a little. "can i be honest with you?" he asked, his eyes locking with yours in that way that made your pulse quicken. you nodded, the corners of your lips lifting in curiosity, wondering where this was going.

his hand brushed over his face, clearly hesitant. "i… i did not know her name," he confessed, his voice laced with embarrassment.

you blinked, trying to make sense of it. "wait—what?" you laughed, a little incredulous. "are you serious right now?"

"i’m not joking!" felix said with a self-deprecating laugh. "i’ve always just called her 'the bagel girl,'" he explained, his voice tinged with a hint of disbelief, as if it was still a bit ridiculous to him. "and it wasn’t even that i didn’t care enough to remember her name," he added quickly, his face turning a little red. "it’s just... i don’t know if it never came up."

you raised an eyebrow, the wheels turning in your mind. "so, how come she knows your name?" you asked, a little amused. "it must have come up before.?"

felix shifted uncomfortably, his hands slipping into his pockets. "well," he began, looking down for a moment before meeting your gaze, "last year my friend told me she was into me, and i guess she figured it out from, you know, caring so much." he smirked.

felix shifted uncomfortably, his hands slipping into his pockets as he tried to avoid your teasing gaze. "well," he began, glancing down for a moment before looking back up at you, "last year my friend told me she was into me, and i guess she figured it out from, you know, caring so much." he smirked, as if the idea of someone caring about him in that way amused him.

"no wonder you were so flirty just then," you teased, leaning in slightly with a playful grin. "you definitely wanted her to eat it up, didn’t you? you dick."

felix immediately turned red, and his eyes widened in offense. "i did not!" he protested, throwing his hands up as if to defend his honor.

you laughed, nudging him. "it’s normal, felix. we’ve all done it before." you said.

felix let out a dramatic sigh, leaning back a little. "believe what you want," he said with a casual shrug, but there was still that teasing glint in his eye. "i was just being felix. nothing more to it."

still, you decided to piss him off further. "i don’t blame you though," you said, crossing your arms. "i mean, if i knew a girl like that liked me, i’d probably do the same."

felix’s face flushed deeper, and he opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat. his voice dropped, almost uncertain. "i... i don’t..." he stuttered, trying to find the words to explain himself but failing. he wanted to deny it, to say something flippant like he always did, but something felt different now. he wanted to tell you that you were the only girl he found strikingly beautiful, that no one else had made him feel the way you did. but something inside him held back, just like it had last night.

“you know,” he started, his voice more serious now, “i’m not saying this to brag or anything…” he glanced at you, making sure you were listening. “but this is what it was like last year,” he said, a small sigh escaping his lips. “it’s like... after i got abs, everyone suddenly noticed me.”

you raised an eyebrow, your tone light but curious. “interesting,” you said.

"before, it was chris and felix. like i was always following him around," he continued, his voice softer now, almost as if he were thinking out loud. "he was always the older one, the one who got the attention, you know? and then, last year, it was like everyone just realized i was there. like i had always been welcomed, but suddenly i wasn’t just chris’s little buddy anymore. people started looking at me differently. it was... strange.”

he shrugged, a small, almost self-deprecating smile playing at the corners of his lips, but there was a hint of uncertainty behind his words. "i guess that’s just how things go. i didn't really know how to handle it at first. it felt kind of weird, like i didn't belong in the spotlight, you know?"

the silence between you stretched for a moment as you processed his words. you could see the vulnerability in his eyes, the hesitation that lingered around his smile. it was rare for him to open up like this, and it felt like he was finally letting you see a side of him that wasn’t just the teasing felix you usually saw.

"i get that," you said, in an attempt to comfort him. "you don’t want to feel like you’re getting noticed because you’ve grown or look better. it’s hard when everyone suddenly sees you differently." you placed a hand gently on his arm, offering him a comforting squeeze. "but you’re more than that. you always have been. and people should notice you for who you are, not just how you look."

felix looked down at the ground for a moment, then met your gaze, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "yeah," he murmured, his voice soft. "i guess that’s why you’re special." he let out a quiet chuckle, his eyes twinkling as he crinkled his nose. "you first started liking me—back in physics, right? i mean, come on, keep in mind i had a full shirt on." he grinned, his tone teasing but affectionate. “that’s gotta mean something." he added the last part with a playful smirk.

"i think it was your charm and persuasion," you said with a teasing smile. "you always tricked me into thinking you knew what you were talking about, when you had no idea."

felix raised an eyebrow, a grin creeping back onto his face. "you're right," he admitted with a dramatic sigh. "physics was definitely not my strong suit."

you laughed, nodding knowingly. "whenever i’d ask you for help, you’d give these long-winded answers and sound so confident, but i could always tell you were just making it up."

felix groaned, dropping his head back dramatically. "stop," he whined, looking up at you with an exaggerated pout. "i just really liked you, okay?"

you smiled softly, nodding as you met his gaze. "i did too," you admitted, your voice quiet but sincere. "you were always so...felix. and even when you didn’t have all the answers, you somehow made everything feel like it was gonna be okay." the sincerity in your voice made his heart flutter. "but i should say, though, the summer crowd does get a view," you teased.

felix's breath hitched as your fingers toyed with the bottom hem of his shirt, the soft fabric slipping between your fingertips. his usual cocky confidence was slipping, and for a moment, you could see the rawness in his expression. he desperately wanted to stay calm but you had him completely off balance. his eyes darted between your hand and your face, but the words didn't come easily. he was so close now, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths, like he was trying to contain the tension building between you.

you looked up at him, your eyes locking. in that moment, there was no pretending, no distractions. felix’s mind was clearly racing—she’s killing me—you could practically hear it. his gaze lingered on your lips, the smallest hesitation before his eyes met yours again.

“so,” he began, his voice hushed, almost strained. “about that bonfire…”

he trailed off, his words barely more than a whisper, and you could tell he was using it as a distraction. but it didn’t work. felix leaned in just a fraction closer, his body drawn to you like a magnet, but stopping him right before he closed the distance.

“i’m up for it unless you have anything else planned,” you said, your voice light but with an edge. your fingers still brushed over the collar of his shirt, teasing, the touch barely there but enough to keep him riled up. “i’ll go wherever you go,” you murmured. you saw the way his pupils dilated, the shift in his expression that told you everything you needed to know. he was losing the battle.

“oh yeah?” felix whispered, his voice low and husky now. he leaned in slightly, just close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him. he was dangerously close now, his lips just centimeters from yours.

but just as your eyes fluttered closed, just as you both inched forward—bam—the sound of a cheerful voice broke the spell, slicing through the electric air between you two.

“here you go!” the bagel girl’s voice rang out, sweet and carefree, as she reappeared with your order in hand. "a dozen, just as you ordered!"

felix froze, his eyes snapping open, and breaking whatever spell you put him under just now. he turned to the bagel girl with a grateful smile, though his expression was a little less natural now. "thanks a lot," he said, the words sounding a little rushed. "we’ll see you tonight."

you stood there for a moment, fighting the smirk that wanted to creep onto your face. felix rubbed the back of his neck, still visibly affected, and shot you a quick, sheepish glance.

day 2 - 22:00

"one... two... three..." you muttered, shifting your weight as you adjusted your angle with each count. you had to lean back just enough to get a better view of the bird's nest on the rooftop, but the night sky above made everything appear blurry and shadowed. the darkness seemed to swallow up the delicate nest, making it harder to see than you'd expected. "they're all here!" you exclaimed with a sigh of relief, your heart settling as you spotted the large eggs nestled safely inside the woven twigs. "now, please put me down."

felix let out a soft chuckle, the sound warm and familiar. he crouched down slightly, slowly lowering you until your feet touched the ground. "my parents should be done packing and ready to leave by now," he said, brushing his hands off and standing up straight with a satisfied stretch.

"let's go say goodbye," you replied, taking his hand in yours. the cool night air had a quiet stillness, and the weight of the moment seemed to settle over you as you gently pulled him toward the house, your fingers laced tightly with his.

inside, the house was bustling in a quiet sort of way. the living room was dotted with two carefully packed suitcases, bags filled with travel essentials, and little signs of the last-minute preparations that always seemed to rush by. felix's mom stood by the couch, smoothing out a stack of clothing, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. she looked up as you entered, her face lighting up with a smile that was soft and welcoming. "there you two are! did you have a good time outside?" she asked, her voice gentle as always.

"yeah, we did," felix replied with a grin, giving your hand a soft squeeze. "all the baby birds are accounted for."

"that's wonderful," his mom said, her eyes sparkling with that ever-present twinkle of fondness. "you know, we’re getting a lot of crows this season. they’ve been very active around here."

felix's dad, who had been checking something on his phone, looked up and raised an eyebrow. "they might go after those gull eggs you two are so interested in," he warned with a playful glint in his eyes. "watch out for them, they like to come out in the rain."

felix’s mom smiled, shaking her head as she gave him a small push. "we should stop scaring them, dear," she said with a soft laugh. "we have a flight to catch."

you smiled warmly at them both, feeling the pang of saying goodbye. "have a fantastic trip!" you said, your voice filled with genuine warmth.

felix’s mom pulled you into a tight, affectionate hug, the kind that felt like home. "thank you," she said softly, kissing the top of your head before pulling back. "take care of each other while we're gone."

"thanks for trusting me," he said, his voice thick with emotion, the usual bravado in his tone replaced by something softer, almost fragile.

his mom responded first, her voice warm and reassuring as she gave him a tight squeeze. "we love you," she said.

felix’s dad clapped him on the back firmly. he leaned in, his voice low and meant only for his son. “she’s great, felix,” he said. “i’m proud of you.”

you didn’t catch the words, choosing to hang back near the door, giving them their moment. felix didn’t respond right away, but you caught the soft smile that crept onto his face, the way his eyes seemed to brighten just slightly as he held the hug a little longer. "i know," he murmured back, his voice quiet but sure.

finally, they pulled apart. felix’s dad adjusted his coat, clearing his throat as if to steady himself. “the house is stocked up,” he said in a firmer voice, slipping back into his practical role. “but make sure to buy whatever you need from the market.”

“thank you, dad,” felix replied, his smile now playful and easy again. “we’ll be fine.”

with one last round of hugs and warm smiles, his parents picked up their luggage and headed toward the door. you and felix followed, standing in the entryway as they wheeled their suitcases down the front steps. the yellow taxi idled at the curb, its engine humming softly in the night. his parents exchanged a few final words before the driver helped them load their bags into the trunk.

you and felix stayed on the porch as the taxi pulled away, its red tail lights glowing faintly against the darkened road. the engine hummed louder as it sped up, then grew quieter, the car shrinking into the distance until it disappeared around the corner. the stillness it left behind felt almost too big, wrapping around the two of you in the silence of the night.

felix exhaled, a sound that was part sigh, part laugh, and stuffed his hands into his pockets. he glanced at you, his expression unreadable for a moment, before a small, genuine smile curved his lips. "well," he said, his voice light, though you could still hear the lingering weight of the goodbye, "guess it’s just us now."

you didn’t answer, your eyes still fixed on the spot where the taxi had disappeared. the quiet around you felt heavy, like the world had gone still and was waiting for something to happen. your chest felt tight, your mind replaying the moment felix’s dad had mentioned the ravens. you knew it had been a harmless comment, maybe even a joke, but the thought of the birds... it clung to you.

felix tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowing as he studied your face. “you okay?” he asked softly, breaking the silence. he reached out, his hand warm and steady as it rested lightly on yours.

you blinked, realizing you hadn’t moved, your fingers stiff and cold in his. “me? yeah,” you said, your voice a little too quick, a little too high. “um… i’m just a little shaken up.”

felix didn’t pull back, his hand staying where it was, grounding you. “by what?” he asked, his voice calm and patient, like he had all the time in the world for your answer.

you hesitated, feeling a little ridiculous now that you had to say it out loud. “the crows,” you admitted finally, your words barely above a whisper. “i don’t know.”

felix blinked in surprise before his lips quirked into a crooked smile. “yeah, crows. guess we’ll just have to keep an eye out for them, huh?”

“yeah,” you said quietly, your lips twitching into a faint smile. the tension in your shoulders eased slightly, and you glanced at him, grateful for his calm presence. “should we go?”

“bagel girl said it’s walking distance from here. i’ve got a pretty good idea where it is,” he replied, as he stepped toward the edge of the porch.

you followed him, the soft creak of the old wooden boards beneath your feet breaking the quiet of the night. the porch light flickered slightly, casting a warm but uneven glow over the small front yard. felix hopped down the steps first, his sneakers crunching softly against the gravel path that led to the street. then you stepped off the porch, your boots scuffing against the gravel as you caught up to felix.

as you walked, the tranquil stillness of the evening began to shift. at first, it was barely noticeable—a faint vibration beneath your feet that made you pause for a moment, thinking it might just be the rhythm of your own footsteps. but then, as you continued, the sound grew louder, more distinct. the soft thudding transformed into a steady, rhythmic beat, resonating in your chest like the pulse of something alive.

“do you hear that?” you asked, squeezing felix’s hand lightly as you looked up at him.

he nodded, his eyes glinting with curiosity, and a grin spread across his face. “yeah. sounds like we’re close.”

the further you walked, the more the sound surrounded you, enveloping the quiet of the night. the bass grew stronger, its deep thrum underscored by the hum of voices and the occasional burst of laughter. the noise wasn’t chaotic; it was inviting, like a distant melody calling you forward.

turning a corner, the source of the sound finally came into view. a large bonfire burned brightly in the center of a clearing, its golden flames licking up toward the dark sky. the fire cast flickering shadows over the faces of the crowd gathered around it, making their features seem almost otherworldly in the dancing light. warmth radiated outward, pushing back the coolness of the night and wrapping around you like an embrace.

the scent of burning wood filled the air, mingling with the briny tang of the sea breeze that drifted in from somewhere close by. waves crashed faintly in the distance, their rhythm syncing with the beat of the music. strings of fairy lights were strung haphazardly between trees, their soft glow adding a touch of magic to the scene. laughter rippled through the group as someone poked at the fire with a long stick, sending sparks spiraling upward like tiny, golden fireworks.

as you approached, your attention was drawn to a guy frantically wrestling with a beer keg near the edge of the crowd. the poor guy was losing a battle against the tap, beer squirting out in all directions as his hands slipped against the slick surface. his muttering, a mix of frustration and colorful language, carried over the music. every few seconds, he’d glance around like he was hoping someone—anyone—would step in to help.

you couldn’t help it—you turned to felix, stifling a laugh behind your hand. the sight was just too funny. “do you see that?”

felix followed your gaze and grinned, shaking his head. “that’s griffin sanders. he’s a total dumbass,” he said with a chuckle, his voice full of fond exasperation, like this wasn’t even the first time he’d witnessed something like this.

you laughed, the sound light as you both made your way deeper into the crowd. the bonfire was the heart of the gathering, its flames throwing warm, golden light over everything and everyone. the air was thick with the mingling scents of wood smoke, spilled beer, and salty sea air. laughter and music filled the space, the bassline vibrating faintly under your feet.

as you moved through the group, heads turned. felix, it seemed, was a familiar face. a few guys nodded at him in greeting, calling out quick, friendly remarks as you passed. but it was the way some of the girls reacted that caught your attention. their expressions lit up when they spotted him—bright eyes, wide smiles—but the moment they noticed you walking beside him, their enthusiasm dimmed. smiles faltered, and they glanced away quickly, feigning disinterest as if they hoped you hadn’t seen. you had seen, though, and you didn’t quite know how to feel about it.

felix didn’t seem to notice—or if he did, he didn’t let on. he navigated the crowd with ease, leading you toward a quieter spot near the bonfire. the logs arranged in a loose circle around the flames were worn smooth from use, and you both found a place to sit. the fire crackled, its warmth wrapping around you in gentle waves. flames leapt and twisted, their vibrant hues of orange and red mesmerizing against the backdrop of the dark sky.

the same guy who was fighting with the keg strolled up. felix looked up, his posture shifting slightly as recognition flickered across his face.

“it’s been a while, felix,” the guy said, his voice loud enough to cut through the surrounding noise. “looks like you brought a girl from sydney?”

felix smirked, gesturing toward you. “yeah, this is my girlfriend.”

“nice to meet you,” the guy said, turning his attention to you with a wink. “you can call me griff. so, how are you liking the beach, love?”

“it’s great,” you said, shifting slightly on the log. you glanced at felix for a moment before returning your attention to griff. “really beautiful. the kind of place that makes you forget about time, you know?”

griff laughed, the sound loud and boisterous. “spoken like someone who’s already been caught up in its charm. it’s what this place does to people. one minute you’re here for a weekend, and the next, you’re house-hunting.”

felix chuckled softly, “she’s not moving in just yet, griff. but thanks for the sales pitch.”

griff waved a dismissive hand, his grin unwavering. “give it time, mate. she’s a keeper—you can tell.” before you could respond, he thrust a red plastic cup full of beer against felix’s chest. “here, i thought you might appreciate this.”

felix hesitated, his hand hovering near the cup but not taking it. “i, um…”

“come on, man. you used to drink all the time at these things,” griffin said, his tone a mix of coaxing and teasing.

you glanced at felix, your eyebrows drawing together. you’d never known him to drink—not once. your confusion must have shown on your face because felix glanced at you, his expression softening as if he could read the questions in your eyes.

“i’m actually good, thanks, griff,” felix said, his voice firm but polite. he shifted slightly on the log, leaning forward as if to place the cup back in griff’s hands.

“come on, felix. just one,” griffin persisted, waving off the refusal like it was nothing. “it’s only, like, two percent.”

felix sighed, a quiet exhale of resignation. you could tell he didn’t want to cause a scene. “you know what? i’ll take it for now,” he said, reluctantly taking the cup.

“that’s my boy,” griffin said, grinning as he clapped felix on the arm, the motion so aggressive it made felix wince slightly. he smiled awkwardly, clearly ready for the interaction to end. but griff’s attention shifted to you next.

“and i’m definitely getting one for you,” griffin said, his grin widening. before you could protest, he was already jogging back toward the keg, weaving through the crowd with agility. you exchanged a look with felix, who rolled his eyes slightly, his lips curving into a lopsided smile. 

within moments, griff was back, holding a freshly poured cup of beer. he placed it at your feet with a flourish, his grin as wide as ever. before you could say a word, a girl called his name—a sharp shout that made him turn. “duty calls,” he said, raising his hand in a quick goodbye. “don’t be strangers, yeah?”

both your eyes followed him as he disappeared into the crowd. felix let out a breath and glanced at you, a faint crease forming between his brows. his lips pressed into a sheepish half-smile, like he was trying to downplay his discomfort. “i’ve only ever drank like…a few times. last year. he’s making a bigger deal out of this than it needs to be.”

you shook your head, offering a small, reassuring smile. “no, no, it’s fine. really. i don’t mind.” then, your gaze dropped to the red cup, sitting upright in the sand like a lonely monument to peer pressure. “it’s just… what do i do with this?” you added, nudging it lightly with your shoe.

felix followed your gaze, his shoulders relaxing a little. “like he said, it’s only 2 percent,” he said. then, before you could reply, he lifted the cup in his hand up to his mouth and downed all of it in one smooth motion.

you raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “okay, mister. i guess you’re having mine too.” without waiting for a response, you picked up your untouched cup and handed it to him.

felix chuckled, his laughter low and rich, shaking his head as he took it from you. “if you insist,” he said, his tone light, teasing. he lifted your cup to his lips and began to drink again. the liquid sloshed slightly against the rim as he tilted his head back, the firelight cast golden shadows across his face, catching the faint crease between his brows and the sharp angles of his jaw.

you shouldn’t be finding him this hot right now, but you couldn’t help it. it was the way his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, like he was making serious business with the beer. the way his adam’s apple bobbed up and down each time he swallowed. he finished with a final gulp, lowering the cup and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand in one smooth motion.

completely unaware that you’d been watching him, he set the cup down in the sand and glanced at you. when he noticed you staring, he paused, his head tilting slightly. “what?” he asked, his voice breaking the quiet.

you blinked, startled out of your thoughts. “what?” you echoed.

his brows furrowed again, but this time in confusion, his gaze searching your face. “you’re looking at me like i have two heads or something.”

you blinked at him, a playful glint in your eye as you tilted your head. “is that a problem?” you asked, your tone light but teasing.

felix’s lips quirked into a smirk, his eyes narrowing slightly in that mischievous way that always made your heart race. “no,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “i like it.”

the way he looked at you then, his gaze lingering on your lips, sent a flutter through your chest. his expression softened just a touch, his smirk fading into something more vulnerable. the space between you seemed to shrink, the crackle of the fire fading into the background as the world blurred into just him.

you felt a magnetic pull, as though some invisible thread was drawing you closer to him. slowly, you leaned in, your eyes fluttering shut as your heart thudded loudly in your chest. felix mirrored your movement, his breath warm against your skin as he closed the gap.

just as your lips were about to meet, a loud, sharp explosion rang out—a loud burst of sound coming from the sky so sudden it made you jump. your eyes snapped open, and you turned your head quickly toward the source, your pulse racing.

before you could process what had happened, felix’s hand slid gently to your chin, his touch warm and firm as he guided your face back toward him. “don’t worry about that,” he murmured, his voice husky and low. his gaze locked onto yours, his expression intense and unyielding.

and then, without hesitation, he kissed you.

the force of it sent a jolt through your body, his lips pressing against yours with a fervent hunger that left no room for doubt. it wasn’t soft like usual—it was demanding, like he’d been holding himself back all night and had finally given in. his hand remained on your chin, tilting your face toward him as he deepened the kiss, his other hand sliding to the small of your back to pull you closer.

your mind swirled, the rest of the world dissolving in the heat of his touch. his lips moved against yours with a rhythm that was both urgent and deliberate, his need for you evident in every motion. 

his kiss deepened, parting your lips, and his tongue slid in, tasting of the faint, tangy bitterness of the beer he’d just consumed. the flavor mingled with the heat of his mouth, intoxicating in a way that had nothing to do with the drink. his hands found your waist, firm and steady, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. the pressure of his lips against yours was urgent, almost desperate, as if he couldn’t get enough of you, and the sensation sent a shiver racing down your spine.

you kissed him back with equal fervor, your fingers threading through the soft strands of his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan softly against your mouth. the sound was low and raw, vibrating between you like an unspoken promise. your body molded into his, heat radiating from him in waves that seemed to melt away the cool night air.

another loud explosion cracked through the sky, the sound reverberating in your chest and pulling you from the haze of the kiss. reluctantly, you broke apart, your breaths coming in quick, shallow bursts. felix’s lips lingered on yours for a fraction of a second longer, like he wasn’t quite ready to let go. his eyes fluttered open, dark and heavy with desire, as you both turned your heads toward the sky.

above, a firework burst in a brilliant cascade of color, its reds and golds spreading out like veins of light against the dark canvas of the night. the shimmering display reflected faintly in felix’s eyes, adding to the glow that already seemed to emanate from him.

but as you stared in awe, felix leaned back slightly, his gaze fixed not on the fireworks but on you. “see?” he murmured. “it’s not that interesting.”

you turned your gaze back to him, your chest still heaving slightly from the kiss, and swallowed hard, the reality of what just happened settling over you. your lips tingled from the intensity, and the heat radiating from your cheeks was enough to rival the fireworks still bursting above you.

you blinked, trying to process it all—the way his lips had moved against yours, the way your hands had seemed to know exactly where to go, threading through his hair like you’d done it a thousand times before. but you hadn’t. this was the first time. a full-on make out.

how did you even know how to do that? where had that come from? your mind raced with questions, all of them tumbling over each other in a chaotic jumble. had it been good for him, too? no, scratch that—it had to have been good. you’d felt the way his body responded to yours, the way his lips had been so urgent, so eager, like he was drinking you in.

you glanced at him again, his face now lit softly by the remnants of the fireworks. his lips were still slightly swollen, a faint flush coloring his cheeks. his gaze met yours, warm and steady, with a hint of something unspoken simmering beneath the surface.

“are you okay?” he asked softly, his voice carrying that raspy edge you hadn’t noticed before tonight. it was a sound that made your stomach flip all over again.

you nodded, but your mind betrayed you, still looping on the same thought: how did i just do that?

“i—” you started, but your voice cracked, and you pressed your lips together, suddenly shy. you looked down, realizing your hands were still resting against his chest. you could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips, fast but strong, and that tiny reassurance made you brave enough to speak again. “it happened so fast…i don’t know how—.” you breath hitched as you couldn’t speak anymore.

he chuckled, low and warm, and the sound sent a pleasant hum through your chest. “you don’t have to know,” he said, his voice dropping just enough to make your heart stutter. “you just have to feel.”

you looked at him, your breath hitching as his words settled over you. he wasn’t wrong. in that moment, nothing had been overthought or planned—it had just happened. natural. instinctive. perfect.

and somehow, that made it even better.

felix tilted his head toward you, his expression playful. “it’s getting hot by this fire, don’t you think?” he asked.

you blinked, caught off guard. “i mean… yeah, it is pretty warm,” you replied, fanning yourself awkwardly—though you weren’t entirely sure it was just the fire causing him to get so red.

felix huffed a breath and grabbed the hem of his shirt, lifting it to wipe his forehead. the casual movement exposed a sliver of his toned stomach, and your eyes immediately fell towards it, your heart skipping a beat. goodness gracious.

“i might need another beer to cool off,” he said, his words slightly slurred as the alcohol made him bolder. he tossed the shirt back down, his smirk playful.

you nodded quickly, not trusting yourself to speak. your gaze flickered back to him, trying to act normal—whatever that meant in this situation. 

felix stood up, swaying slightly as he did. “come with me,” he said.

you stood up, and you followed him silently, wondering where this was going.

felix seemed a little unsteady on his feet, but his confidence never wavered. his steps were purposeful—until they weren’t. you saw it happen in slow motion.

“felix—” you started, noticing a guy standing in his path, holding a drink precariously close to his chest, but it was too late. before you could get the rest of your warning out, felix collided straight into him, sending the drink splashing down the front of the guy’s shirt.

“dude!” the guy exclaimed, holding his arms out in disbelief as the liquid soaked through his clothes.

felix blinked, then burst into laughter, the sound bright and unfiltered. “sorry, that’s—” he paused to catch his breath, still laughing. “that’s my bad, man.”

you cringed, stepping forward quickly. “why are you laughing? that’s not funny.” you said, with a serious tone. “so sorry by the way” you apologized to the guy.

but as you looked at felix, it hit you. this wasn’t felix—not the felix you knew, anyway. normally, he’d be mortified, apologizing profusely and trying to fix the situation. but right now, his laughter was carefree, almost careless. he was completely intoxicated. already?

you sighed, glancing at felix as he leaned heavily against you. maybe his tolerance is just really shitty, you thought, trying to rationalize how he’d gotten to this point so quickly. just as you were about to scold him again, you heard an all-too-familiar voice cutting through.

“how’s he holding up?” griffin’s voice was laced with amusement as he walked up to you both, his grin wide as he took in the scene. when his gaze landed on felix, his lips twitched, clearly trying to suppress a laugh. 

felix attempted to sit up straighter, his eyes slightly unfocused but brimming with defiance. “i’m fine, griff,” he insisted, his voice slow and deliberate, as though he were concentrating hard on getting the words out. “100%. fine.”

you raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you watched felix’s obvious struggle to look composed. his usually smooth speech was stilted, his enunciation overly precise like he thought it would mask his tipsy state. it was clear he was trying to look tougher in front of the guy.

“really? because you don’t look fine,” you muttered under your breath, shaking your head. turning to griffin, you added, “he’s only had two drinks. i don’t understand why he’s like this already.”

griffin let out a low chuckle, glancing at felix before leaning slightly closer to you. “well,” he said with a smirk, “you should’ve known—these chinks can’t handle anything.”

you blinked, not fully processing griffin’s words at first. but as the weight of what he’d said sank in, your stomach twisted. you turned to him, your voice steady but laced with disbelief. “i’m sorry, what did you just call him?”

felix let out an unexpected laugh, the sound catching you completely off guard. it wasn’t his usual warm chuckle—it was light, careless, and entirely out of place. your stomach twisted, a mix of disbelief and anger bubbling up inside you.

griffin shifted uncomfortably but quickly masked it with a grin. “hey, calm down. i didn’t mean anything by it. you see, even your boy is laughing”

the casual dismissal from both of them made your blood boil. your feelings toward griffin shifted in an instant. just hours ago, he had seemed harmless, even likable. but now? how could he so casually toss around that word, as if it were nothing?

you took a step closer, your eyes blazing with anger. “no,” you said, your voice low but trembling with fury. “what the hell did you just say?”

griffin raised his hands, feigning innocence. “okay, calm down, sweetheart. i’m not blaming it all on his tolerance, alright? you know the beer was like, what—eight percent? why the hell would it be here if it wasn’t? honestly, i’m surprised he didn’t notice when he drank it.”

felix, still swaying slightly but clearly trying to sound coherent, muttered, “it’s hard to tell, griffin. it didn’t taste that different…”

you turned to him sharply, your frustration boiling over. “you can shut up, felix,” you snapped, the words leaving your mouth before you could stop them. your voice was harsher than you intended, but you were too angry to care.

felix blinked at you, startled, and he opened his mouth as if to say something, then seemed to think better of it, instead averting his gaze to the ground.

you turned back to griffin, your eyes narrowing. “you knew it wasn’t light, and you pressured him to drink,” you snapped, your voice sharp with anger and protectiveness. 

griffin shrugged, his indifference infuriating. “it’s just a bit of fun. no harm done. he would’ve done it regardless of how strong it was.” he said, his tone dismissive. he even had the audacity to attempt a smile, though it fell flat against your glare.

“fun?” you repeated, your voice rising. “you call this fun?” your chest tightened with rage, your words spilling out before you could stop them. “i’ve only met you tonight, griffin, and i already know you’re a coward. it’s easy to stand there, acting like nothing matters, tossing around slurs and getting people drunk without their consent. but you know what? that’s not fun. that’s pathetic. and it says a hell of a lot more about you than it does about felix.”

griffin's face twisted into a sneer. "watch it," he warned.

"you watch it," you retorted, stepping closer.

the fire crackled beside you, casting long, flickering shadows over griffin's face. his eyes glinted with anger, the light reflecting off his sneer. the crowd around continued to chatter, seemingly completely unaware of the tension between you and griffin, besides a few. the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore seemed louder in the stillness, a stark contrast to the charged atmosphere. 

griffin’s sneer deepened, and in a swift motion, he raised a hand as if to make a point—or worse. instinctively, you flinched, squinting your eyes as your body braced for any impact. before anything could happen, a hand clamped down on griffin’s shoulder from behind.

"dude, stop it, you're so drunk!" his friend said, his voice firm, his grip tight on griffin's arm.

“i was just trying to scare her, relax,” griffin slurred, his tone defensive but far from apologetic.

felix stood up quickly, without stumbling, and grabbed griffin by the collar. his movements were now swift, fueled by an adrenaline rush, contrasting to his drowsiness. "don't touch her!" he yelled, his voice shaking with rage. the firelight cast sharp shadows across his face, highlighting the intensity in his eyes.

griffin struggled against felix's hold, his face contorted with anger and defiance. "get your hands off of me!" he snarled, his voice slurred yet still threatening.

felix gritted his teeth, pulling griffin closer, their faces inches apart. you could see the raw emotion in felix's eyes, a mix of fury and protectiveness. griffin's friends quickly stepped in, pulling the two apart. their expressions were a mix of concern and urgency, trying to defuse the situation before it escalated further. felix's chest heaved with anger, his eyes blazing with a fiery intensity that was hard to ignore.

“come on, felix. you look insane right now,” you said, your tone softer, but desperate. his eyes flicked toward you, the fury in them softening just slightly.

his breath was uneven, chest rising and falling rapidly, but he nodded, the tension in his jaw easing ever so slightly. without saying a word, you reached out, pulling him gently away from the crowd. you didn’t look back at griffin—couldn’t bring yourself to—but you heard his voice ring out from behind you, bitter and full of venom.

“yeah, walk away!” griffin shouted, his words laced with resentment. “chinks never belonged here anyway!”

a chill ran through you at his words, and you froze. your hands clenched into fists, but you didn’t turn around. some of the people around the bonfire had gone eerily silent at his words, the air thick with discomfort and tension. you imagined the faces of everyone who could hear it, all the people who could have been affected—felix, some of the teenagers at the bonfire, and even chris if he was here.

the fact that griffin, of all people, would throw out such a loaded term without a second thought was sickening. the thought of how casually he had tossed it out, with no respect or understanding for its weight, made your stomach turn.

you felt felix beside you, his hand on your back, his touch warm despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you. you finally took a deep breath, turning your head only slightly to look at him, the frustration and anger still simmering within you. he was still angry, his face tight, but there was a softness in his eyes that made you sigh in relief.

“we need to get out of here,” you muttered, your voice a little shaky from everything that had just happened.

felix's body remained tense as you continued to guide him away, his breathing gradually evening out. the sounds of laughter and music from the bonfire seemed distant and muted in comparison to the pounding of your heart.

the path away from the bonfire was dimly lit, the shadows of the trees casting eerie shapes on the ground. as you walked, the cool night air began to soothe your heated emotions. felix's shoulders relaxed under your touch, his steps becoming more steady.

suddenly, you heard a voice behind you. "hey guys!" you both turned to see the bagel girl from earlier hurrying towards you, her face filled with concern.

the streets were eerily quiet as you and felix walked, your footsteps echoing in the stillness. the cool night air seemed to press in around you, and the darkness felt heavier than usual, wrapping itself around both of you. neither of you spoke, the tension still thick between you, a combination of what had just happened and the lingering discomfort from griffin’s words. the silence felt too loud, but neither of you were confident enough to break it.

you glanced over at felix, his jaw tight, his gaze fixed forward. he looked lost in thought, but there was something fragile about the way he walked, his posture not quite as solid as usual. he wasn’t the carefree, laughing felix you knew, and that made your chest ache.

just as you were about to open your mouth to say something, anything, you heard a voice call out behind you.

"hey, guys!"

you both turned, startled, to see the bagel girl from this morning hurrying toward you. her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, and she was wearing the same hoodie from earlier. you hadn’t even seen her at the bonfire, but now here she was, catching up to you with a concerned look on her face.

"are you two okay?" she asked, her voice soft but filled with genuine worry.

you blinked, the sudden intrusion snapping you out of the fog of anger and confusion. you hadn’t expected anyone to notice, let alone come looking for you.

felix stood a little straighter, but his expression was guarded, his eyes scanning her for a moment. “yeah,” he said slowly, though his voice lacked conviction. "we’re fine. just... needed to get away for a bit."

the girl shook her head, clearly still upset. “i’ve known griffin since grade 3,” she said, her voice growing more heated, “and he’s always been a jerk. i can’t believe he almost hit you, honey.” she grabbed your hands, her grip warm and reassuring. "are you sure you're okay?" she asked, her gaze searching yours for any sign of discomfort. you felt her concern washing over you, and something in your chest softened.

“yeah,” you said with a smile, though it was small, still shaken from the tension of the past few minutes. “i’m fine. just... everything happened so fast.”

she cooed softly, her eyes full of sympathy as she pulled you into a warm hug. "aw, sweetie. i’m so glad you’re okay. please, if you need anything, talk to me, alright? you know where i’ll be."

the embrace felt so genuine, and in that moment, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of affection for her. you smiled into her shoulder, feeling comforted by her warmth. “thank you, i love you.”

she pulled back just enough to look at you, her lips curling into a soft smile. "love you too," she said. “okay, good night. i’m gonna go talk to that dick. he’s gonna hear it from me.”

she gave you one last reassuring smile before walking off, her figure disappearing into the darkness as she made her way toward griffin. felix’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, but then he looked back at you, his face unreadable.

you both started walking again, the silence hanging heavy between you. finally, the weight of it was too much, and you couldn’t hold back any longer. “i still can’t believe that happened,” you muttered, your voice thick with frustration. “griffin is such a dick. i can’t believe he said that stuff. and lying to you about the beer? how can someone be so reckless and insensitive?”

you exhaled sharply, your mind spinning as the words poured out. “and being racist? seriously, who talks like that? he’s got no respect for anyone, no decency.” you shook your head, the anger still simmering beneath the surface.

as you looked over at felix, you realized he wasn’t paying attention. his gaze was distant, his expression almost blank, and it felt like you were talking to the air.

you stopped walking for a moment, taking a deep breath and forcing the frustration to settle in your chest. “never mind,” you muttered, your voice quiet now. you fell into a heavy silence, your steps slow as you resumed walking beside him.

the only sounds were the crunch of your footsteps on the pavement and the distant murmur of the bonfire party, which felt so far away now. you didn’t know what was going on in felix’s head, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t quite right.

“felix?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you stopped and stood in front of him. his eyes, glossy and unfocused, met yours, and you felt an unexpected pang of concern.

he wiped at his eyes with a trembling hand, but it only made the tears smear across his cheeks. “i think i’m drunk,” he said, his voice quivering, the weight of his emotions slipping through the cracks of his carefully built exterior.

you tried to keep the situation light, offering a small smile as you nodded. “that’s highly possible,” you agreed gently, but the smile didn’t quite reach your eyes as you studied him. “but what’s wrong?”

felix took a shaky breath, his shoulders hunching slightly as if the weight of his own emotions was almost too much to bear. "chris always tells me i cry after i drink,” he said, his voice barely a whisper now, like it was something he hadn’t allowed himself to admit until just this moment.

"come here," you murmured, your voice gentle but firm, as you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him. his body was still trembling, and you could feel the vulnerability radiating from him in waves. it was such a contrast to the usual felix, the one who always seemed to hold everything together.

he hesitated for a moment, then spoke in a quiet, shaky voice, “is anyone watching?”

you pulled him in a little tighter, your fingers brushing over his back, trying to offer him some sense of comfort. “no one’s watching, felix,” you said softly, giving him a reassuring squeeze. it wasn’t that you were lying—it was the truth. the streets were empty, and the bonfire party felt miles away, a distant memory now.

you knew him better than anyone. you’d seen him cry before, and you knew how soft his heart was. it made sense that this was how his body was reacting to the alcohol.

“y/n…” his voice wavered, the words slipping out in a slow, slurred confession. “i love you. to the ends of this earth. i’m gonna marry you.”

you froze for a split second and you could tell from the way his words stumbled that this wasn’t a moment of clarity—it was the liquor talking. you pulled back slightly, looking up at him. "we can talk about this tomorrow, okay?"

he nodded, his eyes earnest. "promise?"

"i promise,"

[teddybasmanov]

Accidentally reminded myself that I have a whole huge daydream scenario about specifically Jim's Witcher level seven event. One very sleepy me tomorrow because now I won't be able to stop thinking about it.

[caffeinewitchcraft]

You are a Blacksmith

Set in the universe where your destiny is written on your arm

(The Hero and Hope) (Being Villagers) (You are the Demon King)

You are a Blacksmith.

That’s why the dragon’s fire doesn’t burn you.

“Pretty sure dragon fire is hotter than a forge,” your party’s leader pants. Kent is a veteran adventurer of twenty years to your two years and he’s seen his fair share of dragon fire before today. There are curling scars dragging the corner of his mouth down into a permanent scowl that pairs oddly with how high he has his salt-and-pepper eyebrows. He exhales noisily. “I think you’re just a freak, actually.”

“Not nice,” Sella says. The archer is your age with twice your experience. Her leather armor is well-beaten by four years running around with Kent and getting far closer to battle than an archer should. Her red hair is tied with golden thread that matches the golden charms dangling from her necklace. She adds a new one with every successful monster kill. It’s lucky she’s so stealthy or else she’d be jingling with every step. “Mande is an exception, not a freak.”

You’re a party of exceptions. Most adventurers are Villagers or Guards, common destinies that don’t always find a place within a town or village that have so many of each already. There are days you report for a mission, and you’re offered a blacksmith’s job on the spot just because of the mark on your arm.

Kent is a landless Lord. There’s a story there, you know, but it’s not one he’s ever volunteered. You can see his destiny pull at him in the remote reaches of the Kingdom, where no Lord has laid roots and the monsters run roughshod across the barren soil. Nights where you’re too far from civilization find him gazing up into the stars, his fingers curled like claws into the earth. The look on his face then is so hungry that the first time you saw it, you offered him provisions from your own pack. He’d shaken his head wryly, his scarred frown twisting, and walked off into the night by himself, only returning in the morning light.

Sella is a Guardian without anyone to look after. You knew her story before she told it to you, whispering it like a bedtime story before the end of the world. She was part of a traveling theater group. She looked after them, feeding them and retrieving those with wanderlust from their journeys before curtain call. When a monster siege led by a Demon King fell upon the city they were performing in, the Lord called his people into his castle and locked the doors.

The troupe were not his people. But they were Sella’s.

Until they weren’t.

You drag your battle hammer up and over your shoulder. Conveniently, the dragon fire has burned away the wet viscera that had been clinging to it. The metal is dark with soot, but undamaged.

The things you smith can’t be melted by any fire except your own.

The skeletal trees make the scene of this final battle oddly silent. Ash drifts from the sky, carried by a wind too high to feel. You can hear your party sniping at each other behind you and the gentle gurgle of the beast’s body settling comfortably into death.

The red dragon is beautiful. Its scales gleam and sparkle like rubies in the late afternoon sun and its talons shine like obsidian. Each part of the creature could make an average family rich for a month. You consider it from an arm’s reach away. You chew your bottom lip as you think. Your adventures have taken you across the continent from the southern coast you call your home, to the western land of rivers, to the northern desert and then here, to the eastern dry lands. After all your travels, you find yourself still thinking of home often. Crab is a delicacy where you’re from despite being so close to the water. The preparation can be tedious which makes it a dish reserved from significant occasions. Cracking the shell was always your job…

“Oh,” Sella says faintly. She makes an attempt to rise and nearly tips over in the process. If it weren’t for her bow, she’d be on the ground. Her knees shake as she uses a combination of a tree and her bow to pull herself up. “Mande, rest first! In an hour I can help you—”

You bring your hammer down on the jaw of the dragon. The bone shatters after just two blows. It’s best not to think about how beautiful it looked flying overhead or the intelligence in its eyes. You’ve always had a single-minded focus and you rely on that now.

“Leave her to her dismantling,” Kent grumbles. He’s now curled up on the ground is if in his sleeping roll, hands tucked neatly under his chin. It can’t be a comfortable position given his full suit of armor no matter how peaceful his expression. “If she’s got the energy for it, who are we to argue? Just keep the ribs intact. That’s what the client wants.”

Smash!

“It’s our turn to do the dismantling,” Sella says. She glares down at Kent. “Mande already did last week’s gryphon and the hydra. Get up!”

Smash!

“I’m an old man who needs his nap time.”

“You’re an irresponsible leader who needs to do his part.”

Smash!

“Once Mande stops swinging that thing around, I will.”

“She won’t hit you—”

“She hit me last week!”

“And I apologized for that,” you say through gritted teeth. You let your hammer fall by your feet. Your last blow sent tremors through your arms. The dragon’s jaw is like glass compared to its skull. “Sincerely.”

Sella makes a gagging sound when you fall to your knees next to the cracked skull. “Mande, don’t put your hand in there, that’s – oh, that’s so gross.”

“The book I read said it’d be…aha!” Your fingers graze something cool and metallic. You abruptly feel like crying. It’s been seven months. Seven long months of endless missions and danger and being away from home. This entire dragon is priceless, but you’ve forfeited your share for this. You blink rapidly to keep your tears at bay. You aren’t going to cry. Not until you’re sure that you’ve really found it. “Quick, hand me my waterskin.”

Your urgency gets even Kent up and bustling towards the dragon’s corpse. With trembling fingers you accept the water from Stella, pulling out your prize. It’s smaller than you thought, only about the length of your arm or a third the length of the dragon’s skull.

With bated breath, you gently trickle water over the length of it. Your party kneels beside you, watching just as raptly.

“What is it?” Sella breathes.

Kent is wide-eyed as, inch by inch, your treasure reveals itself.

“A dragon’s silver wit,” you say. The silver is mottled by the dragon’s black blood and grey brain matter. “The last ingredient I need for a Hero’s Sword.”

-----.

“You can’t just make a Hero’s Sword,” Kent is still saying a week later. He throws his hands up to the sky. “Heroes make them from air and magic and righteousness. Blacksmiths just repair them!”

You didn’t ask for Sella or Kent to follow you home. In fact, you assumed they wouldn’t. The slaying of the red dragon marked the end of your time in the Adventurer’s Guild. Now you’re ready to return to your position as the southern port’s best blacksmith and you thought they’d be ready to return to the best two adventurers the Capital Guild had.

“I’ve heard legends about it,” Sella says. She’s walking backward. You’ve already warned her that the roads this far away from Capital aren’t as smooth, but she’d scoffed at your concern. Now it’s pure stubbornness to prove you wrong that has her continuing to walk backwards despite nearly tripping twice already. “Excalibur was manmade.”

“The legend of Hero Arthur is manmade,” Kent retorts.

“If you believe that,” you say, “you really don’t need to come home with me.”

Kent blinks. “Well,” he says slowly, “on the off chance it’s not a fairytale, I desperately want to see it.”

“Then shut up and follow Mande,” Sella says. She elbows him and mutters under her breath. “Or else she might not let us stay at her house.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m sure the dragon fetched enough coin for the both of you to get your own rooms at the inn.”

“Sure,” Kent agrees. He grins wickedly and the expression makes him look ten years younger. “But we’re not going to do that, are we Sella?”

“Nope,” Sella chirps. She loops an arm through yours before you can protest and squints at the horizon. “Is that your hometown over there?”

A hazy line of blue and white roofs is barely distinguishable in the fading light of day. Sella has better vision than you. You’re sure she can see the masts of ships in port, the green and yellow flag waving over the chief’s house, maybe even the orchard that creeps right up to the edge of the bluffs.

You can’t wait to see it yourself.

You aren’t sure how long you’ve been smiling, but your face hurts by the time you find your voice. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

----------.

Mom hurls a loaf of bread at your head when you walk through the front door, Kent and Sella in tow.

Kent catches it an inch from your face. “Whoa, whoa!” He waves the bread as if unsure whether he should drop it or throw it back. “It’s your daughter! Mande! Put down the bread basket!”

“Mande and friends,” Sella says cheerfully. She waves at your Mom, Dad, and little brother. “Hello! I’m Sella.”

“I threw it because I know who it is,” your mom says. The grey streaks on either side of her temple are wider. Her round, kind face is pale with anger. “We thought you were dead.”

“We got your letters,” your dad says before you can ask. His hair hasn’t changed; he’s bald. He’s wearing his leather apron from the forge at the table. He takes a bite of soup. “All three of them.”

“Not nearly enough,” Mom snaps. Then, “And they could have been forgeries.”

“Who would forge a blacksmith’s letters home?” you ask in exasperation. Is that why she never replied? “Mom, please.”

“Don’t giveme that when you’ve been dead for seven months,” she says. She stands abruptly. “Three of you? Sit down. I don’t have enough soup, but bread will fill anyone’s stomach.”

“I’m Kent,” Kent blurts out before Sella can push him into a chair. He sits with a thud. “Sella, it’s rude to sit before introducing yourself!”

“Ruder than not knocking or coming for dinner without an invitation?” Sella hisses at him. She turns a charming smile on your little brother. “Sorry to intrude. You must be Axton. A pleasure to meet you.”

Axton doesn’t return her greetings. His eyes are fixed to the package strapped to your back. “Is that…?”

You swallow hard as your family’s eyes turn to you. You carefully pull the cloth-wrapped rod from your back. Your little brother isn’t so little anymore. You can see he’s taller than you as he stands in unison with Dad to clear a spot on the table. His long, thin hands make quick work of the ties.

There’s complete silence as the burlap falls away to reveal gleaming silver.

Axton’s throat bobs. He’s barely eighteen with the soft look of a fawn hovering around the edges of his jaw and cheekbones. Mom and Dad have done a good job feeding him while you’ve been gone. Seven months ago your brother looked like a wraith, all the light taken from him as if it all came from his hero’s sword.

“You’re going to make me a sword,” Axton says at last.

You’ve thought about this moment for seven months. You imagined you would say something like it’s okay now or maybe big sister fixed it. When his hero’s sword was taken from him, you thought about all sorts of things. It took a month for you to set out on this quest rather than one of revenge. It wouldn’t have helped Axton if you’d forged a hundred weapons of war to punish those who’d hurt him. It wouldn’t help Axton to pretend you fixed anything.

So instead you tell the truth.

“It won’t be the same,” you say. “It won’t work the way you want it to. Not right away. You’ll need to train with it and learn it as you would any other weapon. Your instincts won’t help you. But…it won’t break when I’m done. It won’t bend or chip. It won’t melt. It will serve you, Axton, until the exact moment you don’t need it anymore.”

Axton flies around the table to throw his arms around you. It’s amazing you came from the same parents. Where you are short and stocky, he’s really like a deer. His long arms could encircle you twice as he lifts you with a hero’s strength. “Thank you, thank you, thank you—”

And then you’re being hugged all around. Your dad’s strong, Blacksmith arms are crushing you to your brother, your mother’s soft cheek is against your shoulder, and there’s plate mail digging into your spleen while a sharp elbow digs into your spine.

You manage to turn your head just enough to see Kent hugging your from behind and Sella hugging him from behind. It’s her elbow that’s jabbing you.

“This is sweet,” she says. Her voice is a little muffled from how her face is pressed against Kent’s back. “We should hug more.”

“Does this make your brother a Hero?” Kent asks.

“This is a family hug,” you say.

“Duh,” Sella says. “That’s why we joined.”

You really can’t argue with that.

-

(Patreon)

Next week's story: Everyone in LA has two job. You've got a big smile and a talent for seeing ghosts. It's no surprise what your jobs are.

[queers-gambit]

The Black Dread part one

prompt: after word is sent for Dragonseeds to raise up, you shockingly claim The Black Dread. knowing your stance would all but determine the war, both Alicent and Rhaenyra send emissaries to persuade your allegiance through means of marriage. when tragedy strikes, you fly to war. -> in this part - you claim Balerion and emissaries are sent.

pairing: Jacaerys 'Jace' Velaryon x female!Tyrell!reader pairing: Aemond Targaryen x female!Tyrell!reader -> hair color specified reader -> technically Targaryen!reader -> ALL characters aged 18+

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

series masterlist: The Black Dread > > > next part, part two: read here

word count: 4.9k+

note: ALL characters are aged up - they are NOT minors

warnings: hair color specified reader but it's paramount to the story. Dance of the Dragons AU, Balerion lives AU - kinda heavy introduction. political manipulation, i guess no Baela, Rhaena or Alys romantic interests, ALL characters are aged 18 or older, Muses aren't in this part much, stolen Olenna Tyrell quote(s), Dylan Thomas quote.

though Balerion is not shown in the shows [HOTD or GOT], these are some of author's personal favorite fan art pieces: this this one, but maybe this color

Considering the climate, environment, elements, and location of each region with no true diverse distinction or transition between seasons, summers varied in each corner of the Seven Kingdoms. Notably, the mainland experienced vastly different summers in comparison to the constantly humid Westerosi islands.

This was expected.

Where the weather endured in King’s Landing is dry and stale - lacking cloud coverage, baking all forms of life under the unforgiving sun - Dorne was ideal: temperate, tropical, the temperature usually consistently comfortable.

Northwest of the continent, off the Westerlands coast in water of Ironman's Bay so dark, secrets remain hidden, summers on the ratified Iron Islands were cold due to the winds blowing from the North. The rocky region wet and slippery from rain; never humid, usually biting.

The Reach boasted pleasant summers; lush and green with fully bloomed gardens, perfectly balmy. The Stormlands lived up to its name and was plagued with frequent storms. These were usually warm rains - opposite the Iron Islands. The Crownland's annually hosted hordes of tourists at their ever popular summer attraction: temperate beaches. And why wouldn't they? The Crownlands's usually kept moderate temperatures and plenty of vast coastline to offer reprieve in the surf.

However, the only exception to sweltering, stereotypical climate that ransacks the Realm is the North - an expansive outlier. You see, in the North, summers are cold but winters are REALLY cold. From Bear Island to White Harbor, the dreary, overcast summer sky reflects on year-round, bright, pristine summer snow, making it glitter and blindingly glow. This results in the curation of a blue-grey filter naturally exclusive in the North.

However, tonight - You weren't ankle-deep in North summer snows. You weren't wheezing in King's Landing. You weren't vacationing in Dorne. You weren't sloshing through the Stormlands.

Tonight, you weren't on the mainland.

Tonight, you were on Dragonstone - ancestral home of your distant, estranged family.

Bullfrogs belted their croaky song, loud and incessant; as if trying to individually greet each twinkling star in the inky sky - the ever faithful audience; intrigued by this reckless and dangerous suicidal showdown you embarked on. Crickets chirped in a soprano choir; dotting around the maze of tide pools - cratered by the same porous, jagged, volcanic rock that defines the unpredictable, natural coastline. Frothing alto waves of dark navy, violent, salty sea brutally crashed against rock - the booming baseline of the frog's and cricket's private duet sang in perfect harmony.

All that was missing was a little red crab with a Jamaican accent encouraging you "kiss the girl".

Night had fallen. The winds were cold as a storm rumbled overhead. Rain fell sideways. Lightning streaked the skies.

You navigated through the dark - a slippery, dangerous feat.

Few windows of the castle gave a subtle, dim light; indicating the residents were more than likely turned in for the night. Still, despite the lack of patrolling guards and other witnesses, you remained in stealth mode. Only fools allowed themselves to feel cocky when their guards go down. When someone allowed their defenses to go down, mistakes are made, capture is imminent, the mission is a failure, and surrender to the enemy's mercy is forced.

Your presence on Dragonstone wasn't for romance - no girls (or boys) for you to kiss. This wasn't a social visit to recreationally mingle with the Velaryon Prince or Targaryen Princess Twins. You're not conducting research curriculum - no time to study flora, fauna, volcanic activity.

To the winged terrors, Dragonstone Island is a recognizable safe haven that promotes healing - the one place these miraculous beasts could relax, ease their defenses; be vulnerable with lowered guards. This sense of safety gives freedom away from the confines of Dragon Riders - simply allowed to be true, authentic, and animalistic.

Currently, a couple dragons sought refuge on the island, nesting, minding their own business; others sought rest, retirement, peaceful isolation. Several took advantage of the heat and loitered around the volcano, the Dragonmont.

They weren't just any dragons, some were rogue, wild; some released after captivity; all unclaimed, riderless. This tempted several persons to rely on arrogant luck and try their hand at harnessing the terrible beasties - but they never returned.

Summer days stretched long, giving limited time to move under the cover of darkness, and the nights progressively shortened each day leading up to the solstice. Your journey was miraculous, having never navigated open water before yet somehow arriving at Dragonstone after setting sail from King's Landing by yourself. Perhaps you had a hidden talent, a subconscious sailor mentality; maybe you were just lucky, or maybe your boiling emotions made you defiantly determined - running on pure spite to stay alive, unharmed, and without capsizing in an effort to complete your mission.

Most of the time, you relied more on logic than emotion, something that helped keep you balanced, grateful, rational. Leading with logic arguably "made" someone intelligent; solution oriented, stubborn, hardheaded, unwilling to compromise (a common foundation when leading with emotion).

Yet logic made you very black and white - no grey area. Logic is cut and dry. Logic is sometimes sophisticated. Logic is also stubborn. Logic abandoned empathy. Logic could be explained. Logic identified applicable reasonings and explanations. Logic is hard to argue against. Logic sustained battles of wit. Logic is sometimes discriminatory. Logic always tells the truth. Logic has limited loopholes.

Logic is fact driven, and when paired with your own rooted moral and religious beliefs, made you subconsciously judgmental.

There's a well-known proverb, quote, "it's not the destination, but the journey." Yet some philosophers think the destination is mundane, anticlimactic, boring, sometimes disappointing and unfulfilling while the journey is much more fulfilling. The journey is what's worth; an adventure, where development inflates, where a story worth telling lies.

Logic is the destination. Leading with emotion is the journey.

Leading with emotion develops thoughtful decisions. Emotions sharpen empathetic abilities. Emotions sometimes changes perspectives, broadens horizons. Emotions allow for differences in opinions. Emotions curates safety. Emotions heightens generosity. Emotions expands willingness to help. Emotions softens situations with compassion. Emotions often strides towards peace. Emotions structures harmony. Emotions accepts all. Emotions could be overwhelming. Emotions don't always have one, single, clear victor.

Leading with emotion makes you easily reactive, being why you made a conscious effort to engage logic; keeping yourself in check.

You often never lost your cool; always having a handle on things, but sometimes, it was a challenge. Emotions demand to be felt, and no matter how hard you train yourself and practice relying on logic, you were still human.

Both leading with logic and emotion made you passionate, sometimes synonymous with stubborn. Either way, you ended up here - on Dragonstone - slinking around in the dead of night as if a criminal on the run, trying to avoid the Rogue Prince's nefarious, outlandishly violent City Watch.

You were dedicated to the truth, hence your willingness to embark on this suicide mission. You know it's out there, becoming desperate to find it; never settling, fed the fuck up of mindless gossip the court whispered and hissed about. Enduring years of scrutiny and unfiltered rudeness made you confident, wanting, and energized to justify your claims, prove self-worth, assign relief, terminate turmoil, tension, and assumption.

Yeah, yeah, yeah - but what truth are you dedicated to? Your family's lineage and heritage, your birthrights, your position in society. Your contributing livelihood. They only thought you a young lady boasting the Tyrell surname - a broodmare to sell off. After Queen Rhaenyra proclaimed herself, you became incessant to prove you were so much more than a pretty fragile rose to be set in a vase.

Truth became your Eighth God; being a dedicated, loyal, trusting, worshipping follower. And the truth was, you're a Targaryen as much as a Tyrell, and by all means, had as much of a right to claim a dragon as any of the rest of them.

You refuse to take detours, cut corners, violate, or cheat to obtain your goal(s); arriving at your desired end result with integrity, completing your mission by barreling through obstacles with laser focus - like a predator stalking prey.

Boots slapped and clicked on wet rock, splashing in puddles, splattering mud up your legs to soak into your breeches. Heavy humidity - thick and muggy air - coated lungs and stuck in nostrils, being suffocatingly stuffy; breathing becoming difficult. You could physically feel the condensation in the air - hair adopting a mind of its own; beaded, clammy skin becoming uncomfortably sticky, palms slick with sweat. You missed the dry heat of the capital.

Dark hood of your cloak hid your vibrant hair; the material swishing, swirling airy fog low to the ground around your creeping form, creating an ominous energy. You half expected a ghost to appear at your flank.

The clanking of the night patrol's armor was heard first, alerting you to a diminishing window; sliding into the mouth of one of the dragon caves in time for the White Cloaks to stalk around the castle's perimeter walkway.

Even with thick rock cocooning your form, the rumbling of the nested dragon's slumber was heard; loose pebbles, dust and other debris showered from the cave ceiling. Despite the heat of the Dragonmont, you heard the slow echo of dripping water.

Your choice to come to Dragonstone, was it a logical decision? Or driven by emotions - fed up with the rumors, sneers, disrespect, critical judgement from everyone in King's Landing? ...yes.

Navigating a dragon lair was dangerous, but navigating a dragon lair with ZERO experience was an anticipated disaster. Surely, you must've lost your mind because no mentally stable person would dare step foot in this cave - let alone scale the depths in search of an ancient beast that could (and possibly wound) treat your charred body as a BBQ appetizer. With a gasp, you slipped on the rocks, hissing when the heels of your palms took the brunt end of impact and slit open; tiny pebbles sticking to your open flesh. You whimpered gently, jagged rocks digging into your knees as you cleared your hands and slowly found your feet.

Even with knowledge of your heritage, you hadn't grown around the scaly Targaryen counterparts like any and every other legitimate offspring. You were long divided from that side of your family, missing out on fascinating Valyrian traditional customs. It made you a slightly bitter.

No dragon egg in your crib. No hours-long practice in the Dragon Pit. No reptilian anatomy studies. No personalized leather saddle embellished with a three-headed dragon. No claim to ancestral privilege or birthright. No unique morality, nor holier than thou complex. No generational beast to inherit.

Skin free from the lingering, invasive, embedded stench of dragon hide.

You used to think learning Ancient Valyrian was a redundant waste of time, education, and resources. You were raised in the ancestral keep in the Reach's capital, Highgarden, under your father, Lord Tyrell, and his beloved wife - the Vanished Princess - which made this secret sleuthing harder to rationalize or explain, given no Targaryen ever lived in Highgarden. Never before were dragons hosted in The Reach, and therefor, a Dragon Pit was never erected.

So, you know how when you're a kid and see something at the store that you really want but your parent says no because you already have too much shit? They might've made their point by saying something, like, "Where do you think you're gonna put all that?"

Well, Highgarden is the toy box and you intend on bringing home one of those enormous stuffed animals won at a carnival / festival.

If anyone knew of this plan, they might've sent you to the medical institute the Citadel in Oldtown operates; involuntarily commit you to the structured research program that studies different mental and physical medical phenomenons.

Truth was, this wasn't even your idea. Your grandmother, who definitely either spent time in one of the Citadel's cells or should, encouraged you. Perhaps that should've been a red flag, but it was too late now, her words echoing in your mind ―

Be a dragon.

The gardens you walked through were in fragrant, full bloom; providing a sweet air to combat the foul words you admitted with your arm looped in your grandmother's. You paced evenly through the overgrown foliage, the bees buzzing to drown your words.

"Perhaps, something is wrong with me," you sulked, "because surely, it cannot be this difficult to find a match. It seems I need to lower my standards, I could not attract a decent man if I were covered in honey and he were a fly."

"Perhaps try covering yourself in shit, then," she advised with a knowing smirk.

"Grandmother."

"Well, it's curious, isn't it?" Celia asked.

"What is?"

"All your life, you've always been more Targaryen than Tyrell; fierce, loyal, impulsive, strong, enduring. Yet now, you return nothing more than a rose wilted from King's Landing's stench, moping about failed relations. Have you ever considered that simple men are incapable of supporting the love and marriage of a dragon?"

"Half blooded does not make me a dragon."

"No, but the spirit, wit, intelligence, spunk, ferocity, cunningness, and determination you display proves it." She paused your stroll, secluded canopy shroud by foliage to provide a moment of privacy.

"Not all would think so," you let your eyes roll.

"Who do you speak of?"

"Those who think I am lying about my own Targaryen parentage, citing the color of my hair as evidence. You would think I'm one of the Queen's sons, the way they whisper."

"Do not listen to busy mouths, sweet child, hair cannot be a sole indication of parentage. I know it's easy to cite, but not all descendants of Valyria have silver locks, and should anyone have anything to say, know they are merely bitter and jealous for your hair is the perfect blend of Tyrell auburn and Targaryen silver. A color that is hard to ignore."

"Yet it's not enough to prove myself to them, Grandmother."

Now Celia sounded determined but angry, "You are every bit Tyrell as you are Targaryen. While you might not appear to their biased eye, there's never been denial that you are made in your mother's fire. Pure blooded or not, you're a dragon, my sweet petal."

"So?"

"Oh, for the love of the Gods - so, be a dragon! Dragons do not fret because men don't blink twice at them, they eat those men! Don't beg for approval; maintain your dignity, instill a new opinion, demand respect! Prove your strength, skill, and capabilities - everything the courts would deliberately overlook. Prove everyone wrong, offer contribution to this war, become a valuable asset who would be foolish to send away. Establish your seat at the table and never let anyone talk down on you again," your grandmother snarled with passion. "There's more than one way to prove you have the blood of the dragon."

"Such as? What would you have me do?"

"I hear rumor there remains a host of unclaimed dragons on Dragonstone. The Queen's son and heir, Prince Jacaerys, has called for dragonseeds to try their hand - they need more dragonriders for their war. Claiming your birthright might be the fastest, easiest way to earn the Realm's approval; doubling as undisputed evidence of who you are."

"What a terrifying thought."

"But what a statement it would make," Celia's lips pulled in a smirk, wrinkles deeper, more prominent on sun-soaked, wrinkled skin. "Tyrells might be flowery, we might sigil a rose - but we are resilient and refuse to wilt; even in the heat of dragon fire. The Realm thinks Tyrells are only pretty faces; pretty flowers meant to be seen and never heard, whose sole purpose is to be left on display. Preconceived as uselessly inexperienced during wartimes; criminally green, pure, innocent - judgement that makes them shockingly unprepared for how deep our thorns prick." Both of Celia's hands grabbed yours, squeezing, advising, "Do not go quietly, my petal, make those who doubted you be haunted by their foolish choice to challenge the wrong woman. Let them seep in humiliation and regret their judgement. Allow your successful conquest to be the biggest 'fuck you' to prejudice, the final nail in any coffin of doubt. Toss your wilted rose of fear aside, petal, embrace the fire that burns in your veins; you are Lady Y/N Tyrell of Highgarden, daughter of The Forgotten Princess, and you will not go gentle into that good night. You will be a dragon."

You were ensuring passage by morning light, intent to deliver yourself to Dragonstone.

Parts of the cave glittered with unharvested gems; a lost collection of rarities nobody dared pursue out of fear of the ancient, terrible Valyrian beasties that dwell in those caves. The walls sweat from combined dragon and volcanic heat, tunnels jagged and uneven; zero holes, cracks, or slits the sun could leak through (if it were up); everything terribly dark. At least there was a scattered pile of preprepared torches to light the way. A permanent odor of limestone and fractioned corpses assaulted your sinuses, dried puddles of blood seeped into rock, the scurrying critters who used dragons as hosts echoed with a twinkling charm - the least menacing reminder that you were not alone.

Claimed dragon chambers varied in size; pitstops along the winding pathways that ended at the largest chamber - a dead end. While other chambers were large enough for sometimes several dragons, this final stop could only be described as a jarring, stomach churning, hauntingly pitched ebony abyss of incalculable depth that played tricks on the mind. An abyss. It was like you were staring Death in the face and anxiety was dredged forth from white hot fear.

With a flickering torch alight in a trembling hand, you slowly stalked down the chiseled causeway that ended several lengths into the expansive, bleak nothingness. Pitch black shadows danced; the air felt electric, seemingly vibrating - alive and judgmental.

The glaring cavern besmirched your family name, hauntingly reminding that your disinheritance resulted in your late dragon bloom. The ebony airy sea identifies and heightens fearful insecurity about your estranged family's rejection, their lack of interest and care for your side of the family stinging; their rejection of familial relationships. The darkness predicted your failure, inability, and humiliation.

The cavern challenged your confidence and determination, your staked ownership and proclaimed lineage; labeling your bravery, beliefs and ambition as arrogant. It sneered about your stupidity, weakness, fear, and anxiety; belittled applied effort and desired goals; questioned your true desires and needs; tested your loyalty.

The cavern rejects any and all attempts before you could even try; unraveling your logic, shunning your emotions; proclaims reactive decisions as immature and lacking control, crowning you as dangerously naïve.

The cavern mocked your desperately pathetic need for station and acceptance; revoking and nullifying public (and private) ladyship, dubbing you unladylike - which, in itself, was insulting to your womanhood. Why do men get all the exciting adventure, but when a woman tries, she's crucified for being irresponsible? Smooth ebony waves reflected your maddening, constant effort and want for acknowledged contributions.

To the naked eye, the cavern appeared uninhabited, assuming the habitat was abandoned. The silence was eery; air buzzing with alarm, deceiving humans that attempted to see through the waves of darkness.

To a "true" Targaryen, this was just a sheet of camouflage the fire breathers wield for their privacy.

No wonder the Red Sowing was so... Bloody and devastating.

A growl was heard, something gravely and deep, intimidating and impressive. You frozen, eyes wide as if it would give you night vision, torch flickering, hands starting to shake. Then you saw prominent movement, lungs stalling and heart hammering. Slowly, a large, scaly, stained snout emerged at a sail's pace.

The more the beast stepped into your sight, your mind could only scream one thing - was coming face to face with a dragon logical or emotional? Because whether logical or emotional, this was a dumb fucking idea there was no turning back from.

So, you steeled yourself in position, dewy sweat lining your forehead to soak your hairline.

112 years After Conquest, dragons flew to war at the behest of the Targaryen family over Rhaenyra and her half-brother's claim to Aegon the Conqueror's Iron Throne. Sister-wife, Queen Visenya, rode Vhagar - said to have been the smallest dragon with bronze hide, yet, as rumor had it, still large enough that a horse could ride down her gullet. Sister-wife, Queen Rhaenys, rode Meraxes - who was larger; big enough to swallow horses whole with silver scales and golden eyes.

Then, The Conqueror, King Aegon Targaryen I, rode Balerion - the fiercest and largest, who’s wingspan could shadow entire towns, swords-long teeth assisting his ability to swallow mammoths whole, and who’s scales, wings, and fire were pitch black. Balerion was called the Black Dread and was so powerful, he could melt steel, stone, and fuse sand into glass. He never lost a battle - against human or dragon.

Balerion was also the dragon responsible for the Burning of Harrenhal, largest castle in Westeros.

In the year 2 BC, Aegon began his Conquest and engaged King Harren Hoare the Black in his keep, Harrenhal, who refused the Conqueror and was met with Balerion’s flames. In fire so hot, it melts stone like candles, the entire House Hoare was extinguished when Harren and his sons perished in the largest tower - later named Kingspyre Tower - though it’s said they haunt the Wailing Tower.

Since then, of Aegon's Three Dragons, only Meraxes boasted a single rider, but to be fair, in 10 AC, during the First Dornish War, allegedly, both Queen Rhaenys and Meraxes met their demise. Vhagar knew Prince Baelon Targaryen, Lady Laena Velaryon, and Prince Aemond as riders. Balerion knew Maegor the Cruel, Princess Aerea, and King Viserys, who, in the year 94, retired The Black Dread - thinking the beast was nearing his end. The dragon outlived every single rider.

In the year 129, Viserys died and The Black Dread stared you in the eye; curating a vibrating rumble deep within his chest that made the darkness dance. It'd been decades since anyone dared face this terrible beastie, thinking he wasn't long for this world; the pair of you curious about the other, no moves made yet.

There was no backing down, there was no turning away. This is what you wanted, for Aegon the Conqueror's mount to see you as you are - worthy of your of blood. You refused to be told you did not deserve your lineage, the Targaryen name, you would not endure disrespect any longer! You would earn your place in this Godsforsaken family, earn station in this Godsforsaken world, or die trying...

That night, Balerion took to the skies again, doing several laps in the air, soaring over King's Landing to let the residents of the Realm know - he flew again.

Your father's family hailed from The Reach, specifically Highgarden; colorful, temperate, lush, bountiful, and abundant. Your family oversaw 75% of the country's sole wheat, barley, grain, and corn production, even germinating the country's most grand gardens - which decorated a rather generous estate.

Despite the vast, open lands, there had never been need for a dragonpit before, so, when you landed your mount, he was left exposed on the outskirts of the Keep. Considering he was the largest thing, you know, ever, Balerion seemed content out there - so, you didn't worry.

It was strange, however, to see anyone without white hair on dragonback. Even stranger to the Realm to learn of your accomplishment; adding fuel to several fires.

The Green King Aegon asked lazily, a hand waving in the air, "Who?"

His mother, Dowager Queen Alicent Hightower, reminded, "She is of Targaryen seed on her mother's side, but was raised under the Tyrells. She sits to inherit all of The Reach, she will be Lady of Highgarden - "

"Until," Grand Maester Orwyle interjected softly, "her young brother, the Young Lord Tyrell, comes of age."

Aegon waved their words off, complaining, "Yes, yes, but why do we caaaaare about some red headed bitch?"

See, where the Targaryens had trademark white locks, the Lannisters had golden strands. The Starks had deep umber brunette color hair, and while both the Tully's and Tyrell's erred more on the reddish side, the Tully's had darker overtones, like an auburn, and the Tyrell's had lighter, coppery-amber waves. North of the Wall, they say "kissed by fire".

"Because Lady Tyrell has laid successful claim to The Black Dread! To Balerion!" Alicent snapped, quickly adding the snarky punctuation, "Your Grace."

"Well, we have Vhagar - "

"With respect, Your Grace, Balerion could give a singular chomp to any living dragon as Vhagar did Arrax and it would prove fatal," Otto Hightower, the King's grandfather and Hand, quickly stepped in to save his daughter from losing her temper.

"Well, she doesn't even speak High Valyrian," Aegon scoffed, rolling his eyes; lip curled, slouched in his chair.

"Neither do you," Aemond quipped in his Father's Tongue.

Otto continued loudly to prevent Aegon's response, "With The Black Dread now officially out of retirement and in play, the only choice we have is risk facing him in open battle, or..." His eyes shifted to Alicent, pausing, sighing and revealing, "Send an emissary to negotiate terms of an alliance."

"Meaning...?" Aegon drawled.

"Meaning a marriage pact, Your Grace," Otto supplied sternly.

"With respect?" Larys Strong spoke up, "But the Crown is lacking in their eligible bachelors for such terms."

"Or perhaps, what of someone outside the family? Marry two strong allies of the Crowns? Alliances henceforth might not have to include Targaryen marriages," Jason Lannister threw in quickly, but every Small Council member denied him just as swift.

It was reminded, "There's Prince Daeron."

"Lady Tyrell is actually the same age as Prince Aemond, I do not think she is looking for a husband so many years younger than her."

"Didn't Prince Aemond already secure the Baratheons through a marriage alliance?"

"Technically," Otto agreed slowly, "but given the circumstances and turning of tides, Lord Borros can be treated with in other ways should we need to offer Aemond for Lady Tyrell's willing support."

"Rhaenyra will send terms, as well," Alicent reminded. "Lady Tyrell is Prince Jacaerys' age, she might consider breaking his engagement, too."

The Small Council continued their plotting. Prince Aemond remained silent. Nobody so much as threw him a glance.

When the Black Queen Rhaenyra was informed of your heroics and your identity was questioned, her uncle-husband, Daemon, informed, "Daughter of the Forgotten Princess."

And Rhaenys affirmed, "My sister's daughter... Do not mistake her lineage for guaranteed alliance; her mother and I are long estranged, she's lived in The Reach her whole life - she does not know us. Nor owes us any loyalty."

"Perhaps she could be persuaded," Corlys wondered. "The Lady Tyrell is unwed, is she not?"

"As far as accounts go, yes," his wife reported.

"Perhaps a marriage alliance?" Corlys glanced around the table.

"To whom would you propose?" Queen Rhaenyra asked, all sat around the Painted Table.

"If I may be so bold...?"

"Please."

"Given your marriage to Daemon and his daughter's are shared with our own daughter, Laena... Is there truly need for a marriage pact between the children?"

Rhaenyra cocked her head, "You mean to... Disengage my son from his intended, and engage him again...? Like a pawn in chess? My son, Heir to the Iron Throne, married to Lady Tyrell?"

"Why do you sound displeased by the prospect, Your Grace?" Corlys wondered. "I hear the Lady Tyrell is most beautiful, and we need the Tyrell's wealth like we need their dragon, Balerion. If used properly, he can melt castles alone, Your Grace; burn towns, extinguish entire bloodlines, torch this country, melt the bloody Wall. No living dragon rivals him in size, in ferocity, in age nor experience. He's been at rest for decades now... Something tells me there's a reason he's come out of his nest."

"An omen," Rhaenyra agreed, straightening her spine.

"Precisely - the portents are cast, Your Grace."

"Lord Corlys makes a point," Daemon chimed in, "if by marriage, we secure The Reach and take back the Iron Throne with little to no carnage. Should the Greens fight, not even Vhagar could stand against Balerion."

"Prince Jacaerys is a handsome match to offer," another lord agreed, "which should help sway Lady Tyrell to our side."

"Which also frees both Lady Baela and Rhaena for other pacts - if need be."

"But if we have had this thought, I promise so has Alicent," Rhaenyra stood from the table, staring at the triangle of King's Landing, Dragonstone, and Highgarden. "Who would they offer? Who do they have, unwed, unpromised?"

"Well," Rhaenys stood to meet her Queen, "if we had the thought of a marriage alliance, and the thought to break off one engagement in favor of another, who is to say the Greens would not consider the same?"

It was quiet, a shiver shooting down the Queen's spine. "Vhagar and Balerion are familiar with one another," she grit her teeth, "and Aemond is the False King's brother. He's an attractive match, too."

"I think it's worth making the Tyrell's an offer," Corlys sat back in his seat. "They will receive us both and decide their allegiance - just as the Baratheons did, just as the rest of the Realm has or must do as well."

"Let it be done - if Prince Jacaerys agrees," Rhaenyra nodded, looking to her son - wanting his consent and participation in his own fate. Jace proudly lifted his chin and puffed his chest, nodding while nobody noted the looks of near relief on Lady Baela and Rhaena's faces. In a moment, they had been engaged to Jace and Luke without their thought, input, nor consent. In another moment, they were single young women with the tantalizing prospect to marry outside the family.

"I consider Her Grace's offer an honor."

> > > next part, part two: read here

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

The Black Dread masterlist

i'm already writing it, but, poll for the end ―

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Hey love I absolutely love your fics 🥰 I was wondering if you could write a dark toxic romance for Lando or Charles or even Logan where she’s the girl next door??? I love you keep it up ❤️

Crazy For You || LN4

Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, implied smut, gaslighting, dub/con, dark themes WC: 4k Part one || part two || part three || part four

It had been two months since you moved into your apartment in Monaco and you still hadn’t managed to introduce yourself to your neighbour. He kept strange hours and seemed to be away more than he was there. From what you had glimpsed, you had been delighted to see he was probably around your age and quite handsome in an innocent way. Mr Riley on the other hand was a stoic old man who only spoke to you when your cat climbed over the balcony and into his space.

Known for its year-round beauty and calm climate, Monaco had welcomed you with a comfortable breeze and enough sun to warrant leaving the house without a jacket, even at dusk on a winter's night. If you had checked the weather reports you would have seen that a storm was quickly blowing in from the coast - arriving by the time you had finished having a few cocktails with your new friends. 

Christmas lights twinkled around the shop fronts as you exited the bar and nutcrackers stood proud in doorways. You always loved Christmas and seeing the smiles it put on children’s faces but there were no children out this late. 

“Are you sure you don’t want a ride?” Luke asked as he twirled his keys around his finger. “It’s about to start raining.”

“She’s good,” someone answered for you and you looked over to see your elusive neighbour at your side, his hand coming to rest in the small of your back. “I can take her home.”

“You didn’t tell us Lando was picking you up.”

Your mouth was dry and you didn’t know what to say as the liquor, or his presence, left you confused. Lando, you stored that piece of information away and tried to figure out why it sounded so familiar. 

“I was just out doing some Christmas shopping and about to head home,” he said with a smile. “Ready?”

“Uh, yeah,” you mumbled as you let him guide you away from your friends.

“Are you sure?” Luke asked with a frown. “You don’t look comfortable. Do you even know him?”

“Kind of, I’m just surprised,” you assured him. “Lando is my neighbour.”

“Okay, well, text me when you get home.”

You gave Luke a nod and waved to the others before going your separate ways.

“Are you cold?” Lando asked, already slipping his arms out of the jacket he wore over a dark hoodie. 

The alcohol had made you numb to the temperature but you let him drape it over your shoulders anyway, wrapping you in the decadent scent that came along with it. 

“Thanks.”

“Any time, it’s what neighbours do.”

“I don’t think Mr Riley would,” you teased.

“The grumpy old guy in 4C? We just call him Carl, like the movie Up.”

You smiled awkwardly and toyed with the zip on the jacked. “I’ve never seen it.”

“What?” He pulled you to a stop and grabbed your shoulders with a serious look on his face. “This just won’t do. I cannot be seen with someone who hasn’t watched Up!”

“Oh,” you mumbled as you started to take off his jacket and hand it back. 

“What are you doing, you muppet?” He grabbed the jacket and put it back on your shoulders before opening the door to a very expensive looking car. 

“I thought you meant…”

“It’s fine, I have tinted windows,” he teased. “As soon as we get home though, we’re watching the movie.”

Lando followed you inside without an invitation but you could hardly turn him away with his boyish smile and mop of curly hair that sprung out of his hoodie when he pushed it back. “This makes sense,” he chuckled as he stuck his head in the bedroom, pointing to the wall that your bed was pushed against. “Our apartments are mirrored. I thought I woke up to a voice a few times. Do you watch Friends?”

Your head tilted at the odd question. “Why do you ask?”

“You sing ‘smelly cat’ a lot.”

Mortification hit you and you felt your face burn as you turned to the culprit walking through your house with a loud purr. “That’s Eddie. Do you have any pets?”

“No, I’m always travelling for work and I’m not very good at looking after myself let alone another living thing. Do you actually know how to use those things?”

You looked at the kitchen where he was pointing to the appliances. You had planned to make some Christmas cookies over the weekend and had the stand mixer ready on the benchtop. You thought he was joking but he was genuinely intrigued by the inquisitive look of wonder on his face. “Cooking relaxes me,” you said with a shrug. “You probably have plans already but if you want to come over and-”

“Absolutely, say no more, I’m in.” He crossed the living room and dropped into the middle cushion of the three seater sofa and patted the space beside him with one hand, the other reaching for the remote. “You do have Disney+, right?”

 “You really do like to make yourself comfortable, don’t you,” you joked as you took a seat beside him. 

“I’ve been told I can be a bit much,” he said with a small frown, placing the remote down. “Should I go?”

“No, no, I appreciate the company,” you said as you caught his arm to stop him from going. “Being alone in a new country is a little isolating, it’s nice having someone here.”

He settled back into the seat and sent you a grin as he searched for the movie. “Anytime you need someone to talk to, you can just knock three times.”

The weeks before Christmas were a madhouse. Work kept you busy as well as the many requests to go home for the holidays, but it just wasn’t going to be feasible to take leave so soon after starting. You knew your parents were going to be disappointed but you promised them you weren’t going to be alone for Christmas.

You had eventually found out why Lando’s name was so familiar when Luke explained who he was and why he was away so often. But since the race season was over he had plenty of time to spend at home, yours and his.

Just like every other evening, you knocked three times on the living room wall knowing Lando would be able to hear it despite the special Christmas Eve stream he was on. It was the last one of the year and he wished everyone a Merry Christmas before the live feed of him playing Counter Strike came to an end. 

“Ouch, Eddie, fuck,” Lando swore a few minutes later as he knocked at your door. “Stop it.”

You opened the door to the frequent occurrence and took the hissing Eddie from his outstretched arms before he could get clawed again. Your ginger cat seemed to hate Lando for some reason, or maybe it was because he was always bringing the escapee back home to you.

“I think you should just move in with me,” Lando joked as he followed the mouthwatering scent into your kitchen. He came to your house for dinner most nights after finding Eddie on his balcony and usually stayed for a movie. That routine had changed slightly when the movie he chose one night was Friends With Benefits. There had been a moment after a sex scene when you both looked across at each other and the idea had passed between your eyes. 

He cleared his throat and you realised you had been staring at him for too long. “Eddie likes my place better.”

It clicked, he wasn’t actually asking you to move in with him. But for a moment you had considered it.

“Right, Eddie,” you laughed at your idiocracy. “I really don’t know how he keeps getting out. I must be going crazy because I’m sure I locked the window this morning.”

You both looked at the window that opened onto the balcony, the skies dark with another storm. “Maybe your cat is a genius and learned how to open it?”

You rolled your eyes but managed a laugh at his attempt to make you feel better while you readied two plates and took them to the table where he sat. “Maybe I should change his name to Houdini.”

“Better than Ed the Ginger.” Lando grinned as he pulled you onto his lap and scooped up a dollop of creamy mash potato with his forefinger, holding it up to your mouth. You sealed your lips around his finger and swirled your tongue around the tip, watching the blue of his eyes be swallowed by his pupils. “Naughty girl, you’ll be getting coal this year.”

Your head fell back with a laugh.“Who are you? Santa Claus?”

“Well, you are sitting on my lap, aren’t you?” He winked and his tongue rolled across his bottom lip. “Wanna see my North Pole?”

“Oh my god, eat your dinner,” you giggled. “We still have to watch A Christmas Carol and Nightmare Before Christmas!”

You had both written a list of all the Christmas movies you wanted to watch and they were the last two left. It was just in time as midnight was going to come all too soon and you wanted to be tucked up warm in bed when the storm hit.

A loud crash had you jolting awake and you blindly reached across the bed in search of Lando to find it empty. Panic gripped you as you wondered if you were being broken into and a scream almost erupted when your light flipped on and Lando rushed in soaking wet. 

“Holy shit, you’ll never believe what just happened!”

You stumbled into the living room where Lando threw an arm out to save you from stepping on the glass that covered the floor. The doors that opened out onto your balcony had been completely shattered during the storm and you shivered as the cold wind and rain blew straight into your home. A huge puddle was quickly spreading across the carpet and it was making its way to the Christmas tree in the far corner while you were still in shock. 

“The presents!” 

Lando twisted away from the pot plant that had been on your balcony wall, now it lay on the floor with the dirt turning to mud. Seeing the urge you had to cut across the glass, he shook his head and pointed to the kitchen where you would remain safe. “I’ll get them.”

Lando carefully navigated his way to the tree, turning off the power to the glittering lights, and bundled the gifts up before hopping his way back with a wince. The wrapping paper on some of the presents were splattered with rain drops but most seemed in perfect condition when he placed them on the kitchen bench.

“You’re bleeding,” you gasped as he balanced on one foot and you wrapped an arm around his waist to help him. “There’s a first aid kit in my bathroom. Can you make it there?”

He nodded and limped with your help away from the mess. “I think you should come and stay at my place until the doors can be fixed.”

“Are you sure?” you asked as you carefully used a pair of tweezers to pull out the small sliver of glass in his foot. “I can just get a hotel.”

“Ouch,” he groaned as it came free and blood welled at the site. “Not on Christmas Day, everywhere will be fully booked. I really don’t mind. It would save you from having to pack a bag.”

“If you’re sure…”

He smiled at the silly Spider-Man bandaid you placed over the wound before running the back of his knuckles across your cheekbone. “I am.”

You shivered at his cold touch and remembered how wet he was when you woke up. “What were you doing up anyway?”

He bit his lip and looked away sheepishly. “I was putting a present under the tree when a flower pot blew through the door.”

“Oh, wow, that wind must be insane. I hope all the boats are safe out there,” you mused, knowing some people lived on the mariner. “Wait, you got me another present? Lando, there’s already too many.”

“I wanted to spoil you,” he said with an unapologetic shrug. “You have single handedly kept me fed for weeks. You may have put a few restaurants out of business too.”

“You weren’t that bad were you?”

“You have no idea,” he chuckled. After testing his foot he took your hand and led you back to the presents to find a thin box that hadn’t been under the tree when you went to bed. “It’s after midnight, you know, you could open it.”

You took the box, surprised by the weight it had, and untied the pretty bow on top. The delicate silver writing drew a gasp and you looked at Lando with wide eyes. “Tiffany? I can’t open this, it’s too much.”

“Go on,” he urged as he placed your hand on top of the lid and gave it a squeeze. “Please, for me.”

Your fingers slipped twice as you tried to open the hinge and Lando’s hand enveloped yours, lifting it open to reveal the beautiful necklace within. The teardrop gemstone was the same shade as his eyes and it hung from a white gold chain that was polished to shine impossibly bright, even in the dim light. 

“Lando, it’s beautiful,” you whispered in awe as he lifted it up and stepped behind you to drape it around your neck. The weight of the stone settled in the centre of your chest and you turned to face him with a sincere, “Thank you.”

“So..?” He bit his lip as he showed you the empty box, a question written in the silk lining. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

It wasn’t until the week after New Years that a glazier would be able to fix your doors. The holidays had left a backlog of people needing repairs but supply chains had been delayed too. Once the doors were finally fixed you realised the carpet was beyond repair and that took another week to have done.

It was strange to go back home after nearly three weeks of living in Lando’s apartment. It was too quiet.

“Babe, have you seen my hairbrush?” You had looked through the bathroom drawers he had cleared out for you to use but there was nothing left. You went back to your apartment and did another search but it wasn’t there either. It wasn’t the first thing you had lost going back and forth and you were beginning to worry.

“I’m sure it will turn up somewhere, love,” Lando said as he paused his game and turned to his friend in the simulator behind him. “Max probably used it.”

“Did not,” his friend replied with an indignant splutter. “Didn’t I see you singing into a hairbrush?”

“You’ve been experimenting with drugs again,” Lando snorted. With a resigned sigh, you decided your hair was decent enough to get away with at work and Lando tipped his head back so you could give him a kiss goodbye. “I’ll order dinner tonight. Chinese?”

“Sounds good,” you said as you gave Max a wave on the way to the door. “Try not to let him sit there all day, you know how his back gets.”

“Yes, yes, Lando has an old man’s back. I’ll make sure he moves his ass at some point,” Max joked. “Have fun at work.”

You screwed up your face at the sarcasm and their laughs followed you out of the apartment. You weren’t sure they had actually moved all day as they were still in the same spots when you got home. You had crossed paths with the delivery man in the lobby and your arms were laden with the takeaway Lando had ordered.

“How many spring rolls did you order?” you murmured as you kept unpacking more and more of the small styrofoam boxes with the treat.

“He’s going for a record,” Max said with a roll of his eyes. Ten minutes later Lando groaned, holding his stomach tightly. “I told you to stop.”

You had quickly showered and changed into some comfortable clothes and found most of the boxes empty when you joined them at the table. “How many has he had?”

“18, and he’s got no chance,” Max bet, reaching over to steal a spring roll for himself and swiping it through the sweet chilli sauce. “You’ll thank me later. Ah, fuck.” Max looked down at the red blotch on his white Quadrant shirt before sauntering off down the hall. “Mate, do you have any more stain remover? This one’s empty.”

“Yeah, under the sink there should be another bottle,” Lando yelled back, dropping his fork onto his plate in defeat. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Why the hell do you have cat food?” Max appeared in the living room with the same brand of pet food you bought for your cat. 

“That’s not mine, obviously.”

You looked at Lando, who was rubbing his full stomach and as reclined back as much as the chair would allow. “It’s not mine.”

“You brought it over during the storm, remember?”

“No I didn’t.” You hadn’t wanted to disrupt Eddie’s routine and fed him at home each morning before work.

“Yes, you did.” He laughed as he tapped your temple gently. “You have a terrible memory, love. You can’t even remember where you left your hairbrush.”

You didn’t have an argument for that, since you still hadn’t found it. You were sure you hadn’t brought any cat food over, but maybe he was right. You did seem to be a little confused lately.

“I think I need an early night,” you admitted as you cleaned up the dishes. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You’re not staying?” Lando asked with a pout as he joined you at the sink, wrapping his arms around your waist and peppered your neck with soft kisses. “Who am I going to cuddle with?”

“I’m sure Max wouldn’t mind a snuggle,” you teased him as you turned in his arms. “I have an early start tomorrow but I can stay tomorrow night.”

He groaned at the thought of sleeping alone and held you tighter so he could have you in his arms a little longer. “Fine,” he huffed, relinquishing his hold on you and filling the kettle. “I’ll make you a chamomile tea so you sleep better.”

You smiled at his sweetness and savoured a few more minutes of kisses before the water boiled and he scooped out a few spoons of some boutique tea leaf mix he swore was the best sleep tea money could buy. Given how rich he was, you believed him.

Placing the hot mug in your hand, he bit his swollen lip and nodded to the front door. “Go before I tie you to my bed and never let you leave.”

“You wouldn’t,” you laughed, rolling your eyes as he winked. “Goodnight, baby.”

“Goodnight, love, sweet dreams.”

Something disturbed your sleep and you rubbed your eyes as you woke up well before your alarm. You reached for the lamp beside your bed and accidently knocked into the cup of tea you hadn’t finished before falling asleep, the cold liquid sloshing over the side before you caught it and froze. 

Your bedroom door creaked open but it was too dark to see who it was. Your heart hammered in your chest as you tried to think of what to do before the shadow reached the edge of your bed. Your throat was so clogged with fear you couldn’t even scream, your hands trembled and closed them into fists before banging on the wall behind you, begging Lando would wake up at the sound.

Bang, bang, bang.

The figure lunged onto the bed, pinning you down with their weight and slamming your fists into the mattress. “Shh, love, it’s me.”

You relaxed as Lando’s voice soothed you, but the fear soon crept back up your spine with an icy shiver. “How did you get in here?”

“You forgot to lock your door,” he whispered as your wrists began to ache from the hold he had. “I was coming to check in on you.”

“No, I didn’t,” you said as you tried to shake him off. “I know I locked it. I know…I…I’m not crazy. Get off me, get off me right now.”

“You were meant to be asleep, love,” he groaned as his hands tightened to the point a pained cry escaped your gritted teeth. 

“Why are you doing this?” you whimpered as he kissed your neck, but you couldn’t feel anything but repulsion. 

“You should have just moved in with me, we are meant to be together.”

“You’re crazy,” you spat as you tried to buck your hips and throw him off but he was too strong. “Help! Somebody, help!”

His hand clamped over your mouth and you bit him as hard as you could before kicking and climbing away. 

“I’m not the crazy one, that’s you, love,” he laughed. “You’re my girlfriend, you’re sick, but I’m going to take care of you, okay?”

“You are fucking insane!”

“No, no, sweetheart, I’m trying to help you, remember?” 

You froze in the doorway as you saw a cutout of your key on the kitchen bench, along with your hairbrush, phone, a negligee and dressing gown. All things you had been convinced you had lost in the last few weeks.

“Why are you doing this?” you repeated as you backed away from your boyfriend. He was someone you had trusted, someone you thought had fit perfectly into your new life - but he had been messing with you this whole time. Max and the cat food came to mind. “Eddie…he used to go to Mr Riley’s house.”

“Couldn’t have that,” Lando tutted with a shake of his head as he took a step closer, “not when he was going to help me get close to you.”

“Don’t! Don’t come any closer to me!”

“Baby, don’t be like that, let’s just go back to bed. You’re under a lot of stress, let me make you a chamomile tea.”

You swiped your phone up as you bolted but he was quicker and blocked the front door, holding his hand out. “Give that to me, you don’t want to do that.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure I do,” you hissed as you started to dial the emergency number.

“It’s you they will take away,” he said with a blase shrug that made you pause. “Everyone knows how unstable you have become.”

“Me?” you shrieked.

“You’re barely holding it together now. They aren’t going to believe anything you say.” He opened his arms as if to say, I’m famous and you are no one. Unfortunately, he was right. “Come on, love, let’s go back to bed.”

He took the phone from your limp hand and locked it before slipping it into his pocket. You were so confused that you had no idea what to do when he guided you back to the bed, turning the sheets down before tucking you in gently. “I love you,” he whispered as he kissed your forehead and handed you the cold mug. “Drink up, baby, this is all just a bad dream.”

Click here for the next morning.

[bradshawssugarbaby]

All-American Girl - Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

summary: Bradley's every part the doting dad to your daughter Tatum, but after talking to some of the other wives on base in your mom's group, you're worried he may be hiding his true feelings about fatherhood.

A/N: not me procrastinating and adding to my country music series instead of literally anything else on my list. here's sickeningly sweet bradley as a girl dad fluff based off All-American Girl by Carrie Underwood.

pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x wife!reader

content/warnings: sickeningly sweet fluff, Bradley as a girl dad, mentions of sexism.

word count: 1.4k

Now he's wrapped around her finger, she's the center of his whole world And his heart belongs to that sweet little beautiful, wonderful, perfect all-American girl

Bradley groaned as he jogged up the front steps, his boots heavy against the brick as he walked up the veranda to the front door. An American flag flapped in the breeze, the pole nestled in the stand attached to the pillar on the front of the house, the mid-afternoon sun striking the front yard, basking over the dozens of plants and greenery that were planted there. Bradley kicked his boots off the moment he crossed the entryway, stacking them neatly by the door. He started unzipping his flight suit, his tanned skin slicked with sweat from the training exercises he’d completed earlier that day. He thought about the list of things he wanted to do before he settled in for the night with you - a shower was the first priority at this point. 

Peeling the olive green suit off his skin, he discarded it in the laundry hamper in the bathroom. His white t-shirt and boxers followed suit, along with the thick, military issued socks. He’d plan on washing those tonight after dinner. He padded along the hallway to the bathroom, his balls of his feet sticking to the cherry wood flooring. The cool water flowing from the shower head was a refreshing comfort compared to how warm he was earlier, he contemplated asking for a transfer to somewhere colder after today - the hot Pacific coast sun was brutal, and despite having lived in California for a few years now, Bradley hadn’t adjusted. Not that Virginia Beach had been much cooler - at least, not in the summer, but it wasn’t as consistently warm as it was on the west coast. 

As Bradley stepped out of the shower, he wrapped a plush, lavender coloured towel around his waist. Shaking his caramel coloured curls dry, he approached the vanity, reaching for the pomade - the same brand he’d been using to tame his hair since he was 14. His mom had taught him that trick - using a styling pomade to keep his curls intact, but less wild than they would be left to their own devices. Part of him wondered if he just never changed brands because it was the one she’d suggested for him, one of the last happy memories of his mother that he had clung to for the last 26 years. 

“Bradley? I’m home!” you called out from the bottom of the stairs, having seen Bradley’s vintage Ford Bronco parked in the driveway. 

“Upstairs, honey!” He yelled back, his deep voice echoing throughout the empty house. 

He quickly pulled on a pair of denim shorts and a fresh, white t-shirt, grabbing his favourite floral print button-down on his way down the stairs. He beamed at you, leaning in to give you a loving peck on the cheek. He knelt down in front of the car seat you’d placed on the floor, smiling softly at his infant daughter as she stretched and yawned, waking up from the nap she’d taken on the car ride home. 

“Good mornin’ sunshine! How’s my girl?”

Bradley held his index finger out to baby Tatum, smiling as she gripped it tightly in her hand. He began unbuckling her harness with his free hand as he spoke to her.

“Did you have a fun day with Mama? What did you do, princess? You and your mama go shopping for some new clothes, baby girl?” 

Tatum let out a happy sigh as Bradley scooped her up in his arms, holding her close to his chest. He leaned his head down to kiss her forehead, his hand moving up and down her back in soft, slow, gentle strokes as he cuddled his baby. He took a seat on the couch, leaning back slightly so Tatum could recline on his chest. He smiled up at you, waiting patiently for you to start showing off the different outfits you’d purchased for Tatum. He’d always sworn that he’d never be the type of father who’d dismiss things he wasn’t interested in - whether it was baby clothes, or ballet, baby and me classes or going for walks around the neighborhood with her - he’d always try his best to be into it. It’s how his mom described his father - always interested in anything to do with Bradley when he was little. 

You delicately sifted through the array of dresses and outfits, each garment infused with your hopes and dreams for little Tatum. With tender affection, you recounted where and when you had acquired each piece, your voice tinged with a blend of excitement and maternal pride. Tatum slumbered peacefully, her soft breaths creating a gentle rhythm against Bradley's shoulder, while you poured your heart into sharing your plans for her future attire.

As the last dress found its place, you sank onto the couch beside Bradley, seeking solace in his comforting presence. Nestling into his side, you felt the warmth of his embrace envelop you, his arm offering both physical and emotional support.

“Are you happy?” you murmured softly, a trace of uncertainty lacing your words as you chewed anxiously at your bottom lip. 

A flicker of confusion danced across Bradley's features before he met your gaze with unwavering reassurance.

“Of course I’m happy, why would you ask that?”

“It’s silly,” you sighed, a moment of vulnerability surfacing before you continued, meeting Bradley’s brown-eyed gaze as you spoke, “It’s just that…you know how I took Tatum to that mommy and me group?”

"Mhmm, every Wednesday," Bradley affirmed, his attention fully focused on you.

“Right! That one. Well…one of the moms was saying how she was so thankful her baby was a boy, because her husband wanted a boy really badly and she didn’t want him to be upset if he didn’t get what he wanted…”

Bradley's brow furrowed with concern as he gently kissed Tatum's forehead, a protective gesture that spoke volumes.

“Babe, he sounds like a dick,” Bradley interjected, shaking his head as he gently kissed Tatum’s forehead again. 

“I’m not finished yet!” You said as you held your hand up. “So anyways, she said that, and a lot of the other moms started talking and saying how their husbands were disappointed when they had girls or relieved when they had sons, and then they said how lucky I was that you were happy with a girl. The one of them said her husband pretended to be, but then he was totally different and genuinely happy when they had a boy next.” 

“And you think I’m doing that?” Bradley queried as he tilted his head to the side, looking at you. 

“Well, no, but…would you tell me if you’d wanted a son instead?”

The corner of Bradley's mouth lifted in a soft smile, his gaze softening as he met your eyes. "No," he replied emphatically, shaking his head. “Because I’ve never wanted a son instead of Tatum. Not once.”

“You haven’t?” You said as relief washed over you, Bradley's words washing away any lingering doubts.

“Not for a second. I’ve wanted Tatum from the minute you told me you were pregnant - I never really gave a shit whether she was a boy or a girl. She’s mine and that’s all I care about. It just happened to turn out that she’s the second Bradshaw girl around here to steal my heart, after her mama.”

“Really?”

“Mhmm, you know that song, the one where she says about how her daddy was praying for a boy, but got a girl instead and she was wrapped around his finger? Then she grows up and  asks her husband one day what he wants, and he says he just wants a sweet, beautiful All-American girl like his wife?”

“Yeah, I know it,” You laugh softly as Bradley begins to hum the tune of the song, singing it softly as he looks down at Tatum.

“That’s exactly how I felt when you told me you were having a girl. I just wanted a beautiful little baby who looked just like you, and that’s exactly what I got. Now I have two beautiful girls who love me more than anything, and I would move mountains for the pair of you. We could have twelve girls for all I care - I’d love every single one of them just as much as I love you.”

[ramp-it-up]

Best of All

Pairing: Pilot!Steve Rogers x Publicist! Reader

Word count: 3.3 K

Summary: You and Steve FINALLY make it to your suite. And the results are sweet.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY Minors, DNI. Former Enemies to Lovers, and there was only one bed, 20 yr angst, sexual frustration, A yacht, swimming,Steve sketching reader, dry humping, fingering, size kink, personal lubricant, woman on top/ in control, Captain/Sir kink, praise/degradation kink, dirty talk, sloppy oral (m/f receiving), raw p in v, breeding/lactation kink, creampie. Basically porn with plot. Not Beta’d. All errors are on me.

This is the next part in the Greatest series.

A/N: It has been just a little over exactly a year since I've written these two. Please forgive my ain't-shitness. And thank you for rocking with me. I love you all!

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-----

You were relaxing on the bow of the yacht, staring out over an amazing view.

You’d had a delicious brunch with Aperol spritzes, and as the yacht floated on the beautiful Gulf of Genoa, the only sounds you heard were of the water, John Coltraine, and the scratching of Steve’s pencil against the paper of his sketch pad. 

He had been wonderful, and contemplative, company for you. 

Your time was spent journaling and looking at the water and the cliffs, rotating your lounger with the sun. You even dozed for a few minutes, waking up to find Steve looking at you piercingly as he sketched. 

Your sister was right.

Steve was very much into you.

You could get used to this you thought as you got up and walked over to Steve, who looked up at you and smiled.

“Can I see what you’re sketching?”

Steve blushed, and then moved so that you could sit down beside him.

“Sure.”

He put his pencils down and handed his leather bound sketch book to you. You gasped.

“Steve! These are…”

You flipped the pages, looking to him for approval. He nodded and smiled at you.

There were many images, on the boat, some very detailed from the day, some rough sketches, but they were all clearly you. You turned to one drawing of you naked, and it made you feel some kind of way.

You’d never posed that way for him.

“Drew that one from memory. Last night.”

“You make me look so…”

“Beautiful? Then that just means I’m drawing you accurately.”

“You really see me this way?”

You were gazing at the sketches with wonder.

“I can’t believe that you don’t. Y/N. You are one of the most beautiful, most desirable women I’ve ever seen. People talk about Aria, but she looks just like you.”

You turned and put the sketch book down on the table beside Steve’s lounger.

“Can I have a kiss?”

Steve’s eyes lit up.

“You can have anything you want.” 

“I want you…”

Steve groaned as you climbed up on his lap and grabbed his face. You traced his lips with your fingers before he closed the distance between you and captured yours with his own. You were breathless before he pulled back and rested his forehead on yours.

“That was… nice.”

Steve shifted, sending his crotch grinding into yours and relishing the way you shivered in his arms.

“You want me?”

Steve looked back up at you. Hopeful.

“Yes. And I want to try. A relationship? Dating once we get back to the states? It will be hard. I travel a lot with what I do, go from coast to coast, and all over the world with Aria.”

You were nervously speaking in questions.

“Hmmm. Wonder how I could get from coast to coast, and all over the world? Oh right, I have two airplanes and I’m a pilot.”

Steve smirked at you as you smacked him on the arm.

“I just don’t want you to feel as if you have to chase after me. Or wait for me to get back when I need to go. Long distance can be hard.”

Steve nodded, and then gave you a quick peck on your lips.

“I know. But I would follow you to the ends of the earth. And I’ve already waited for 20 years. What’s a little longer?”

“How can you be so damn perfect?”

You attacked him, kissing him again as he laughed and grabbed you, holding you close.

“Not perfect, maybe just perfect for you?”

“Maybe,” you smiled into his shirt as you traced a vein down his arm. 

“But I want a do over.”

“A do over of what?”

“Of our first date.”

“Tonight?”

“Yes, tonight. But first, I wonder if you will give me some? Please? Pretty please Steve?”

You reached down and grasped his hardness in your hand; Steve moaned.

Steve’s mouth was open as you begged for him.

“Oh Baby, you have no idea how much I want that.”

You whined as you moved your hips to feel more of him.

“Steve… need you…”

Your sultry whisper in his ear made him weak.

“Me too. I just … I want it to be special… to take our time…”

“I need you inside me, Captain.”

“Fuuuuuck.…I want that too, Doll. So bad… I dreamt of it last night.”

Steve moved so that his mouth was on your neck.

“You taste like coconuts right now. Why is that?”

“Hmmmm. Flavored body oil spray. It’s edible.”

“Well then, I need to taste more…later. “

You writhed against him hoping for some relief.

“So desperate. I love it when you get needy for me, Baby.”

Steve took in your face and your lips opened in desire. He grabbed the back of your neck, wrapping his hand around your face and inserted his thumb into your mouth. You sucked at it greedily which made him groan again.

“Is that what you want?”

You moaned around his digit and nodded, your heart about to beat out of your chest. Steve leaned down to whisper in your ear as he shoved his thumb further past your tongue and held your mouth open.

“I loved the way you took it in your mouth yesterday. Such a good, good throat. Such a good, sweet girl for me.”

His hand was now at the crotch of your bathing suit and your eyes rolled back into your head at his filthy words as he gagged you with his digit. His long fingers on his other hand pulled the suit to the side and slowly inserted two inside you.

“I can barely get in here, Sweetheart. You’re gonna struggle to take me …”

You grunted, both at what he was doing to you and at what he was saying.

“Yes… you’ll have to be patient just a little while longer. Tonight…”

His wet thumb was caressing your nipples over your bathing suit now. You were frustrated.

“You’re all talk.”

“And you’ll do whatever I say. Later.”

Steve’s words and his steely eyed stare were speaking straight to your pussy. You clenched down on his fingers and he moaned.

“So fucking right. Patience, Doll. Just a little while longer. Meanwhile, you and I need to cool down.” 

Steve abandoned you to take off his shirt, laughing at your lust before he reached down to gather you in his arms again while approaching the passerelle.

“Can you get your hair wet?”

“Yes, I planned on swimming, but are you really about to throw me in the water right now?”

“No. “

Steve shook his head as he stopped on the edge.

“Good.” 

You smiled as you took in the view.

“I figure we’d take the plunge together.”

And then he backed up and ran toward the edge, you squealing in his arms, the warm mediterranean water separating you when you hit the surface. Soon you felt his arms slip back around you as you found each other again and kissed in the warm Italian sun. 

You wanted this moment to last forever.

—-

You made it through the 6 hour voyage and back to the hotel to change for dinner. The meal was nice, with great wine and even better conversation. 

After the meal, Steve asked a question as you walked to the elevators.

“Does that invitation to your suite still stand?”

You pressed your back into the elevator wall as Steve pressed the button for your floor before you even answered his question.

This cocky bastard. It was so hot.

“Sure, are we gonna have a pillow fight?” You raised your arms to his board shoulders as he leaned down to your ear.

“Did you say pillow bite?”

You cocked your head at him, smirking.

“So it’s like that?”

“Very much so.”

You kissed him as the doors opened onto your floor. Steve kept his hands on you as you opened your door and immediately had you up against the first available surface once the door closed hands and mouth everywhere he could reach.

After you two almost broke what looked to be a very expensive vase, Steve stepped back from you, lips swollen from your kisses and chest heaving.

“D’you want me as much as I want you?”

You realized now that the look on Steve’s face that you’d once interpreted to be irritation with you or annoyance, was in fact concentration. You pondered the meaning of being the center of his attention as you moved toward him.

“Do you not remember the way I took your cock down my throat the other day?”

You pressed your body against his and Steve swore, growling in your ear. 

“Oh yes. That was truly.” He kissed your neck.

“Truly.”

This time the kiss was on the plane of your chin.

“Truly amazing.”

He kissed your lips softly when you decided you were tired of playing around. You grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the bedroom.

—-

Soon, you were both naked in the bedroom, a bottle of Prosecco rescued from the honor bar and opened on the dresser. Your eyes were drawn to Steve Rogers, who was as beautiful as one of the statues in the Galleria Borghese. 

Steve was grasping his cock at the base as his eyes swept over your body. He was remembering the taste of you.

“You are so beautiful.”  

He squeezed himself harder and tried to keep from moving his hand up and down his thick shaft as you stared and licked your lips.

“Come over here, Stevie. Please.”

You lay on the bed on your stomach, showcasing your ass and looking at him invitingly. Stave moved closer, but stopped.

“What if I told you that I wasn’t going to fuck you tonight?”

You began to pout.

“Fix that face.”

That command made you whimper at the power in his voice.

“You are going to fuck me, Doll.”

“What?”

Steve reached for your hand as he switched places with you. Then he lay there and resumed stroking himself. You licked your lips at the sight and retrieved the bottle of Prosecco, suddenly very thirsty.

You contemplated the power he was giving you, and decided you liked this rush of control. 

“I like the idea of that, Steve. I’ll get to express exactly how much I want you.”

You took a swig and leaned down to kiss him, giving him a taste from your lips. He licked your mouth as you thumbed his nipples, causing him to shiver from your cold touch. You couldn’t resist tasting his cherry red lips again and again as you lightly squeezed his throat, then ran your hand down his sternum and his abs to the tip of his wet cock. 

You grazed the length of him down to his balls, then looked into his eyes and kissed his lips as you took control of him.

“Your lips are perfect,” you whispered as you caressed him.

“No. yours,” replied Steve as he sought your mouth again. 

“You like my mouth?”

As you leaned to teasingly kiss the thick cap of his cock, then took him fully down your throat 

“Oh.. Shit…”

Steve massaged your scalp as you bobbed on him

“You are so fucking hot, Doll…”

You looked up with a smile and moved to lick his nipple, then kiss him again as you stroked him. Steve was mesmerized. Your hands, your lips, your tongue, he couldn’t concentrate on any one part of you that was ruining him. 

It was sensation overload, and he needed to focus to not shoot off.

You were drunk on power. You spit on his cock, deep-throated him once, twice more, and then pulled away, causing Steve to groan as you withdrew contact, your sloppy blow job scrambling his brain.  His head was on a swivel as he watched you get up to go to the dresser. 

“May I?”

Steve nodded, eager for what was to come. You had a small spray bottle in your hand, and when the liquid made contact with his body, he jumped from the sensation. You rubbed the oil on his cock and up his body to his nipples, basking in the rapt attention he paid you as you sprayed yourself between your breasts. Steve’s cock got impossibly harder in your hand at the sight. 

“I think I’m gonna like this.

You loved to hear his sexy deep voice break.

“You like me?”

“Yeah. I…”

Steve trailed off as your hands roamed his body.

“I like you too, Stevie,” you kissed him again. ”

Steve actually whimpered as you swung your leg over his hips and sat down on his cock, rubbing your pussy along his shaft as it lay against his stomach. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw to keep from manhandling you.

“I wanna try that sweet cunt.”

“Hmmm. Is it sweet? Wanna taste it again?”

You leaned back and circled your clit with two fingers, then inserted them into his pretty mouth. Steve’s adam's apple bobbed as he sucked your fingers and swallowed your taste. You pulled away to suck his cock again until he was moaning, at which point you kissed and licked your way up his body, settling your thighs at his shoulders. 

He gripped your ass as he turned hushed head so that his lips could kiss your thigh. His fingers reached around your leg to play in your crease as he gave your clit kitten licks and kisses. You tried to move back down, but he grasped your thighs hard enough to leave bruises that would give you daydreams the next day. He started sucking your clit so intently that you began seeing stars.

“Wanna fuck you now, Stevie. Wanna cum on your cock”

You were on the edge as Steve pulled off of your clit with an obscene slurp.

“I’m yours, Y/N.”

You reached back and grabbed his throbbing cock as you scooted your pelvis down, one hand on his neck and one hand positioning him to enter you. His shaft was large, but the head was even wider, and the stretch as you worked yourself open on him made you moan loudly. Steve grabbed your chin to make you look at him while you slid down his length, stretching yourself out so incredibly well.

“My cock looks so big against your tiny pussy.”

His eyes were riveted.

“It is big, Captain. You’re so huge.”

You grabbed the headboard while you adjusted to his size. Steve’s hands came up around your waist and held you steady as you trembled around him.

Those blue eyes looked up at you with adoration.

“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Are you okay, Doll?”

“It feels amazing,” you stared down into his eyes and smiled, your slick leaking down his thick shaft to collect and drip off his balls.

“Yes. Yes it does. Holy mother god.”

 He looked down to where you were connected.

“You’re wrapped around me so tight and so good, Doll.”

Steve looked up at you and licked his lips, pupils blown wide and struck dumb by lust. 

You leaned down and kissed him when you bottomed out on him.

You stared at each other as you both finally got what you wanted. You took his head in your hands and kissed him as you pounded together. 

Then you started moving. 

Steve played with your nipples and you arched backwards as he planted his feet and pistoned up into you faster.

“Oh! Steve. Feel so full. So good.”

Steve wrapped his arms around your waist and held you in place as his hips moved at the devil's pace. The sound of his dick breaching your wet pussy and skin slapping on skin was everything. His thumb went to your clit and traced figure eights as you shuddered in his grip. 

“F-f-f- u-u-u-ck! I’m- I’m coming!”

“Give it to me!”

He stroked you through your orgasm and then sat up, manipulating you so that you were sitting back on your arms in his lap as he moved you up and down his cock like a sex toy.

“Shit, you feel so good!”

Steve looked down at you and then up at the ceiling, eyes rolling

“Jesus, you’re so fucking hot.”

You looked down and the image of Steve’s large member destroying your hole was enough to make you cum around his cock again. Steve took control, taking your hips in his large hands and moving you at his will.

“Oh my god.” 

He ground you against the base of his cock and started grinding circles for his greedy eyes and your pleasure. You were addicted.

“Such a good little slut for my cock. Need you to give me one more. That’s it. Good girl.”

He grabbed you by the hair and kissed you as you shuddered through your orgasm and suddenly, you were on your back as Steve flipped you over, getting on his knees and folding you in half to fuck you even better. 

Steve stopped as he tried to hold back.

“You got me so close Doll… I gotta calm down.”

“I just want you to stuff me full of your cum, Captain.”

“Ooohhhhhh. Fuck.”

Steve sped up and then stopped, trying to calm down. But he couldn’t help what he said next that turned out to be his doom.

“Are- are you trying to have my baby, Y/N.”

You arched against him, shuddering at the thought.

“Nnnnnnoooooo. Fuck. Maybe.”

“You wanna be all round and full of my child, tits so full of milk…so I can suck… holy fuck!”

The image was making Steve start to shoot off.

“Fill me up, Steve–I”

“Ahhh!”

And then you keened as you felt his hot cum start to spurt against your walls. You came around his rapidly pulsing cock as he finished inside you.

You two were a hot, sweaty heap as you came down together, Steve kissing your forehead and praising you.

“You did so good for me.”

He gathered you in his arms.

“I love you.”

Steve gazed at you.

“Think I’ve been in love with you for 20 years, Y/N.”

You smiled at him.

“I love you too.” 

You said it, barely above a whisper. But you meant it. Then you said it again.

“I love you, Steve Rogers.”

You attacked him, kissing him again as he laughed and grabbed you, holding you close. 

“All of the bad things that we’ve gone through to get to this moment is for the best. I can see that now.”

Steve looked to you just like that little boy you met 20 years ago. Then you saw the beautiful man who loved you.

“You’re right. And this, right now. It’s the best of all.”

[millersfinest]

the thing in your chest that beats ² | e.w

santa barbara!ellie williams & ex-firefly!reader

wc: 4.5k

mini-series: california | oregon (you’re here) | idaho | wyoming

blurb: you put up a good fight with those rattlers, but it wasn’t good enough—all it got you was strung up near a beach where the sun scorched you dry. abruptly, their set-up gets fucked by their own prisoners, saving your life by only a thread. but the wrath that lingered under your skin was immense, and you’re not the only one to experience that phenomenon. when another damaged soul encounters your brittle state; the dreams that put you in a tough position manifest into reality. along with a few extra miscellaneous things…

cw: angry!r, slow-burn romance, eventual smut, proximity trope, both reader and ellie on a path of redemption, afab body parts mentioned, vulgar language, reader being complicated, mentions of attraction, inner guilt, use of ‘y/n’ and ‘woman’.

note: honestly i just can’t wait for them to kiss (spoiler: not this chapter). but they’re learning to trust each other. just know in the idaho ch we’re gonna be UP! please, enjoy this for now!! (also: i hope the lot of you voted for the presidential election. these are very very important times #harriswaltz2024)

Oregon

Several days and nights were spent on a boat, cruising up the coast of California. It was one of those livable boats, where you could hide from the sun in a room with stable furniture to eat on, and a bed to sleep on. You spent a lot of your time inside the hatch, analyzing a map that Ellie had labeled with a marker. Hoping that you’d maintain your luck enough to actually see Wyoming for yourself.

Ellie had confessed that she came from Jackson, but she still hadn’t told you the why. Instead of asking about it, you refrained, in turn, asking about the settlement. Were the people kind? Did they have horses? Because you heard they had horses.

Those were the questions she could answer easily, with little to no hesitation. Until your questioning began to irritate her—which, in turn, irritated you.

The two of you bickered over the smallest of things in those days on the water. It could’ve been the heat, or the rationed food, or even your similar personalities. You couldn’t help but clash every chance you got. By the time the two of you drifted onto the coastline of Oregon, the conversations had diminished—because of your stubborn attitudes.

Leaving behind the boat was a drag, but there’s wasn’t much of a choice. The rest of the journey toward Wyoming was going to be on foot. Over cracked pavements and between dewey trees. If only the trip could be simplified by the use of a boat—it would be less extraneous.

The weather had gotten significantly cooler the more north you traveled. The mornings were the coolest, and the days were chilled with a gentle breeze. It would rain eighty percent of the time, which made it harder for you and Ellie to continue the trek. But both of you were resilient.

Somewhere between Salem and Portland, you found yourselves looking for a place to stay for the night. You had run across some nefarious people when you first arrived at the coast; and you’ve been recovering ever since. Trying to collect as many things as possible on the road to make up for the lost ammo and supplies. Which is what led to you looking for a place to crash in, basically, pitch black darkness. Navigating the dewey wood with nothing but the lights attached to your bags.

Droplets of water slipped off the waxy green leaves of the trees above. Splashing onto you—and it was shocking every time. The climate sent a gentle chill up your spine, so the water was even colder. Ellie walked ahead of you, mumbling under her breath from the lack of shelter. Her agitation was ruminating off her skin like a furnace. “We should’ve never gone this way— there’s nothing out here!”

Her agitation was obviously laced with panic. Ellie was exhausted from all the traveling and worries about conflict. “We entered a campsite a few miles back. At the very least there should be a cabin out here.” You surmised, squinting your eyes trying to defy the darkness. The auburn-haired woman scoffed under her breath, adjusting the hood of her raincoat. “If you wanna take a break, just say that.” You reached for her wrist, pulling gently. “It’s been a long day…”

“Absolutely not. We need a place to sleep tonight— with a roof.” Ellie pulled her arm away, placing her hands onto her hips. Her head hung low, clearly fatigued.

“How about this: you park it by this tree for a little bit, while I walk around to see if I can find somethin’ for us.” You offer, shrugging your shoulders, casually. The both of you were exhausted, but it seemed that Ellie was suffering a bit more than you were. Was that not that point of a team? To tap in someone else when you need it. Plus, you really felt that there was a cabin nearby. There had to be one. Most campsites had cabins that hikers and campers would go to before they began their adventures. For supplies or even important notices about wild animals.

Or, maybe, you watched too much tv at the firefly base.

She shook her head. “No chance. Separating in the dark doesn’t sound like a good idea to me. What? So, you can get lost and give us another problem to deal with?”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you press your lips into an irritated line. “Are you seriously insulting my intelligence, right now?” You raised an eyebrow, glaring at the woman in front of you. “I was a firefly for six years of my life—“

“Oh, my God! The whole world knows that you were a fucking firefly, y/n. No need for the reminder.”

Ellie began to walk in another direction, sternly. You scoffed, following after her like confused duckling—which was an embarrassing thought. “You’re so insufferable. All I was trying to do was help you out— because to be honest, you’re not handling this well.” You quip, walking by her side with your hands shoved into your pockets.

She scoffed. “How could I handle this well? Please, tell me.” Stopping in her tracks, she glares at you. Olive irises blown out from the darkness around her, boring into your aggressive frame.

Taking a step closer to her, the corners of your lips curled, mischievously. “You could start by taking a fucking break and letting me take the lead.” There was something that differed between you and Ellie’s versions of frustration and anger. She took it up a level, while you brought it down. It could fool an idiot into thinking you weren’t mad at all, when really you were fuming. The pace of your voice was slow, almost menacing. True fire remained behind your eyes, in your posture—the way your lip twitched as you spoke.

“I’m not some damsel in distress you pull everywhere then blame when shit goes wrong.” You added, taking in her battered features. The scar in her eyebrow and her top lip. The freckles under her peeling skin from the days aboard. “I have a great sense of direction; I’ll have you know.” As you spoke, she examined your features the same way you did. “Stop arguing with me, sit your ass down, drink some water— and i’ll be back in twenty minutes tops!”

Ellie rolled her tongue in her mouth, averting her eyes from you. She was too stubborn to admit her own exhaustion to you—she’d rather be in control of the situation than someone she barely knew. Someone, who at the start of this trip, was, in fact, a damsel in distress. Your body had healed in the days since departing Santa Barbara. Not completely, but in progress. You were walking better, even though you still had a bit of a limp.

Her focus on you made it easy to forget her own ailments. The missing fingers on her left hand, the wound on her abdomen. They were healing, surprisingly. However, her attention still remained on your well-being.

She sighed, itching her nose with her index finger. “Fine. Whatever.” Ellie shrugged her backpack off, leaning against the tree. “Just come back in one piece, yeah?” Somehow, she managed to sound insulting with her hidden words of weariness.

You snickered, narrowing your eyes. “Is that worry I’m sensing or…?”

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

With that, you backed toward the path, chuckling under your breath. Adjusting the hood over your head, you focused to begin looking for the cabin that you just knew was close by. Feet crunching over dead leaves and sticks that were imbedded in the mud.

The light attached to the strap of your bag began to flicker as you pushed between the trees. “Come on…” You hit the light to stabilize it. “Now is not the time.”

When you’re lost in the darkness, look for the light.

Your past affiliations haunted you like a ghost. Somehow, you always found yourself looking for that light. Perhaps, in this case, it’s Jackson, Wyoming—a place far from what you know. That was more of a long-term goal, though. The light you were currently looking for was a building made of wood, preferably insulated.

Ahead of you, you weren’t sure if you were seeing things, but what you were hoping for was coming into view. The brightness of the moon illuminating the starry sky outlined the top of the cabin, exposing its silhouette. In excitement, you rushed toward the building, peaking through the foggy windows. From what you could see, there was nothing inside but old furniture. Thankfully, no infected. You were beat; the last thing you wanted to do was fight that damn virus.

As you peeked through every window you could find, jiggling door handles to try and find a way in, you realized it was a home. Not some hiking administration building you surmised would be around the trail. Spending enough time circling the cabin, you pick up a rock from the ground to crack a window. You were getting in that house one way or another.

The rectangular shape was rather high for your reach. Huffing, you dug your fingers into the divots of the logs. It wasn’t the best grip, but it was enough to get you into that window. After throwing your body through the hole, you landed on the ground with a thud. A shallow pain throbbed in your thigh—the one that Ellie had stitched for you back in Santa Barbara. Shutting your eyes, you took in a breath from the slight pain. You weren’t one hundred percent just yet.

Exhaling, you stood tall on your feet to get a look at the interior. A long plaid couch was placed in front of what used to be a fireplace. Burned logs was still lying in the pit, but they burned to a crisp. You were certain that if you touched them, they would fall apart under the weight of your hand. The dirt shapes on the walls symbolized that picture use to fill this space—the cabin was drained of life.

It’s only source of existence was the fact that you were standing in it.

Before leaving to retrieve Ellie, you jogged up the steep stairs of the cabin. To check the upstairs rooms for any infected or people. You must’ve been one lucky woman, because there was nothing but dust occupying those rooms. Quickly, you went through the front door to grab your partner.

Crunching on leaves and sticks, you startled her. Ellie was spotted sat in front of the tree, leaning her back with her eyes closed—which was the least smart thing to do, but she was tired. The sound of your boots crushing the elements of the forest jolted her from her light sleep. She gripped her switchblade in a fist, looking at you with determination. “Fuck,” She sighed, rubbing her hands over her face. “I thought you were someone else…”

“Nope. Just me.” You breathed, watching her as she stood to her feet. “There’s a cabin about ten minutes from this spot.” Crossing your arms, a slight smile rested on your lips. A smile screaming I-told-you-so.

Ellie slung her bag around her shoulders, dusting off her jeans; doing everything to ignore your antics. “Are we just gonna stand here, or are you gonna show me where it’s at?”

Sucking your teeth, you pivoted, rolling your eyes. She was such a sore loser. It felt good to be right, and for her to be wrong. You didn’t get lost like she thought—instead, you carried out exactly what you planned: finding shelter for the night.

The two of you approached the cabin, Ellie releasing a sigh of relief. Hallow sounds of your shoes walking up the steps of the wooden porch sounded. You opened the door, allowing her to walk through. Staring her down with same smile you had a few minutes ago. “Nice place, huh?” You asked, shutting the door behind you, turning the lock.

She meandered inside, surveying the interior. Her fingers slide along the dusty bannister above the fireplace, pursing her lips. “Not bad…” Ellie lifted an eyebrow, peering over her shoulder at you. Lifting her finger, she eyed the dust that stuck to her skin.

“Told you there was a cabin around here somewhere.”

“I knew you were gonna say that.” Ellie chuckled, dryly. Taking moderate steps toward the kitchen. Every time you stopped, she insisted that inventory was taken of all of your supplies. She achingly tugged her backpack off, sighing. You followed behind her, leaning your arms against the counter—watching her tired movements.

“Why are you looking at me?” She dropped her hands onto the counter, with that familiar irritated glint in her eyes.

You purse your lips. “You know I could do this, right?” Shrugging off your bag, you swing it onto the counter. There was a slight sway to Ellie—the only reason being her exhaustion. “We’ve done this a number of times; you can go rest up. There are three bedrooms upstairs— take your pick.”

Ellie scoffed, continuing the work in front of her. Counting under her breath. You grit your jaw, glaring at her. She was truly insufferable—moments like these really highlighted that. Her stubbornness and pride amounted about the same to yours; causing you to wonder… Were you just as bad? You pity the friends you had in your youth if that was the case. Releasing a meditative breath, you placed a hand over hers. “Seriously, Ellie, I got it. Go get some sleep.”

She looks at you through her eyelashes, allowing your skin to remain on hers. “Aren’t you tired, too?”

“Yeah, but not as much as you… I could stand to be up for a little while longer. You on the other hand…”

She pulled her hand from under yours, pushing off her wet hood. Her auburn strands were damp, sticking to her freckled skin. “All right. Make sure to write down the things we don’t have that we need.”

“I know.”

“And mark the items that we’re running low on.”

“Again, I know.” You motion with her hand to run along with amused eyes. Waiting to begin, you watch as she hesitantly walks toward the steep wooden stairs around the corner.

It was like pulling teeth for Ellie to willingly hand over responsibility to you. In her mind, she was still doing you a favor—she was working for you. But being that she was extremely tired, her inhibitions loosened. The touch of your skin to hers, surprisingly, comforted her concerns; made her sleepier. She heavily stepped up the stairs, leaning on the railing for support.

She walked into the first bedroom she saw. The light from the moon cascaded through the window that the queen-sized bed was pushed against. Shedding her damp clothing, she spread them out onto a dresser before getting into the bed. Before nodding off, she peered out the window with a burdened mind. Remembering the bulk of her actions leading up to Santa Barbara. With the added misfortune of Santa Barbara. Then… You.

The moon reflected over a sparkling pier, that was down a hill behind the cabin. The lake was completely in her view, rippling subtly from the fish beneath the surface. She cracked a smile, peering at the beautiful sight. Rolling up a pillow, she propped it up enough to let that be the final thing she sees before sleeping. Using the elements of the earth as a night cap.

She’d woken up many times throughout the night, but she was used to that habit. When the sun peaked through her window, Ellie had gotten as much sleep as she could have. The smell of cooked fish had wafted into her nostrils, pulling her from the old mattress. With a groan, she swung her legs over, rubbing her eyes.

In a blur, from the corner of her eyes, she saw a figure walking toward the pier. Blinking, she leaned on the pillows against the window, watching as the figure began to remove their clothes—it was you. Ellie watched as you dropped your items, carelessly, before jumping into the water. For the first time in awhile, her mind went blank. Completely empty.

Well… Not that empty.

She checked the clothes she had on from the night before, and for some reason, they still were damp. Enough moisture resided in her jeans that she didn’t feel comfortable putting them back on. Sighing, she began searching through the drawers for anything she could put on in the meantime.

Finding a pair of plaid pajama pants, she slid those on, throwing her holed band t-shirt over her sports bra. “What time is it?” She patted her jeans for the watch she carried with her. Cursing under her breath, she realized it was left in her backpack.

Quickly, Ellie found herself navigating to the first floor. Her eyes widened at the organized sight of all of your supplies. You had grouped similar items together and left a piece of paper with the amounts in each group. At the bottom of the page, you had written a list of the items you needed more of. Ellie’s watch was sitting on the end of the counter, properly placed. “You have outdone yourself…” She muttered, picking up the paper you scribbled on.

When she flipped it over, the subtle grin her lips faded. Seeing the sorrowful words written on the page. Since leaving Santa Barbara, she noticed you pulling out this letter a lot. The one you fetched from under that infected woman. You had never gone into what this letter or note meant to you—probably, because she never asked. That didn’t mean she wasn’t curious about it, though. Ellie never would’ve expected that you’d write on it over something as silly as taking inventory.

There were so many things she didn’t understand about you.

The aroma of fish filled her nostrils again, leading her to slab of rock placed on the counter. A coverage of cloth was placed over the fish to ward off flies. She peeked under it, seeing a perfectly scaled and grilled fish. Hunger got the best of her, and she began to eat the fish with her hands. Humming at the satisfaction of filling her stomach.

After, she grabbed the cracked watch to check the time. It was ten in the morning, the both of you should’ve been back on the road.

Pressing her lips into a line, she walked out the back door to alert you. Her fingers fiddling with the plaid cotton on her legs.

The air was fairly cool, but the sun warmed you up. Basking in the lake was like splashing your face with cold water in the morning—it was a wake-up call. Something that you needed after the night you had. In the room across from Ellie’s, the bed was too firm, and the sheets were too prickly. Your mind kept you up with the image of Honey’s infected body. And, whenever you did shut your eyes, you were back on those pillars again.

You had no choice but to get up early and occupy yourself. So, you fished for a little while, then cooked what you caught—for yourself and the sleeping woman upstairs. After that, you thought you could use a bath. And there was nothing more satisfying than cool lake water—nature’s finest.

You allowed the water to engulf you, embracing your body like a chilled hug. Breaking the surface, you swam comfortable laps around the lake. As you lazily backstroked, you noticed Ellie walking down the steps that led to the dock.

Her auburn hair was spiked all across her head—she must’ve slept well. You chuckled, swimming up the edge of the dock. Placing your hands against it, to pull yourself up a little. Bare shoulders glistening from the sunlight reflecting off your wet skin. “You have a bad case of bedhead, my friend.”

“What?” She immediately became self-conscious, running her hands through her hair. Shaking her head, she adjusted her features, trying to uphold her naturally irritated persona; scrunching her eyebrows and clenching her jaw. “You let me sleep too late; it’s ten. We should start packing up.” Her eyes avoided you, instead, focusing on the plants surrounding the lake. Or your pruned fingers holding onto the dock.

Looking up at her with squinted eyes, you dramatically sniffed. “Why don’t you hop in? You smell like shit.” You ignored her small jabs of blame, coating your lips with a smile. Perhaps, you’ve been spending too much time with her, but her little irritations were beginning to amuse you more than bother you. Or, from the angle that you were peering up at her, she looked really… Pretty. Bedhead and all.

“Excuse me?” She questioned, raising her eyebrows, finally meeting your eyes.

“I’m serious. Let’s resume the trip smelling better than a sewer.” You began to paddle backwards, almost forgetting about your own nakedness. “Take off your clothes… I‘ll give you privacy. Unless you’re too… Chicken.”

She hesitated, watching you swim backwards. Catching an accidental glimpse of your breasts as you turned around. It was true that she didn’t smell the greatest. Before she could formulate her thoughts properly, Ellie spoke. “Chicken? Really, y/n?” She sighed, punching the bridge of her nose. “Fine. But not for long— I wanna make it to Idaho within the next two days…”

Ellie shed her clothes, dropping them close to yours. She jumped into the water, keeping her head from going under, loudly reacting to the coldness of the lake. “Shit!” She exclaimed, treading water.

You turned around, chuckling, noticing her hair still disheveled. “You’ll feel better if you dunk yourself under water.”

“Hell, no! It’s too cold.”

“This doesn’t have to be another I-told-you-so moment…”

She rolled her eyes, clenching her nostrils with her fingers, lowering herself under water. Allowing the cold, earthy, lake water to encapsulate her. The first few seconds were chilling, but her body began to adapt. It became rather comforting—easing her sore muscles and healing wounds.

The lake did the same for you, which was why you were still inside of it. Time stopped at the pier; at least it felt like it did. Existing felt normal, for once. There weren’t any violent rogue people, or hungry infected. Just you and Ellie bathing in a lake.

Ellie broke the surface, running her hands over her saturated strands. Her pale skin was flushed, from what you could only assume, was the briskness in the air and the chillness of water. However, that may not have completely been the case. “Feel better?” You ask, waving your arms under the water to keep yourself afloat.

The corners of her lips curled, subtly. You had to squint to really notice her amusement. She rolled her eyes in a way to avert her gaze. “Yeah, a little.” Ellie finally peered at you, pointing a dripping finger. “Don’t say it.”

“Say what?” A grin plastered on your lips. “I told you so?”

“Do you realize how annoying you are, or just me?”

You pursed your lips, feigning thought. “Just you, I think.”

Honestly, you’re proud of yourself. A lot of the relationship blossoming between your traveling partner and yourself had been developing under the pressure of your attitudes and circumstances. The fact that you could get her to crack a smile, even if it was faint, felt good. It was either the dock’s magic, or your own.

A beat passed while the two of you circled each other. Barely looking at the exposed skin above the water, trying to be distracted by the world around you.

Surprisingly, Ellie was the first to speak—or the first to question you. She rarely every asked you anything. “That letter you carry with you…” The woman awkwardly began. “I saw it on the counter— who wrote it?”

Her voice grabbed your attention immediately at the mention of the note. You held onto it like a totem, a piece of memorabilia from your past. Hesitating, you moved your eyes from left to right in thought. “I know that it came from Santa Barbara. From that house…”

“It’s from an old friend.” You started, lips parting slowly as you spoke. Mouth going dry at the question she asked. You’ve yet to physically get the chance to talk about Honey. From the days aboard the boat, you’ve been trying to forget what you saw. Maybe, you could convince yourself that she was off living the life she wanted—instead of spending her last days suffering under the hammer of infection. “Some girl I met at that God-forsaken resort…” You attempted to casually respond.

“She got infected?”

“Yeah…” You nodded with avoidance, shutting your eyes and moving your head with a cadence of I-don’t-wanna-talk-about-it.

Ellie pursed her lips, nodding. “Why’d you write on the letter? I don’t know… It looks like it means a lot to you— I don’t understand why you would write on it?” She spoke, thoughtfully, as if she didn’t want to say the wrong thing. That was certainly the first time.

You shrug, wanting to hide somewhere, even though there was nowhere to do so. “I just want to forget about it… I guess.”

“If you cared about her, why would you wanna forget about it?”

The muscles in your forehead twitched, bunching your eyebrows together. Your face burned, lips scowling. Ellie’s voice evolved from a soft curiosity, to a judgmental version of it. You sensed the difference the moment it fell from her lips. The intention of her words didn’t matter—it was what she said that bothered you. Did she think you were cruel for wanting to forget about seeing her in that state?

“If I cared about her?” You started, evenly, but with warning. “I did care about her— I do care about her! If I choose not to remember her as a fucking corpse, that makes me a bad person?” Your voice raised, for the first time in awhile, rasping.

Ellie sighed, shaking her head with pleading eyes. “I didn’t say that.”

You scoff, swimming toward the dock. “Well, I’m sure that’s what you meant, right?” Pulling yourself out of the water, you don’t think twice about the exposing of your naked body. Cold air pricking at your wet skin. “I’m the asshole for wanting to remember Honey alive rather than dead…” You wrapped the towel you brought with you around your body, balling your clothes into your arms.

Lamely, Ellie called for you from her place in the water as you left her behind. Before you covered up, she eyed the scars and bruises on your body—maps of what your vessel has been through. Perhaps, she should have entered the conversation with more caution.

Watching you stalk back into the cabin, wiping at your eyes felt like a punishment. A worse punishment than the fact that she didn’t have a towel to dry off with.

“Nice work, Ellie.”

[cheriladycl01]

Kinktober 17/10/2024 Liam Lawson - Hair Pulling

Plot: Liam wants to try something new but he doesn’t want to do anything that will hurt you.

Warnings: Kinktober, SMUT, eating, blowjob, hair pulling, sex, p in v, 18+ Minors DNI

Summer break had just started and you and your boyfriend Liam had decided it would be nice to have a trip. It didn’t take you long to plan and you ended up on the South Coast of Italy in a cute AirBNB you’d found last minute.

Most days were spent at the sandy beach that was just below the Villa you guys were in or walking round the local village trying the various restaurants they had and going into the dainty little shops to find necklaces and gifts for friends and family.

You got back to the Villa after a really long day in the sun and you were both having a relaxing evening on the balcony of the Villa. You’d just got out the shower having washed your hair and shaved your legs that had started to gain a little stubble back after a few days of not shaving them.

You had done all of your skincare once you got out the shower and sat in the warm Italian sun on the balcony in your towels basking in the slowly setting sun and enjoying drying natural with the heat present.

Liam had come and was sat opposite you, reading one of his books.

“Babe, do you think we’re boring?” He asked you, looking at you, as he gently placed his book down on the table resting his chin on his hand.

“What do you mean?” You laugh rubbing a little bit of your moisturiser in that you could feel was still not in your skin.

“I just mean that, I don’t think we … you know go too crazy in our … intimacy?” He asks awkwardly and you cock your head to the side a shocked look on your face. You were incredibly satisfied with Liam in every way he gave himself to you, so you were very confused how the conversation had come too this.

“What?” You laugh, so shocked that this is where his question had lead you both too.

“Like do you ever want me to do something a bit like? I dunno kinkier? God this is embarrassing” he complained, standing up and going to walk into bedroom that was attached to the balcony.

You follow him immediately.

“Where has this come from Liam, I thought we were both happy in our sex life?” You ask a look of concern on your face, worried that you were now the one not satisfying your boyfriend.

“And I am. But sometimes I want to … try more with you? Like, when you pull my hair when I’m eating you out, I love that shit. You don’t do it hard it’s just something for you to run your fingers through and my hairs easier to do that with, but it got me think of like I dunno pulling your hair? But I’m scared because I don’t want to just randomly do it and shock you or omg, god forbid I manage to hurt you?! And so I just thought maybe if I asked and see what you thought? It all sounds so stupid now don’t worry” he laughs awkwardly shying away.

“Let’s try it” you grin, taking his hand and he looks at you shocked.

“Try what?” He asks looking over you, to make sure he wasn’t accidentally dreaming.

“You pulling my hair or … whatever it was you said you wanted to try” you offer and immediately he picks you up, letting the towel around you fall to the ground, leaving your bare and nude to him in all your glory.

“Let’s get this off, need the hair” he groans as he unwraps the towel from around your hair and chucks it onto the wooden floor.

He places you gently on the bed, kissing up your legs before giving teasing little bites on your inner thighs. His teeth didn’t sink in at all and there would be no knowledge of him being down there tomorrow morning, maybe that was something you could bring up for him to do next time.

He dives in, tongue flicking in and out exploring the familiarity of your heat. He was addicted to your taste and could and would eat you out for his career if that was possible. Immediately your hands find their way into his hair, keeping his head in place as his nose nudges your clit, from you pushing him down a little more.

He moans into you, creating vibrations that run up your entire body, a feeling you’d never really get over. His tongue moves faster and your hips try to come up to meet his face a little more to get that friction.

Your hands run through his hair, pulling on the outgrown blonde bits at the nape of his neck that you’d been offering to cut for a while to get back to his normal haircut but now you were considering asking him to never cut his hair too short again.

“So good, taste so fucking good” he moans into you.

His tongue finds its way into your dripping hole, noises coming from him slurping up all the juices you were giving him, and before you can think his tongue and nose, as if they’re working together both his spots that have your head thinking back into the duck feather pillow.

“Fuck baby” you say looking down at him. Usually he out you out good but this time something was different there was something in his eyes and the way his hands gripped your thighs and hips.

“My turn babe” he grins pulling his pants down and your switch yourselves round so he’s now lying where you were and your on your knees in front of him.

His hands come up and find there way into your hair. He holds you down and you mouth finds it’s way round his dick quickly thanks to his helping hand.

You suck, lick, kiss, groan, spit and do eveything that you know he’s enjoys. However he control the pace holding into your hair. He had it fisted into a really messy ponytail and he stated to edge himself. Every time he’d get close he’d use your hair to yank you off him. It wasn’t a harsh yank, not enough to pull any hair out anyway but it did have a nice sort of burn to it that had you moaning every time.

Eventually he lets himself cum pushing your head down as far as he can get it, unloading all he had to offer into your mouth.

After you blew him, normally you’d either ride him while he was laying back down or your lie down and he’d climb on top of you but today was different. He knelt up and kept you with him.

“On your knees facing the headboard babe” he asks and you do, getting into doggy style which was uncommon for you both. You actually don’t think you’ve ever done it like this with him. So it was strange when he stated to push his dick into your wet folds and you couldn’t see his whiny and lust filled expression as he sunk into you.

Pussy drunk is what he normally looked like.

But now he was just a feeling behind you.

“So beautiful” he says once he’d bottomed out in your and stayed there to let you adjust to him in this new position, meaning you felt fuller than you normally did. The moan hed gotten from you as his dick split you apart was one he didn’t think he’d ever forget.

He leaned forward grabbing your hair and pulling you head back, so you were on your knees but your back was flush against him. He kept the pull on your hair, while thrusting in and out of you, slapping sound of skin on skin and your breathy moans are all that could be heard throughout the room.

“Fuck Liam” you moan as one hand circles to your hips, the other still having a really tight grip on your hair tugging it when your head started to loll forward in pleasure when you couldn’t keep it upright.

He tugged it so it was back against him, and he could kiss along your jaw, his hips snapping faster and faster into you until he pushed your forward, so your on your elbows, but his grip still in your hair so your face was looking up, so he could see that expression of your clearly.

“Good girl” he groans looking at you.

Your mouth hung open, flushed face, watery eyes. You looked like an angel who had fallen from heaven and that look, when your eyes rolled to the back of your head, he knew he was done for. And with a last few stabbed thrusts of his hips, he was coming for the second time that night, you shortly following behind him.

“I think maybe we should talk more about our sex life?” He says trying to catch his breath as he pulls out of you and twists round to lie next to you.

“I - I agree” you pant out, never having orgasmed like that.

To new experiences right?

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Depths 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, stalking and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: fisherman!Geralt of Rivia x artist!reader

Summary: your sleepy existence is thrown into chaos by a mysterious man.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The water crashes onto the coast. The sound is dulled by the distance of your perch. The sky melds into the lake's surface as the sun hides behind a swathe of clouds.

You lean in to squint at the strokes on the canvas, sweeping your brush in repetition of the rippled horizon. You use the wnd of the brush to scratch your cheek.

Almost...

You peek above the easel and watch the small speck growing larger as it moves across the water. The fishing boat is there so often that you've added its silhouette to the acrylic tides. A stalwart to your early mornings and listless afternoons.

Day after day is layered before you in shades of cerulean, slate, and lavender. The grey sky with a tinge of golden sunlight, the waters stirring in sparkling shades of aquamarine and pearl, the coast rippled in fawn and umber. Another eye might see it and deem it finished but not you.

You step back to let the paint dry and rinse your brushes in the jar. Hmm. You're out of clean water.

You close up the easel and hook the canvas on the backside, carrying it like a briefcase as you pick up your canvas bag with your roll of brushes and pots of paint, your palette around your index finger.

You make a slow descent down the cliffside and curl around towards the shore. You veer away from the dock and head down into the silt. You put your stuff on a flat rock. You take the used brushes and palette to rinse in the shallows.

The water laps over your sandals as you linger in the soothing cool foam. The approach of evening skews the water with emerald and jade. You shake it all off and step back to dry it with a paint-blotted cloth.

You rearrange the bag so it all fits and hook it over your shoulder. You look down at the your linen apron. You can recall where every splotch and streak came from.

You take your easel and canvas and head back up along the dock. As you reach the post, the fishing boat knocks against the other end. You peer over at the man that lays a board across the spanse between.

You see him every night. You couldn't forget a man with snow white hair and golden eyes. His age is less than his locks might suggest and his eyes seem to look through you, not at you.

You smile, like you do every night. He doesn't react. Just like every other time.

The smell of fish wafts in the boat as he drags his net across the wooden ramp. You turn and press on. He's much to busy for you. It doesn't bother you. You came out here to get away from people.

Your feet leave divets in the dirt as the rock of the boat knocks in a rhythm against the dock. The man's toil adds to thunks and thuds and they fade behind you. The peace here is immaculate, you wouldn't want to ruin it for anyone else.

Past the seaside houses left vacant in the colder seasons and the smaller basins of the lake, between the rocky ridges and grassy knolls, you return to your little house.The cornflower paint chips from the wooden siding and the stairs are worn in the middle from the tramp of feet. A bench stands on the other side of the white railing between a plinthed flowerpot and folding table with a book forgotten on its slats. Home.

The spindly wreath on the front door rattles as you push through and the screen door snaps behind you. The evening breezs drifts in through the mesh as you set your easel down and rest the canvas on crate just beside the mat. You put your bag in front of the wooden stand and bask in the calm.

You hang your wicker hat and untie your apron. Your hands are covered in paint. You'll wash them before you eat. You leave your wet sandals at the door.

You pull out the pot of chowder you made two nights past from the fridge. You put it over a burner and wait for it to warm. The fare lasts you near a week when you take the time to put it together. Every ingredient must be used to its last, especially when it is so far to market. And expensive.

You scoop out a bowl and eat it on the front porch. Your eyes are too tired to read. When you finish, you recline on the bench and yawn. You lay in the dimming hue of the evening as the stars wink down at you.

A whistle carries on the wind. You sit up and look for the culprit. They are close enough to hear but that could still be far. It could even be a bird.

You take the empty bowl inside and rinse it. You retreat to the bedroom and change

You open the window to let the night in. Around here, you can do that. Not like the city and its grated windows.

You laze in the dusk shade and drift slowly into yourself. Sleep enshrines you atop the cushy bed, the water stirring from afar, the loons calling into the dark. Tomorrow you'll figure out the exact right colour for the undertow.

You're more than due to sell a new piece. You need to if you want to stay in paradise.

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

• Cowboy!Steve Harrington x Reader •

• Old West AU •

Summary: You’re a prostitute in a small 1800’s Western town. It’s terribly hot, and ‘business,’ is as dry as the weather. So far, the most interesting part of your day has been the unfortunate discovery of a hole in your boot. But the arrival of a handsome stranger in town shakes things up considerably…and leaves an impression on you that won’t be forgotten anytime soon…

🥀 PART ONE

You sit down heavily on the saloon porch, pushing back sticky strands of hair from your forehead. The heat is sweltering, unseasonably warm for late Spring. Your eyes sweep over the dusty street, assessing the men passing in front of you. Your goal is to make eye contact, and hold it long enough to lure them closer…to notice the way you extend your leg, letting some skin peek out from under your gown, ‘just for them.’ It’s subtle enough that the sheriff can’t accuse you of lewd and unlawful behavior, but suggestive enough to remind the men in town what you have to offer. These men are your potential clients, after all, and it’s never too early to give them a bit of a show.

A hot wind whistles through the buildings lining the road, wooden beams creaking above you. Despite your best efforts at wooing townsmen into the saloon, the street seems to have cleared itself of people. A mangy stray dog picks at a bone outside the inn across the street. A few tumbleweeds roll past you. The breeze kicks bits of dirt onto your boots, and to your dismay, you realize there’s a hole in your right shoe.

You remove it and inspect the damage, running your finger along the tear. The sound of hooves thrumming against the ground grabs your interest. A man approaches on horse, his frame a dark sillouhette against the sun. As he moves closer, you begin to make out his features. He’s handsome, this stranger. You haven’t seen anyone like him in town; you’re sure of it. Having become familiar with the faces (and cocks) of most men in town, you’d have remembered his, if you’d seen him before.

He guides his horse to a stop in front of the saloon, dark hazel eyes raking over you, an approving grin turning his lips. He swings a leg over the saddle, dismounting his horse, securing it to a post with rope. There’s an intensity in his presence you can’t define. He comes across as intimidating, yet down to earth at the same time. You find yourself feeling uncharacteristically shy, bashfully glancing down to avoid his gaze.

“Somethin’ on the ground caught your eye, darlin’?” he asks, through a sleepy Texas drawl. You smile up at the stranger, taking in his handsome features. Chestnut hair lays in a slight wave, tapering at the nape of his neck. His nose and jawline are well defined, sharp in just the right places and soft where they need to be. His hands rest on his hips as he observes you from beneath the brim of a tan cowboy hat.

He points a slender finger at the damaged boot in your hand. “Looks like that boot of yours needs mendin’ ,” he comments. Your cheeks go red, feeling silly for sitting there with a shoe in your hand and your bare, dusty foot on display from under your petticoat.

He senses your embarrassment, and finds it adorable. “Y’don’t have to be nervous, darlin,” he teases. “I don’t bite.” The stranger winks down at you. “Not much, anyway…”

When you don’t immediately respond, he adds “Your Ma teach you not to talk to strangers? Well that’s easily fixed, I reckon.” He tips the brim of his hat towards you in a gentlemanly gesture. “Name’s Steve,” he says. “There. Not a stranger anymore. And you are?”

“(Y/N),” you reply, shielding your eyes from the sun with your hand. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

Steve shakes his head. “No ma’am,” he replies. “Just passin’ through on my way to the coast. There’s gold out there, I’ve heard.”

You’ve heard similarly, from countless other men spending a single night in town on their way out west. Men who all share the same goal, of reaching California and finding their fortune there. Despite meeting and sleeping with so many men like Steve, there’s something different about him. He’s obviously incredibly attractive; but good looks aside, you feel a sincerity from him that seems…genuine. It will be your pleasure to help this traveler relax and unwind, to allow him the use of your body in exchange for a small fee.

“Are you thirsty, cowboy?” you ask. Steve nods his head, “Yes ma’am,” and follows your lead through the saloon doors, removing his hat as he walks inside. You move toward the bar to fetch Steve a drink. He doesn’t miss the way your ass rubs slightly against his thigh as you slide behind the bar, reaching for a glass. “Whiskey,” Steve says. “And I won’t be needin’ a glass, sweetheart.” He places more than enough money for a shot on the bar, explaining “I’ll take the whole bottle. And the rest is for the uh…” The devilish grin he flashes has you feeling weak. “…For the other services I’m assuming this establishment provides…?”

Steve leans over the bar, watching you reach for a tall brown bottle on the top shelf. His eyes drink in the shape of your body in the dress you’re wearing, the way it clings to the curve of your hips. You turn to face Steve, handing the whiskey over to him; but he stops you. “Just bring the bottle with us, darlin,” Steve says. “You seem like the type who can handle her whiskey-.” He flashes that devastating grin at you once more. “-Among other things…”

🥀 PART TWO

In an upstairs room, the one you use to service clients, Steve is sprawled back on your bed, stripped to his jeans. He’s watching you undress, the way your fingers tease the front laces of your gown undone. He strokes the raised outline of his cock through his jeans, the wet stain of precum darkening the denim. Steve clicks his tongue, calling you over to his lap. You’ve seen a hundred different men in this exact same spot; this should be business as usual for you, but it’s not. You want to fuck Steve; he wouldn’t have needed to pay you a single cent.

He threads his fingers through your hair and guides your mouth to his crotch, grinding against your lips. The scent of Steve fills you, a masculine musk of leather, tobacco and sweat. He lifts your chin to his briefly, seizing you tongue between his lips. Steve’s mouth tastes like whiskey and cigarettes; but he’d prefer his tongue taste like you. With his hand on the back of your neck, Steve guides you to the bed. You’ve traded places now, with you on your back and Steve kneeling in between your thighs. His hands disappear beneath your petticoat, groping his way up to the fattest part of your thighs. Here, he pauses to savor the woman he’s about to taste, the way her flushed skin feels inside his hands.

As his fingertips brush feather-soft against your lips, Steve feels how wet you already are. His cock aches to feel that slickness all over it, to fuck the tight little cunt that’s making such a pretty mess for him. He pushes your petticoat and dress up around your waist, holding the fabric back with one hand while leaving the other free to explore you. The sight of your glistening pussy nearly takes Steve’s breath away. He’s not sure he’s ever seen a prettier one; labia plump with arousal and slippery with cum, the tiny hole between them that puckers like a kiss every time Steve teases his finger around it.

He looks up from between your thighs, his expression hungry. His eyes hold contact with yours as he sinks his lips over your pussy. You instinctively roll your hips, pushing your cunt into Steve’s mouth. He rocks his head slowly side to side, smearing your cum across his lips. The stubble peppering Steve’s face tickles your pussy like delicate kisses, the soft grit perfect for grinding against. He extends his tongue to dip inside your pussy, letting you fuck yourself with it. You roll your hips in a circular motion, coating Steve’s tongue in your creamy arousal. He feels the contractions begin inside you, the way your moist walls flutter around his tongue as your orgasm begins.

You grip Steve’s hair in your hands, dancing on his mouth as he tastes your release washing over his tongue. After you finish, Steve tosses you back against the bed. He climbs up between your legs and pulls down the waist of his jeans. An impressively thick, ruddy cock and heavy balls hang between Steve’s legs, his wet tip brushing your stomach as he positions himself on top of you. He strokes himself over you a moment, enjoying the way your eyes widen at the sight of his cock standing thick and firm above you. “Don’t be scared, darlin,” Steve murmurs confidently. “It’ll fit; I promise…”

He guides his cock lower, rubbing the plump tip over your clit in circles, making you whimper. Steve chuckles, “Y’want it that bad, do ya?” and slides his tip to your entrance. Spreading you open as he sinks inside you, Steve’s jaw falls slack as the soft, slick walls of your pussy envelop him. He exhales deeply as he fills you up, grunting as your pussy spreads to accommodate him. Steve’s stomach and chest press flush to yours, his coarse body hair tickling your breasts.

You wrap your legs around his waist, encouraging him even deeper, silently urging Steve to thrust. Instead, he stills his hips and lingers, taking time to explore the texture of your body, to savor the unique feel of your wet velvet hugging his cock. Steve rocks his hips slowly side to side, eyes drifting closed as he basks in the pulpy warmth of your cunt. You need him to thrust, the muscles at your center desperate to be stroked. Wriggling your hips beneath him makes Steve groan, your eyes watering with need as you can’t help but beg. “Please,” you squeak softly, canting your hips up to meet his. “Please fuck me…”

The roguish glimmer in Steve’s eyes is sinful; your pussy clenches around him in response. “What was that, sugar?” he asks, lips curved into a grin. “Couldn’t quite hear you-.” Suddenly, Steve plunges his hips forward in one rough, beautiful thrust. You cry out in a mixture of surprise and pleasure, your fingernails digging crescent shapes into Steve’s back. His breath fans hot against your forehead as he chuckles, teasing you. “D’that feel nice?” he coos, watching your features contort in utter bliss. “Want me to do it again?”

And he does. Once, twice, three times, till he’s drilling your cunt at a brutal pace. Your knees squeeze around Steve’s sides, bearing down as he belts your pussy in a way you’ve never had. The sunlight is starting to fade, thinning the light in the room through a small window. It casts amber on your body and Steve’s as they rut together, two shadows blending into one on the wall behind you. His hands prowl up and down your body, groping the fat of your hips like he’s committing them to memory. Your nipples stiffen against Steve’s palms as he kneads your breasts, manipulating the supple flesh in his hands like dough. He burrows his lips in the curve of your shoulder, sucking light bruises up your neck and finding your lips. The muscles at your center pulse and flutter around Steve, your cunt thirsty for his release. He whimpers against your lips, his painfully-hard cock throbbing as your pussy milks him for every drop he’s worth.

Steve grips you by the hair and tugs your head backward, sweat and spit landing on your face as he watches your features contort in ecstasy, another climax overtaking you. Your whole body convulses beneath his, a heat blooming between your bodies at the place they’re connected, radiating from you to Steve. His lips crash over yours, the taste of whiskey long forgotten, replaced by the headier drug of sex. Steve growls into your mouth, a primal sound of dominance, claiming you. The rhythm of his hips becomes messy, frenetic, as Steve’s orgasm consumes him. His thrusts falter, his body stilling inside yours as his cock pulses streams of semen against your walls. Steve’s seed is warm and abundant, squishing audibly inside your pussy. He’s fucked you so well, every nerve inside you is teeming, buzzing; you can feel Steve’s cum gurgling inside you, a warm, contended hum radiating up to your womb…

🥀 PART THREE

Crickets sing outside your window, moonlight cascading into the room. You watch Steve wetting his hands in a basin under the mirror, splashing water over his face, pulling it through his hair. He’ll be leaving soon, and unlike most of the men you provide services for, you know you’ll miss Steve.

He turns toward you, that damned gorgeous smile on his face even more disarming when he’s naked from the waist up. “Gonna miss me, darlin?” he asks, as if reading your mind. He lifts the whiskey bottle from the dresser and brings it to the bed where you’re still reclining. Swirling the remaining liquid, Steve asks if you’d like to share the last drink. He glances at the window. “Here’s to finding my riches out there-” Steve says, raising the bottle in a toast. His voice softens, his eyes on you. “-And to the riches I leave behind…”

You swallow, a lump of emotion in your throat you’re not accustomed to feeling. Steve puts the bottle to his lips, taking a large sip and holding the liquid on his tongue. His hand finds the back of your neck, guiding you into a kiss. Parting his lips, Steve shares the last of the whiskey between his mouth and yours, a gesture so intimate, you feel your body respond to him again. Steve releases your neck, stroking your hair before rising from the bed. He pulls on his shirt and vest, buckling his belt and holstering his gun. Steve removes more cash from his pocket and places it on the dresser. “Buy somethin’ to remember me by,” he says with a wink, tipping his hat before turning for the stairs.

As the sound of Steve’s footsteps fade, you move to the window to watch him leave. He unties and mounts his horse. Steve rubs the horse’s mane and takes hold of the reigns, before glancing one last time up at the window. He smiles when he sees you; Steve was hoping you’d be there, to see him off. He clicks his tongue and presses a heel against the horse’s side, encouraging it to move. You watch Steve ride down the dusty, deserted street that leads out of town, listening to the sound of his horse’s hooves till they’ve disappeared. You know that with every horse you hear from now on, you’ll wonder if it’s Steve’s. And you’ll never stop hoping that it is. 🥀

[nipuni]

Blog time Hello! We are back from our trip! I'd say I'm feeling refreshed but coming back to sweltering dry heat shut down that feeling very quickly. Now we are even more determined to move to the seaside within the year though 🏃‍♀️ It's incredible how much of an effect on your health the weather can have. These days we have been hiking for around 8 hours a day in the mountains and coast without breaking a sweat in 17-22ºc high humidity weather. In contrast, today back home we walked to the store five streets away in a dry 33ºc sun and we felt like throwing up and never leaving the house again lmao and it only gets much worse until september aaaa I can't wait to move out of the city and start a new colder and quieter phase of life where I don't have to dread the coming of summer every year!! But at the same time I've been feeling this trepidation about settling down somewhere permanently, I realized that every 5 years or so I get the itch to move somewhere new and it worries me a bit tbh, I hope it is just my fear of commitment acting up and the fact that we just haven't found the right place yet. And the longer we spend in this place the more we feel like it will be the right one so I'm hopeful!

We have also been watching more of David's filmography! we watched Des, Single Father, Recovery, Bad Samaritan and Deadwater Fell. We enjoyed Recovery, Single father and Deadwater Fell the most, all were really good!! then Des was decent and Bad Samaritan was terrible. But as expected David steals the show every time and you end up sitting through the most ridiculous scripts just to see him give it his all and elevate the whole thing with every scene lmao the sheer range of this man!! let me gush for a second, he goes from the most charming and pitiful train wreck you would kill to protect to the most terrifying monster of a person so effortlessly you can hardly tell it's the same actor. He is so outstandingly good at every role!! Anyway I love watching our little shows of our favourite guy with Nicolas everyday, it has been the highlight of my year 🥰

I've also been meaning to get back into games but I just can't find the right one! I tried the whole cozy farming/survival/sandbox game thing and came to the conclusion that it's not for me, I don't find them engaging enough so it ends up feeling like a time sink 😞 I also thought of going back to FFXIV but the new expansion doesn't sound like something I would really enjoy and while I love RPG I'm finding it hard to commit to 40+ hours of storyline lately, BG3, Cyberpunk 2077 and Disco Elysium have been sitting in my library for ages now and I can't bring myself to play them even tho I want to!! I'm hoping DA4 will get me back into the RPG mood. I've also played Hades II but I'm all out of content until release! Maybe shooters will do the trick, something fast paced I can play for a little bit as a distraction from work. I've been meaning to check how Warframe is doing too, I love it and haven't played in ages, and every time I check it's like a completely different game so that could be fun! but I'm rambling now, if you have any game recommendations let me know! I hope you are all doing well 😊 I'll get back to drawing now and will share some sea pictures later!

[hotchscoffeecup]

reconciliation (pt.2 to how do we carry on?)

pairing: hotch x bau!reader

rating: t

genre: hurt/comfort with a happy ending

word count: 7.2k

tagged readers: @izakopanyi2 @polireader @jihyowrrld @twilightlover2007 @queenanababy @feyrecarol @rousethemouse @endofthexline @jxvipike @donttrustlove @hiireadstuff @jenna50 @michasia24

The coffee that was hot an hour ago is cold and bitter now. You grimace as the acrid taste slides down your throat. You try to place the disposable cup into your cup holder without taking your eyes off the road, but miss.The lid slips off and brown liquid sloshes over the edge onto the passenger seat. You curse as you grasp the wheel with one hand while you try to mop up the spill with what random napkins you’ve acquired since you started driving. Fortunately, your purse is spared any damage, but the road map and photograph you’ve kept on the seat aren’t as lucky. Ignoring the map, you pick up the photograph and shake it, splattering drops of coffee across the dash. The edges curl slightly, but the photo itself is fine. You hold it awkwardly between your fingers as you return your hand to the steering wheel.

There aren’t many cars on the road at this hour. You glance down at the dashboard and see 02:32 illuminated in green. You aren’t sure where you’re going, you just know you can’t stay there. Even your own apartment didn’t feel secure, not with how much of him is there. Your lives are so intertwined, you see and feel him everywhere you go. It’s what makes, made? God, you don’t even know anymore. It’s what is so beautiful about your relationship, how seamlessly your lives blend together that you’re not sure where yours and his start and end. You’re both so fiercely independent while being so devoted and wholly part of the threads that make up one another’s lives.

Or so you thought.

As you slow to a stop at the red light, the only car at the four way intersection, your eyes fall to the coffee stained image between your fingers. You’re smiling at the camera meanwhile Aaron is looking and smiling down on you, the soft shimmer in his deep brown eyes captured by the lens. It’s your favorite picture. You took it from the frame at the front table before leaving. The sound of his sobs echo in your ears as the red light reflecting on the photo paper shines green. You blink and drop the photo onto the center console before shifting your gaze back to the road. A sign ahead reads to keep left to stay on I-95 South. Richmond and Virginia Beach are in big white letters under it.

Three years you’ve lived in Virginia, and you’ve never made it to the coast. Shifting the steering wheel, you guide the vehicle into the left lane and take the exit.

•

As the waves lap at your ankles, you close your eyes and turn your face toward the sun, the briny sea breeze gently tossing your hair. You inhale deeply and the sigh you exhale is overtaken by the quiet roar of the ocean.

Turns out getting a beachfront house isn’t as expensive as one might think in the off season and fortunately for you, Virginia afternoons in September still reach the high eighties.

The beach house is nothing fancy, more like a beach shack if you’re being honest. It’s one floor supported on high rafters, old wooden steps leading down to the sand. You climb them now and they creak beneath your weight. A half rusted outdoor shower squeals to life when you reach the deck and twist the faucet. You shiver as you rinse the sand off of your legs and arms, and well, everywhere. There aren’t many crevices it doesn’t manage to stick to. You swipe the pink and white striped towel you’d found in the linen closet off the railing and wrap it around your body. Once it’s tightly secured around your chest, you work off the cheap bikini you’d purchased at a year round souvenir shop down the road and spread it out to dry.

The screen door squeaks on its hinges as you enter the house. You should probably go for a proper shower and wash the sea out of your hair, but you can’t be assed. Instead, you crack open the fridge and inspect the pathetic hodge podge of groceries you’d purchased at the corner store. Food doesn’t even sound appealing. It hasn’t for days. Every time you try to eat, you just feel sick. Your stomach roils at the thought and you grab a seltzer water before closing the fridge with a grimace.

As you exit the kitchen, your eyes catch your phone and keys on the chipped granite counter. The black screen of your phone glints beneath the fluorescent kitchen lighting. You’d turned it off when you’d arrived, ignoring the fact that you had 8 missed calls from Hotch and twice as many unread messages from him. There’d been one missed call from Emily, a name you never thought you’d see flash across your screen again. God knows how many times you’d called her phone just to hear her voice recording before leaving a message about how much you missed her and wished she were there to give you advice or talk through a case. For a fraction of a second, you wonder now if she’s gotten the chance to hear those voicemails you’d left her. Did she hear the pain in your voice? Did she feel guilt over the messages where all you’d managed to choke out were incoherent sobs? All this time you thought you’d been talking to a ghost, but she’d been out there all along.

You tear your gaze away from the counter, leaving your phone where it is and cross the cream colored carpet to the small bedroom. Yellow wallpaper splashed with repeating patterns of palm fronds plaster the four walls. The bed frame is made up of white wicker and you fall back onto the comforter, the front of which is decorated with images of shells and starfish. None of the patterns in this house match, but you don’t care. You care about very little right now.

Before you can run away down that thought pattern, there’s a knock at the door. You sit up, brow furrowed, as you lean forward on your knees, as if doing so will suddenly grant you the ability to see through walls and who could possibly be here.

Maybe the owner? A neighboring off season beach goer? Hesitantly, you rise from the bed and tug on one of the guest robes that had been hanging in the bathroom. You drop your towel and shrug it on, tying it tightly around your waist before approaching the front door. You move slowly for two reasons: one, no one should know you’re here and you don’t know why someone would be calling on you, and two; what if it’s Aaron?

The knocking repeats. It's light but firm, definitely not Aaron. A woman, you think. You twist the deadbolt and pull open the door, surprise etching into your features as a woman a few years older than you stands behind the second screen door.

“Hi, uh, can I help you?” you ask awkwardly.

The girl’s dark eyes travel up and down your body. She looks at you through the door from beneath long lashes, a knowing smile playing on her lips. You can’t control the shocked gasp that leaves your mouth when she asks for you by name.

You try your best to school your facial expressions and by the slight smirk that crosses the girl’s face, you know you did a pretty poor job of doing so. “Who wants to know?” you ask, wondering if she’s someone who’s crossed paths with you before through work.

“Aaron Hotchner,” she answers, drawing out the last syllable of his name with an amused glint in her eye.

You can’t fight the eye roll that follows. Unbelievable. “Sorry, he wasted your time.” You move to close the door, but she throws open the screen door and catches it with her foot.

Your eyes flash to hers and you see the challenge in the depth of her hazel gaze, equal to the one in yours. “Hotch wouldn’t have reached out to me unless he was desperate,” she adds. “I think you might want to hear me out.” She extends a hand toward you. “I’m Elle, Greenaway to the BAU, but when I left I shortened it to Greene.”

Your brow furrows as the name rings the slightest of bells in the back of your mind. Hesitantly, you accept her ring adorned hand and shake it as your brain sifts through the number of agents you’d heard stories about in the time before you joined the team.

“How did you find me?” you ask as you step aside and admit her into the house.

Elle nods graciously as she looks around, though there’s not much to size up in the small rental unit.

“You think Hotch didn’t immediately have Penelope ping your phone when you left?”

You exhale sharply. “I turned my phone off.”

A short laugh leaves Elle, “Not soon enough.” She turns, a hand on her hip. “You got any beer?”

Your brow furrows, wondering who the hell you just invited into your house. You shake your head as you cross into the kitchen and open the fridge. You withdraw a big bottle you’d bought at the corner drug store. “I’ve got wine.”

Elle smiles. “That’ll work. Let’s head down to the beach.”

•

“Thanks,” Elle says coolly as you finish tipping wine into the plastic cup in her hand. You cap the bottle and shove it down into the sand between the foldable beach chairs you’d dragged down from their place on the deck after you’d gotten changed into something more appropriate to wear outside than a bathrobe.

You retrieve your cup from where you’d been holding it between your legs and take a long sip before sighing and settling back into your chair, the canvas stretching as you do so.

For a moment, you and Elle sit there in silence; watching the orange pink colors of the sunset start to streak across the sky as the waves crash against the sand.

“I had no idea about Haley,” she says after another minute goes by and you stiffen. It isn’t that you and Aaron never talk about her. Keeping her memory alive is so important for Jack and you know a part of Hotch will always love her. That’s never bothered you though. Aaron had told you that he and Haley had talked about that if something ever happened to either one of them that they would want the other to eventually move on and find love again, that they didn’t want the other one to spend the rest of their life lonely. I’m sure neither one of them ever imagined something like what had happened to Haley would ever come to pass though.

“Did you know her?” you ask, your voice tight with emotion at the thought of ever having to endure a loss like that. You’d joined the team years after her death and hadn’t known Hotch during the time he’d grieved her loss. From the stories he and Jack had shared, she seemed like she’d been a kind soul and a good mother.

Elle nods, her gaze fixed on the view though you see a glint of memory in her eyes. “Hotch wasn’t as serious then.” She pauses and smirks to herself. “Don’t get me wrong, he was still a hard ass, but there was also a lightness to him before and right after Jack was born. I remember when they first brought him into the office, such a tiny little thing all bundled up in his arms. Him and Haley had looked so at ease.” She sighs and takes a swig of her wine before continuing. “I think that’s when the job started to get to him, after he had a kid.” Her brow pinches for a moment. “I think Hotch started to see the men and women we put away more as the proverbial monsters that kids fear are lurking in their closets, except we know what horribly evil things the monsters are really capable of versus what a kid’s imagination can drum up. The worst their little minds can conjure up pales in comparison to the heinous files that cross his desk. I think Hotch wanted to protect that innocence so badly and shield Jack from all of the evil in the world that he threw himself further and further into his work, especially after how things with The Fisher King went down.” Your eyes don’t miss the way her hand presses against her abdomen. The stake jutting out of Emily’s stomach flashes in your mind and you flinch at the memory.

“Something happened,” observes Elle. She sits up in her chair, resting her elbows on her knees as she looks at you.

You scoff and take another drink, shaking your head as you do so. “Once a profiler, always a profiler.”

Elle chuckles and shrugs. “Old habits die hard.” Her features soften as she turns toward you. “Something happened though, didn’t it? I know you probably can’t share too many details. Hotch didn’t in the voicemail he left you.”

You perk up at that. “Voicemail?”

Elle nods, the gold hoops in her ears swinging as she does so. “Sorry,” she laughs coolly as she reaches into the pocket of her jeans. “I probably should’ve led with that.” She fishes her cell phone out and swipes her thumb across the screen. You brace yourself as Aaron’s throaty tenor echoes from the speaker on her phone.

“Elle, hi,” he starts and stops. An exasperated sigh follows. “It’s Aaron Hotchner with the BAU I—of course you know I’m with the BAU I don’t know why I led with that. Look, I know I’m probably the last person you want to hear from after all of these years but I didn’t know who else to call. I can’t,” his voice wavers here for a moment. “I can’t share details about the case we’re working on, but it’s bad and I had to make a decision.” He stops and clears his throat. “It was a decision that impacted the whole of the team and where it was for their protection, I may have ruined the best thing to have happened to me in years. Look, I know you left the Bureau. I know you changed your name to put distance between you and the BAU, and I don’t blame you. In fact, I think I understand you now more than ever. This job, the toll it takes—” his voice trails off and you hold your breath in anticipation. He goes on to explain who you are and why you left, obfuscating the exact details of the Ian Doyle case for security reasons. He explains how after no one had heard from you for forty eight hours that he’d worked with Garcia to ping your location, how he was more worried than anything else and just needed to know that you were safe. When Penelope had located you, he remembered that Elle had always talked about living on the coast. It had been a shot in the dark, but Penelope being Penelope, she’d been able to find Elle in a matter of hours. “I just need to know she’s safe,” he breathes. “Please, Elle. If anything happens to her, I don’t know what I’ll do. I can’t lose someone else. I have to do better; by you, by Haley, by the team. I’ll spend the rest of my life making amends, but please, with this case still active, I just need to know that she’s ok. Call me back,” his voice quavers. “Please.”

The line goes dead and Elle slides her phone back into her pocket. “That was three days ago.” Elle’s brow arches, looking for a response. “So,” she adds, drawling out the ‘o’ sound. “Sounds heavy.”

You draw in a deep breath and down the rest of your wine. Aaron had sounded so tired on the phone. Guilt squeezes around your heart as you think about what he and the team must be dealing with. It’s reckless and stupid of you to have just up and left when Doyle is still out there with you and the rest of his team in your sights. You didn’t even bring your gun, sure that you’d be sending in your resignation after this cover up; but hearing his voice on Elle’s phone, the pain in it. What you’d been trying to ignore this entire time begins to wriggle its way toward the forefront of your mind; and that’s the hell this must have put Hotch and Emily through. You know he’d never do anything to hurt you, not intentionally, but how are you supposed to trust him if he could watch you suffer through the agony of her loss knowing at any point in time he could’ve put a stop to it? You squeeze your eyes shut because you know the obvious answer. There are things he has to do as Unit Chief, choices only he can make. Choices that don’t involve you or the rest of the team, and that doesn’t change because you two are an item. Still, the conflict wages on inside of you. All of this is true and he’s made choices and decisions that impact the team before, just never on this scale; not something that alters memories and fucks the psyche so irreparably.

“The heaviest,” you finally respond.

“You can talk to me about it,” she says, and you know her words are genuine. “I know I don’t have clearance anymore, so the cliff notes version works too.”

So, you tell her. About Emily, about Hotch, what you can about Doyle, the circumstances around Emily’s death, the grief, her undeath, the betrayal you felt, and everything that brought you to this moment with her.

Elle releases a low whistle and scoops the wine bottle up from the sand, pouring herself another glass and topping yours off. “That’s—” She pops her lips, considering. “Elaborate.”

“I’d say mind-fuck, but elaborate works too.” You quip bitterly and take a drink.

Elle cocks her head. “Hotch doesn’t do anything without careful consideration.”

You inhale deeply before taking another drink, a warmth starting to crawl beneath your flesh as the alcohol sinks in. You hang your head as you respond. “I know.”

“There’s a reason that I left the Bureau,” Elle says after a long stretch of silence. “I made a decision that ended my career, and it’s one I’d make again if I had to.” Her voice grows tight for a moment before she clears her throat and continues. “This job will drain you until there’s nothing left. I remember on the day I left I told Hotch about how I’d get so excited when my phone rang because it meant we had a case; but after I got shot in my own house and was lying on the floor feeling that man’s fingers inside of my gut, something changed in me forever that day. I went back to work after some time, but it was never the same. After that, every time my phone rang I felt paralyzed with fear because I knew what it was like to feel the way those victims felt in the moments leading up to their deaths.” Her voice quavers for a second and she swipes at a stray tear before choking out a laugh. “You’re not the same after something like. I know what it’s like to come back from the brink of death, and it sounds like this Emily knows too.” She stretches out a hand and grips your knee. “The only difference is that after I nearly died, I had the team. I had Spencer, Derek, Penelope, and JJ, hell Hotch was the one that came to my house and scrubbed the blood off of my walls before I got out of the hospital.” Her brow arches in response to my widening eyes. “Didn’t know that, did you?” She smiles and reclines back in her seat. “Emily didn’t have that. She didn’t have her friends, family,” she corrects. “Let’s be honest, the BAU becomes your family after a while.”

You nod in agreement.

“She went through that alone,” Elle continues and a pang of guilt shoots through you. “She didn’t have her family to turn to in a time where she probably needed you the most.”

It’s your turn to swipe at the tears that loose from your eyes. “I know that.” Your voice is tight as you choke back a sob. “I’ve always trusted the team, every one of them. How—” you suck in a shaky breath. “How am I supposed to trust them after this? What’s to stop something like this from happening again?”

Elle’s lips purse. “That’s the job we signed up for, isn’t it? Working for the government and all the shitty red tape they weave in and around the work we do.”

“If I go back,” you start. “I don’t think they’ll forgive me. I left when they needed me most. Doyle is still out there.”

Elle frowns and tilts her head back and forth. “You’ll never know if you don’t though. I couldn’t go back. My actions decided that for me. You have a choice, but you’re the only one that can make it.” She glances down at her watch and then out at the sun. It’s almost completely sunken down beneath the sea over the horizon, the orange and pink sunset fading to the purple gray hues of dusk. “I should probably get going.” She sets her cup down in the sand and stands, turning to you as she does so.

“Here,” she says, passing you a card from the back pocket of her jeans.

You take it, fingering the edges of the sturdy cardstock. Elle Greene: Social Services Coordinator is embossed in dark blue font followed by a cell phone, office number, and email listed beneath it.

“Call me if you ever want to talk. There are ways to do some good in this world without sacrificing your own happiness in the process.” She smiles at you before she starts toward the path that leads around the house and back to the road.

After a few moments, you jump up and call after her. “Hey Elle!”

She turns, brow arched toward her hairline as she waits for you to continue.

“Why’d you come?”

She slips her hands into her pockets and doesn’t say anything for a while, her green eyes focusing on her feet. When she looks up at you, there’s the faintest of smiles on her lips. “The day I left the Bureau I looked Hotch in the eye and told him that I used to wonder why he didn’t smile. When I heard that voicemail, despite how defeated he sounded, there was something in his voice that made me believe he’d found something to smile about again. When you work the job that you do, that I used to do, you have to hold on for dear life when you find the things that can make you smile after witnessing the things we do. I guess I don’t want him to lose what made him find his smile again; even after all these years I’ve spent angry at Hotch, I never hated him.” She sighs and looks like she wants to say more, but chooses not to. “Running away doesn’t solve your problems, it just keeps them at a distance until you’re finally brave enough to face them. I hope you find clarity faster than I did.” Her jeweled rings catch the last rays of sun as she raises a hand in farewell. “I’ll see you around.”

•

You pull your knees up to your chest and wrap your arms around them, the blue and green plaid fabric of the couch scratching the backs of your legs as you do so. You bite at your thumb nail as you eye your powered down cell phone from where it sits on the glass coffee table in front of you.

Elle’s words from two days ago hang heavy in the air around you.

Running away doesn’t solve your problems. It just keeps them at a distance until you’re brave enough to face them. I hope you find clarity faster than I did.

If you turn on your phone, you know there will be a barrage of voicemails and text messages waiting for you. Or, there won’t be anything more than there was when you first shut it down. You turned your back on them when they needed you. It would be easy to write you off, after all that’s what you did isn’t it?

You drop your head back against the couch and groan, the feelings at war within you tearing at your insides; your guts twisted with equal parts betrayal over Hotch not telling you and the guilt of leaving the team instead of facing that anger and hurt head on.

It’s a giant mess; a tangled web of necessary lies and the red tape that binds the hands of those in positions over you and the rest of the team. The rational part of you understands this. In black and white terms, you understand that Unit Chief SSA Agent Aaron Hotchner had to make a decision to protect another agent, SSA Emily Prentiss. While Ian Doyle is a fugitive from the law believing her to be dead, her going into hiding not only took the target off of her back, but off the backs of all of your team members, yourself included, who otherwise would’ve been collateral damage in Doyle’s relentless pursuit of vengeance against Emily. All of this makes perfect sense.

It’s when the emotional, feeling half of you comes into play that the black and white turns to splotchy streaks of gray and you struggle to make peace with the rational side of things. When you look at it through this lens, your boyfriend and long term partner, Aaron, watched you throw up from dehydration over how long and how hard you’d sobbed over the death of best friend, Emily. At any point, he could’ve put a stop to your pain and didn’t.

Your fingers slide into your hair, gently tugging at the roots as you try to sort through these warring versions of yourself and the pieces of information and emotions that come with each. Because in your heart, you know and understand it’s not black and white. It’s gray and it’s messy. So, why can’t you reconcile both halves of yourself and just be okay with this then? Why can’t you just be overjoyed by the fact that your best friend is back from the literal dead? How many people in this life can say that that’s happened for them? Why can’t you just tell Aaron you understand what he did because you do, but at the same time you don’t? You wouldn’t have told anyone, but then that would be Aaron showing you preferential treatment and you’d be in no better position than he or JJ when it came to hiding this fact from the rest of the team. It’s something you’d talked about extensively when you first started dating and so far, it has been fine. He makes decisions that sometimes you agree with, sometimes you don’t. It is always just part of the job. So what does it all boil down to? Where does this leave you?

“Fuck me,” you whisper aloud as you dive forward and swipe the phone off of the table before you can really think about what you’re doing. You hold down the button on the side and it titters to life. For a moment, you close your eyes as you feel the vibrations pulsing in the palm of your hand, each one a notification of some sort. When they cease, you swipe directly to your contacts and select Aaron’s. His is the first to show alphabetically anyway. Your thumb hovers over the call button for only a second, before you exhale a shaky breath and hit the dial.

The phone barely presses against your ear as you catch the tail end of his hello. It’s after hearing his voice, that you’re rendered speechless.

“Baby, are you there?”

Your chest rises and falls, your heart rate quickening beneath your chest. You sniff as tears prick your eyes, not realizing how much you’d missed his voice until now.

“Aaron,” you squeak out, your voice cracking on his name.

“Baby, I’m so sorry,” Hotch says, a plea in his apology. “I promise I’ll do everything I can to fix this. I miss you. I love you.”

A sob shudders free from your lips as all of your walls come tumbling down and you let yourself break down to pieces of ash and stone. “I’m sorry I ran when you needed me.”

“It’s okay,” Aaron soothes. “It’s okay. It's over. We got him.”

You sit up and swipe under your eyes with the backs of your hands. “Doyle?”

“He’s dead.”

Panic rises in you. “And the team? Is everyone—”

“Everyone is fine. No one was hurt.”

You close your eyes and sink back into the cushions as your pulse levels out. “I’m on my way.”

“There’s no need,” he replies coolly.

Your brow pinches. “I don’t—”

The sound of a car door slamming echoes beyond the front door. You stand and the old t-shirt that belongs to Aaron falls to your thighs as you do so. You’d not even realized you’d packed it until you pulled it on after your shower earlier. The linoleum creaks beneath your feet as you cross through the kitchen and unlock the deadbolt. When you pull open the door, you gasp and drop your phone.

Aaron’s lips tremble as he smiles at you and takes the phone down from his ear. He ends the call and slips it into the pocket of his slacks. “I got in the car and just started driving,” he says as his glimmering eyes flit across yours, always the profiler checking for micro expressions. A desperate smile clings to his lips as he looks at you. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you breathe in response; unable to think of what else to say at the moment

His smile falters as he takes a step closer to you. You see his hand twitch ever so slightly at his side.

“Honey, I—”

You leap forward and throw your arms around his neck. He breathes a sigh of relief into your hair as his arms fold around you, his hands pressed flat against your back as if he can somehow hold you closer than he already is. His hands slide up your spine to curl around the back of your neck. When he pulls away, there are tear stains on his cheeks.

You reach up and swipe your thumbs under his eyes, his skin smooth beneath your touch. A smirk tugs at one corner of your mouth as you wonder when he had time to shave.

“This doesn’t mean I forgive you,” you say, still cupping his cheek in your hand.

He nods as he leans into your touch. “I know,” he says softly.

“I know why you had to do what you did.”

Another tear leaks from his eye as he presses his forehead to yours, cradling your hand against his cheek. “I never wanted to hurt you or anyone else, but I had to protect you.”

“I know,” you say and you mean it. “I also know why you couldn’t tell me. I’m a coward for running away, but I just—I was so overwhelmed by everything. I didn’t know how to cope with your return, with Emily’s, with everything. I would’ve been a hindrance if I’d stayed, but I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have run.”

Hotch shakes his head as he steps back to look at you, the dark slash of his brow set as he does so. “What you did was not an act of cowardice. Trust me when I say you are not the only one that has a lot of anger and frustration aimed at me right now. Spencer snapped twice at JJ. Morgan laid into me, and I deserved it. JJ and I always knew that if and when this came to light, that there would be consequences for our actions. It was a calculated risk, and I take full responsibility for it. After you left, I gave everyone the option to leave if they didn’t think they could work the case. You knew you weren’t in the right headspace and pulled yourself out. It was the right decision and no one faults you for it.”

“I’m still so mad at you,” you say.

Aaron’s lips form a tight line. “I know.”

“But I also love you.”

His brow relaxes at that admission and relief floods his gaze. “I’ll take your use of the present tense as a good sign.”

You both chuckle at that and a shiver races through you as a sea breeze catches your hair and sends goosebumps up and down your arms. You wrap your arms around yourself and incline your head toward his SUV. “Your go bag in there?”

He nods and you flick your eyes up and down the length of his figure. “Go on then,” you encourage. “Get it and come inside before I change my mind.” You smile and you feel it reach your eyes for the first time in nearly a week. He withdraws the key fob from his pocket and smiles at it in his hand, before shaking his head with a quiet laugh and turns to head toward the car.

He pops the trunk and returns with his bag slung over his shoulder. “You look good in my shirt,” he compliments you with a sly smile as he passes through the front door. You close and lock the door behind him and point towards the bedroom. “Don’t think flattery will get you off the hook, Aaron.”

“You’re pointing me toward the bedroom, so I can only hope that’s a good sign.”

“Nearly a week has given me a lot of time to think,” you call after him as he disappears inside.

When he returns, his suit jacket is off and he’s loosening his tie from around his neck. “And what conclusion have you come to?”

“To be determined,” you muse as you approach him. You finger the tip of his tie and curl your fingers around it before tugging it free and dropping it to the floor.

One of Aaron’s brows arches as he regards you curiously. His hand curves around your hip and you press yourself against him. Heat pools in your belly, but you ignore the sensation, hard as that is after nine months without him. He dips his chin to kiss you and instead of meeting your mouth, he meets your finger instead. You press it against his lips and arch a brow. “Not so fast, Hotch.”

He winces and inhales sharply, a pink blush quickly coloring his cheeks. “I should’ve known it wasn’t going to be that easy.” He admits against your finger. “You only call me Hotch when I’m in trouble.”

Something between a scoff and a laugh leaves your lips as you poke him on the tip of his nose, the slope of which you’d missed so much since he’d been gone. “How about,” you start and loop your arms around his neck, “we just talk? From the beginning, tell me what went through your mind and what led to the decision. We can talk about Emily, her funeral, the grief. You can tell me what you can about Pakistan and I’ll tell you about how hard it was when you were gone. Tell me about when you and JJ knew you had to tell the team and I’ll tell you how it felt like I’d had my heart carved out of my chest and put through a blender. Tell me how it felt when I left and I’ll talk about the ways in which I wish I hadn’t but why I felt like I had to. Tell me why I should trust you and I’ll tell you why I want to, but am afraid. Tell me—”

Aaron catches your wrists in his hands and plants a firm kiss upon your lips. You envelope him with your own and revel in the familiar way they meld together, the taste of him like coming home. He pulls away, though his lips still hover over yours. “I promise I will tell you everything and more. We’ll talk until the sun comes up if that’s what it takes.”

You smile and when you speak, your lips brush against his. “I guess I ought to put some coffee on then.”

•

White rays of early morning sunshine break through the sheer curtains, casting soft light across the bed sheets. For the first time in nearly a year, you wake with Aaron’s arm securely around your waist. You breathe in deeply and the faint smell of coffee lingers in the air, two empty mugs leaving brown rings on the nightstand.

You don’t remember when you two had laid down to go to sleep, but remember laughing about it being 3:00 AM at one point and continuing talking in spite of that; and talked you two had. You’d tackled everything from the decision he and JJ made at the hospital all the way up until right now. You laughed and cried, and so did he. You’d never seen Aaron cry before last night, and you were grateful that he’d felt safe enough with you to be vulnerable like that. As the night had worn on, you’d felt the fractured pieces of yourself slowly start to pull together; that you can both heal from this and maybe even come out stronger on the other side.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand and you reach for it, now being as good a time as any to tackle the number of unread texts and unheard voicemails. You can’t avoid them forever.

8 voicemails from Hotch, 2 from JJ, 6, from Penelope, 1 from Derek, and 1 from Emily. Your brow knits together as you view the time stamp next to her voicemail and it’s marked only an hour ago. Why would she have called you so early? Surely, Hotch would’ve let the team know that you’re safe and that he’s with you.

You open the app and press play, bringing the phone to your ear to avoid disturbing Hotch and Emily’s voice fills your head as you listen in.

“I can’t imagine what you must be feeling right now…” Her voice is tired and her tone is genuinely apologetic. “…I missed everyone so much, but you. It tore me up inside knowing we didn’t get to say goodbye, that I didn’t get to explain to you why all of this had to happen and you had to mourn me. I knew Hotch would take care of you.” She chuckles softly and you picture her shaking her head. “God, that man adores you, you know that right? Knowing he’d be there to help you through things was a small solace, but I knew that the weight of asking him to keep this from you and the rest of the team would take a toll on him. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Doyle, he never—he never would’ve stopped hunting me and he would’ve used or killed everyone close to me to do so. If there had been any other way, I would’ve done it.” She sighs heavily. “Anyway, Hotch texted the team and myself last night that he’d gotten to you safely in Virginia Beach. I imagine you and him had a lot to talk about last night. It’s probably going to look like I’m copying a page out of his book, but you’re the only person I haven’t looked in the eye and apologized to, so I’ll be there in about an hour or so. Hopefully, you open the door.”

Your eyes widen as you drop the phone back onto the nightstand. After glancing at the clock and noticing it had been an hour and fifteen minutes since she called, you slip out of bed. Hotch stirs, but doesn’t wake and his hand moves to shift under the pillow and he nestles deeper into the blankets. God, he must be so exhausted. From the red eye flight from Pakistan to immediately leaping into and closing the Ian Doyle case, this is probably the first proper sleep he’s gotten in weeks.

The sound of tires crunching over gravel draws your attention to the living room. You pull on a pair of sweats and throw off the oversized shirt you’d slept in in exchange for a tank top, forgoing a bra in the process. You rush into the bathroom and rapidly brush your teeth, accepting there not being any time to fix your tousled bed head.

Footsteps echo up the walkway on the other side of the front door as you approach and before you can think it through, you throw the door open. You only take a second to confirm that it is in fact Emily on the other side of it before rushing forward and throwing your arms around her.

A loud oomph erupts from lips, the sound muffled as you turn your face into her neck. It takes a few seconds for her to react, her arms slowly folding around you as she realizes that it is in fact a hug that you’re giving her and not an attempt to take her to the ground.

Tears leak from your eyes onto the fabric of her purple top. “I’m sorry,” you murmur into her shoulder.

Emily pulls away, her hands not leaving your shoulders as her brown eyes flicker across your face; her features drawn. “You’re sorry? You have nothing to be sorry for. I came here to apologize.”

You shake your head as something between a laugh and a sob bubbles up from your throat. “I’m so mad at you,” you start and reach forward with both hands to clasp her face in yours. “But I am so happy that you’re not dead and I understand why you had to do what you did.” You smile and drop your hands before playfully shoving her. “A bit though, isn’t it? Faking your death and fleeing the country? Where’d you get that idea? Lifetime?”

Emily smiles, flashing her teeth as she inclines her head this way and that. “I did always have a flair for the dramatics.”

The door creaks then and you turn to watch Hotch push the door open. He smiles as he takes in the sight of you and Emily reconciling. “I put on a pot of coffee,” he says. “How many mugs should I bring out?”

You look between him and Emily. “Three,” you answer, turning your attention back to Emily. “Definitely three.”

Emily smiles and follows you inside, greeting Hotch with a short hug before joining you in the living room. As Hotch busies himself in the kitchen and the smell of coffee starts to fill the air, you start to feel like life might finally start to return to normal.

[star-sim]

california dreamin' ☆ jay park

☆ non-idol! jay x fem! reader ☆ summary: in the final months of your relationship, jay reminisces the taste of beach waves, southern california, and you. ☆ genre: fluff, angst (ish), 80's au + timeskip, this is set in southern california, classic rich boy x alt girl ☆ warning(s)? brief mentions of poor parenting ☆ word count: 1.6k words ☆ this is my entry for @flwrstqr and @cupidhoons polaroid love event! based off of "california dreamin" by the mamas and papas, love the retro cali aesthetic

"Do you want to run away with me?"

Jay pulled the salted caramel apple lollipop away from his lips, the sour taste lingering on his tongue as its crystalline texture rolled against his tastebuds. His brows crashed together.

"What?" he eyed you quizzically, but you kept your eyes trained on the deep blue water that swayed against the coast.

"It's obvious that we're not wanted here," you said plainly.

Jay sucked in a sharp breath, his hand jerking out to clutch your shoulder. "That's not—"

"There's no point in denying it," you shot him a look. Your next words came out wry and bored, almost like you're annoyed, but Jay could tell that you were feeling the exact opposite. "You know damn well that your parents couldn't care less about you, and my old man's always too busy to remember whether or not I left the house."

The corner of your lips quirk up, a dry grin spreading across your face as you reached across to smack Jay's arm playfully. "No one will notice if we're gone."

Words bled onto his tongue, threatening to spill out, but Jay held them in. 

After all, you were correct.

Jay met you in the summer of 1987. You were both sixteen, and Jay recognized you from his sophomore chemistry class— how could he miss your smudged eyeliner and black nail polish? The difference this time was that you were the cashier at the surf shop next to his dad's private beach.

Maybe it was the way you chewed pink bubblegum boredom, giving him a deadpan expression as he spluttered out your name, or maybe it was the fact that even in ninety degree Southern California weather, you still managed to wear a black bikini top with skulls and rhinestones on it, but Jay found himself frequenting that surf shop a little too much that summer.

Yes, it was his fourth time coming into this surf shop in one afternoon. 

Yes, he didn't need to take his time looking at each and every shell necklace on the display next to the cash register. 

Yes, he knew all about surfboards and most definitely did not need to ask for your assistance.

Yes, he knew that you were staring at the water droplets rolling down his chest as he ran his hand through his wet hair, his sun-kissed skin glistening under the golden sunlight.

Yes, he knew was staring at your bikini top, but any man in his position would do the same. 

And yes, he knew that you knew that he knew this.

That didn't stop Jay, though.

If there was something that his absent father was able to do for him, it was to teach him to never have shame. That's why Jay shamelessly walked into that surf shop every day, just to see you.

It took a few (multiple) tries before you agreed to go on a date with him. He brought you flowers, necklaces, rings, handbags, all kinds of luxury items, but you ignored him each time. 

It wasn't until Jay noticed the bracelet on your wrist— it had a frayed tassel and seashells of different sizes, some of them chipped and others burned by the sun— that he realized what he should bring you instead of expensive gifts.

Alas, a clumsily-made bracelet composed of mismatched seashells that was just a little too big for your wrist. When Jay presented it to you, a proud grin on his face, it must have been the first time that he'd ever seen you smile.

Since the summer of 1987, you and Jay agreed to keep your relationship secret, because people always had stuff to say. You were going strong, and what made summer the best was that you could freely love your boyfriend without the pondering eyes of your peers.

Two years later, it was the summer of 1989, and you and Jay were now sitting on the ledge before the beach. In a few weeks, summer would end, and you and Jay would be apart. But this time, apart for longer than you'd ever been. You were staying in California for university, but Jay's parents were sending him out of state.

Soon, it would be autumn, and you would have to say goodbye to not just Jay crawling through your bedroom window, sneaking out to the local beachside diner, slipping love notes into each other's lockers, and making out behind the bleachers, but also running your fingers through his chlorine-bleached hair and feeling the warmth of Jay's body as the two of you napped in the sun.

Jay looked at your face. Under the orangey sunset, he could see the light reflecting off your eyes. With the scent of peach in the air, and the glow of your skin, Jay's chest felt heavy.

How could he possibly leave you? How could he leave you when you tasted like California?

Yeah, it would be hard to say goodbye to you.

It would be hard to say goodbye to you, and nobody else.

Jay's eyes fell to the bandaid on your palm.

He knew you'd think the same about him.

There was a reason that you and Jay got on so well.

For one, it seemed like Jay was the last thing on his parent's to-do list. His only purpose was to carry on the family name and live out their legacy. But if neglecting their son and being absent in his life was their legacy, he didn't want any part in it. There was a reason that Jay spent every day of summer at the beach, not at home.

As for you, Jay hated your dad. He'd never forget all the times you ran to him, tears and smudged eyeliner running down your cheeks. You insisted that you were okay, but Jay had to bite his tongue so hard that he bled to keep his mouth shut.

In a few weeks, Jay will be the Park family's heir studying out-of-state, and you'll be you from California. 

But for now, it was just Jay and you, sharing a lollipop at the beach, basking in the humid night air and listening to the waves.

You gave him another sly grin. You repeated your question. "Do you want to run away with me?"

You always liked to smile like that when you were upset about something; it was your way of concealing your feelings, but Jay knew you better than anyone.

Jay's thought about running away before. Many times, actually. And he's thought about running away hand-in-hand with you more times than he could remember.

Jay slid his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. He pressed his lips to your forehead.

"You know we can't," he said against your forehead, though the way that he held you close said otherwise.

"Says who?" you hummed, resting your head on his strong shoulders, taking in the scent of seaweed, sea salt, and Jay's faint cologne. 

Jay stayed silent. He knew that answer to that question. 

Says no one.

"Seeeee?" you dragged your syllable, a cute lilt in your voice. You slithered your arm around Jay's torso, poking his side. "Nothing— no one— is stopping us."

Jay chuckled, squeezing your waist twice. "Where would we go if we ran away?"

With you gently clutching his jaw, pressing wet kisses along his skin, you breathed, "Anywhere we want."

You cupped his cheek. In the winter, his skin was paler, but in the summer he was a golden honey tan. His cheeks, as a result of being in the sun nearly every day for the past three months, were littered with blotches of brown, red, and pink. With a gentle finger, you slowly dragged it against his skin, connecting each blemish to each other with invisible lines.

"What about Houston?" Jay rasped, leaning into your touch. "I know you've always wanted to go there."

"Well, where do you want to go?"

Jay thought for a moment. "Either up north to Seattle— or maybe London— What about NYC?."

You stared at him quizzically, your eyes narrowing and your lips turned downward; you always did that when you were hiding something. 

"What?" Jay nudged you.

"I dunno," you shrugged. "I feel like those places are just so uncharacteristic for you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

You shrugged again, your bottom lip jutting out. "I thought you were a sunshine typa guy." Your eyes flickered up to him. "All those places are so gloomy."

"I mean," your boyfriend sucked in a sharp breath. "I guess. Maybe I just want some change. California is beautiful, but...."

He trailed off.

"But?"

"I want to explore more, yanno? Get to know places outside of California."

You didn't press any further.

The rest of the night was quiet, only the taste of disappointment, longing, and the salted caramel apple lollipop lingering on your tongues.

This was all but a memory to Jay.

He gazed outside the window, tuning out the voice of yet another woman in his living room.

Jay ended up studying in Seattle, just as his parents had wanted. It's been years since he left California. Him and you ended up breaking up on good terms for the sake of distance, and he eventually lost contact with you. He met a few other women, tried out dating them, but it never ended up working out.

There was no place else like California.

It seemed like everywhere else, all the leaves were brown, and the sky was gray. Dreary, gloomy, and full of clouds, so unlike the sunny and golden California.

It took Jay a long time to realize that the reason he longed for California again was not because of the constant smell of sunscreen or sound of synth music pervading the streets. It wasn't the laughter that seemed to bounce off the walls or the vibrant color-grade over every memory in his mind.

He longed for California because he longed for you.

You were California. 

And for a while, he'd be dreaming of California. 

[pixiefelixie]

𓆝..°°𓈒 ⋆ (필릭스) : REMEMBER THIS SUMMER "SUNDAY"

𓆉 °°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ synopsis felix is living the summer every teenager dreams of, with a perfect beach house on the east coast of australia and an even more perfect girlfriend. by taking the best of both worlds, felix invites her to experience the world he grew up in to make this the best summer ever. amidst bonfires, romantic sunsets, and seagulls, felix has one goal this summer: to finally tell her he loves her. with just one week to do so, felix is met with a challenge to make his feelings known before time runs out. 

pairing: nonidol!felix x fem!reader, series warnings: felix + reader are intended to be 17-18, established relationship, fluff, roughhousing (playfully) important notes: The content of this work is purely fictional and is not intended to endorse or encourage any behavior, especially among minors, that may be deemed inappropriate or unsafe. This story is created solely for entertainment purposes and should be understood as fiction.

heyaaa im so happy to finally post this first chapter! im currently craving summer so bad since i live in canada so hopefully this helps to mimic the feeling :( but in honor of it being officially summer in australia here's a fic! please take some time to read the series masterlist as well! enjoy!

next

chapter under the cut! ~5k words

sunday (day 1) - 6:00pm

“wake up, sleepyhead.” a deep voice broke through your dreams. a voice more familiar than your own heartbeat. in the midst of your slumber, a hand that belonged to said voice, gripped your arm and shook you vigorously. “i have something to show you.” the shaking became more insistent.

you groaned, consciousness slowly seeping back in as the world around you began to sharpen. you began to feel the material of the hammock beneath you and the gentle sway that earlier lulled you into deep sleep. but then, there was something else. a cold sensation, as if something was dripping on your neck and shoulders. you scrunched your face and slowly opened your eyes, blinking against the brightness.

as your eyelids fluttered open, leaning over you was your boyfriend, casting a shadow to block the evening sun from your face. this was the same boy you had known since middle school, back when he was a short, lanky kid with a smattering of freckles across his nose. now, here he was, grown out of puberty which made his features more defined but still holding that boyish charm you had fallen in love with. 

as much as you were happy to see him, he had woken you from a sleep so deep you wouldn't have been able to hear an atomic bomb if it had gone off. not to mention, you were in the middle of a dream—quite a scary one where a rabid, 20 foot bear was chasing you. you were half glad to be snapped out of that nightmare, but the other part of you was decidedly groggy.

“what do you want,” you mumbled with a rasp in your voice while rubbing your eyes to better your vision. then it all came together. your boyfriend, with his stupidly long wet hair, was towering over you. “felix.” you whined.

his face lit up with sudden realisation as he looked down at himself, noticing the trail of salt water he had been inadvertently dripping all over your shirt. “oh, sorry.” felix flashed you a bashful smile before turning away from you to dry his hair with the towel hanging around his neck.

you sighed heavily, reluctantly swinging your legs over the side of the hammock and feeling the hot sand beneath your feet. you took this moment to glance towards the ocean, where the sun was approaching its horizon, then you looked over at felix, who was scrunching his hair dry. water droplets clung to his newly tanned skin as he was probably out surfing beforehand. you had only arrived at the beach house a couple of hours ago and the first thing felix did after unpacking was drag you out to the shore to surf. while he eagerly plunged into the waves, you had opted to watch him from the hammock since you were far too tired after a 3 hour drive from sydney. 

once he was done with his hair, he hung the towel on the tree supporting your hammock and turned back to you with a smile. “you’ve been out for the past hour, sleepyhead,” he teased.

“you really didn’t have to wake me up,” you retorted, looking up at him.

felix chuckled, shaking his head. “it’s already 6:00 pm. you wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight if you took such a long nap,” he said, his tone gentle.

you sighed, knowing he was probably right. "fine," you conceded, standing up and stretching your arms. "what’s this amazing thing you need to show me?”

oh how he loved that question.

“remember that seagull’s nest we saw while i was giving you a tour around the house?” he asked with that mischievous smile you knew far too well.

“yes?” you replied, raising an eyebrow and extending the word sceptically.

“i think i saw some eggs in there,” he said, his eyes wide with excitement.

“really?” you exclaimed, your eyes widening and your lips curving into a smile.

“i’m certain,” he replied, taking your hand. “come on!”

you stood up from the hammock, which let out a soft squeak in protest. slipping on your sandals, you slid your arm under his and locked them together. you smiled up at him, and he chuckled at your reaction. your friends back in school often told you that you and felix were children snuck in a teenager’s body. there were often times where you two would get excited or laugh over the littlest things.

“so now you’re all jolly,” he teased. “a few seconds ago you looked like you wanted me dead for waking you up from your beauty sleep.”

you gazed upward in thought before speaking, “well that was until you mentioned the seagulls.”

felix scoffed and shook his head, a playful smirk on his lips, before reaching up to ruffle your hair. you and felix continued to chat about random things as you walked, the sky gradually darkened with each passing minute. as you neared the beach house, felix glanced up at the roof. his eyes sparkled with curiosity, the fading light casting soft shadows across his face.

“i’m sure you won’t be able to see it well from here. let me give you a lift,” he said. 

you opened your mouth to protest, but before you could get a word out, felix was already crouching down in front of you. did he really expect you to sit on his shoulders? the last time you tried something like this, it was in the school hallway, and it ended with both of you making a not-so-graceful visit to the nurse's office. 

“are you serious?” you asked, incredulous, remembering the chaos of that day. “you’re not gonna ram me into something again, are you?”

felix just grinned down at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “come on, that was one time. what’s the worst that could happen right now?” he teased. with a dramatic sigh and a roll of your eyes, you carefully climbed onto his shoulders, letting out a yelp as he stood up, lifting you high into the air. “i got you,” felix reassured you with hands firmly holding onto your legs as you rested your hands on his head, feeling his soft blond locks between your fingers.

you gently pushed on your boyfriend’s head to steady yourself and extend your view, peering over the edge of the roof. there, nestled in the corner, was a nest. however, it wasn’t the typical bowl-shaped nest you remembered from childhood cartoons; instead, it was a haphazard construction of twigs and branches. 

then, you saw them—three large, spotted eggs nestled snugly in the centre of the nest. your breath caught in your throat at the sight.

“do you see them?” felix asked, moving closer to the roof so you could get a better view.

“yeah! they’re quite big!” you exclaimed. “how did you even know they were here? you’re surely not very tall,” you teased with a grin.

“i will drop you,” he threatened in a half-serious tone.

“you wouldn't dare,” you lectured.

“i saw a seagull nesting here earlier,” he replied, addressing the real question.

“hold on,” you said, fishing out your tiny digital camera from the pocket of your jean shorts. your mom had owned that camera since before you were born, and it took the nicest pictures. you already carried it around with you everywhere. it was part of the reason you always chose to wear pants with pockets in the mornings. you snapped a picture of the eggs and handed the camera to felix, knowing he was just as eager to see.

“wow, look at that!” he said, chuckling as he admired the photo.

“we’ve got to name them,” you declared suddenly.

felix raised an eyebrow. “name the eggs?”

“of course! they can’t just be nameless.”

felix laughed, shaking his head. “alright, what are we naming them?”

you looked at the eggs thoughtfully. “how about alvin, simon, and theodore? trust me, i can remember which one is which,”

suddenly, in the blink of an eye, a seagull glided by right beside you, slicing through the air with a loud squawk. its wing grazed your arm as it flew so close that your heart leapt in surprise. startled, felix lost his balance, and both of you tumbled to the ground with a soft thud, cushioned by the sand. you swore you could see the concern washed over felix’s face.

“are you okay?” he asked immediately, his voice filled with worry.

in the moment, you couldn’t help but laugh at the situation. “yeah, are you?” you replied between giggles.

he broke into a smile and nodded, then glanced over at the seagull, which had settled protectively over her eggs. “i know you’re a good mom,” felix remarked, “but we,” he pointed between the two of you, “we come in peace!”

just then, your ears perked up at the creak of the back door opening and both your heads turned simultaneously toward the sound. you saw a sandal step onto the deck, followed by another. it was felix’s mom, flashing a big smile and wearing a beautiful blue floral dress that flowed gracefully like waves rippling on a serene lake, catching the light of the evening sun.

“hey, lovebirds!” she called out with a warm smile, her voice carrying the kind of pitch that made you feel instantly at home. “what are you two up to?”

“just making friends with the local wildlife,” he joked, then grinned and motioned toward the seagull on the roof with a nod of his head. his mom looked where he pointed and sighed. felix chuckled, standing up and brushing his hands together before extending one to you. 

“that seagull has eggs in her nest!” you exclaimed, your eyes wide with excitement. you turned to felix’s mom, practically bouncing like a little girl. “isn’t that amazing?”

felix chuckled at your enthusiasm, and his mom cooed, her eyes softening with affection. “that’s wonderful. well come eat, darling, felix's dad is making dinner.”

he helped you to your feet, and together you walked toward the beach house. as you approached, the aroma of grilled food wafted through the air, seasoned with a mix of mouth watering herbs and spices. stepping inside, you were greeted by the cool, refreshing breeze of air conditioning which was a delightful contrast to the heat outside.

felix’s beach house was gorgeous. large windows let the last rays of sunlight stream in, casting a warm glow over the room. the wooden ceiling and numerous plants added a rustic charm, making the place feel incredibly inviting. you slipped off your sandals, feeling the coolness of the floor beneath your feet. with felix still holding your hand, you made your way to the dining room table and both sat down beside each other.

the scents from the kitchen mingled in the air—the smoky tang of the grill, the rich aroma of seasoned vegetables, and the faint sweetness of something baking. 

a few moments later, his mother joined you, carrying a bowl of fresh berries. "here you go," she said with a warm smile, setting the bowl down. "dinner will be ready in just a minute."

“thank you,” you replied.

“thanks, mum,” felix added, taking a strawberry from the bowl. he held it to your mouth, and you opened up, taking it with a playful smile. you felt the moist water from the freshly washed fruit on your lip as you gently parted them, felix’s finger lightly brushing against your mouth. 

his mother, however, seemed preoccupied with something else. her gaze shifted to the floor, and her brows furrowed. “felix, you have to stop bringing sand into the house. it’s very unclean,” she scolded gently.

felix followed her gaze, looking down sheepishly at the trail of sand he had inadvertently tracked in from the beach. his face flushed slightly. “sorry,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. “i’ll clean it up.”

his mother sighed, her features softening into a smile. “it’s fine, just try to be more careful next time,” she said, her tone more forgiving. she glanced at the bowl of fruit and then back at you and felix, “now, enjoy the fruit. dinner will be ready soon.”

his mother then stood up and headed to the kitchen where her husband was. felix grabbed two blueberries and popped them into his mouth before pulling out his phone, clicking on his browser app.

"whatcha looking up?" you asked, curious.

"just checking something," he said, typing. the search bar read, how long does it take for seagull eggs to hatch? "up to three weeks?!" he read aloud. "you’re only staying for another week. what if they don’t hatch by the time you’re gone?"

you shrugged, having no solution up your sleeve, "i guess you’ll just have to send me pictures."

"but i can't reach my phone up there. who am i gonna carry on my back when you're not here?" felix pouted, his lips curling into a slight frown as he glanced out the window where the seagulls often flew by.

"i'm sure you have a perfectly sturdy ladder in the garage," you replied.

felix shook his head, his expression turning serious. "i'm scared of ladders," he confessed, his eyes wide with genuine concern. the room seemed to grow quieter as he spoke, his voice breaking the stillness.

you burst out laughing, the sound echoing off the walls. "really?" you asked.

he nodded solemnly, the seriousness of his face contrasting with your laughter. "yep. i’m much more comfortable with you on my shoulders," he said.

"well, i guess you'll have to face your fears or find another way," you teased back, a mischievous glint in your eye. "maybe you can make a deal with the mama."

felix laughed, the sound warm and infectious. "yeah, i'll negotiate with her. she could let me borrow her babies for a quick photo op."

you chuckled at the thought. "after she literally made us tumble over each other today," you reminded him, recalling the earlier incident with said seagull.

his eyes suddenly widened, as if a bright lightbulb had illuminated over his head. “you know, we could build a pulley system with a basket. you get in the basket, and i pull you up to the roof so you can install one of my old security cameras.”

you gave him a sceptical look, the idea sounding ridiculous. “felix, that sounds like something out of a cartoon. how about this? we train a squirrel to climb up there and take the pictures for us.”

felix laughed again, the sound blending with the gentle hum of the ceiling fan above. “and you say i sound like a cartoon?”

“okay, what else then?" you prompted.

"what if i just get a selfie stick?” he suggested, winking with a spark in his eyes.

“that’s actually not a bad idea,” you said, considering it. 

felix grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “see? i'm coming up with some solid plans here.”

"maybe you are," you admitted, giving him a playful nudge with your shoulder.

then, from the kitchen, his father's voice called out, "dinner's ready!"

sunday (day 1) - 9:00pm

you were washing the last of the dishes, the gentle hum of the evening settling around you. the soft clinking of plates and the distant sound of waves created a soothing background melody. felix stood next to you, his hands drying and stacking the clean dishes. as you glanced out the window, the vibrant hues of the setting sun caught your eye. the sky was a stunning canvas of oranges, pinks, and purples, each colour blending seamlessly into the next. it was one of those moments that felt almost magical, as if the universe had painted the sky just for you.

“look, felix! the sunset!” you exclaimed, your voice filled with awe.

felix turned his head, his eyes widening at the sight of the breathtaking sunset. the golden light bathed his face, casting a warm, ethereal glow that seemed to accentuate every detail of his features. you found yourself staring, mesmerised by how the sunlight danced on his skin, highlighting the sharp contours of his jawline and the subtle curve of his lips. the light caught in his eyes, making them sparkle with a deep, captivating intensity that seemed to draw you in.

“it’s beautiful.” he smiled softly, his voice a deep rumble that broke through your daze. 

you realised you had been staring too long, caught up in the mesmerising sight of him bathed in the sunset's golden light. quickly, you looked away, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. you cleared your throat, trying to regain your composure. “we should go outside. are you done?”

felix glanced at the dishes, then back at you. “yeah,” he replied instantly, drying the last spoon with a flourish before placing it neatly on the rack. 

you grabbed his wrist, your excitement bubbling over. “come on, let’s go!” you urged with a small squeal. felix chuckled, allowing himself to be pulled along as you both slipped on your shoes by the back door. the moment your feet hit the cool wood of the porch, the chilly evening breeze kissed your skin, carrying the fresh scent of sea.

as you stepped outside, the beauty of the scene before you took your breath away. felix stood beside you, his presence warm and comforting. you glanced at him, catching the awe in his eyes as he took in the breathtaking view. the fading light outlined his silhouette, making him look almost otherworldly in the twilight glow.

“race you to the shore!” you burst out suddenly. without another word, you sprinted down the wooden steps of the porch, your bare feet hitting the cool sand as you made a beeline for the beach. your laughter rang out, mixing with the soothing sound of the waves crashing against the shore. the sand was soft beneath your feet, each step feeling like gentle feathers as you ran.

felix wasn’t far behind, his footsteps quick and sure as you could hear him closing the gap. just as you reached the firmer, wet sand near the water’s edge, felix caught up. with a swift motion, he wrapped his strong arms around your waist, lifting you off the ground. you let out a loud squeal, your heart racing with excitement and happiness.

he spun you around, the world becoming a blur of colours—orange, pink, purple, and blue—as the sky and ocean seemed to merge into one stunning panorama. the cool breeze whipped through your hair, and you could feel the warmth of felix’s hands on your sides, grounding you in the moment. when he set you down gently on the sand, your legs felt like jelly from the sprinting.

breathing heavily, you both collapsed onto the sand, sitting side by side, facing the horizon. the sky was a masterpiece, with deep purples and rich blues blending seamlessly with the fiery oranges and soft pinks of the sunset. the water mirrored this stunning array of colours, creating a dazzling display that seemed to stretch infinitely before you. the waves glowed with the reflected light, each crest catching a hint of the vibrant sky, creating a dance of colours on the water's surface.

the air was cool and crisp, filled with the salty tang of the sea and the earthy scent of the sand. the distant call of seagulls and the soft whisper of the wind were the only sounds, adding to the serene atmosphere. 

“this is perfect,” you whispered, leaning against felix. his warmth was comforting as he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer, the faint scent of his cologne lingering.

“yeah,” he agreed, his voice soft. “it really is.”

as you both sat in comfortable silence, the world seemed to pause for a moment. the gentle waves lapping at the shore and the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze were the only sounds, creating a peaceful lullaby that surrounded you. in the distance, a group of seagulls caught your eye. their silhouettes were stark against the colourful sky, their graceful flight patterns mesmerising as they dipped and dove over the calm water.

a mischievous grin spread across your face as you turned your gaze to felix. “which one do you think knocked up the seagull?” you asked, barely able to keep a straight face.

felix's eyes widened in horror. “oh my gosh, you freak!” he exclaimed, shaking his head in disbelief while laughing. “you can't just say things like that!”

you laughed along with him, the sound echoing across the quiet beach. “you know for a fact that you're even worse than me,” you teased, nudging him playfully with your shoulder. 

"you know, i still can't believe we have the house to ourselves for a whole week," felix murmured, his voice a low, warm rumble that made your heart skip a beat. the reality of being alone together, with no one else around, felt surreal.

"me neither," you replied, your voice barely a whisper. felix chuckled softly, the sound resonating through your chest and making you feel a pleasant warmth spread from your heart. "what?" you asked, a smile tugging at your lips as you looked up into his eyes. they were sparkling with mischief, a clear sign that he was thinking about something unorthodox.

"nothing," he said, shaking his head, his smile widening. you knew exactly what he was thinking about.

"oh my gosh, felix, stop it," you groaned, rolling your eyes. the things he could come up with were always so unexpected, yet so typical of him.

he laughed harder. "i didn't say anything!" he protested, grinning from ear to ear.

"you're such a freak," you teased, playfully pushing him in the chest. the contact was light, your fingers brushing against his soft skin, but it felt like an electric current passing between you.

felix pushed back gently, his touch light and teasing. "you're the one thinking weird things. you made the seagull joke too. i never said anything!" his grin was infectious, and you found yourself laughing along with him.

shaking your head, you couldn't help but smile. "i can't believe your parents are trusting you with the house for a whole week," you said.

felix placed his hand on his chest in mock offence, his expression exaggerated. "hey!" he exclaimed. "i'll have you know i'm very responsible. plus," he added, leaning in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "i've got to make sure you have the best time ever."

his parents were leaving the next evening to visit new zealand for the summer. they decided to stay at the beach house for a day before their departure because it was conveniently close to the airport. his parents were going abroad for a week to attend a friend's wedding in thailand, initially leaving felix alone until he decided to invite you. it was special to him that you were here, sharing this beloved part of his life as it gave him a chance to create new memories with a girl that meant so much to him.

felix threw his head back, eyes lighting up as he gazed at the night sky, dotted with countless stars. "there's so much i want to show you," he said. the beach was like his second home, a place where he had spent every summer since he was born. this place was filled with memories of salty breezes, endless days under the sun, and nights spent stargazing. for felix, this beach house wasn't just a summer retreat; it was a treasure trove of cherished moments.

you smiled and squeezed his hand. "and i can't wait to see everything," you replied.

he squeezed your hand back, a broad smile spreading across his face. "you're going to love it," he promised. "there's this hidden cove i found last year, and we have to watch the sunrise from the cliff. it's the best view in the world." his eyes sparkled with the same wonder and awe he must have felt when he first discovered these places. "oh, and we can go paddleboarding! the water is so clear, you can see all the way to the bottom!"

"wow, you really have everything planned out, huh?" you teased, raising an eyebrow. "it's like you're my personal tour guide or something."

felix paused, a slightly sheepish look crossing his face. he scratched the back of his head, a small, nervous laugh escaping his lips. "well, i guess i am," he admitted, looking down for a moment before meeting your gaze. "i just... i really want this week to be special. you mean a lot to me. it's not every day i get to show someone my secret spots," he said, a playful glint returning to his eyes.

“you’re such a sap.”

“only for you,” he replied, his tone as light as a feather.

you then found yourself gazing into his eyes, losing yourself in the depths of the beautiful brown shade. the rich, warm colour was captivating, reflecting the soft glow of the fading sunset. his eyes seemed to hold an entire world of emotion, and in that moment, you felt like you could see into his soul. your eyes trailed down to his lips, noticing how soft and inviting they looked. he shuddered slightly under your gaze, his breath hitching as he felt the intensity of your stare. his eyes flickered to your lips as well, and then back to your eyes, silently seeking permission. when he saw that your eyes remained locked onto his lips, without another word, he leaned in, closing the distance between you.

as your lips touched, a gentle breeze swept over you both, carrying the salty scent of the ocean and the faint fragrance of blooming flowers from the nearby dunes. the cool air contrasted sharply with the warmth radiating from felix's skin, sending a shiver down his spine and giving him goosebumps over his bare torso. the sensation of his warm skin under your fingers was electrifying, sending a tingle through your body. 

you pulled away slightly, resting your forehead against his, feeling his breath mingle with yours in the small space between you. felix smiled softly, his eyes full of tenderness, before leaning in to kiss you again. this time, the kiss was deeper, more intense, and his hand reached up to cup your face as if you were the most fragile and precious thing on earth. his thumb gently caressed your cheek, the touch so light and tender that it sent a thrill through you.

you couldn't help but bring your own hand up to tangle in his hair, the soft strands slipping through your fingers like silk. the sensation was soothing, grounding you in the moment. as you pressed closer, the warmth of his body against yours felt comforting and exhilarating all at once. in a playful move, you pushed felix back onto the sand which made him let out a surprised "oof,"

climbing on top of him, your bodies fit together perfectly, as if they were made for each other. you continued to kiss him, your lips moving in sync. felix brought his hands up to your waist, his fingers pressing lightly into your skin, sending a delightful shiver through you, his touch both gentle and possessive. 

just then, a loud squawk from the seagulls broke the spell. the birds, perhaps sensing the intimate moment, seemed to call out in a raucous chorus, as if interrupting the two of you. you couldn't help but stop and giggle, the sound bubbling up from deep within you. felix's eyes softened, gazing at you with pure love. at that moment, he swore you were the most precious thing in the world. the way your laughter lit up your face, the crinkle of your eyes, and that adorable squeak—it all made you you. 

“you're so cute," he blurted.

surprised by his words, you looked at him with raised eyebrows. "where did that come from?" you asked, a smile playing on your lips. your laughter had left a soft flush on your cheeks, making you look even more radiant in the fading light.

felix's eyes softened, gazing at you with pure love. he blushed, a bashful smile spreading across his face as he buried it in the crook of your neck, trying to hide his embarrassment.

you looked down at him, confused. "felix, what are you doing?"

he pulled back slightly, meeting your gaze again. "i don’t know i just—i think i..." he began but didn't finish. the words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken emotion. he wanted to tell you how deeply he felt, how much you meant to him. he wanted to say it, but those three short words got caught in his throat.

"you what?" you prompted gently, your eyes searching his.

felix hesitated, his lips parting slightly as if trying to find the right words. but instead of speaking, he leaned in and kissed you again. you laughed softly against his mouth, your hands resting on his chest and as you pulled away, a mischievous glint danced in your eyes. felix looked at you with curiosity, propping himself up on his forearms as you climbed off him. "where are you going?" he asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

without a word, you began to take off a layer of clothing, tossing it onto the sand until you were left in your bikini, letting the cool evening breeze brushed against your skin. "come on!" you called out, dashing toward the water, the sand cool and soft under your feet.

felix's eyes widened in surprise before a grin spread across his face. he quickly scrambled to his feet and chased after you, swiftly pulling his hoodie off. the water was warm, heated by the day's sun and retaining its gentle warmth even as night fell. 

felix reached you just as you splashed him playfully, the water catching the light from the moon and the stars above, casting a shimmering glow around you. he laughed, wiping the water from his face. with a quick move, he scooped you up in a bridal style carry, his strong arms holding you securely against his chest.

you squealed as he threw you into the water, the water enveloping you completely and you were submerged. for a moment, everything around you was muffled and you could taste the salt water you accidentally swallowed.

"felix, ow," you hissed as you came back up, brushing your hair out of your face, water droplets clinging to your skin as you held your arm.

panic flashed across his face, his eyes widening as he waded towards you. "oh my goodness, are you okay?" he asked, concern lacing his voice. 

unable to hold back your smile any longer, you lunged at him, causing him to lose his balance. you both tumbled into the warm water with a big splash. felix surfaced, shaking his head and laughing as he realised you had been faking. 

"oh, you are so done!" he exclaimed, grabbing you around the waist and pulling you into him. you both fell again and created a huge splash in the water, your laughter echoing in the nighttime air.````

[wakacreations]

Infernal Drunks:

Tav just wanted a peaceful night out. What happens when (Zevlor, Rolan, Raphael, Haarlep) go to a tavern? Turns out they can't hold their liquor. This was so much fun to write.

Zevlor:

“Zevlor! Get down from there!” You turned around to see the Hellrider stood proud atop the bar counter. The bards strummed away at their strings. The patrons drunkenly joined in drumming along on the tables. “When the sirens are calling! They'll ask for your wedding band! They say oh no dear you can never settle down! You have made a sailor's swear! We live by the honors of our sailor’s code!” The Commander belted out to their fellow patrons.

"We live our lives ruthless and free! Beware the bitch queen, Umberlee!” The patrons hollered back. You elbow your way through the tight crowd as Zevlor continues to sing. “We are no mere ruffians or just another gutted chum. Well what do we do, sailors?” He gestured to his audience. “We do fuck all till the crack of dawn!” The sailors roared. He waved a hand at you when he saw your head poke through the wall of happy drunkards. “We are the proud sailors! We call the seas home! We raise our tankards high till the taverns run dry in the Sea of the Sword Coast!” They cheered, guzzling down their tankards. The Hellrider followed suit. “Another song, Horns!” The bards yelled out. Zevlor gave a boyish smile as he held his hand out to you. “Care to sing with me for the next musical number?”

Rolan:

“You know there is a saying that one should never receive a kiss from a tiefling.” You feel the brush of his spade against your ankle. The last song of the evening was winding down. “Is that so,” you teased, raising a brow. “You’ll find a love like no other.” Rolan took a finished sip of his glass, setting it down. “Is that an offer, Rolan?” Your breath hitches as he moves his face in close to get a better look at you. The tiefling wizard’s cheeks were rosy as his eyes met yours. “Would that make you happy,” he grinned. “I.. Are you drunk, Rolan?” He pulled his face back, cocking his head processing your words. He took your hand into his own. “Only on you,” he purred, grazing his lips against the back of your palm. “Your hand is too cold,” turning your hand over to cup his flushed cheek. “There much better, all warm,” Rolan hummed blissfully. You glanced around making sure no one peered at your booth. “I think it's about time to take you home.” If anything it is better to see him at home and forget this evening than to see him lock himself away in the tower for a tenday or more at his own sheer embarrassment. You moved to withdraw your hand feeling your face burn. His hand didn't budge. “Why? I don’t want to,” he huffed, moving his tail to wrap around your ankle.  A pout quivered his lower lip. “I don’t want to wake up,” he grumbled. “Wake up from what? Do you feel tired then we better leave then.” He shook his head in an aggressive no. “When I open my eyes after I fall asleep you’ll be gone,” Rolan whined, squeezed your hand. “I'll see you again in the morning, Rolan. Who would I be if I didn't check up on you?” He shook his head again. “Like how the moon says goodbye to the sun.. When they rise from the horizon.. This moment will be no more. Only to return when I shut my eyes…” The wizard swallowed, concentrating on finding the words. “But never to exist in the waking morning,” his eyes moved to the hand he held. He sighed and pressed a kiss to the inside of your palm. “I said to you after the death of my master, please what is mine is yours.” He looked at you once more. “Well my heart is my own and is yours should you ever wish to keep it.” Guiding your hand from his face to gently pressing your fingers to form a fist. With both hands he held your palm closed, “My love will always be here within your grasp.”

Raphael: 

“Mouse!? Where are you!?” You heard a deep timbre voice yell above the strings of the tavern. Turning around you see a disheveled man swaying towards you. “Are you alright, Raphael,” raising a brow. He leaned against the bar to steady himself. “Why are you here?” Given how rosy his cheeks have flushed, the stained undershirt and missing doublet, he did make his rounds.  “You,” he growled, clenching his jaw. Tilting your head, “what for Raphael? I have already paid my debts to you,” taking a swig of your tankard. “What? Did you lose the crown already?” The devil sneered, brushing back a hair that had fallen out of place. “Only a fool would lose such a precious relic. No, there is something I need from you.” What could he possibly need? “I need you home.” You sputtered into your drink. “WHAT,” you coughed, hacking out the last bit of alcohol in your lungs. “It is how I said it, mouse." The flicker of Hellfire shown in his unfocused gaze. You felt something bound off your head. Looking down you see a crumpled up paper. “Who done that!?” You scanned the faces from the direction it flew. “Done, what? What are you accusing me of? I’ll have your-” “No, not you.” You waved off the cranky devil. From the crowd you spotted a familiar warlock from across the tavern. “Korrilla?” The devil’s warlock gestured to the piece of paper. Unraveling the paper it read He won’t leave unless you take him. Squinting your eyes at the text in hand and looking back at her. “No,” you shook your head. She mouthed back at you, “he’s your problem.” Turning your eyes onto Raphael who was groaning clutching his head on the counter. “He’s your patron!” Looking back, the dwarven warlock had vanished. “Fuck!” Your face fell into your hands. The jiggle of bells came closer. “Tav… I am not feeling so well..” You felt a tugged at your sleeve. “Can we go home now?”

HAARLEP

“Haarlep? Where are you going?” The drunken “tiefling” stumbles away from you. “To find more food, Mousey,” they yawned. “Haven't you eaten already? The bards would be singing about the tiefling who wouldn't leave the tavern without kissing all the patrons.” You walked in pace with them. “Please, that is a regular night for a bard. Only an appetizer for an incubus. There are plenty of tasty morsels to feast upon,” they tumbled forward. “Oh, look there, that one looks quite delectable,” they shimmed free from their wingless guise. “No, come here Haarlep!” They shook their wings. Stretching them to their full wingspan, Haarlep flaps their wings preparing to take off. “You want a hug!?” You extended your arms spread wide. “Haarlep, please!” If they flew, who knows where they would end up. “Mousey!” They waddled back towards you. “Yes, that’s it Haarlep! Who is my favorite little fiend?!” Somewhere you swear you heard a tut of disapproval. “Mousey… I am still,” they yawned over your ear. “Hungry,” dropping their head atop your shoulder. “Let's not go home just yet,” they mumbled. “I know, Haarlep. I know,” moving their arm to hang over your shoulder. When are they ever not? “Where are you taking me?” They groaned as you slowly dragged the incubus towards the Devil's Fee. “You'll eat when we're home, Haarlep. Could you at the very least attempt to walk,” you huffed looking up at the long uphill dirt path. Would it be too late to call for Korrilla? Or Yugir perhaps? “If I do Mousey will you sleepover? Who is to check on I if I were to fall desperately ill hmm?” Pressing the pad of their claw into your cheek, you rolled your eyes. “You know the little brat is helpless if I were to fall sick and no one wants to deal with his petty little tantrums,” they slurred. Would killing Haarlep make them teleport to the boudoir or somewhere else? You shivered from a warm gust of air, a low growl filled your ear, “yes.” Am I hearing things now? “Those are dangerous thoughts to be having, little mouse,” Haarlep purred. You felt their tail wrap snugly around your waist. “So, very naughty of you,” nuzzling their cheek against yours. “Pretty please? I will be as good as my little impies?” The Devil’s Fee was in sight. “Your impies destroyed my pack last time I left it in the boudoir,” you sighed. “I promise, mouse,” they yawned. Just a couple of steps further. Making your way past the gate, “We made it, Haarlep. We’re almost home.” No noise came from the incubus. “Haarlep?” You turned to see their head hung low, drool pooling at the corner of their mouth. “Goodnight then,” you chuckled. Knocking aggressively on the door outcame Mammon’s warlock with a look of agitation. With a toss of a pouch from your hip, she ushered you in. The warmth of Hellfire blanketed you, both. “Just for tonight, Haarlep. I will stay. Who knows, if he’ll allow me to let you out again,” pressing a kiss to their temple. “I might as well,” you yawned, laying down beside them. You watched their slow steady breaths being lullied by its calming rhythm. They stirred in their sleep reaching out to you. “My Mousey,” pulling you to their chest. “Haarlep,” you breathed, suffocating in their tight embrace. “My sweet Mousey.”